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mirai-desu · 7 months

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On the MSATD News

I didn't have time to post a knee-jerk reaction (which those of you from the Downton days know I was apt to do - thank you to all my long term mutuals of my side blog for sticking with me through those days), as I saw the news as I was getting ready to head out for work and it's been… a bit of a day.

Suffice it to say… I am devastated. And my initial reaction was (well after cursing), that it should have ended with S4, but with a different (happier) conclusion. It's called Miss Scarlet AND THE DUKE for a reason. And after all that happened in S4… it really feels like… what was it all for?? Especially if they knew WHEN FILMING THIS?? "Goodbye for now" is NOT "goodbye forever." They really, really really fumbled this.

There's a lot of theories going around, and I will admit it's too hard for me to listen to Stuart's new interview, but going off what other's have said and the parts of the transcript I did manage to read… I just cannot feel like this was actually his decision unless there's something else going on with him (either in his personal life or maybe he has some secret role he's got, because supposedly he hasn't worked since he did ADR on S4). He's been the captain of the ship, and he has always been enthusiastic with discussing the show and had just great insight into playing William. It doesn't feel like he himself was ready to move onto other things (and that's not even how it's worded - some BS about how the show needed it him to be gone for ~longevity~ of the show), like I've seen with other actors are on shows (e.g. Dan Stevens). He still promoted S3 (which came out in the UK after they filmed S4), he still even promoted S4! He was an executive producer for S4!!! Nothing makes sense!

So if it's due to RN… why keep having the other characters say William was only going to be gone a year? Why bother to have the flashback? why bother to have him stay at at Eliza's to recover?? hell I'm surprised they just didn't keep in the coma then--

But really, why even bother to have Eliza write to him? Or have Ivy say what she said to her?? The time apart was supposed to be them looking at their options. They literally foreshadowed him joining Eliza at her agency upon his return. So… what happened?

If it was actually for personal reasons that Stuart left, he has a right to his privacy. But then they should have rewritten S4 to be the end then, since they knew all this time. I can't believe we are getting the full story on this, one way or the other. The more and more I think about it... I do think it was RN's doing though.

Just two nights ago I drafted up a whole meta extolling how one of the best things this show has done has been how they developed William and how he grew as a character. The progression he made as he not only accepted Eliza having a career but encouraging her. His mentorship of Fitzroy. How he came from nothing, from a teenager living on the streets, to become an inspector at Scotland Yard. But they have chosen to toss that all out the window.

Who knows, maybe S5 ends with Eliza deciding to go to New York. But it doesn't seem like they are handling this like Babington's absence in Sanditon. They will make Eliza quickly fall for someone else, and slap fans in the face who have been following their friends to lovers slow burn for five years (because we had to wait for S2 in the first place thanks to the pandemic). And what sucks is that we still got promo saying they are in love with each other. From Stuart, from Kate, from Rachael New herself. We have still gotten promo promoting the romance. Why not have them have a big fight then or something, idk. They gave us hope. And you know what Fellowes says about false hope.

So I'm just supposed to believe that William gives up on Eliza and doesn't return…? No, I cannot. As much as we hated the deaths on DA when they wrote out actors, at least those characters still died in love with their spouses. And while I'd still be foaming at the mouth in anger if they killed him off… yeah.

William's last lines of the show is a flashback including him saying "is it all worth it?" And the answer is… no it's not.

#yeah I'm risking putting this in the tag #miss scarlet and the duke #msatd spoilers #honestly thinking about every damn scene they ever had #WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR #thought of the jewelry store scene and died #also does this make Arabella right? gross.#also I guess Alibi doesn't give a shit about the ratings for the last two episodes left to air in the UK #also I didn't bring up Theo J*mes because he left after S1 and it was different #if they recast William with Ben Lloyd-Hughes I'd take it #(wouldn't be the same but you know)#but don't make him a new character it doesn't work here with William still alive #I'm tired of men going to America #iykyk #msatd rambles #<-- that's gonna be tag for all the rambles and rants on this damn show.#it includes things I did not put into the main tag

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watercolor-hearts · 2 months

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STOP FUCKING TAGGING YOUR ANTI POSTS WITH ‘ANTI [DRIVER'S FULL NAME]’!!!

