#symbolism lite

[ominouspuff]

Alone in the galaxy with the only things that matter (Anakin POV)

[mamawasatesttube]

continuing to rewrite tt03 in my head without the lex luthor retcon. the mind control incident still happens, but in this case it's because luthor has some leftover brainiac tech from the y2k event and is trying to use it to mind control kon into quietly coming to an isolated lexcorp-but-legally-not-tied-to-him lab so he can study him, in order to understand how cadmus successfully cloned superman when luthor himself tried before and failed every single time. it just turns explosive and bad bc kon resists, and his friends are trying to help him, which is when luthor forces him to attack them. kon still gets the mind control trauma and leaves the team, but a) there's no weird eugenics bullshit underwriting the narrative and also b) for the love of god he doesn't shave his fucking head and carve an L into his shirt. geoffrey that was so cringe it literally gives me such bad secondhand embarrassment every time i even THINK about it. how did you think this was a good idea. geoffrey johns look at me. do you think lex luthor owns the concept of baldness or something? geoff. look at me. baldness does not inherently signify lex luthor. geoffrey i know you don't know shit about john henry irons but listen to me geoffrey,

[undercoverangell]

t4t odysseus and penelope im not taking feedback at this time.

[rverave]

my mother and i had a discussion

how bleak is the human existence

she instructed me to find god

so i went and searched and searched,

until i found him right within me and all round me

in every crease of a leaf crumpled

by the soles of a god

when i reached the cities,

i could hear him roaring in pain

exhaust fume sighs and hardly peaceful horns

he was god and he was living amongst himself

he was just as broken as any preacher on a sunday

i kept pushing to find his spark

stumbling onto the devil

found crying and wailing

as if he too had lost his light

wasted and withering

i could only offer

a lengthy puff of time

[uwmspeccoll]

The author, Angela Hovak Johnston.

Johnston and Marjorie Tungwenuk Tahbone, traditional tattoo artist.

Catherine Niptanatiak: "I designed my own, something that represents me and who I am, something that I would be proud to wear and show off, and something that would make me feel confident and beautiful. . . . I have daughters and I would like to teach them what I know. I would like for them to want to practice our traditions and keep our culture alive."

Cecile Nelvana Lyall: "On my hand tattoos, from the top down, the triangles represent the mountains. . . . The Ys are the tools used in seal hunting. . . . The dots are my ancestors. . . . I am so excited to be able to truly call myself and Inuk woman."

Colleen Nivingalok: "The tattoos on my face represent my family and me. The lines on my chin are my four children -- my two older boys on the outside protecting my daughters. The lines on my cheeks represent the two boys and the two girls on either side. The one on my forehead represents their father and me. Together, we live for our children."

Doreen Ayalikyoak Evyagotailak: "I have thought about getting traditional tattoos since I was a teenager. . . . When I asked the elders if I could have my own meaning for my tattoos, they said it wouldn't matter. My tattoos symbolize my kids."

Mary Angele Takletok: "I always wanted traditional tattoos like the women in the old days. I wanted them on my wrists and my fingers so I could show I'm Inuk."

Melissa MacDonald Hinanik: "As a part of celebrating my heritage and revitalizing important traditional customs that form my identity, I believe I have earned my tattoos. I am a beautiful, strong young woman. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend, and an active community member. I reclaim the traditional customs as mine, I re-own them as a part of who I am."

Star Westwood: "We still have some of our culture, but some things are slowly dying. Having tattoos helps us keep our culture alive. . . . . My tattoos represent my dad and my dad's dad. The ones closest to my wrists represent my sisters."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

National Tattoo Day

July 17 is National Tattoo Day. To celebrate, we present some images from Reawakening Our Ancestors' Lines: Revitalizing Inuit Traditional Tattooing, compiled by Angela Hovak Johnston, co-founder with Marjorie Tahbone of the Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project, with photographs by Inuit photographer Cora DeVos, and published in Iqaluit, Nunavut by Inhabit Media Inc. in 2017.

For thousands of years, Inuit have practiced the traditional art of tattooing. Created the ancient way, with bone needles and caribou sinew soaked in seal oil, sod, or soot, these tattoos were an important tradition for many Inuit women, symbols etched on their skin that connected them to their families and communities. But with the rise of missionaries and residential schools in the North, the tradition of tattooing was almost lost. In 2005, when Angela Hovak Johnston heard that the last Inuk woman tattooed in the old way had died, she set out to tattoo herself in tribute to this ancient custom and learn how to tattoo others. What was at first a personal quest became a project to bring the art of traditional tattooing back to Inuit women across Nunavut.

Collected in this book are photos and stories from more than two dozen women who participated in Johnston's project. Together, these women have united to bring to life an ancient tradition, reawakening their ancestors' lines and sharing this knowledge with future generations. Hovak Johnston writes: "Never again will these Inuit traditions be close to extinction, or only a part of history you read about in books. This is my mission."

Reawakening Our Ancestors' Lines forms part of our Indigenous America Literature Collection.

Angela Hovak Johnston (right) with her cousin Janelle Angulalik and her aunt Millie Navalik Angulalik.

View other posts from our Indigenous America Literature Collection.

[atyourmerci]

Gold wing, angel

meanloser!ellie X classpresident!r

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, v angsty, slight bondage, cunt slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, lite angel symbolism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: actually surprised I finished a req (you all applaud me) this is inspired by “GOLDWING” by billie.

Ellie was a sick drug. Something not to be desired. She was the epitome of the allure of indulging in something you shouldn’t have, shouldn’t know, try at very least.

How did she get this way- who made her like this? Anger taken out through bodies of admission in an act of revenge. Taking back what was taken from her. Her pride regained by your submission.

You could have never fathomed the aggression the loser from AP American literature could obtain. You thought she’d beg on her knees for you. Worship your every move, starstruck by even getting the chance to touch you.

But she didn’t. She reveled in taking you off your high horse, got off on watching the student body president, proper and witty, utterly depraved by getting her cunt abused by a fucking moron.

-

98- A fucking 98, you did not deserve a 98 on the midterm paper. Your work was frankly sloppy, lacked comprehension. It made you ill knowing you were turning in something so lackluster with your name slapped across the front so proudly. The only thing that made you sicker was the thought of receiving special treatment- you had an image to uphold. You got to your position in this society from your own intellect, blood, sweat, tears and all. Kissing ass for a fucking 98 wasn’t in the cards.

