#the blorbos can’t escape me

[manchineel-bean]

me: “you wanna see a magic trick?” ny: “n-“ me: “-abracadabra!” makes him have a prosthetic leg :)

[daily-tango-doodles]

Day 120: he’s wonky but he’s free 😌

Also I’m gonna take a small break from doodles I can feel the artblock sneaking up and I’ve found the easiest way to kill it is to draw literally nothing for a couple days XD

[wren-kitchens]

I can't tell you how frustrated I am right now. it's so ironic too—i’m trying to write elven trio struggling with doing normal everyday things for various reasons because I thought hey if i'm gonna project my problems onto the sillies it may as well be in disability pride month! they can get the Things Are Hard disorder that I have!

you will not believe what i’m struggling to do because of the Things Are Hard disorder.

[not-another-walnut]

okay okay sorry about all the zero escape stuff

i’ll definitely be normal about it for now on

(I’m a liar)

(play zero escape)

[kirbydots]

Dragging my friend through Invaders (1975) and it is going great.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Can I hear your thoughts on this panel?

I feel that Hyrule looking at Legend as Four says that is important somehow... What do you think?

Hmmm

Well one thing I’ve noticed in the last couple of updates is Hyrule and Legend have been around each other A LOT

Practically ever since Hyrule finished healing Twilight and helping Four they’ve been hanging around each other. In close proximity too. Which, given that Legend usually only stands close to the people he trusts (principally Sky) is a big deal.

If Dawn pt. 5 is any indication, it seems that Hyrule is mostly initiating this lol

But Legend is letting him

Excuse me while I fangirl over the downfall duo for a moment. ALDNDLSDJSLDNSL THE BROTHERS EVER

Ahem ok let’s continue

Now, I’m overdue for a LU reread so correct me if I’m wrong BUT I seem to recall that they’ve never stayed this close to each other before. Could just be that they take comfort in one another’s presence. Seeing the panel you shared, though, I’m gonna say it’s more than that.

Idk if they’ve figured out their place in the timeline yet (I’m assuming not due to how everyone acted in Timeline Talk pt. 1). That doesn’t mean, however, that they haven’t begun to guess. Jojo has hinted at many interactions that the Links have had offscreen. Plus, Legend and Hyrule met up before they ran into the others. They’ve had time to get to know each other. I guarantee they’ve got suspicions about their places in time.

Which leads me to believe Hyrule is afraid of losing Legend. He must have figured out that Legend was a hero sometime before his journey began. Meaning, somewhere along the way he perished and the darkness he struggled so hard against spread over Hyrule anew. With Twilight just having escaped death (plus the cryptic comments he continues to make regarding Time’s fate), I’m sure untimely demises are on Hyrule’s mind.

I don’t think he knows Legend’s fate (unless there’s something in his games that hints toward the previous hero’s fate). But I believe he wants to. I can’t be the only one who sees the striking similarities between Legend and Time. He likely came to the realization that a guy like Legend will most likely die a wanderer or a warrior (doesn’t mean he did. I don’t like to think he did. One blorbo with a tragic end is enough XD But still). And being a hero and Legend’s friend he’s wondering if maybe, just maybe he can change that.

If it’s possible to know a future occurrence, it could be possible to transform it, right?

All image credits to @linkeduniverse

[sacred-algae]

I don’t think Jaskier is fully aware of the fact that Geralt is It for him.

I know we aren’t getting Geraskier, (they’re still canon to me) so at this point I just want my blorbo to be able to move on and be happy instead of fucking miserable but the more I think about it, the more I realize that even if he does get chance to be with Radovid… I don't think he would ever be truly happy.

Yes, he could love him, and be happy that he's being treated well, and worshiped and valued, and everything a good relationship should be. Yes, he'd learn to move on as much as he can… but that’s only as much as he can. Geralt will always be with him. Geralt will be a filter for which he perceives affection and how it's given out and received. Everything will relate back to him.

Geralt is love for Jaskier.

It would be doomed. As much as he could learn to love somebody new, it would take far too long to be fair, and even if Radovid fully understood and stuck around because he knew Jask was trying and didn’t mind, even if Jaskier does love him—It’s doomed.

He couldn’t do it. Because everything they do reminds him of Geralt even though they weren’t even together… but he can’t escape it. It could even be years down the road with zero contact with Geralt (because that’s the only way he could truly even begin to move on) and he would be miserable.

So he’d leave Radovid. Because it’s not fair. And he’d decide he’s better off having one night stands and casual affairs that last no longer than a month for the rest of his life.

And maybe he’d go back to Geralt. Because he sure as hell can’t live without him if the past however long it’s been has taught him anything.

Geralt would be so mad at him for leaving but it’s not like they haven’t gone a long time without seeing each other/not contacting each other before. It’s just been a while since then… And Geralt needs him too, how could he say no? He missed him horribly.

