#Sand man!david

[ofbakerst]

[angelamontoo]

Finally, 1946-1964

[buggamer]

[emptyjunior]

It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

[pear1escence]

Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Keegan p. Russ x fem!reader - explicit

Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…

⭒ Late night car rides, driving around town with American oldies playing on the stereo, a cig in your hand nd his gaze shifting from the road to admire you every so often.

⭒ He’s not much for fancy dates, but he loves going out on walks with you. Strolling on beaches in the evening, loves it when you wear pretty skirts that flow with the wind. You might find a nice spot to put down a couple beach towels, share a bottle of wine and some home baked goods.

⭒ The warmth in his veins from the wine combined with your pretty face, he can’t resist kissing you. He’d pull you into his lap, his hand buried in your hair as he kisses you deeply, those delicious groans slipping from his lips as he does so.

⭒ Wouldn’t do beach sex. Sand getting everywhere, eugh. But in the car??

⭒ He’d have you riding him in the front seat, shirt pushed down, lips around your nipple, hands on your hips. He’ll bite just to hear you yelp. Can’t shut up either. He’s not shy of being vocal, groans a lot, the deep, sexy kind of sounds that has your stomach doing a flip.

⭒ Pretty average in length but his cock is thick as hell. Stretches you out so good. Hairy everywhere. Chest, thighs, nether regions. Yum.

⭒ Compliments you a lot, tells you just how pretty you look taking him so well, how good you feel. “Yeah, that’s it babe” “You’re taking it so fuckin’ well, doll” Curses a lot too.

⭒ Ok enough of that😾

⭒ He owns the comfiest, softest tees, the perfect ones to throw on in the morning with only a pair of panties underneath. You’d wear them a lot when he’s gone.

⭒ He thinks of you a lot when he’s deployed. Tries not to, he gets sad thinking of you alone.

⭒ Hugs you so deeply whenever he returns. Those comforting, safe hugs along with murmurs of how badly he’s missed you. Buries your head in the crook of his neck nd strokes your hair softly.

⭒ His heart breaks for you when he sees you cry. He’ll immediately forget about whatever he’s got on his hands. He’ll sit you down and wrap one arm around you, his hand lifting your face towards him as he asks you what the matter is.

⭒ Projecting my daddy issues onto this poor innocent (not) man very hard right now. Pls god I need him so bad

⭒ “Oh, my sweet girl” he’ll murmur, voice low and tinged with sadness, he’ll pull your legs over his lap nd wrap his arms round you tighter.

⭒ He’s very much not the perfect boyfriend, even though he wants to be.

⭒ He has his issues, struggles with PTSD which causes him to be very closed off. He hates opening up, sometimes it’s like there’s spiked wire wrapped around his throat when he tries.

⭒ He rarely seeks you out when he’s down. He can be very avoidant, scared he’ll blow up on you without meaning to. If he does come to you, he won’t talk.

⭒ He almost slumps up from tiredness, prefers it to be in your bed with your fingers drawing slow circles along his back, sweet words of affection nd loving kisses to his head.

⭒ He hates getting angry with you. The Ghosts are far from soft on one another, the rough atmosphere within his team has sometimes traveled over to you as well.

⭒ He’d never lay a hand on you. Never. But he has regrettably raised his voice at you a few times, when he’s really mad. The fear in your eyes causes him to pull back though, nd he’s quick to leave out of guilt.

⭒ He wouldn’t want you to worry for him, shoots you a couple messages about needing to blow off some steam before he takes a long drive to try and clear his mind.

⭒ He’s heavy with guilt and shame once he comes back, very soft with you in the days following.

⭒ You see the guilt in his eyes whenever he looks at you, hear it in the repeated ‘I’m sorry’s he gives you.

⭒ Why did I make this sad all of a sudden. I’m telling you I need to stop projecting my issues onto pixel men😞

I’m not gonna reread this so apologies for any misspelling, this has to be the first time I’ve posted in months?? I’ve been busy wasting time on stan twt 😖 Note - if you liked the angsty part towards the end I have a longer fic with a similar concept, ‘I miss what you’d do to me’

[britany1997]

A Dragon’s Tail

David x male dragon reader

I hope y’all love this!! I love David with masc readers, he is so gay to me lmao, and I love being able to write some toxic, manipulative David stuff, but I also enjoying writing sweet vulnerable moments for him like this🥹

Comment to be added to my TLB Taglist!

You breathed deeply, letting your leathery wings stretch out behind you. You loved the way the sea air swept through them.

You laughed to yourself as you thought of the irony. A dragon man who lived on the beach of all places.

You’d traded the fiery pits of your home in a volcano for the sand and surf. What would your father think?

You settled down on the ledge above your shared cave, your wings still fluttering behind you.

Sighing, you looked up at the bright moon above you, shining down on the beach, the cave, and everything else it touched with its eerie glow.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you relished the comfortable silence and the breeze. You always felt so at peace in the quiet embrace of the night.

“Want some company?” A familiar voice asked from behind you.

The corner of your lip tugged up in excitement. “Always,” you turned to extend a clawed hand to your perfect mate. Your David.

The bleach blond vampire flashed you a rare smile and came to sit by your side. You draped a wing around him, pulling him closer until your hips touched.

You could have sworn a blush ghosted over his cheeks, but it was too brief to tell. Your smile widened as you threaded your claws with his fingers.

“I’m not interrupting your alone time?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you ran your hand through his hair affectionately. “Most dragons spend their lives alone, your company’s a treasure.”