The class began filing out as usual, like wild animals in a pack, shiny white teeth like daggers. Meshing together in their navy steam-pressed blazers, hair like defining fur, the only indication of individuality.

Except for her, sticking out like a sore thumb, the great big elephant in the room. Breaking many rulebook codes with her black nail polish, unkept hair to the standard policy, her white polo unbuttoned at the top two buttons that revealed her freckled chest. Despite her all around degenerate persona, she was irritatingly smart. Maybe if she had an ounce of charm she’d take your place.

With the rest of the class out of sight she stares at you. Not cutting off eye contact you both rise from your chairs you practically run to Mr. Stevens desk. The slap of two papers hit his desk, a 98 and a 90 shining in red sharpie ink on the white papers.

“I don’t deserve this,” comes out in unison, the sincerity in your voice cut open by the harshness in Ellies.

“Please one at a time, ladies.”

Before the words can even escape your lips Ellie rages, “I worked my ass off on this. I deserve better than a 90,” she spits out. “I know you can do better than this Ms.Williams, I expect more from you.” Ellie scoffs back at him, “this is bullshit,” she muffles but continues standing at his desk.

Mr.Stevens nods his head in your direction for your speech, you glance at Ellie with her arms now crossed, awaiting your protest. You brush off her insistence on staying and begin, “Mr.Stevens, I appreciate your grading and understanding my agenda for the midterm, but objectively this is sub-pare work. I think you may have given me someone else’s grade… maybe you mixed up my grade with Ms.Williams.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “I don’t mix up grades, you earned it. Now if you two will excuse me,” Mr.Stevens directs you both to the now empty hallway.

Ellie storms out with rage, cheeks flushed and lips pressed closely, you follow behind. “‘ms Williams’? the fuck was that?” Ellie presses in a scowl, words echoed in a bare hallway.

“Look I read your paper, I think you deserved better,” you retort in an attempt to soothe her. You cant seem to keep your eyes off her cupids bow, the contrast of soft pink lips against her tired skin.

“Oh thats fucking rich coming from ‘ms I don’t deserve my grade’ you’re pathetic,” she points, eyes thinning.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch more people would like you,” you attempt, heat rising in your own cheeks, heart thumping roughly in your chest.

Ellies cruel disposition contorts into a grin, inching closer to your body, “you’re fucking him aren’t you? Ms. perfect sucking off the teach so she can stay on top?”

A power so foreign comes before you, using force to push your wrist into her chest, though she doesn’t budge, “shut up.”

She returns your aggression, pushing your bodies flesh up against the brick wall behind you, ripping the breath from your lungs. Your hands instinctively grip into her shirt. Her eyes are wild, as if she was surprised she’d taken it this far, or rather puzzled by the fact you haven’t broken your grasp.

You both pant from the intrusion, glaring, waiting- waiting for someone to cave.

Like a dog on a leash you dragged her in, pulling her by her fabric until her lips met your own. A depraved act, met with open mouths and wandering tongues. Hatred in its finest form, digging into her as if you’d ever thought of it. A subconscious desire pulled from the depths of your cravings.

Before true indulgence she pushes you off, taking a moment to look at your hazy disposition, drunk on delinquency, “don’t ever do that again,” she pants out. Taking her thumb she wipes the saliva from your bottom lip and takes off without your response.

-

Time after time you went back. You told yourself you’d stop, never talk to her again. Yet there the keys were in the ignition, a path that you knew like the back of your hand. Leading, controlling your own fate of defacement.

“Can you please just open the door,” you plead on her doorsteps, mind and body corrupted- to only be pleased by the mental games, the destruction in forms of submitting to her.

Strung up like an old doll long forgotten in the attic, bound wrist behind your back and ankles tied to the head of her bed, vulnerable and needy.

“What now? Use your fucking words,” Ellie remarks before spitting on your neglected cunt. Your body winces at the sensation of the hot liquid dripping down the pulsing flesh, “please I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She hovers over your squirming body, carful to not give you the satisfaction. Gripping your jaw in her hand, “do you ever pay attention to what I tell you? You don’t deserve to come,” cocking her free hand back to lay a purposeful slap to your slick folds causing you to scream out from the blissful pain.

She lays another one into the already beat red skin, a cruel grin growing on her lips as she hears you enjoying it. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” she asks glaring at your tucked in lip, eyes glossy. You nod back at her, signaling your approval for using your body as her personal vessel.

Somehow it was good enough for her, dropping down to your perked nipples and sucking it into her teeth as she uses her hand to cover your eyes. You’d learn very early on that you weren’t allowed to watch her use her mouth on you. In the odd occasion she’d let you have your cunt in her mouth shed have your face shoved in the sheets while she took you from behind. She never told you why- and you didn’t dare ask.

Your wrist wriggle behind your back as your chest arches into her mouth, hot and wet. You obsess over what it would feel like on your mouth again, most nights were spent only thinking of her mouth- foreign, an impenetrable fortress. You began to chase the chance of the feeling her again.

You feel as her mouth comes off of the swollen bud as she removes the hand on your eyes, “don’t look,” she says with no threat in her tone, but you don’t risk crossing her.

You shut your exhausted eyes, dropping your head back as you feel her wrap her arms around the meat of your thighs. She drags an antagonizing strip up your slit, jolting your body into the mouth.

She goes as slow as possible, providing as little pressure she can muster up to the swell of your clit, but from her slaps it wouldn’t take much. Your body akin to a fish gasping for air out of water, squirming under her touch. She digs her fingers deep into the flesh as a warning.

“If you ever want to come again Id advise you behave.”

“P-please,” you plead to her, legs shaking as you whimper her name over and over like a prayer.

“I said no, i swear to god I’ll ruin every fucking orgasm,” sliding her two fingers into your clenching hole she drives slow pumps as she returns her mouth to your clit.

Your face contorts in concentration, attempting to hold yourself back but you could only be held off for so long.

“Ellie- Ellie!” bursting at the seams, your body detesting her rules, letting the hot white cum coat her fingers. She only fucks you harder, faster through your orgasm. This is a game you weren’t to win, rather to allow herself to revel in your pain. She got off on destroying your mind, making it to where you can only be pleased by her punishment.

Ellie kept her word, working you up on the edge of finishing and stopping completely, laughing at your pathetic state, crying and begging to come.

Clipping your wings, she hung them on her walls as a trophy. Pleas echoing her room, come splattering her sheets, your lips chapped and neglected.