And I think at that point, Jaskier would tell him why he left. Geralt deserves to know. Because at this point, if Geralt will take him back, what’s unrequited love? It doesn’t matter. He should have known it wouldn’t matter. And really, he should have done this a lot sooner, maybe he could have gotten some fucking peace—

“You should have.”

“I should have what?”

“You should have done this sooner.”

“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said. Why are you— Geralt? What are you— Gods, that’s unfair, don’t look at me like you’re about to—”

Kiss me.

He should have done this much, much sooner.

[butterflywithsass]

Watched Dead Boy Detectives last night and I’m obsessed. If you like the queerness of good omens, but with more gore, and in the same universe as the Sandman (death and despair both show up) if you like dark academia gay boys, if you like ghosts, or paranormal stuff, or demons, if you like cats — lemme tell you this show is for you.

So, like, there’s these two ghost boys who are best friends but also gay for each other but also a secret third thing and their names are Edwin and Charles.

Edwin Payne was a demonic sacrifice in 1916 and as spend literal decades in hell but escaped. He’s a repressed Victorian gay who has zero charisma but every single man he meets becomes obsessed with him and wants to sleep with him except the boy he actually likes which is his best friend Charles. His entire character arc is about gay panic and getting over his internalized homophobia — he wears bow ties!!!! He doesn’t know what a hand job is. He’s literally the perfect tumblr blorbo. His superpower is getting tortured. He’s so sassy! His sexual awakening comes at the hands of a cat king and his first kiss is with a crow.

Charles died in like the 90s or something I’m not sure. He’s so optimistic and sunshine but also so full of rage. He’s the most supportive guy 100/10 would trust him with anything. He doesn’t like to talk about his issues. When confronted with the inexorable monsters of hell he solved the problem with a Molotov cocktail. I love him and his single earring he’s a golden retriever who would rather stay on earth with best friend than move on to a peaceful afterlife. His jawline is impeccable he can’t not press a big red button when he sees it.

Crystal Palace I wasn’t sold on because I thought she’d get between my boys but she actually so cool and I developed a bit of a crush let’s be honest I have a thing for curly haired witchy girls, she’s a physic with amnesia and a demon stalker ex boyfriend people stare at her when she hangs out with the boys cause it looks like she’s talking to herself. Everyone she knows thinks she’s insane. She’s a reformed mean girl.

Niko Sisaki I was a little iffy about because it felt like they were gonna go with the bimbo anime Asian girl but turns out she just had a parasite that made pink hearts float around her. She’s so weird she tries to help Edwin with his gay problem by introducing him to explicit gay fan fiction, she tries to get her landlord to date, she likes cool rocks. She has two tiny people trapped in a jar in her room. Her friendship with Edwin is everything. She’s ghosting her mom.

Jenny. I love her so much, she feels so safe which is weird because she chops meat and all her clothes are covered in blood. Everything about just screams big sister and her character arc is learning to embrace that. She goes on one date and almost gets murdered.

Monty. He’s literally a crow turned into a boy. He’s down bad for Edwin. He’s a secret honeypot agent for an evil witch. He has the most adorable smile, the whole time I was expecting him to be an agent of Morpheus. He’s obsessed with astrology.

The Night nurse originally annoyed me a bit (in a good way) I just wanted to get rid of her. When Charles punted her into a giant sea monster I clapped. Then it just got weird and I love it.

The cat king. He’s such a creep, but honestly, I love that for him. He has some of the best lines and he just exudes cat. He’s a classic fairy tale trickster, he a nuisance for the whole season, he’s central to the plot, he’s constantly hitting on Edwin.

Esther. She’s a archetypal evil witch. She gives off mystic trash vibes. She’s obsessed with beauty and revenge. She’s shamelessly horrible. She feeds kids to her giant snake. She literally can’t die.

All in all, I think I’m gonna have brain rot over this for the next year, go and watch it.

[mamawasatesttube]

11 or 27? I love when my blorbos can hold each other tenderly

11. "Just hold on to me." 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"

“I dunno exactly what kind of escape attempt you were going for, when I can hear exactly where you are, y’know.” Kon alights atop the fencepost next to Tim’s perch. “C’mon. I know you hate being sick, but Ma’s got a nice, hot pot of soup with your name on it waiting.”

Tim doesn’t say anything, just turns his face up into the wind and sniffles. It’s not cute; he sounds like he’s in danger of dry drowning from mucus alone. His nose is red and runny, his cheeks flushed bright with the cold. He’s got a shawl wrapped around himself, but it’s snowing. That’s nothing.

Tutting, Kon shrugs off his own jacket and wraps it around Tim’s shoulders. “Robbie…”

Tim sniffles again and coughs hoarsely, twice. His fever still hasn’t broken, and his eyes are too bright as he drops his head onto Kon’s shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to run off.”

Kon snorts. “I should hope not. Where’d you be running to? The cows?”