It'll show up in the [driver's full name] tag and people who love/like that driver don't care about your hate and don't deserve their mood to be fucked up.

#formula 1 #i'm so fucking tired of blocking all these people not understanding how tags work here and putting their anti shit in the main tag #sending this to all the george antis i've had to block in the last ten minutes

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im-tempted · 2 months

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TOMMY: he's made so many mistakes so many that have hurt so many people but... what this is gonna be about isn't giving him a second chance isn't about giving him a third chance it's not ABOUT CHANCES... foolish it's about making sure you don't give up on the people you care about so i know you're still really new to this server and i know you've built lots of things if you ever care about someone do NOT give up on them foolish don't give up on people cuz that's how you lose

#i think about this clip so so so so often #so thats why i like normal person hand transcibed the clip so i could put it everywhere #I'm... oh god oh god #adam fucking around #c!tommy #tommyinnit #<- main tagging this shit cuz i wanna be able to find this and also i dont care

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eggman-1 · 3 months

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I swear i see more posts complaining about people complaining than people complaining. "People are saying EOW isn't a real zelda game-" bitch WHERE?? WHO??? I'm not asking because i want to find them, but seriously, what are you TALKING about. Where are you finding this

#yes i know i'm complaining abt people complaining abt people complaining #I also saw this a lot with side order splatoon 'how are people complaining it's too short' where are u seeing that #i think what's actually happening is people are seeing very minor criticism (or people worried abt eow)#and not knowing how to take criticism and blowing it out of proportion #my favorite game is spirit tracks. sometimes people hate your game. suck it up and join the club #echoes of wisdom #and btw i'm not even saying that. I'm a bit worried abt the puzzles but i'm holding any really worries until we see more #Look i get it. It sucks when people hate your things. Again. Spirit tracks is my favorite game. I also love TFH.#and it's not fun seeing people complain. but sometimes i think you ppl make shit up #and i'm literally the worlds #1 botw hwaoc and totk hater. i have the right to hate those games but i don't put hate in the main tags #unless tumblr fucks up and puts 'X negative' in the X tags #i have the right to hate those games as others have the right to love them. we can all be respectful

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nocentis · 4 months

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Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands.

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her.

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow. A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it.

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

#v: ✗ ┆ siegrain ┆ ◜ canon divergent ◞#⚶ ┆ ◜ drabbles ◞#I was in a silly goofy mood #reader beware #this one was an exorcism.#needed to purge this depravity.#hey guys what if I bare my soul and it's a festering wound.#did I provide context? no. am I sorry? also no.#this only works in darkverse.#this is very obviously not inline with canon Jellal's personality but with a mutated version of him I created to balance ->#the healing arc I'm putting him through in mainverse.#not love but a secret other thing (obsession. possession.)(...take my money... I don't need that shit...)#& now she haunts the narrative. in my mind. and his too.#In my defense I've never claimed not to be a degenerate #yeah actually I am kind of embarrassed about this thank you for asking #never thought I’d have to say this but I do not endorse or condone cannibalism.#hey Sieg have you ever thought about chilling. calming down perhaps. I say as if I did not put him in this situation.#I fear this is one of those things I’m going to look back on in a few months & say: that should've stayed in the drafts.#me personally I love posting cringe. it's what I deserve.#if god exists I will have to answer for this. catch me in the river Acheron sipping on straight up anguish.#can you tell I have been confronted by the fleeting nature of mortality more often than usual lately. be honest.#actually I decided to not to go too into depth with the gore this time. I feel like keeping it vague lends more to the fugue state #also because it was giving me REALLY weird dreams. so like. yeah. I could've made this worse. but should I have?#tags bout damn long as the drabble. sorry gang.#cannibalism tw #gore tw #main character death tw #body horror tw #dayne’s depravity #daynedepravity