[deseretgear]

OKY big Gaslight District Misc post

based on various stuff I was finding while rewatching the pilot and talking with friends:

Mud in the freezer! The flies are interesting; are they rotlings or something else? they are wrapped up here with tags on them like bodies in the morgue. there is also one that gets served another fly's head in the butcher shop. They seem to be used as food and decoration and drink.

It says Bug Lite Frothy and has a little fly on it :)

There's also a fly used as a candlestick on Breadhead's piano

I can't quite make out what is on the bottles in the back but one of them looks like "bittersweet organ relish" (thanks to my friend Jackie for that one)

Other people probably noticed this but the Virtue we see in Ken's inferno flashback is definitely Temperence; he has the same mask and the nubs on his shoulder.

Also I don't have a screenshot of it, but when he pulls Ken's toenail a thin needle like portion comes off with a long thread of blood or such behind it. I wonder if Temperence was experimenting or doing surgery of sort on Ken or the other prisoners? It does look like Ken was actually a prisoner; but how did he escape? Does this have something to do with how he got Mel?

Mel had a little naughty sexy magazine with ladies on it :3 and in a blink-and-you'll miss it moment it looks like she's also holding hands with "Romeo" and it looks like they might be having a romantic moment! So this looks like she is a bisexual queen. We love to see it! Also peep that cute pic in the background with Mel and Ken and Breadhead! Looks like they have some kind of catch in a net.

The photos in the back are easier to see in this screenshot. The one in the middle looks like Mel besides the whale's eye.

This is fun; when Diligence is scanning the truck bed it says "Investigation in progress" and when the guard interrupts him it says "Nuisance Detected"

Also the little scan screen has angle symbols on the border!

My friends and I were trying to figure out for a while what Temperence is holding, and we think it's Mel's egg! It looks like it has some tubing out of it, implying its some kind of construct. It has a glowy portion in the middle, and also it's position mirror's Mel's in this shot.

But what do you think it is?

This one is hard to show in a screenshot so there's a timestamp to it here (Idk how to gif) When the camera zooms out in the security room after ken attacks Temperence, we see all three characters of the smiling dead except for Mud (who is watching them) on the screens

Mel is climbing the stairs to the right, Ken is in the middle, and Breadhead's arm can be seen flapping up and down on the right side! It looks like he is flapping his hands like wings as he's being carried by the angels :) Yay

This tapestry in the Lab seems to depict what looks like the old angel mother and something under her wing holding an egg with Rotlings in front. I wonder if the figure holding the egg (it kind of is fused with her sillouette here but it looks like a kneeling figure) is meant to be a Virtue or something else? perhaps whatever's in the metal egg above Temperence?

Close up of the Quick-Rising yeast Breadhead snorts and the paper that is briefly flashed on screen in his head! It looks like some kind of solomonic or occult instructions or paper? We can see what is clearly a bunch of semen squiggles on the left side, one of which rises up to show a little breadhead baby (aw)

There's four symbols of what looks like the moon, the whale, a rotling, and and egg. Some other arcane symbols I don't know the meaning of, and in the center of that...octogram, some kind of rock?

Also on the right side (still glowing in this image) is a spoon!

I feel this is instructions on how to create breadhead; maybe a homonculous of sorts? the paper in the head also makes me think of the Golem in Jewish legend, who is brought to life with a paper with the name of god inscribed on it inserted into its head/mouth.

Close ups of the drawings Mel did of her dad during the slide show haha. I love em

Ok the Title sort of blocks it but in the back right of this scene we can see the Whale's Head butcher shop won a "Best Meal" award:

Best Meal Voted District's Top Choice (Not that there are many choices)

a few more random stuff from the butcher shop; there's a tag saying To Kenny From Xenora (who is that? an old friend or flame?) and during the bar fight, the big photo of the smiling dead gets splattered with blood that covers Jack, symbolizing how he's been excised from the family.

When Ken eats Temperence, we can see it has some kind of mechanical spine and legs attatched, but Ken eats only the brain part. Also the brain has a little black hand marking/tattoo on it, and we see green light explode from Ken's belly after he eats it. This seems to imply the Virtues are, like the Rotlings, bound to their bodies and may originally be humans, just humans uploaded into robot bodies. I say "human" the way the rotlings are also originally "humanity" that's been twisted, not that they are humans like Mel is.

There are better close ups but in this image of the black egg prophecy we can see what clearly seem to be nukes in the center, and waves rising all around as the Rotlings pray. This seems to be along with the Whale's Belly (I'm sorry I keep forgetting what the butchershop is called) a biblical reference. Noah and Jonah specifically. This definitely seems to indicate some kind of natural but also manmade destruction of the world, and may also indicate what the Mother Angel meant when she talked about Mel raining Fire Down on those who rot.

Looks like the truck is transporting the body parts of saints. What for? are they for the virtues, that thing in the metal egg? is this for reconstructing a human?

MORE diligence scans; the one where he chokes Ken has warnings about structural damage and its other arm not being detected. The one that goes down to Mud's crotch says "package not detected" seeming to indicate Mud doesn't have a penis. We stan a transmasc king o7

And that about wraps it up! mostly misc thoughts. The big thing standing out to me Right Now is: Who is and isn't a Rotling? are the Flies rotlings? are the Virtues basically just rotlings in robot bodies who see themselves as superior?

Are the angels made by the virtues, or did they make the virtues?

How was breadhead made? He does seem to be constructed.

What exactly went down between Ken and Temperence?

Excited to see more and happy to see everyone's thoughts

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Score: 8/10

Overall Score: 8/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[ominouspuff]

Reflection / Reflecting

Completed request for this

Requested by @blackat-t7t - palette #5 - Savage & Maul - Nature Settings to Rouse the Spirit

Thank you for the request, @blackat-t7t ! When you put in Maul as an option for this palette I got so excited, this was such an interesting one. Enjoy!

Taking my time with these, still planning to finish them all.

[conflictofthemind]

Stranger Things Season 5 will take the perspective of multiple "Alices"

and also me proving that Will Byers is so fem-coded.

I've noticed a pattern that has stuck out to me for a little while. Why is it that every one of Vecna's victims, and I mean personal victims that he knows and interacts with - not just the people that he's killed offhandedly for sport- all female?

Nancy, with Vecna delivering a personal message to her out of everyone in that group. Max, who has faced him multiple times and is now stuck in his mind. His sister Alice and his mother Virginia. El, of course. And now he's struck up a relationship with his newest target Holly. The one exception being Will -- known to be the most gender non conforming of the boys.