Tim doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t bicker back with him. He’s just silent for a moment. He sucks in a rattling breath and blows it out, coughing again; the cold air can’t be pleasant on his sore throat. “I just… wanted to watch the snow.”

Softening, Kon wraps himself around him, his TTK enveloping the air around Tim to try and warm him up a little. “You couldn’t do that from the window seat, Robbie?”

Tim shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Kon’s quiet. Tim opens up, sometimes, but never with prodding. Prying is a method of last resort with him, because it takes a metric buttload of effort. The rare moments when Tim chooses to open up, to share tiny things from that steel trap of a head he’s got… Kon cherishes them.

Sure enough, his patience pays off. Tim turns and tucks his cold face into Kon’s neck. He seems to have realized he’s cold; he’s shivering, and Kon pulls him closer.

“My mom,” Tim starts, voice hoarse. A dull ache tolls through Kon’s chest, coupled with breathless warmth, because Tim never talks about his mother. There must be something special about the snowfall. “She was half-Chinese. Did I ever mention that?”

Kon shakes his head, though it’s unnecessary. They both know Tim never has.

“Her mom was from this tiny village just below foothills of the Himalayas, or something. I don’t even…” He breaks off to cough, and Kon winces. “I don’t even know the name. I don’t know my grandmother’s name. My mom, she… she barely told me anything about that side of the family. I don’t think—I don’t think my grandma told her much to begin with. But the one thing I did know… there was this one photo. The single photo I ever saw of my grandmother as a little girl. She was playing in the snow, out on a big field. It looked…”

He trails off, and Kon’s heart tugs in his chest. He knows a thing or two about a heritage forever out of reach, about growing up on the outside and looking in.

“It looked a little like this?” he finishes, gentle as he can, and Tim nods.

“I dunno what even reminded me of it,” Tim mumbles. His energy seems spent after the explanation, and he sighs, sagging against Kon’s chest. Kon can feel his eyelashes brush his neck as he closes his eyes. “But then I wanted to… I dunno. Sit here.”

Kon presses a kiss to the top of his head. He gets it, but Tim’s sick, and it’s cold out. And Ma’s inside, fretting because Tim slipped away the second Kon ran out to the store for her. “I’m gonna pick you up now, ‘kay?”  

“Mmhmm.” Tim sniffles again, horrible noise that it is. “Ugh. I sound gross.”

“You do,” Kon agrees, kissing his hair again. “Just hold on to me, sunshine. Soup ‘n’ tea are waiting for you. We’ll get you feeling better in a jiffy.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Tim’s fingers curl into the front of Kon’s sweater, and Kon easily scoops him into his arms. He flies back towards the farmhouse, and the snow falls gently around them.

[jazzythursday]

Did anyone else have the experience of reading Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell at the ripe age of 13 and relating to Cath because you read fanfic and had crippling social anxiety, and THEN eventually growing up to be a young adult who wrote fanfic and had crippling social anxiety, in your first year of uni and trying to finish your biggest fic yet by a specific self-imposed deadline at the expense of your finals assessments? Because boy do I have I story for yo—

I didn’t write fic when I read Fangirl for the first time—I didn’t write fic until the summer before my first year of uni, funnily enough—but seeing a character that used fictional worlds/relationships to escape the real one, who struggled in the same ways as me and didn’t so much as change by the end but grow and evolve was really special to me.

Rainbow gave me a little too much credit, maybe… I did not, unfortunately, get a Levi or a Reagan, nor do I have a spunky twin sister to reconnect with. It’s just me and my writing, my blorbos and my fandom friends—even now that I’m going through another fic deadline rush worryingly close finals in my second year, AGAIN—but I can’t help but think about how serendipitous it is that my life ended up mirroring a lot about a character that spoke to me so much as a tween.

I reread Fangirl every now and again and always, I think: oh, I feel like that. She gets it… which is maybe a little bit sad when it’s because you’re hiding in a bathroom for an hour because you’re too scared to go to the canteen, or crying because you’ve lived the whole first quarter of your life and you still don’t know how to talk to people, but even those times, being alone didn’t feel as… alone, I think, because of Fangirl.

I think about Cath when I’m on hour 6 of writing and I’m hunched over my laptop in the dark. I think about her when I put up fandom posters on my dorm room walls, or reply to fic comments, or straight up start crying because, besides fandom, I’m really lonely. (I think about her when I’m not so lonely too—when I talk to people and it goes ok, and maybe I can be person, actually).

I think about Cath when I’m scared. I think about her when I’m terrified and I just have to keep going anyway.

All that’s to say, I’m really grateful that Rainbow Rowell read so much drarry fanfiction wrote Fangirl, and I’m really grateful it was displayed at the front table of the bookstore I was in. I’m really grateful I read it, and related to it, and that I still do.