David seemed to relax into your wing. You let it hold him closer.

“I know how you dragons love treasure,” he teased.

You chuckled, your tail coming around to flick him on the ear. “I wouldn’t make so many treasure jokes, I’ve got a million blood jokes locked and loaded.”

David snorted. “Guess it’s true what they say about people in glass houses huh?”

You smiled, your golden eyes taking in his bright blue ones. Your gaze traveled along the slope of his stubbly jaw, his handsome face.

“Guess so,” you whispered, leaning in just a little closer to the blond man.

David figured out pretty quickly where your thoughts were headed as he leaned in too. One of his gloved hands reached out to caress your cheek. The other found it’s way into your hair.

You tilted your head, careful not to bump his forehead with your horns, and allowed your eyes to flutter closed.

Your ancient heart leapt in your chest as his cold lips pressed against your warm ones.

You sighed into the kiss, allowing your forked tongue to slide into his soft mouth, exploring and running over his sharp fangs.

After a while, he pulled away to stare into your eyes.

You loved him like this. His big, tough guy facade melting away.

To the boys he was a fearsome leader, barking orders and commanding obedience. To the humans he was a terrifying Spector of death, tearing through the population until there was nothing left.

To you, he was home.

When he looked at you with those baby blues, when he smiled at you like you’d hung the moon, you felt alive, you felt young again.

You reached out, your claws raking affectionately down his cheek.

He leaned into your touch. His hand slid over yours and he turned to plant a kiss on your palm.

“You’re awfully affectionate tonight,” you whispered, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth

“Too much?” he asked.

“Never too much,” you reassured him, your wing cradling him closer to you once more.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna kiss an old guy like me though,” you teased.

David smirked, “I forgot you’re ancient,” he admitted, “it’s usually me that’s robbing the cradle.”

You laughed, “well you don’t have to worry about that.”

“No kidding,” his eyebrow raised, “how was the renaissance?”

You snorted, “yeah yeah you joke, but I had a lot more gold back then. People just don’t sacrifice like they used to anymore ya know?”

“I blame smart phones,” David shrugged.

You smiled, “damn technology.”

“Calm down grandpa,” David snickered, “you’re startin’ to sound like old Mr. Emerson.”

You glared, “not. funny.”

His head found it’s way onto your shoulder, “yes it is,” he hummed.

You shook your head, laughing softly to yourself, your claws stroking over his scalp. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” he flirted, “how’d you getta look so handsome anyway, shouldn’t you be full lizard.”

“Mom was a human, dad was a dragon,” you said simply, “that’s how I got the horns, the tail, the wings, the eternal life…all that good stuff, and these rugged humanlike good looks too.”

David tensed, lifting his head off your shoulder and shooting you a confused look.

“Your father was a dragon and your mother was…human?”

Your teeth clenched, “listen babe, I try not to dwell on the mechanics of it all.”

David laughed deep in his throat, more amused then you’d ever heard him.

“Fair enough,” David said through a fit of laughter.

You rolled your eyes, “can you just put your head back on my shoulder?”

His fanged smile filled you with warmth as he returned to resting against you.

“Tell me another story about the time you spent with your kind?” he asked, letting his eyes fall shut as you blanketed him with your wing.

“Anything for you,” you uttered as you began to recall yet another tale for him.

You were glad your father had blessed you with an eternal life. You were grateful to spend it just like this.

TLB Taglist❤️:

@crustyboypix @gothamslostboy @softchonk @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @bloodywickedvamp @arenpath @kurt-nightcrawler @bitchyexpertprincess @anna1306 @ria-coolgirl @lostboys1987girl @royaltysuite @hypocriticaltypwriter @katerinaval @dwaynesluscioushair @dwaynedelight @fraudfrog @arbesa-mind @chiefdirector @solobagginses @walmart-cereal @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @vampirefilmlover @rynsfandomsfun @mickkmaiden333 @f4iryfxies @mack-attack420 @warrior-616

[mtmpossession]

Someone New, Someone Better

Aaron Bradford, son of one of the wealthiest business owners in Australia, was the quintessential party boy. He was known for his excessive spending, luxurious travels, and extravagant dinners at the most expensive restaurants. He also had a penchant for collecting women, never shy about flaunting his good looks and charm. As Aaron traveled the world, he could often be seen behind the wheel of the latest car models or riding on expensive Vespas. His unique style and taste for the finer things in life made him stand out wherever he went.

Unfortunately, his father, Robert Bradford, was growing tired of Aaron's antics and lack of motivation to work for the family business. In a fit of exasperation, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He summoned his new intern, David Caballero, and gave him a simple yet important task: find Aaron and report back on his whereabouts.

David, eager to impress his new boss and hopefully move up the ranks, accepted the challenge with determination. He began his search for Aaron, tracking him down to a beach in Botany Bay. There, he found Aaron lounging on a beach towel, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. Aaron wore red shorts that accentuated his chiseled and muscular body, a sight that left David feeling both envious and a bit resentful.

As he watched Aaron lazily laugh with his entourage, David couldn't help but wonder why someone with such a charmed life would waste it away partying all the time. It was then that he felt a tug on his shirt. Startled, he turned around to find a mysterious old man standing behind him. The man wore a fedora and sunglasses, giving him an air of secrecy and intrigue.

"You must be David," the old man said in a gravelly voice. "I've been expecting you." He held out his hand, revealing a small wooden amulet in the shape of a boomerang. "Take this. It will help you achieve everything you desire."