And nearly all of them have rabbit symbolism. He seems to have a particular affinity for seeking out these 'Alices'.

El's/Jane's nursery room. Nancy's old stuffed rabbit.

Holly's rabbit lite-brite, Alice finding the dead rabbit.

Another defining feature of 'Alice'ness: Waking up in an unknown world that Vecna controls. Whether it's the Upside Down or the new 50s Henry Mindscape, outfitted to look like Wonderland, that we're seeing in these previews (which by the way - Max and El are said to be inside at one point).

Especially when you fall into it like this...

El's S5 mission: most likely bringing Max out of her coma. Nancy's: unknown so far, but probably related to making sure the 'future' Vecna showed her doesn't come true. Will's: my prediction is attempting to rescue Holly.

I think each of them lead their own story-line, which is typical already for El and Nancy, and almost a given for Will in Season Five. All of them possibly converging into the Wonderland-like space that is now the Creel House vision.

I think even Erica might be involved at some point, considering the kids being kidnapped this season and her costume design in this picture foreshadowing a 50s vibe that hearkens to poodle skirts and at the time very common shape of collar and bow.

One last note on my Alice thoughts for today: I think there's a distinct possibility that the 'Upside Down' got it's name from Alice in Wonderland. AIW might be one of the bigger inspirations for the entire show.

Wonderland is an, "upside down" realm. Alice falls through the rabbit hole and the gravity switches the other way 'round, same as the scene when the teens are using the rope to get to the Upside Down in Eddie's trailer.

The original book references with specific words being upside down. There's a 1949 live action musical adaptation whose main song is 'I'm Upside Down'. The 2010s live action film mentions (again specifically) being upside down.

(a final shout-out to the 15th anniversary of Alice by Avril Lavigne, which made me want to post this today).

[akairawrites]

Lite Shower | Dick Grayson x V!Reader

Taglist

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The rain in Gotham didn’t fall—it drenched. It swept across the city like a promise it never intended to keep, washing grime from rooftops just to push it deeper into the cracks.

Y/n didn’t mind.

She stood on the ledge of a weather-beaten rooftop in The Narrows, her long coat dripping with rain, the wind curling around her like an old memory. Below, the city churned—screaming tires, flickering neon, sirens wailing like broken violins. Gotham was a living thing, diseased and defiant, never asking for help and always spitting in the face of those who offered it.

She liked that about it.

No one noticed her here. Not the cops. Not the criminals. Not the few good people still trying to hold the city together.

That suited her fine.

She wasn’t one of them, not anymore anyway.

Y/n pressed her palm to the rusted steel of a chimney pipe, letting the chill ground her. It had been seventy years since she’d last felt the cold. It didn’t sting the way it used to—it was just there, like the silence between heartbeats. But tonight… she felt something. Not warmth exactly. Not yet.

Movement caught her eye.

The alley two stories down flared to life—a struggle. A man yelling. A broken bottle raised. Someone about to bleed.

Y/n could smell it already.

She tilted her head, ready to jump down and stop it. Not for morality’s sake. Not because she cared. Just because she was hungry, and the scent of fear was sour tonight. She didn’t feed on killers. Not anymore. But she still remembered the taste.

And then he landed beside her.

She didn’t hear the grappling line, or the wind shift, or even his heartbeat. Just the quiet thud of boots on gravel.

Nightwing.

“You are the light, I've been searchin' for forever.

Feels like, man, I've really never felt the rain”

Y/n stiffened.

He was taller up close than she remembered—shoulders broad beneath sleek armor, the blue of his symbol faintly glowing in the rain. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even glance at her. Just looked down at the alley, calculating.

Ten seconds later, it was over.

The mugger was disarmed, lying flat, gasping for breath. The bottle had never touched skin. The woman fled, sobbing thanks over her shoulder.

Y/n watched it all without blinking.

So did he.

He turned toward her then. Rain clung to his lashes. The curve of his jaw was sharp, framed by dark hair soaked through. His eyes—striking, electric—met hers without hesitation.

Y/n didn’t know what to say. Didn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her without flinching.

“You don’t usually stick around,” he said finally, voice calm but edged with curiosity.

She hesitated. “You’ve seen me before?”

“You’ve been watching Gotham longer than I’ve been alive,” he said, studying her. “You think I wouldn’t notice the eyes on the rooftops?”

She almost smiled.

“You’re observant.”

“I have to be.”

The silence that followed wasn’t tense—it was charged. Like two storms circling the same fault line.

Y/n shifted her weight. “You’re not afraid.”

“Should I be?”

She turned toward him fully now, shadows moving with her. The rain shimmered against her skin, too pale for someone still living. Her irises glinted faintly red in the darkness.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Most people are.”

Nightwing didn’t flinch. “Most people don’t know the difference between a monster and someone who’s trying not to be one.”

That made her pause.

She looked down at the city again. Gotham had never forgiven her. Never welcomed her. But this man… he wasn’t Gotham. He wasn’t even quite human in the way he moved, the way he saw.

“You have no idea what I’ve done,” she said.

“I know what you didn’t do tonight.”

That landed. Hard.

She swallowed, blinking away the water clinging to her lashes. Or maybe it wasn’t just rain anymore.

“I’m screaming, like a kettle on the stove…”

It was too much. The sudden tenderness. The stillness between them. The way his voice reminded her of a life she could no longer touch.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“You should,” he agreed. “But you haven’t yet.”

Y/n turned to him, heart aching in a place long since shut down. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I think you came up here for a reason. And maybe… I did too.”

That scared her more than anything.

Because for the first time in decades, someone saw through the hunger. Through the curse. Through the centuries of guilt wrapped around her like barbed wire.

He saw her.

And that—God, that was worse than being hunted.

She took a step back into shadow. The rain swallowed her form like mist. But just before she disappeared, she said, almost too soft to hear:

“Don’t follow me.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “But I’ll be here. If you come back.”

And then she was gone.

But the rain kept falling.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n wasn’t numb.

She was afraid to feel.

And even more afraid of how good it felt to be seen.

Gotham slept in flickers—always restless, always half-watching. But in the quiet hours before sunrise, something like peace could be found. If you knew where to look.

Y/n stood barefoot in the middle of her apartment, rain still dripping from her coat onto the hardwood. She hadn’t turned the lights on. She didn’t need to. The city lit her windows in gold and red, the glow of it catching on the glass of old picture frames and dust-covered books she hadn’t opened in decades.