[writing-my-time]

Meet Me in the Bathroom

Donald Pierce X F!Reader This is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written to Tumblr! This is written for @toxicanonymity's Boyd-a-thon, which was almost perfect timing considering he's become my new blorbo. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: 18+, Smut with minimal plot, alcohol, semi-public sex, fingering, light spanking, over-use of pet names, unprotected sex. Summary: Not even five minutes into your drink, Donald invites you to 'catch-up' in the bathroom. You agree.

Tap tap tap. Tap. The sound is aggravating, the sight even more so.

Donald Pierce slides next to you, practically peacocking his chest out as his robotic digits thrum against the bar table. Each tap of his fingers on the wood makes your eye twitch. Apparently, there’s no escaping the Reaver’s ringleader, not even in a bar right on the outskirts of Laguna Vista. You’ve only been nursing your drink for about five minutes, before he’s made his way over to you. Not even enough time to feel a buzz. He’s got that stupid grin on his face. The one where his gold tooth glints, contrasting his otherwise pearly whites. As the man leans forward, pulling down his red shades to reveal his steely blue eyes, you can’t help but roll your own. Your wordless exchange is one you’ve shared before, though it’s far too early for the two of you to make your way back to wherever he’s staying.

“Oh, c’mon, angel.” He clicks his tongue before sipping his whiskey. “Ain’t like you to refuse a piece.”

You almost choke on your drink, not wanting to stroke the man’s ego with a laugh. Watching as he folds his glasses and tucks them into his jacket pocket, you can’t help but rest your eyes on his chain necklace — Donald notices, chuckling to himself as he leans a little further forward. The chain you’d been admiring now dangles gently off his skin, glimmering slightly as the dim lights of the bar catch it swaying. Soon enough, his whiskied breath hits the shell of your ear, breaking you from your trance.

“I ain’t asking for you to stay the night, princess. Just hoping you’d meet me in the bathroom in a minute or two.” He’s almost pouting, the dirtbag. “Like old times?”

“The fucking bathroom, Don? That’s disgusting” You growl through a whisper.

“Didn’t stop you in New Mexico. Or Lake Charles, or-” “Christ, fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

God damn it. You chew down on your lip, shutting your eyes to avoid the cocky eyebrow wriggle he’s most likely doing. Why did that work on you? Why does he work on you? Goosebumps pimple your skin as he pulls away. Like you expected, he’s wiggling his eyebrows. Without another word, he shifts off of his seat, swaggering away to the bathrooms, looking back at you with a smirk, he slips an ‘out-of-order’ sign onto the door of the disableds. You swing back your drink with haste.

---

It takes about two minutes for you to convince yourself to actually follow him. Quickly, you make your way across the room in an effort to stay unnoticed by the bar’s other patrons - though, they all seem too wrapped up in their own business to notice two people entering the same bathroom. As you push open the creaky door, you’re met almost instantly with the strong frame of Donald Pierce. Both flesh and cybernetic hands make their way down your sides, and his predatory grip tightens around your waist. Pulling you into the bathroom entirely, Don kicks the door closed with his foot before pressing you up against the cold wood. You still have enough time to look around the bathroom before his lips latch onto your neck. Like you suspected, it wasn’t exactly clean. 

The walls have some kind of mold growing up the side, and in truth, the floor is no better. God knows what the actual amenities look like. There’s a faint droning of the harsh fluorescent light above you, but that holds nothing in comparison to the sound of Don’s throaty chuckle as his hands begin to guide you over the sink.

“You’re not bending me over that thing.” You try to dig in your heels, but you know he’s far too strong to be stopped. That, and you don’t really want him to. “Don, it’s filthy.”

“Stop whining.”

“Don, you’re not fucking me-”

“-I said stop whining.” He cuts your protests off short, turning and forcing you to grip the sides of the decrepit sink as he pushes you against it. “Now, be a good girl and look in the mirror.”

Hearing his order makes your cheeks burn, and you lift your head to catch his image in the mirror. You watch the reflection with shaky breath as Don hikes your skirt up and drags your panties halfway down your thighs. With your eyes focusing on Don, you catch him throwing his head back, growling in frustration to himself before he unbuckles his belt. He drags his tongue over his teeth, flitting his eyes between the sight of your warmth, slick and wanting, and your blushing face in the mirror.

“Wish I could take my time with you.” He admits with a growl, lazily pushing the waistband of his pants under his balls, pumping his cock a few times in preparation. “Shit, I’d worship your pussy if you let me, angel. But we don’t got time.”

You’re about to quip back to him that it was his choice to fuck in the bathroom, but the air is forced out of your lungs as he delves two freezing cold metal fingers into your pink slit. Already, you know he’s not planning on keeping his cybernetic digits there for long; simply working your wetness enough to make room for his thickness. When a moan threatens to escape your lips, you have to remove your gaze from the mirror entirely. Don clicks his tongue, hastily pulling his hand away from your core. “Thought I told you to look, pretty girl.” The southern man reaches forward and grips your jaw, steering your head back to the direction of the mirror. 