David hesitantly took the amulet, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What do you mean, everything I desire?" he asked, feeling a strange energy emanating from the amulet.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean," the old man replied with a knowing smile. "But if you insist, let's just say that it's within your grasp now. Go on, use it. See what happens."

Before David could say anything else, the old man disappeared into the crowd. He stood there for a moment, the amulet in his hand, feeling both excited and apprehensive. He knew he should report back to Robert Bradford, but something about the amulet made him curious.

David closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He imagined himself in Aaron's shoes, living the life he always wanted but never thought he could have. The thought was intoxicating, and before he knew it, he found himself reaching out to touch the amulet. As soon as his fingers made contact with the wood, the world around him shifted.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the same beach in Botany Bay, but now he was the one lying on the beach towel, surrounded by beautiful women. He felt a surge of energy course through his veins as he realized that he was now in Aaron's body. His muscles ached with pleasure, and he could feel the heat of the sun on his skin. But more than that, he could sense the power that came with being Aaron Bradford.

David sat up, taking in the view of the ocean and the women surrounding him. He felt like he could do anything he wanted. He stood up, flexing his muscles, and threw his head back, letting out a roar of laughter. The women around him giggled and blushed, their eyes fixed on his chiseled chest and toned arms. He felt invincible.

He walked back to the beach house, a luxurious mansion that had been in the Bradford family for generations. The sand was warm and soft beneath his feet as he made his way inside. The house was filled with expensive art and antique furniture, a testament to the family's wealth and influence. He couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership as he walked through the halls, admiring the priceless works of art and the breathtaking views of the ocean from every room.

David made his way to Aaron's private quarters, his heart racing with anticipation. The bed was huge, with plush pillows and soft, satin sheets. On the nightstand was a crystal decanter filled with expensive scotch and a bowl of expensive, exotic cigars. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling a familiar ache growing in his groin. He reached down, undid his shorts, and freed his erection.

As he began to stroke himself, he couldn't help but feel a sense of power and control. It wasn't just about masturbating; it was about asserting his dominance over Aaron's body. He thought about all the things he could do now, all the women he could have, all the money and influence he could wield. The more he thought about it, the harder he got.

He imagined himself walking into a high-stakes business meeting, wearing one of Aaron's tailored suits, commanding the room with his presence. He could hear the respect and awe in everyone's voices as they addressed him as Mr. Aaron Bradford. He pictured himself making deals, forging alliances, and expanding the family's empire.

As he continued to stroke himself, he felt the familiar tightening in his balls and knew that he was about to cum. He groaned, his hips bucking as he shot thick ropes of semen across Aaron's abs. The hot liquid splattered against the defined muscles, leaving a sticky trail.He lay back on the bed, panting heavily, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He looked down at his hand, still wrapped around his softening cock, and smiled. He couldn't believe he had just cum in Aaron's body. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom, opening the shower door. The warm water cascaded down his chest, washing away the remnants of his orgasm. He stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of the water on his skin.

As he lathered up with Aaron's luxurious soap, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully taken over Aaron's body, and now he was going to live the rest of the day as him. He grinned to himself, wondering what sort of mischief he could get into next.

After rinsing off, he reached for a towel and dried off. He then put on Aaron's favourite Grey joggers, feeling the soft fabric hug his legs. He admired himself in the mirror.

With a newfound confidence, he decided to take a selfie. He posed in front of the mirror, striking Aaron's signature smoldering look. He snapped the photo, and to his surprise, it actually looked pretty good. He couldn't believe he was able to pull off Aaron's charisma even like this.

5 months later:

David left his old life behind him and fully embraced his new identity. He threw himself into his work at the company, making sure to keep Robert happy and impressed. He made important connections, closed lucrative deals, and expanded the family's empire. It was as though he had been born to do this.

He found himself falling into the rhythm of Aaron's life, adapting to the luxurious lifestyle with ease. He began to understand the weight of responsibility that came with being the next in line of such a powerful family. He made sure to uphold Aaron's reputation, both in business and in the high society circles .

As time passed, David felt more and more at home in Aaron's body. He even began to think of himself as Aaron, as if he had always been this person. The memories of his old life seemed distant and hazy, like a dream from another lifetime. He had truly become someone new, someone better.

[lettersfromthelevant]

So... the sports scene seems to be doing great, huh?

They suspended Russia, the country that initiated the invasion and killed civilians, while allowing Ukraine - the country invaded and attacked - to compete. However, Israel is also attacked and invaded with over a thousand of our civilians brutalized and we're the ones to get banned now? Okay. "Safety concerns" my ass.

The sports scene is becoming increasingly hostile to Jews and Israelis, which is nothing new. We've seen hostility such as this before, with the most notable occasion being Hitler's ban on Jews in the Olympics. The excuse for banning us this time around is "safety concerns." A transparently bullshit claim that can be seen through just by looking at these same organizations' reactions to Russia and Ukraine. As I mentioned earlier:

They suspended Russia, the country that initiated the invasion and killed civilians, while allowing Ukraine - the country invaded and attacked - to compete. However, Israel is also attacked and invaded with over a thousand of our civilians brutalized and we're the ones to get banned now? Okay. "Safety concerns" my ass.