She shrugged off her coat slowly, like it was heavier than it used to be.

She could still feel him—his presence on that rooftop, the heat in his eyes. It clung to her skin like steam. She’d meant to vanish quickly, to shake it off like the rain. But she hadn’t. She still felt it, thick in her chest.

She moved through the dark to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Blood bags—labeled, cold, clinical. Nothing fresh. Nothing personal.

She closed it again, appetite gone.

“all my anger, sadness, regret, disappeared, it's madness

I'm not used to all this watеr love, it's true”

She didn’t have a home. Not really. This apartment was a shell. Everything inside it had been borrowed or forgotten. But something had shifted tonight. That rooftop—his voice—it had cracked something open.

She didn’t know what to do with that.

Y/n sat on the couch and looked at the city beyond her window. She’d watched Gotham for so long—from balconies, bell towers, rooftops. From the outside. Always the outsider. Always observing and never being seen.

But he had seen her.

And worse—he’d stayed.

The next night, she went back.

Not to the same rooftop. That would’ve been too obvious.

But to the same part of the city. Close enough that maybe he’d feel her presence again. Maybe he’d come like he said.

She didn’t admit she was waiting.

But when the sound of boots hit concrete above her, her breath caught anyway.

Nightwing dropped down into the alley, landing with that same easy grace. He wasn’t in a rush tonight. No crisis. Just him.

“You’re out late again,” he said, stepping closer.

“So are you,” she replied, folding her arms, letting a smirk tug at her lips. “We should stop meeting like this.”

“Should we?”

She raised a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be chasing criminals?”

He shrugged, glancing up at the fire escape. “Crime’s quiet. Or maybe I’m just following my instincts.”

She hated how warm that made her feel.

“You’re a shower of light I’d devour and day of the week

Baby, cleanse me”

They walked together.

Not far. Just along the edge of the street. His gloved hands tucked into his belt. Hers folded in front of her like she didn’t trust them. Like if she got too close, she might reach for something she shouldn’t.

“You don’t ask questions,” she said quietly after a block.

“I have plenty,” he answered. “I just figured you’d answer them when you were ready.”

That silenced her again. Not because she didn’t believe him—but because she did. He wasn’t probing. He wasn’t trying to catch her in a lie. He just was. Present. Grounded. Like the storm inside her didn’t scare him at all.

She stopped walking.

The rain had started again, soft at first. But she stood still, face tilted upward, letting it hit her like a confession.

He paused beside her. “You okay?”

“I used to love the rain,” she murmured. “Back when I still had skin that got cold. Back when I could shiver. It reminded me I was alive.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“But after a while, it just felt like noise. Static. Something that passed through me and left nothing behind.”

She turned to face him, and her voice lowered. “Tonight, it doesn’t feel that way.”

He stepped closer. Just a breath away now.

“What does it feel like?”

Her throat worked. “Like I’m waking up. And I don’t know if I want to.”

“You soothe me, the way you speak…”

Dick reached out slowly, like offering peace to a frightened creature. His fingers brushed her hand—barely there, but enough. The touch made her pulse spike. She hadn’t realized she still had a pulse.

“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” he said softly.

“But you’ll be here?”

His eyes met hers. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

And that was enough.

Just enough light to break the dark.

“But you made me want to

Plan out my last days on earth, eating you”

She’d lived a long time behind locked doors and barred windows, inside a fortress built of shame and silence. Letting someone in—really in—meant risk. It meant weakness. It meant her heart would be within reach again.

And yet here he was, In her apartment.

No mask. No armor. Just Dick—soft cotton hoodie, dark jeans, hair still damp from the rain. He stood in the doorway like he belonged there. Like he wanted to be there.

Y/n watched him from across the room, unsure of what to do with her hands. Or her thoughts. Or her heart.

“I didn’t expect you to say yes,” he said gently, scanning the dim interior. “When I asked to come over.”

“I didn’t expect to say yes,” she admitted.

Silence stretched between them—not awkward, but delicate. Like a secret being carefully unfolded.

Dick took a step closer. “This place… it’s quiet.”

“It has to be,” she said. “The city’s too loud otherwise.”

He nodded. “Still. It feels like you.”

That caught her off guard. She blinked, looking away. “And what do I feel like?”

“Like someone who’s been holding her breath for too long.”

That made her laugh. It was soft. Small. Like the sound had forgotten how to exist.

“You make it sound so easy,” she said.

“It’s not,” he replied. “But I think… it doesn’t have to be hard forever.”

She walked past him, slow and quiet, and stood at the window. Gotham flickered below them—ugly and alive, both truth and lie. It was the one constant in her life. A city as broken as she was.

But when she felt Dick’s presence behind her, it didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“You’re not afraid of what I am?” she asked without turning.

“I’m not afraid of who you are,” he said.

She looked at her reflection in the glass—pale skin, old eyes. A girl who stopped being a girl long ago. But when she turned to face him, her voice was steady.

“I’ve taken lives,” she whispered.

“So have I,” he replied.

“I’ve hurt people I loved.”

“I’ve lost people I didn’t protect.”

Her throat tightened. “You don’t understand—this thing inside me… it wants. It doesn’t care about morality or mercy. It’s hunger.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But I also believe you’ve been starving it instead of feeding it cruelty. That matters.”

Y/n looked at him like he was something rare. Sacred. A warmth she couldn’t touch without burning.

But she touched him anyway.

Fingers threading through his. Hands cold against his warmth. And for the first time in what felt like a century, she didn’t pull away.

She leaned in slowly, forehead brushing his. Her voice barely a breath. “You feel like sunlight. Like something I’m not supposed to have.”

Dick’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Then maybe I’m the crazy one.”

“I could hurt you,” she warned.

“You won’t,” he said.

“I could lose control.”

“I’d catch you.”

She kissed him.

It wasn’t hungry or rushed—it was hesitant, reverent, like pressing a prayer into someone’s mouth. His hand curled against her jaw, anchoring her. And for the first time since death took her heartbeat, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could be more than what she was.

She could be someone with someone.

When they parted, she didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

The silence said everything.

Outside, Gotham raged on—sirens, thunder, the ache of a city always at war with itself. But inside the apartment, it was quiet.

And Y/n, the girl who had lived a thousand years in the dark, finally stepped into the light.