Once again, you’re met with your own reflection. You watch through half-lidded eyes as Don grips his length in his hand, coating it in the slick he had gathered from your core. It’s mesmerizing, the way his tip is already red and weeping in his tight grasp. He knows you’re looking, and rewards your focus with a gentle love tap of his cock against your folds. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d bark at him to get a condom, but that’s more time you don’t want to lose. After a heated exhale from Don, he pushes forward. 

While this isn’t the first time his girth has invaded your walls, the pure thickness of him forces a choked gasp from deep within your chest. The man has yet to move, instead he dips his head down, clearly in his own bubble of ecstasy while your wetness envelops him with ease. Don’s hands grip your hips with enough strength to leave bruises, and without warning the Reaver pulls himself completely out, only to ram himself back in. His pace is vicious; the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the dingy bathroom. All you can do is bite down on your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet, watching through glassy eyes as Donald’s reflection fucks into you with a snarl. 

“Fuck, angel,” He rasps, catching your eyes in the mirror. “Don't you look so pretty takin’ my cock like this?”

You nod, earning a harsh slap to your ass with his flesh hand.

“Words, baby. You know I like that pretty lil’ voice of yours.”

“I look pretty.” You manage to squeak out through high-pitched whimpers.

“Good girl.” 

His praise is accentuated by his cybernetic hand snaking around your waist and slipping between your soaked folds. Finding your clit, he circles it with an equally brutal pace as his thrusts. There's a knot in your stomach, and already you’re feeling it begin to snap. It's as if he knows, digging his free hand in your hip for better leverage to fuck you even harder; now hitting deep enough inside you to make you need to scream. Instead, you clamp your teeth down around your hand, moaning into the bitten skin. You're so close it hurts.

“Does my pretty girl wanna cum?”

Again, you nod. This time you don't get spanked. When you focus on the mirror, you see Don's face begin to twist into pure bliss. He's close too. In his one moment of being a gentleman, he clearly wants you to cum first, or at least at the same time. Throwing his head back, Don lets out a low growl.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Let me feel it.”

On command, your body spasms, a quick and powerful release clamping down around him while you whine into your hand. You can't help but squint your eyes shut, feeling the final staggered thrusts from Don before he pulls out with barely enough time to spare. All you can hear is his throaty grunts, right before thick ropes of his release coat your ass. He slumps over your body for a moment, syncing with your own heavy breaths before finally pulling back and admiring his work. The reaver gives your left cheek a gentle smack before pulling your skirt back down over it. He's pocketed your panties. Jerk. As you pull back with shaky legs, you aren't surprised to see he's already tucked himself back in, zipping up his fly as your eyes meet his. Can't exactly have pillow talk in a disabled bathroom, can you? The look he gives you isn't one you've seen before, but you can guess what it means.

“Gotta go?” You assume, finally exhaling a stable breath.

“You know it, angel. Nature of the job.” He shoots you the same shit eating grin as before, making sure to add in a wink this time for good measure.

With that, Donald exits the bathroom without so much as a goodbye. You rest your arms back against the sink, shaking your head as you laugh at your own expense. A minute later, you follow suit, creaking open the toilet door and removing the out-of-order sign. The man is nowhere to be seen, leaving an empty feeling you’d much prefer to drink away than acknowledge. When you head back to your original seat at the bar, the tender sets down a pretty pink cocktail with a note.

See you later, pretty girl. - D. x ---

Thank you for reading! Feedback, thoughts, and other ideas welcome. Maybe more Holbrook boy fics in the future :) Big thank you to @justeverythingprettymuch for hyping me up to post this <3

[uchidachi]

Can’t wait for Dragon Age Dreadwolf! Especially can’t wait to see which of our super-specific blorbos make a return!

Note: for this list I was only selecting characters who are not definitively killed in any worldstate. There are a bunch of other characters who I’d love to see, but they can be dead (honorable mentions: Feynriel, Mihris, and my poor meow meow Jowan)

[writing-for-life]

Nuance in (The Sandman) Fandom

Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

I thought a lot over the past few days, partly prompted by discourse on here, partly due to a couple of “interesting” asks and messages I received (the type you don’t answer). I *think* they might have been prompted by engaging in discourse on topics like anti-blackness/racism, misogyny/sexism, TERF characters etc in The Sandman.

Fandoms are always getting super sensitive if someone shines a critical lens on their favourite works, authors and characters. So to make this clear (in case it isn’t already obvious from my brain-rot blog):

I love The Sandman. I love Neil Gaiman. I have an extremely soft spot for Dream (and Desire btw, who deserves a lot more character analysis than just being summed up as “villainous, sexy bitch”. One day, perhaps ;)).

I can read The Sandman and just get lost in the story, even after decades and many rereads. 