The rock climbing ban is particularly egregious because it highlights a trend that has been present since the Munich Massacre in 1972. They claim our safety is paramount to them, but when our lives are actively endangered they do nothing to actually protect us. They erase us from public life because it's easier for Jews to just not exist than it is for gentiles to unlearn and prevent antisemitism. They are not interested in doing the work to ensure our inclusion and safety, as demonstrated by the appallingly awful German response to the Israeli Olympics team being taken hostage.

Israelis are intimately familiar with security concerns due to terrorism. What confounds me is the complete apathy and lack of interest in improvement that the rest of the world shows when our lives are threatened. The Munich Massacre marked a turning point in how Israel conducts counter terrorism and national security, but the rest of the world clearly didn't care enough to change. On the contrary, they seemed actively invested in preventing us from securing our safety. The U.S. actually warned the man who orchestrated the attack that Mossad agents were after him. Not-so-fun-fact, did you know that the CIA were best buddies with the PLO?

Clearly, gentile society has drawn an invisible line in the sand and if Jews cross it we are excluded and browbeaten. Things might not be as severe as they were during Hitler's tyranny, but the climate might be shifting in that direction again. This incident is not sports, but has the potential of crossing over: Iceland has threatened to pull out of Eurovision unless Israel is banned from competing. They aren't citing security concerns as their reasoning. Instead, they are fully stating that they are politically opposed to Israel fighting against Hamas and that it goes against Icelandic values.

Apparently, the innocent Israeli lives lost are not important enough for Iceland. I wonder how they would react if a terrorist organization invaded their country, mass raped and slaughtered 1,200+ people, and then kidnapped hundreds more. This is the standard Jews are held to. We are banned when we defend ourselves.

(source)

I don't really know how to end this post, other than by saying, this is why I will always be supportive of things like the Maccabiah Games. Institutions led by Jews, for Jews, provide us with places to go when we cross the invisible line. I meant to publish this around mid-January, when the news about the climbing team broke, but I got side-tracked by antisemitism in another industry because it is infesting everything now. I completely forgot the original conclusion I had for this. I don't want to fear-monger. I'm really tired of envisioning such a bleak future for my people, but I can't help noticing how quickly things are escalating and how easily all of our supposed allies are trying to restrict us from everything, take control over our government, and dictate the future of our people for us.

We really only have each other, and it's essential we maintain the strong bonds that allow for us to persist the antisemitism constantly thrown by a world that has never forgiven us for surviving.

[orkbutch]

i am a butch now but i don’t know whether that’s true or not anymore. i want to take T, but at what point am i actually just a trans man? have you question that line in the sand at all yet?

Oh boy.

I can only talk from my perspective on this, others may differ, and thats because "whats the difference between a butch on T and a trans man" is such a new sociological concept that its basically in the very beginnings of its infancy. its SO new, and neither Butch nor Trans Man nor Trans Masc have secure, well established roots as social identities or concepts. It may seem like they do and it may seem like there are rules or lines that are firm, but when you step back, zoom out, and consider them in the context of broader society (and especially compared to the idea of a Man and Woman), they do not. These are social contructs that are actually very early in their construction, and we are doing the constructing like, right now, within this ask.

That said, I can tell you why I don't identify as a trans man fairly easily: I don't care about men or the idea of a man. "Man" as a static concept is like... I don't know what that is. Its almost alien to me.

Now, to ramble that point out:

I have considered if I'm a man throughout my life. The closest I've been to identifying as a man was when I was in a period in my life when I considered that there was at least an aspect of me that was drawn to Manhood. Also, as I came to be read as a man in my public life, i supposed that in social situations when I was being treated as a man and I didn't correct people because I didn't care to, and I even enjoyed it somewhat and leaned into that role, I was essentially Being a Man (socially). So Man came to be a role I found myself in occasionally, and Manhood came to be a vaguely defined something that was intriguing to me.

But these moments of Man Feeling ended up being more like exceptions that proved the rule. Anyone can feel a bit like a man in the right circumstance, because gender isn't static; its something we can and often do play with, and phase through. I feel like music puts me in some heavily gendered spaces, like Everyone has a part of them thats a woman when they're belting along to "I'm Every Woman", yknow. Anyway.

I didn't feel like a man that much. I didn't feel like a woman that much either. I felt like a butch more frequently, because when I do things that indulged my masculinity, when I'm consumed by my love and attraction to femininity, when I think about the queers that I admire most, I felt butch, and was drawn to butches and interesting queer women. Leslie Feinberg, Frida Kahlo, Nancy Grossman, Patricia Highsmith, leather dykes and femme pro-doms, transgender queens... I've just never been that drawn to the experience of being a man. I've never been interested in men, frankly. Every man I've admired has been very much despite being men. Sufjan Stevens, Clive Barker, David Lynch, David Cronenberg, John Waters... great and usually queer artists whose gender is irrelevant because I like their work. The only man in that list who I have some personal affection for is Sufjan Stevens. He is an angel.

If I'm going to be a gender, its going to be the gender I admire. That I aspire to. I don't aspire to any man. Perhaps I aspire to a kind of body or a kind of masculinity, and sometimes men do that, but thats just a lack of other non-man representations of the thing I like. When I see in butches, it feels like a depiction of Me. Also WOW do I So Not feel like a man when I'm with my lovers. Sometimes I feel a bit like a man when I'm in a certain headspace while domming or if I'm having the rare T4T(masc) dalliance, but I feel very dyky when I'm with femmes. I just don't FEEL manhood. And I don't really care for man. Edit: I will say, there is a kind of Queer Man Masculinity that I definitely admire and aspire to, like that depicted by Tom of Finland or various other usually kinky gay art. But again, I don't see the Man part as important - its the masculinity. Btw, imo, there is no line in the sand as far as transition stuff. I'm very dysphoric about my body and that's never been about how I'm seen by others; it's my comfort in my own skin, and doesn't change my indifference to men or manhood. and that is my butch vs trans man ramble

[romeo-the-homeo]

hey guys my sleeping pill is kicking in so heres some real quick head-canons off the top o me noggin cause i havent posted summat proper in a while! (im tired guyse…oughjj)

- samuel knows sign language! (and signs with a drawl!)