But you made me want to

Plan out my last days on earth, eating you

Ooh-ooh-ooh, the tips of your teeth

Fit perfect in me, you're the shower of light

I devour any day of the week

[nabi-unveiled]

Meta Master Post: When It Rains, It Pours

I hyperfixated on this show. End stop. There was often more I wanted to say, but I needed sleep. It was the best fandom experience I have ever had in my life. And after the finale, I forced myself to move on (for now). Maybe one day I'll finish the fmv I mapped out and started. I do have a weekend away planned with my bestie next month where we've planned on watching this show together. It'll be her first BL, but I think she'll appreciate it. (Note: We only see each other about once a year since she lives 4+ hours away.)

This show was a journey. My thoughts and interpretations evolved and changed as the show progressed. Some points in earlier posts do not hold up to the test of time as the show progressed.

Since I wrote so much about this show, this first list focuses on the meatier posts. The posts that aren't really meta are listed in a separate list below.

(Ep 3) Aesthetics

(Ep 3) Character outlook

(Ep 4) Flipping the characters

(Ep 4) Symbols Abound

(Ep 4) Two Types of People (Meta lite)

(Ep 4)I must apologize to Sei & Hagiwara

(Ep 5) Meeting in the middle. (Meta lite)

(Ep 5) The desire to be a good man

(Ep 5) People on the Periphery

(Ep 5) Hearing the Rain

(Ep 5) Sizzling Sounds

(Ep 5) How did I miss it?

(Ep 5) Let's talk about Kaori

(Ep 5) Rice and Yogurt

(Ep 6) People on the Periphery, Take 2

(Ep 6) Hagiwara isn't off the hook

(Ep 6) The broken SIM card broke me

(Ep 6) Fujisawa vs. Hagiwara's work (short post)

(Ep 6) Coffee Connections

(Ep 6) Who Owns the Phone?

(Ep 6) It didn't start at the museum for Hagiwara.

(Ep 6) Eating together.

(Ep 6) The smelly storm glass

(Ep 6) Breadcrumbs From a Flashback

(Ep 7) Sticking the Landing is Hard

(Ep 7) What the Finale Got Right

Related Trope Collections

When Wine Said... (People caring for their partner's feet)

Not Really Meta

Prayer to the show gods

Ha! I knew it!

How would you fill in the blank?

It's now time to fight

There's a trend lately...

Just a few parallels (Ep 4)

Sure it could just be coffee (short joke post)

I do not think it means what you think it means (joke post)

My first ever liveblog (Ep 6). It doesn't look anything like the liveblogs I do now 😆.

For more master lists see: A Bit About Nabi

[c0rrupt4]

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘆 •︎ Il Dottore x Male Reader

This is Chapter 1. You can read the prologue here. Or the full book here.

"What this is magnificent..." was all Dottore could utter as he wandered around in the forsaken temple. The temple was in pristine shape, considering it was abandoned and deep underneath Sumeru's golden sands you'd think the sacred place would be damaged. Yet it was in perfect shape. Dottore could not help but touch the pillars of the entrance. Between the pointed arches, flying buttresses, and the ribbed vaults. Dottore was left in awe. He took in the sheer majesty of these marble walls and pillars.

"Lord Dottore? Shall we move on?" Interrupted the Fatui captain.

"Give me a minute, woman."

"A-apologies I-"

"Stop your buffoonery, Viva. Let us move on." Dottore huffed as he began walking down the grey marble halls. The walls were dripping with secrets and power, and Dottore was planning to get to the bottom of it.

Every step the two took made them tremble, maybe it was the excitement, or maybe it was the feeling of such a strong presence in the temple. Whatever it was, it made them shiver with anticipation.

With great anticipation, Dottore walked up to the stone doors and stopped to admire them. The stone doors had a garden carved into them and were in pristine shape. Dottore ran his fingers against the doors before clearing his throat and pushing the doors open.

As Dottore walked into what looked like a sanctuary, it was dark and dimly lit, the only thing providing light was two candlesticks that held purple flames. The candlesticks were on the sides of a 10ft statue of an elven woman. The statue looked so real as if an elven woman had turned to stone amidst her dance. In one hand she held an empty lantern while in the other hand held a blade. The elven woman was beautiful, with long hair that touched the ground, and tattoos that covered her body.

Said tattoos looked like markings or more like a foreign language to Dottore. Or maybe he was reading too far into this.

Dottore, as he moved to approach the statue, something on the floor of the sanctuary caught his eye. A purple chalk circle, that is behind the statue.

Dottore moved the candlestick on the left side to the chalk circle so it would form an 'L' with the statue and other candle. As soon as it happened the two candles blazed a hundred times brighter and every other candle that was in the temple became lit. The temple looked stunning, due to the proper lighting, and Dottore could not help but feel like a kid in the candy aisle as he moved away from the statue to inspect the lit-up temple.

Viva had suddenly gasped, "Lord, Dottore, the statue!" She said with awe.

Dottore swiftly turned around to see the statue of the elven woman, the tattoos that covered her body had glowed a bright vibrant color. Suddenly the stone lantern became lit, holding a firey purple blaze that rivals any of the flames that came from any other candlestick.

Suddenly the ground began to shake, as the flooring underneath the shadow of the lantern began to crack. Something began to emerge out of the ground. A Gateway that was similar to that of the Spiral Abyss, but instead of holding that familiar Khaenri'ah symbol atop, it was an image of a tiara that was ablaze.

"Lite the fire now this day, or turn thy gaze down in shame.

After all thy burden is heavy, but thy reward shall be great."

A voice cried out before the temple stopped shaking. The portal now sat just a few mere inches underneath the statue's lantern, as the bright flame went out in the lantern.

Dottore soon stood up as he dusted off his clothes,  "Viva get up won't you, we have work to do, don't you see!?" Dottore snapped at the frightened Fatui captain as she bounced to her feet.

"Right! Apologies Lord Dottore!"

After hours of inspecting every nook and cranny of this temple, Dottore came to a sure conclusion. The candlesticks on the walls move, there are exactly 12 in the temple, every time one of the candlesticks is rotated, Dottore can hear a mechanism move. It's just a matter of getting the right order.

"Alright Viva, I've figured out your errors.

Move 7 two clicks to the right,

Then rotate 2 a complete 170 degrees,

11 and 12 four clicks to the left,

and 4 and 9 one click right."

Viva sighed as she stood to her feet, tired and exhausted from a long day, but that's what you get for choosing to work under Il Dottore number 2 of the fatui harbingers, but a good portion of the time she wishes she took her chance with Pantalone or Arlecchino. And she would be damned if she were to point out that she had been following Dottore's instructions this entire time and these were actually his errors, but only a fool would do such a thing.