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meyerlansky · 1 year

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gonna get REAL snippy about some disk horse tonight: i am real fuckin' fed up of seeing everyone who felt impacted by the idea that astarion might be asexual or aspec in some way feel like they have to qualify their interpretation of a canonically sex-repulsed character openly discussing that sex repulsion in a way that is very resonant for a lot of asexual people. i am really fucking tired of the fact that everyone talking about astarion maybe even possibly being some variety of aspec feels COWED into couching it in "it's just a headcanon, it's just something that felt important to me personally! i'm not saying anyone else has to agree, it's just that it resonated for me."

i get not wanting to impose your reading of the text on other people—there are a fuckton of posts floating around about how that's a shitty thing to do and how x read isn't any more canon than y read and people who insist x IS more canon than y are jerks. and i don't disagree! people who insist there's One Canon in a choice-centric RPG are fucking dicks.

but i was also here in 2014, at the peak of exclusionist discourse, when every single time someone said "it's not that i have a problem with asexual people, i just wish they weren't taking up the resources meant for [REAL gay people/rape survivors/people dealing with comphet/etc]." what they actually meant was "I will not be satisfied until you shut the fuck up and never talk about your experiences in a place where i have to hear about it again". and it fucking worked; people recloseted themselves, blogs centered on the aspec community deactivated, real life organizations stopped explicitly including asexuality in their documentation when they had the previous year. for a solid three years, the only time any "big name blogs" mentioned asexuality was to make a joke out of it. i watched this shit happen with my own two eyes.

i don't have a problem with people who disagree with my reading of a character as asexual. i don't have a problem with allosexual people who say "this same thing resonated with me too, just in a different way" and move the fuck on. what i do have a problem with is the implicit vibe that comes up any time asexual and aspec people decide to talk about their experiences and things that resonated with them that we shouldn't take up too much space when we talk about that, because there are other people who don't feel that way and their interpretations deserve to be heard too.

i have not seen a single person on the acestarion train saying "you HAVE to think of him as asexual." i have seen multiple comments saying people who do see him as asexual are delusional or reaching, or that it's insulting—to whatever other identity—to read asexuality into his sex-repulsion. and i am really fucking annoyed [not at all surprised, but annoyed nonetheless!] that not only does the compassion for different takes not go both ways, but that people discussing their resonance with astarion from an asexual/aspec perspective are instinctually or habitually ceding ground by couching it in "you don't have to agree!" kind of statements, when that should be the fucking baseline for every single conversation about any characterization choice in, AGAIN, AN RPG BASED ON INDIVIDUAL CHOICE.

and i don't have any way to express this to the people that i actually have an issue with, because, again: asexual people relating to a character that's not explicitly stated to be asexual is treated as a joke at best and an attack on other identities at worst. but at this point, to me, calling a reading of astarion as asexual/aspec a "headcanon" is minimizing what it actually is: an interpretation of the text, supported by both dialogue and action[s], that is not monolithic but is no less "canonical" and/or rooted-in-the-text-itself than many, many other readings of his characterization, intended by the character's creator[s] or no. you're not going to catch me apologizing for how i read the character and how his dialogue resonated with me. and i don't think anyone else should feel like they have to apologize for it either.

#long post #sorry #i'm in a mood tonight #i'm not even making this post rebloggable or putting it in any main tags because i just don't want to DEAL with the SHIT #that gets slung at people who aren't apologetic about asexuality #i'm fucking tired. i'm old and a cockroach queer and i'm not going to be nice about this shit.#i'll maintag later when i know it won't catch too many eyes #queer as in FUCK YOU #acestarion #is that a tag anyone uses #it should be #baldur's gate 3

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