- gabe was polish ! and david still mutters polish to himself sometimes

- asher is not a natural blonde but no one has ever questioned his hair because of his antics

- aggro was a gift from marie to keep him company when he moved into the flat he met sweetheart in!

- teenage blake wanted nothing more than to be able to skateboard but he was horrific at it so no one knew he was even trying to learn

- elliot can skateboard (and if blake knew this he would hate him even more)

- caelum would love to eat polly pocket clothes i just know it !!! but hes far too polite when playing with toys to ever chew on them

- vincent bloody loves pixie sticks like the man is insane he will just eat an entire sharing pack alone (me too vinner)

- huxley actually kinda dislikes the beach- the sand doesnt feel sturdy enough to him or his magic and it makes him a little uneasy

- brachium’s favourite colour is a light pink :) (hes my bestie)

- damien has lots of beauty marks on his face

- gavin and freelancer put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling of their living room to upgrade caelum’s sleepovers :3

ok guys thats all i got for now 🫡 so long and god speed

[1moreff-creator]

Trying to figure out the DRDT chapter 2 murder method, with evidence! (Theory)

CW: Murder, mentions of suicide, hanging, general brutality.

So, I’ve noticed a lot of people have given their predictions for the second case murderer, the motives and all that. This is obviously what most people care about, and I love reading predictions for it!

However, I am not most people. I also am really curious about the exact murder method.

You see, DRDT has consumed my brain mercilessly, and thus I have decided I can’t wait for the hiatus to end, and want to see if I can figure out the murder mystery with the clues we have. As a warning, this doesn’t actually help much with the culprit, but I will give my thoughts on that at the end.

I think a decent job! It’s not perfect, and I’m fully expecting to get a lot if not most of this wrong. I will be happy regardless of whether I’m right or wrong, so what matters is that I had fun thinking about it! Right? :D

This took me hours.

Spoilers up until Chapter 2 ep 11, and… further? Maybe? It’s just a prediction, but with evidence, so, you decide if you wanna read it.

Where we left off

The cliffhanger currently consuming me, as you may recall, happened just after David started his Tumblr sexyman arc, with Charles cutting in with just a fantastic line (“You’re out of your element!”). He says that, while trying to prove David’s innocence, he realized something bigger, before proclaiming he and Teruko fucked up.

As many have pointed out, Charles cuts in when David mentions the time of death, meaning he’s likely realized something about that.

What Charles has probably noticed is that the note Arei received never mentioned if she was supposed to go to the playground at 7:30 PM, as the characters had assumed because of the fish and the nighttime rule for the Relaxation Room, or AM. The fish could have easily been kept in the water jugs found outside in a trash can, so it’s pretty feasible that the murder actually happened at 7:30 AM. Unfortunately, Nico, the only one keeping track of the fish, likely fed them before David went there, and thus before 7:30 PM, so we can’t tell for sure when they were taken.

(This is because Nico mentions they fed the fish after dinner, and they likely ate before David. Whit mentions having a ‘late dinner’ when he and the gang meet with Suspenders Man in the kitchen and send him to the fish, David even mentioning he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be there. Assuming Nico ate dinner with most of the class, they would have eaten before David went to the Relaxation Room, which we know was around 7:30 PM)

However, if Charles is only bringing the possibility up now, it’s likely the right answer. Also, as you’re gonna see, the murder method I believe was used requires quite a bit of setup that would have been easier to do at nighttime, without potential witnesses showing up out of nowhere.

Now, this is where I’ve seen most people stop. Content with knowing what the cliffhanger itself is about, they don’t think further into the murder method. But I will, because my life is extremely empty.

Let’s get to the evidence!

“Truth Bullets” (let’s pretend)

-First, the layout of the scene.

(Ultimate Artist coming through-)

The exact position of things doesn’t matter, but it helps to visualize. The seesaw, to the dismay of Korekiyo stans, is unimportant and can be disregarded. Here are the takeaways:

•The ground near the entrance is scuffed. This heavily implies something went down in the playground, and we probably aren’t dealing with a crime scene switch.

•The fish, you should be acquainted with.

•The spinny thing will be important.

•Not pictured is a sand pit without sand. This isn’t important, but I do find it funny.

•Then, the swing set. I’d like to point out that the rope attached on one end to Arei has nothing on the other end, and rather remains there via a knot at the top of the swing set. This is important because of:

-Broken Neck: Arei’s neck is broken, alongside:

-Veronika’s Account: Although a hanging can cause someone’s neck to break, it wouldn’t happen to Arei if she were to be hung from that height. She would either need to weigh more, or fall from higher. Because the rope Arei’s corpse hangs from is tied with a knot, it can’t extend further than what we see, meaning she was likely hung from somewhere else (if that’s even her cause of death).

-Bound Wrists: Arei’s wrists were bound with duct tape at some point.