With a heavy heart and sore feet, Viva swiftly got to work rotating the candles. After rotating the candles to Dottore's instructions, the stone statue's lantern relit and the portal opened.

"Thank you for your deeds, our Mistress will greatly reward you." a man's voice called out from the other side of the portal.

A butterfly first flew out of the portal and flew right over to Dottore and gently landed on Dottore's gloved hands. The butterfly was beautiful with a blue and white color pattern, reminding Dottore of the Icy snow back in Snezhnaya. The creature was oddly just as cold as the snow, or maybe it was Dottore's mind playing tricks on him. The butterfly was oddly alluring, calling to him, pleading with him to come... to what he couldn't figure out. Or for much less why.

Dottore's thoughts were cut short as the butterfly was murdered right before his eyes. A man wearing a long robe took the butterfly from Dottore and burned it.

"Why did you-"

"You will thank me later if you allow me to explain." The priest said cutting off Dottore.

The elven priest has long blond hair with bright red eyes to go with it. The man held a blooming gold staff. It was embedded with rubies and had budding and blooming roses all over it, With the top of the staff holding a large rose with a flame coming from it, yet it was perfectly fine. He wore a long black robe, the ends, and the sleeves were laced with a golden lining to match a few gold laces and jewels.

"My name is Feno, I am the head priest who runs the temple on the other side of the portal. What you were holding was one of his parasites. We had an invasion of them swarming the temple, we didn't know why until now."

"I see, was the parasite trying to take blood from me?"

"Lord Dottore should we even trust this man, I mean for all we know-"

"Quiet Viva, and know your place. I'm having an important conversation right now, make yourself useful and go pack up our stuff." Dottore snapped angrily at the Fatui agent for interrupting him.

"Yes, Lord Dottore," Viva said with a bow as she walked off.

"Should you be so harsh to your subordinates?" Feno questioned as his heart couldn't help but weep at the harsh treatment he had just witnessed.

"Please get to the point of this conversation, or step aside so I can explore your world."

"Ah- yes! Dottore was it? I hope you didn't interact with it for long the parasite could have done a number of things to you: infect you, poison you, kill you. Did you feel like the parasite was pulling you in? Giving a sort of familiarity with a certain place? Well, it could have been going through your memories stealing information from you. I have no idea why he would be interested in this planet." Feno rambled on.

"Yes, sorry to interrupt, but who is 'he'?"

【︎ᴜᴘ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ...】︎

「彼」✽

║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █

[zeninsama-moved-again]

zen'in naoya, as seen by silas. these are some of my naoya headcanons so you can better understand how i see this man.

cw for general jjk manga spoilers (don't read if you're actively wanting to avoid), misogyny, sexual abuse, cousin incest, discussions of trans identity, etc. this is also incredibly long lol so don't feel obligated to read. starts off intense and then goes into silly things.

naoya's first love was toji.

naoya never knew his mother. it's my headcanon that naoya and his brothers come from different mothers, with his brothers coming from naobito's first wife. naobito is fifty years older than naoya, his age doesn't hinder his ability to impregnate someone, but i think it's very unlikely a fifty year old woman delivered a baby.

naoya's mother was a young woman from within the zen'in clan (18-20) chosen specifically to bear naoya for a variety of reasons, like fertility or technique (or lack of one) that would give naoya the highest chance of inheriting his father's projection sorcery. she was allowed to mother naoya until the manifestation of his technique, probably around age four, before she was either killed off by the zen'in clan or banished to the far outskirts of the estate.

despite being young and incredibly scared, naoya's mother loved him very much. she felt bonded to him the first time she held him in her arms, this impossibly small bundle with the cutest little ears and nose. naoya was also an incredibly sweet and sensitive little boy.

before being banished from naoya's life, his mother left behind her most beautiful furisode so that naoya would remember her. one of naoya's closest kept secrets is that occasionally he will wear them, along with some very subtle makeup, only in the privacy of his room.

naoya abused mai as a placeholder for maki because even though he refused to acknowledge it, maki was the closest to toji in physicality and in strength – this circles back to toji being his first love, also because naoya canonically measures everyone's strength by comparing them to toji. this absolutely doesn't excuse anything that happened to mai because it gets more fucked up the more you think about it. poor mai.

everyone diagnoses naoya with an incredibly modern type of misogyny, like he's a podcast bro that doesn't eat pussy, but i think that's kind of a bastardization of his character and the zen'in clan as an institution. naoya's misogyny is a result of centuries of deeply-rooted patriarchal and traditionalist values. he's old-fashioned, baby.

naoya has a fetish for the female body. this is also where i disagree with the misogyny-lite commonly associated with him, his view of the female body isn't rotted by pornography. because of this fetish, i think he's also studied the female body to an almost insane degree. it's about viewing the female body in its most unaltered form. it's about having complete dominance and ownership over your body. not only does he know your body better than you do, he knows how to use it against you.

this is also because naoya, deep down, is a woman in my head. that is something he will never process or come to terms with in this lifetime, but his character is canonically associated with female symbolism. this manifests in his fascination and obsession over the female body, his strict ideals of how women should behave, intense feelings of envy towards toji's wife (because he thinks that should've been him), etc. again, this doesn't excuse the misogyny or justify it, it just makes naoya more complex.

so naoya came back as a curse in the culling games arc and it's most notably because he's a sorcerer that wasn't killed using cursed energy, but the reason is a lot more complex and tragic in my head. another reason people come back as curses is because of feeling unsatisfied with their lives on earth, or like they have unfinished business (ex. rika)

we know through toji that life in the zen'in clan is brutal even for men, so i think naoya is sitting on a lot of childhood trauma that helped contribute to making him the way he is.

naoya practices shibari as an art form. this is related to his fetish for the female body and isn't always sexual. sometimes after rigging and suspending you, he will sit back and make charcoal drawings of your body, studying it.

naoya doesn't wear cologne and smells like everything that makes up his day – sun-soaked linens, the leaves of his favorite tea, and incense. he's also vegan, mostly because not consuming animals or their byproducts gives you less notable body odor. this is a benefit for combat.

naoya is not a big fan of sweets and prefers more earthy flavors like red bean, black sesame, etc.

naoya is incredibly vain and has a strict self-care regimen, his diet is even super clean to prevent ruining his skin or physique. he also has access to all the ancient beauty secrets from the zen'in grannies.