But I can also view it through a critical lens—these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Not critical enough or too critical?

As fans, we can get trapped in certain thinking patterns, like:

“My blorbo can do no wrong”-syndrome 

“Characters with flaws are inherently problematic and imply authorial endorsement of those actions” 

“Characterisation and problematic subtext are one and the same” (aka overanalysing and looking for problems where there are none is the death of every story, but failing to see problematic patterns where they are clearly visible is a problem, too).

Don't say anything bad about my favourite character

I think this doesn’t need much further exploration. It’s not my personal way of looking at stories through permanently rose-tinted glasses (I always feel it stalls my experience, but my experience is not everyone else's). Some people prefer that type of escapism, and I’m good with that (although the downside is of course that by not willing to engage with issues, we can unwillingly perpetuate them). Live and let live, ship and let sail. But please, for the love of god: Don’t insult people via their inboxes or messages just because their opinions and preferences don’t align with yours. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or phrase it “nicely”: It’s infantile (and a form of bullying btw), end of.

How can you even like a character who's so horrible? And that author must be equally horrible, too

We have to separate flawed characters, even those who are written to be really problematic, from real-life endorsement of these actions. 

Author, narrator and character are three fundamentally different things, and don’t overlap as much as some people seem to think. 

We can write vile, despicable characters to make a point (for me, Thessaly was always a prime example for this, and I explained why here). We probably hate them as we write them. I don’t know what else to say, but this facet of writing seems to get more and more lost on people, and it’s a worry. Crying for sanitised characterisation is one step away from censorship. We explore what is problematic about people and humanity through story. That’s how we process and learn. It’s nothing new, but it becomes impossible if we can’t write flawed and even disgusting characters. 

Face value…

Since I’m mostly in The Sandman fandom, I often read that its ending is hopeless, and that’s supposedly the entire message. 

It is agonisingly sad, yes. But is it truly hopeless? I personally see it as quite the opposite, but of course that’s my opinion, coloured by my life experiences.

I also get that show-only fans often haven’t read the comics, or at least not the whole arc. And as such, their outlook from what they’ve seen so far (and choose to focus on) has to be different by default. I also understand that many people are quite new to the comics, even if they have read them in their entirety. I’ve sat with them for 30 years, and I still find new things on every reread (and I read it more times than anyone should 🙈), and I still don’t feel like I’ve understood it all. Perhaps because I still haven’t fully understood myself (and it’s unlikely I ever will). If there’s one thing The Sandman isn’t, it’s one-dimensional and easy to grasp in its whole depth.

I just wrote a ginormous meta on it, if you’re interested, it’s here:

Subtext, (not so) glorious subtext

This is where it gets complicated:

We shouldn’t mix up characterisation and story subtext. Overanalysing every line to death will always make us find something that’s “problematic”, when it really isn’t in the wider context of the story.

Zooming in is NOT always a good thing. Sometimes, we actually need to zoom out. 

But subtext *can be* (accidentally) problematic. Even in stories we love. And none of this negates what I previously wrote.

Stories have real-life implications of sorts, and we need to be able to talk about it. That’s where those slightly flabbergasting, hostile inbox messages come in, and I want to expand on that "topic of contention" a bit:

Neil himself confirmed that the Endless basically warp reality, and that this is why, after Dream’s failed relationship with Nada, many black women in his vicinity suffer terrible fates (Ruby and Carla in particular). And that this spell is only broken when he dies, and that it is the reason why Gwen doesn’t suffer the same fate. And said Gwen then gets used as a plot device to basically absolve Hob (who canonically really is a problematic character, whether show-only fans like it or not) from his slaver past. Once again, very clearly: No one is making this up. Neil confirmed it (for the comics, and that was over 20 years ago. It remains to be seen if his stance has changed as we move into that arc in the TV show).

I don't think it is correct to imply that Dream as a character is racist (I've read that, too) because he logically can’t be. He holds *all* the collective unconscious. He is also, strictly speaking, not white. He is everything and nothing, and he shows up in many different ethnicities throughout the whole arc, depending on who looks at him. But Neil played with a subtext here (reality warping due to a bad relationship which then affects everyone with similar physical traits) that will read very differently to a black person than it reads to a white person, and we have to understand why that is an *extremely* slippery slope.

Plus, we are supposed to see Hob, who *was* a racist at some point (you can’t not be if you’re a slave-trader—it’s impossible by default) as redeemed. And yes, he *does* regret deeply, good for him (and if I were saying this aloud, you would hear the sarcasm in my voice, because it is indeed all about him. We are to sympathise/empathise with him and his character growth while there isn’t much mention of the people he maltreated). But also: it was a black woman who basically forgave him (with dialogue that personally makes me cringe). And that black woman who offers forgiveness is not truly a black woman—she is a character written by a white man. And as much as author and character are not the same (see above), there is an inherent sensitivity in that power imbalance that we can't brush under the carpet.