-Duct Tape on Spinny Thing: There is duct tape covering every handlebar the spinny thing has.

-Longer Rope: There was a longer piece of rope bundled up below the spinny thing. Teruko claims it’s a couple yards long. I don’t use that unit of measurement, but it sounds like it’s large.

-Flickering Lights: According to MonoTV, one of the lights in the playground was flickering. The way he acts when inquired implies this had something to do with the murder.

Going away from the playground now, we have the trash can.

-The note: You know this one.

-Eating utensils, food, painting tools. Unimportant.

-Water Jugs: Likely where the fish were kept overnight. Notably, the handles are snapped in the middle.

-Needle and thread?: I’ve seen some people mention there’s a needle with a bit of black thread that none of the characters address when dealing with the trash. Personally, I think this isn’t going to be important, but I do have a place for it if it ends up coming up. That is:

-Ball of clothes: Charles takes this from the dress-up room. It’s apparently held together with starch (not an adhesive, just sticky, but sure), though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually created with the needle and thread. Again, I don’t think it’s important, but you can choose to believe it was used here if you want. It’ll make sense later.

-The gym. I’ll be honest, this is the one thing I don’t know how to fit in. During the investigation, Teruko makes memory to how the gym looked before and after the Nico incident. I’m not great at Spot the Difference, but for the life of me the only thing I could see change was the missing fan and the missing ‘grippy thing’ on the pull-up bar. I don’t know how that would fit with the mystery, so I’ll be glad if anyone can figure something out.

-The motives: Not important for the method, obviously important for other reasons.

So, with the evidence laid out, what can we figure out?

Theory Time

When I said I spent hours thinking about this, I mostly meant running through several theories at once, trying to see which one made the most sense. I went to some weird places: from a crime of passion disguised as a suicide, to drowning her in the Relaxation Room, to somehow getting from the Movie Screening Room to the Playground (MonoTV had mentioned punching through the wall would get you there), to Arei herself being the one originally trying to murder…

But in the end, it was simpler. There are three important facts which help narrow down the options.

-Arei’s neck was broken. This eliminates simpler killing methods such as strangulation. Something happened which broke her neck, yet:

-Her wrists were bound. A broken neck is instant death, but Arei’s bound wrists imply the killer feared she would struggle. This eliminates a crime of passion. This thing was premeditated.

-The murder happened in the playground. The scuffed floor, broken light, duct tape on spinny thing and the other rope all make it clear. There’s no crime scene switching here. This eliminates stuff like the drowning in the Relaxation Room I mentioned.

All of this makes me believe that Arei was hung from somewhere in the playground, likely after the killer bound her wrists to stop her from struggling. The scuffed ground serves as evidence of an initial struggle. It doesn’t quite look like that, but frankly I just don’t know what could have caused the exact shape in the ground, so a struggle it is.

However, how? If Arei’s neck broke from her hanging, as per Veronika’s Account, she would need to be hung from somewhere else first, in a way that she either weighed more or fell from higher. Now, at first, you might assume that she had to be simply hung from higher, since it’s impossible to make Arei weigh more than she does. But what if I told you, there is a way to achieve that?

Enter: the water jugs.

I don’t know about you, but the way those handles are broken looks to me like they were snapped too cleanly for human hands. It almost looks… like someone tied a knot around them, then exerted a bunch of force on the rope.

(WARNING: Geometric depiction of a hanging a bit below)

We know for a fact there are at least two pieces of rope: one longer, one shorter. It would be possible to tie the two ends of the shorter one around the handles of the water jugs, then tie the middle around Arei. Water’s pretty heavy, so the extra pull of the water jugs would exert an additional force to her body once she stopped falling, one which could serve as one of the reasons her neck broke.

…Now’s probably a good time to mention, I have no idea why the killer did half the shit they did. I cannot explain to you why they would do this with water jugs. I’m just telling you how my brain’s interpreting this evidence.

However, this doesn’t exactly solve the height problem. You still can’t hang Arei from the swing set directly, as the jugs would hit the ground. It’s still necessary to hang her from higher up, although thankfully it’s easy to see where that would happen.

Yeah, the railings of the playground. The problem, naturally, is how to get there. Or rather, how to get the rope there.

Well, here’s a question. How would you do something like that if it was lower down, but still unreachable? One answer is to try to throw the rope over the railing, so that one end stays near you, and the other, on the other side of the railing. Of course, that’s impossible with a rope of this length and a railing of this height, but the concept can still be used in conjunction with something else. Thinking about the other pieces of evidence we have, there is one that stands out as particularly strange, doesn’t it?

Exactly. The ball of clothes. Because throwing a ball, especially one as light as this one would be, is much easier than throwing a rope, you can set up the hanging spot by tying one end of the rope to the ball, and throwing that over the railing.

You might think it’s still too far up, but think of it like this. How far can you throw a basketball straight up? Probably enough to clear two floors, at least given enough attempts. The ball of clothes would have more drag, yes, but it would be lighter. Keep in mind the killer had all night to get this right, and they could have even climbed on the swing set if they needed a bit more height. It’d be awkward, but possible.

There is one more piece of evidence that makes me think this is the case. That is, the flickering lights.

The lights weren’t broken, but they did get fucked up. This is by far the clue which gave me the most trouble when thinking about this, since it just seemed so impossible to achieve. However, this ‘ball of clothes’ theory gives us a solid answer. On the way up, the ball of clothes may have hit the lights:

This wouldn’t break the light, but it could displace it, causing it to flicker… or something like that. I’m sorta banking on J giving a proper explanation with her pre-established expertise, since I’m no electrical engineer. However, I see no other way this could have happened, so it’s the answer I’m giving for now.