[the-trans-folk-witch]

A Mini Rant on The Catholic Pentagram

The pentagram much like myself walks two paths. One holy, and one infernal. It is not just a symbol of wicca, witches, satan, or the elements, but one of heaven.

Amien's Cathedral is popular for its inversed pentagram. In old [folk] catholicism the inverse pentagram represented the holy spirit coming down upon christians. It was seen as ethereal fire and the spirit of god himself. Today many folk catholics make this sign over things to bless them as well as the sign of the cross. Just as the crucifix was on many home altars, the inversed pentagram was too! Do not let the New-Agers and wiccan-lites ruin this symbol for you.

The pentagram as stated earlier was used to represent the five elements in occultism. However there was a time it represented the five wounds of christ. (image from @daught3rsofcain)

Along with the five wounds, it was believed to be a symbol of the five senses of man. Smell, taste, touch, sight, and hearing. to place the pentagram at the foot of the cross was representative of god giving us life and of god becoming flesh.

As a folk catholic, I enjoy these older mystical ideas of this symbol. but as a trad witch, I enjoy the satanic aspects of the pentagram too. why cant I have both? In my tradition Jesus and The Devil are treated as yin and yang. As Gemini. As Apollo and Artemis. Both have a place at my altar.

As the inverse pentagram represents divinity it is also the devils horns stirring the heavens.

You can have both. Because they both exist.

rant over.

[anemonepalustris]

so the new episode, huh? having read a few of the things people smarter than i have said about the episode brings me to an interesting thought: whenever the doctor isn’t there the companion is not there either, not in doctor who; having a whole episode from the exclusive pov of the companion, the doctor marking the beginning and the end of the episode, both moments being the same with minor changes.

the one episode that was doctor-lite that i kept thinking about was ‘Don’t Blink’. one of the more prominent, cult episodes not involving the main actors due to budget and scheduling reasons constraining it to what it was.

throughout the episode we get the pre-recorded, one-sided conversation from the doctor in the past arguing with one of the main characters in the present, the bumping of the doctor and martha into one of the people who will be taken by the angels and martha receiving the script written by one of the main characters for the aforementioned convo. martha is never on her own for long, and neither is the doctor; they’re in a sort of symbiosis, where one goes the other can be inferred.

73 yards is all about ruby getting constantly abandoned because of the thing that follows her at exactly 73 yards distance, with a lot of very clever piecing of details together, from 2049, to Mad Jack, the welsh, the fairy circle, all coming together to form a coherent narrative, even though there was none.

in the same way the doctor likes to sprinkle in facts from their various off-screen adventures, fifteen mentions the prime minister. the mad jack bit was all about the locals taking what ruby read and adding it to their fucking with her, wherein factor in the welsh and the fairy circle. all of these tidbits that are on their own isolated incidents get linked together, by ruby, who is our pov character for the episode with the doctor… gone.

the episode nudges the idea that the doctor is hiding out in the tardis, having ran from ruby in the same way we see happen later on in the episode, but we don’t necessarily get confirmation. the part that is most interesting to me is the tardis staying there, instead of it going away. it’s the ‘time and relative dimension in space’ box, so why not leave? sure, it’s symbolic, symbols are reserved for fairytales and fiction, doctor who admittedly is that, but without the knowledge of what happened to the doctor, the leap from ‘the tardis is locked, where is the doctor?’ to ‘of course the doctor abandoned me and changed the locks’ seems a bit extreme.

the doctor would not leave their tardis just getting eaten away at by moss there if they where inside, so where is the doctor? one user pointed out that ‘the lack of an intro’ seemed wrong, like the doctor simply got plucked out of the reality in which him and ruby where in wales and now 73 yards is almost… not an episode? of course it is, we all watched it, but without the doctor, with ruby aging and getting abandoned, with the clear supernatural element that never gets explained away in a very tenth era ‘but it was aliens all along!’; the switch to something other slowly seeping in until the whole thing is over. it’s all alright now, and then the intro comes in. except it’s the outro. we’re done. tune in next week for a fresh serving of— hey, what was that all about?

another user on here pointed out that there is a ‘bad dream logic’ about the episode, which is reminiscent of the concept of bad luck machinery and the language of knots in the ‘Church on Ruby Road’, except there is no doctor to have studied ruby and figured out what happens. ruby has to make it work.

the way the doctor is forcibly removed from the premises of wales, so the story can happen in the way it does, is so jarring: it’s doctor who, where’s the doctor? we don’t know. on my first watch, i slotted the tardis staying there into one of those ‘oh, the tardis doesn’t work this episode, so the main conflict can’t be solved in 0.2 seconds’ and waited for the doctor to come in and explain all that. to the audience surrogate. who’s stranded there, without answers, making up her own as she goes along from all of the things that seem relevant. kind of like fan theories, now that i think about it. no doctor, no tardis, unresolved conflict.

we know how this goes: locals help out, like in ‘The Fires of Pompeii’— no, wait a second, they’re really unhelpful. alright, then the parents/friends help out, like mickey in the ‘Aliens of London’, wherever and however they can; see! carol is about to confront the woman following ruby and— cold, hateful eyes look back at ruby from her mother’s face, forcing ruby out of her life. ah, UNIT, surely…well, fuck, we’re really in it now.

sure, ruby saves the world, becoming the doctor in a sort of clara oswald way, only to then… age. aging, in a show all about a virtually immortal alien running about, is daunting. seeing ruby next to the tardis, having lived an unremarkable enough life, a lonely life, changed so fully from who she was at the beginning of the episode, next to an aged tardis is horrible; in the way that death is horrible, with grief and longing as the coating of the feeling of something being wrong.

an episode that comes to mind in a world where the doctor dies is ‘Turn Left’, but it’s incomparable. we knew what happened, why it happened and who benefitted from all of it. here it’s just… it’s nothing like doctor who. all of these episodes i mentioned are cornerstones of the first RTD run of the show, when doctor who was at a peak, arguably the most recognisable era of the show: when all they taught us is turned on its head in such a manner, doctor who indeed feels wrong because all of our data tells us it is.

this season is making very deliberate, fourth-wall breaking jabs at the audience, and this is by far one of the most elaborate ones yet: ‘we know you know our tricks, but we’ve got more things in store’. it’s an episode that is packed full of subversion of expectations and is less sci-fi and more magic, barely doctor who, or rather a new kind.