I don’t think Neil is racist. Probably quite the opposite, and I can even see that his intentions were good from a storytelling point of view. BUT intention and impact are two fundamentally different things, and telling the story this way (comic version) betrays blindspots only white people have. Just like women have blindspots when they tell stories about men, and men have blindspots when they tell stories about women (and there are a few of those in The Sandman, too). And and and…

As storytellers, we can’t always speak from lived experience. It’s impossible. And that also means we occasionally make mistakes that look bad in hindsight, even if our intentions were good.

I guess the proof is in the pudding: What do we do when people who *have* that lived experience tell us it looks bad? If they inform us why it is hurtful, plays into old stereotypes etc?

Are we willing to listen and yield (both are the foundations of allyship btw), or are we insisting that our viewpoint as someone *without* lived experience is right? That lived experience extends to all lived experiences (sex/gender, sexual orientation, age...), and from all we’ve heard from Neil so far, it seems important to him to rewrite what he sees differently today. Whether they’ll always get it right for the show—we’ll see. At the moment, it looks a lot better than in the comics, and certain issues are already being handled with a lot more sensitivity, but a few problems remain.

Pushing back on criticism that comes from people with lived experience is problematic—I’d encourage us to think about what it looks like if a white majority in the fandom is basically saying that the opinions of POC are essentially “overreactions” (and yes, that happened).

It’s complicated. The Sandman was written in a different time, and I think we have to distinguish between things that weren’t really problematic at the time but have aged poorly (again, Thessaly springs to mind, and I have lived experience as a queer person during that time, so I can see it in context while at the same time acknowledging that I would make changes to bring it to the present day), and things that were always a problem due to blindspots. They were a problem in 1990, and if they don’t get changed, they are still a problem today.

This fandom is generally so much more open and nicer than others I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s infallible, because it’s full of humans. 

Nuance is sorely needed, in both story interpretation and interaction between said humans.

[xdxenon]

Oh the irony in the way Nya escaped the test of fears by knowing Jay would never forget about her.

Can’t wait for evil Jay to show up and for her to realize “holy shit. He DOESNT remember me!”

But good on Jay. My poor blorbo needs some character developement. And screen time.

[katyspersonal]

Also ya'll are boring haters. Just because I have stupidly long hair and wear black leather goth coats + boots, like to stab things, am associated with black feathers because crow, am a homeschooled freak, have a weird connection with deep space, miss my mom almost chronically, tend to get overly attached to friends because I didn’t know hardly any people growing up, have a fiery, impassioned lore-obsessed bestie associated with the color red that duels with me every weekend, a calmer, more sensible literal angel bestie that reminds me to be rational and tells me to chill when duelling with the red friend, have a hard time expressing deeper emotions, am fairly introverted until I’m around friends I trust, don’t like public attention, have dreams about the apocalypse, can’t seem to escape the color scheme of purple/green, will probably have a mental breakdown at 25, am only a few steps away from committing arson, doesn't mean that you now get to make Sephiroth jokes ffs 🙄 Not literally everything is a reference to your most hated fictional not-blorbos, touch grass sometimes :pensive:

Nah, you aren't Sephiroth over all these things, you are Sephiroth because you annoy me by literally just standing there. Perish

[glossysoap]

how’s about we take a little visit to the boys’ pov in chapter 11?

Stop you’re gonna kill me?! I’m already so excited!!! I feel for the boys 😪 the universe really threw a curveball at them that they didn’t deserve, but I just wanna scoop up all the angst you’re serving and eat it for breakfast, it’s so good omg I can see ghost and soap growing a bit of animosity for each other for not telling reader how they feel?! And reader doesn’t even remember them now?!?! asdfghjkl I’m so sorry, I’m just so stupid for your blorbos and this hellhole world you created

I need rtc like it’s my lifeline cause I canNOT wait for ghost and soap to reunite with reader and the three of them to learn to love each other!? UGH I can taste it but I live for everything in between cause it wouldn’t taste as good without the buildup, I need it to hurt 😩

I’m biting my knuckles just thinking about how huge the boys’ regret is for not confessing sooner or being more intimate with them!? And reader relearning their love for the boys???