So now we have the long rope on both ends, all that’s left is actually pulling Arei up. Except, that’s still quite complicated, isn’t it? Already pulling her up would take quite a bit of strength, but the main problem is the ‘going down’ part.

For Arei’s neck to break, she needs to enter free fall, then abruptly stop halfway. That would mean you need to stop the rope from moving on the way down, but how? Just using your hands is impossible, because you’d get burnt.

Enter: spinny thing.

The duct tape tipped me off that this thing was important, and once the use of rope is factored in, my first instinct was to use it for a sort of pulley system.

Weave the rope through a few of the handlebars, then tie a knot around one of them. That way, if you make the thing spin, it will drag the rope with it, sort of like a roll of film in reverse.

Then, once Arei reaches an appropriate height, you spin the thing the other way, letting her fall at full speed for a bit. When you want to stop her, you would just need to stop the carousel from spinning, which may take a bit of strength, but it’s perfectly doable.

Now, this explains how the murder could have been done, but where does the duct tape come into play?

…

Yeah, good question. My best answer is that the rope somehow burnt a friction mark into the spinny thing, which the killer feared would give away their trick. After all, even if the duct tape is more noticeable, it’s harder to make a connection between that and the murder than a friction burn, which while harder to notice, would point more directly to the pulley idea.

Yeah, it’s not a great answer, and it’s frankly the part which still puzzles me the most, but it’s an answer, so I’m going with it for now. Open to change, though.

Notably, this is also the part of the crime where I feel the gym may come into play. Again, I have no idea what the relevance is, but if it has something to do with this crime and not just the Ace - Nico incident, perhaps the grippy strap of the pull up bar was somehow used to better grip the spinny thing’s handlebars for the pulley trick? Again, this is one piece of evidence where I could use the help.

And so, we’re done! Practically all of the important evidence was used, and I can’t find any contradictions in the reasoning!

Closing Argument

The killer first put water from the Relaxation Room, fish and all, in some water jugs before nighttime.

At nighttime, they stuck together Teruko’s and Hu’s old clothes with either starch or the black string. Going to the playground, they tied a long rope they got from storage around the ball of clothes. They repeatedly threw it up, until they managed to get the rope over one of the railings in the playground. However, on the way up, the ball of clothes hit a light and displaced it, causing it to flicker. MonoTV would later remove this light.

After that, they tied one of the ends of the rope to one of the carousel’s handlebars, possibly looping it around some of the other handlebars to make sure it would work as a pulley. The killer left the water jugs in the room, first tying a shorter piece of rope around their handles, and took the ball of clothes back to the dressing room.

After that, the killer wrote a note. They had overheard the Eden-Arturo-Arei situation, and used that to lure Arei out to the playground at 7:30 AM. She potentially arrived just before the killer, based on the scuffed ground being a bit far from the door, but the killer got there just a moment after, before Arei could understand the situation.

The killer overpowered Arei, scuffing the ground near the seesaw in the process. They eventually bound her wrists together, and wrapped the middle of the rope attached to the water jugs to Arei’s lower body. Possibly around her waist, as to prevent rope burn injuries from giving the trick away.

After that, they tied the unused end of the longer rope around Arei’s neck, and moved to the spinny thing. Using the grippy strap they got from the gym (maybe), they grabbed one of the handlebars and spun the spinny thing so that the rope was pulled in and around its handlebars. This also had the effect of pulling Arei up towards the ceiling.

Once Arei was high enough, the killer quickly spun the carousel the opposite way, then abruptly stopped it just a few moments later. This caused Arei to free fall shortly, before suddenly stopping. The force of that stopping broke both Arei’s neck and the handles of the water jugs. Arei died here, if she hadn’t already asphyxiated beforehand.

All that was left for the killer to do was cleanup. Retrieve the longer rope and hide it under the spinny thing; set up Arei’s body to look vaguely like a suicide; empty the water jugs on the ground; throw them away, alongside the duct tape and the note. The killer’s trick had also left marks on the carousel, which they decided to cover up with duct tape. Finally, the killer reconvened with everyone at around 8 AM for the motive announcement.

And with that, all questions are answered. Well, except for:

What the fuck

Like, why would the killer do this? It’s so unnecessary cruel, when they could have just hung her. I was honestly worried, as I thought about the method, that the killer would end up being Veronika, just because it’s so fucked I genuinely can’t see anyone else doing this. But Veronika doesn’t have a motive to do this: she’s talked about wanting to enjoy the trials for as long as possible, and it’s been set up if she murders, it would be of boredom. Doing that before a motive announcement which would make things interesting doesn’t fit her at all. Or maybe I’m coping.

The answer to the question of why the killer chose this method is only part of a larger question, though. So, knowing the method, how does that change the final question?

Who did it?

EDIT: DISCLAIMER: The following part of this blog is outdated. Go here to read a revised version of the method, with a different culprit. It's a reblog of thebadjoe's reblog of this post, as they pointed out a lot of flaws in my original theory (adult content warning for Arei's corpse). I'm leaving the rest of my original post up, but just know I now believe the killer to be Eden, with an accomplice.

Let me start by saying that I can’t definitively say anything about anyone, even knowing the murder method. However, this *does* paint some of the theories in a different light.