I’m sorry Im passing away cause my heart can’t contain the possibilities anymore, this is all your fault (affectionate)

-🌻

missed chances

ghoap (for the sake of convenience, that’s what i’ll be referring to them as when i’m talking about ghost and soap) growing a bit of resentment and animosity towards each other, even despite their best efforts, for not telling you how they felt has LITERALLY BEEN MARINATING AND HATCHING IN MY BRAIN FOR SO LONG. SO SO LONG.

because just think about it. the only reason you were so so eager to leave the task force that day and go onto that helicopter was because you felt so.. out of place with ghoap.

with all of their touches and kind words and intense gazes. all of those things that, in your eyes, were reserved for ghost and soap. in your eyes, you were an intruder. someone taking up space.

and why would they need you, anyway? they surely don’t. they’re both pillars of love and strength and willpower — they can do just fine without you. without some third wheel best friend always trailing behind them.

and furthermore, why would they want you? in your eyes, there’s just no way. no way that they meant all of those longing glances or bear hugs. all of those forehead kisses and pet names. they were just being nice. you were the most skilled medic and you always treated them impeccably, no matter how challenging their ailments were — so of course they would be nice to you.

so, in your mind, on that day you were captured, you were tired of being lured in by those intense gazes and warm touches. you were tired of being flustered over their close proximity and feeling your heart pound in your chest. you were tired of having these feelings that would so obviously never be returned.

in that moment, when you had an emergent patient, you saw an opportunity to leave the nerves behind and get back into your element. an opportunity to escape the affection that made you feel all warm and fuzzy, and completely stupid all at the same time.

and the boys could see how relieved you were when a patient had arrived, by the sigh you let out and how quick you were to pass them off to your assistant. thoughts ran through their mind, none of them good. most of them always led back to one - they were scaring you away.

you were getting overwhelmed with all of the attention and affection, especially since you didn’t know about their feelings yet.

so they told themselves that they would tell you first thing once they touched down back at the base. they would head straight to your quarters and sit you down, each of them holding one of your warm, soft hands. they would talk in hushed, soft voices and gaze at you with adoration as they would confess to you. they would tell you how you make their hearts race and their minds muddle into mush when they see you. they would tell you how they look for you in every room they enter. they would tell you how they love you, how they’re in love with you.

at least, that’s what they were going to do. before they returned to find your room empty and you nowhere to be found. before the task force had to watch the footage of you being captured on that helicopter.

now, when you ambush them later on that highway, all brainwashed — that just makes it worse.

it was one thing for them to think of you as being dead for so long, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing for them to find out that you were tortured (still being tortured), your arm was amputated and you were brainwashed. turned into a killing machine.

so, not only did they blame themselves for you “dying,” but now? now they blamed themselves for you having to endure a fate worse than death.

and when you said, “who the hell is y/n?” oh, lord. any progress that they had made with grieving? all of the healing? it was all torn away the very second you were revealed to be alive and that your memories were erased.

i cant wait for them to reunite either!!! we’re on the same wavelength!!! but YES OMG THE BUILDUP ALONG THE WAY IS WHAT MAKES IT EVEN BETTER

and don’t you worry because you’ll be gettin FED with the buildup!! the boys yearning for you now that they know you’re alive??? check. the boys searching for you everywhere they go? check. you dreaming of little flashes of them? dreaming of soaps cerulean eyes? dreaming of ghosts gentle touches? check. check check checkkkkkkkk

omg they have SO many regrets. SO MANY. remember in chapter 2 i believe, where ghost and soap were thinking about how they would confess to you? and ghost was worried about scaring you off? and how he said they shouldn’t just kiss you out of the blue?

yeah all of that sounds laughable now. they WISH they would’ve just pulled you close to them and held your face with their big hands and pressed their lips to yours. they wished they could’ve felt how smooth your lips were and how soft they were. just like everything else about you, you were soft and fragile in contrast to their rough and callousness. they wish they could’ve tasted you and heard you gasp as they slipped their tongue in your mouth.

they wished that they had hugged you even more. they wished that they had kissed your forehead more. they wished that more than anything, they had pulled you aside and just told you how they felt. they wished they could have made sure you knew how deep their feelings for you ran, that they were anything but just surface level friendliness. they wish they could’ve made you believe that.

because if you had known that they were in love with you, and not in the way that “just friends” are, then you would’ve wanted to stay. you would’ve waited for them to be patched up before you went to see that patient. they could’ve accompanied you to see that patient, and then maybe, just maybe, the redhead’s cover would’ve been blown. and you wouldn’t have been taken.

now. when it comes to you relearning your love for the boys? whewww,, it’ll take some time. because once you come back to the 141 base, you’re still carryin a shit ton of trauma and trust issues. you’re also still battling amnesia and working through all of the brainwashing that HYDRA put you through.. but! at least the 141 knows that you’re safe!

(physically at least lol not safe in your own mind but 🤷🏻‍♀️)

if you’ve read some of my earlier rtc snippets, then you’ll know that when you come back, you don’t wanna stay in your old room. because you don’t feel like it’s yours anymore. it’s like you’re an imposter, impersonating someone that doesn’t even exist anymore. so you take up an empty room and sleep on some twin size cot, and you don’t use a blanket or pillow — because HYDRA never gave you any. that’s all you can remember.

you’re always wary of the 141, until you remember everything. but that takes some time.

with that time, comes plenty of angst. plenty of jealousy, believe it or not. plenty of yearning. plenty of pining.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.