Smaller theories

I’ve seen a few people suggest everyone from Charles to J or even Arturo. A lot of these theories are decent, but some rely too much on certain assumptions which may or may not be disproven if this method is accurate.

Charles is ruled out. The murder required moving the corpse around postmortem, and while there wasn’t any blood around, Charles’ necrophobia would make it impossible for him.

A theory I saw was that J may have used her remote to open secret trapdoors and move around rooms, taking advantage of the placement of the playground in relation to the Movie Screening Room. However, while that theory is interesting, the murder is perfectly possible without these trapdoors, so the main argument kinda goes out the window. Although I guess it’s possible her remote could be used to make the carousel go spin, but that’s kinda ridiculous if you ask me.

Arturo was ruled out from the beginning because the handwriting in the note is too pretty to be a doctor’s. That’s a joke, and Arturo would actually be quite capable of the crime. In fact, he’s sort of become my second most likely culprit, even if he was accused early in the trial.

Hu / David manipulation, in shambles

A popular theory states that the killer was manipulated by David to do the deed. The most common victim of this manipulation theory seems to be Hu Jing. However, in my opinion, the sheer brutality of the method pretty much rules this out. David may be a good enough manipulator to get somehow to kill Arei, but I really doubt he’d be able to convince them to do… all this.

Especially since he has no reason to order the specific method, which would imply it was born from the killer’s own mind. So, even if David actually told them to kill Arei, they decided to use this insanely elaborate method all on their own. And, listen, I don’t care how you feel about Hu, she wouldn’t do this.

Is it still possible? Sure, I guess. Does it look a lot weaker under this method? Absolutely.

The surprisingly strong Whit/Eden allegations

I didn’t make this theory considering these two the killer, I really didn’t. I still don’t think they are. And yet, they are the only ones who could benefit from this method. How? The BDA.

You see that loophole, right? I noticed the moment I saw the rule. The way it’s written seems to imply the BDA only plays when three ‘spotless’ see the body, ruling them out as the murderer. Except, that’s not how it’s worded. It doesn’t say ‘three non-murderers’, it says ‘three people who didn’t witness the murder’.

So, pray tell, what happens if the culprit has their back to the victim when they die? Simple; they didn’t witness the murder, so their eyes count for the BDA.

How does this help? Well, imagine if Teruko had been the one to kill Arei. By making a contraption where she can be sure Arei dies instantly upon something happening (in this case, abruptly stopping the spin of the carousel), she can make sure her back is turned the moment Arei dies. Of course, the moment she turns around, the count for the BDA goes up to one, but it doesn’t trigger, since you need three.

Then, when Teruko ‘discovers’ the body alongside Eden and Whit, the BDA plays; one person (Teruko) had already ‘discovered the body’, so Eden and Whit seeing it would increase the BDA count by two. That makes three, BDA plays.

And yet, during the trial, if the murder method hasn’t been found out, Teruko could claim she isn’t the murderer because of the trickily worded BDA rule.

Now, we obviously know Teruko didn’t do it, but Eden and especially Whit are common theories. This could be used as evidence, except…

There’s a pretty obvious problem there. It’s not them, but Teruko who asks to team up in a group of three for the BDA, and it’s also her who suggests going to the second floor. Then, the playground is the last place they check, and Whit even questions Teruko when she suggests going there (the infamous ‘hanging out there’ line).

I wouldn’t rule out Teruko’s bad luck making her pick the absolute worst possible partner possible, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that neither Eden nor Whit were proactive in the search method, which goes against this potential ‘BDA alibi’ plan.

As for the rest of the theories, I don’t quite believe them. Yes, Whit definitely has more issues than he lets on, but he has no motive to do this (remember; he asked an entire group of people to reveal his secret if they had it, so the only reason his secret lasted until the trial was Rose throwing it away). Eden even less so.

And in the end, it really is the motives which points us to what I believe to be the killer.

Yeah, it’s Levi

As does what I believe is most of the fandom by this point, I think Levi is probably the killer.

Many have already theorized about the remaining motives, so I’ll spare you the ordeal and tell you: Just with the information all the characters have access to, it’s possible to narrow down Levi’s secret to ‘murdered someone’, ‘poisoned competition’ and ‘dead family’ (I know the last one’s Xander’s, but the characters don’t really have access to the Bonus Episode).

However, Eden can eliminate the ‘dead family’ one, as Levi has talked about his family with her, and they’re not dead (He also mentioned having brothers in the present tense during the trial, but just in case).

Min’s Bonus Episode makes it likely her secret is the ‘poison competition’ one, though how the characters are gonna figure that one out is beyond me. The point is, Levi’s secret is the ‘murdered someone’ one, the one Arei had. And, listen, in-game logic aside, you don’t just give that secret to the victim of the case and then have it mean nothing for the murder.

Other suspicious behavior has been noted, such as him wanting to start voting time quickly when David did his thing, him quickly checking the motives when they became public (keep in mind, as some characters mentioned, it’s possible the killer thought just killing someone before the motive reveal would be enough to prevent it), etc. Also possible foreshadowing such as Ace claiming Levi could ‘snap [his] neck with his bare hands’ and Levi promising to protect Eden in the trial, which is exactly what Arei did before dying.

However, something I feel people overlook is that not only did Arei get Levi’s secret, but it was also Levi who got Arei’s secret. A secret which, keep in mind, wasn’t public knowledge until the trial, when Levi finally revealed it. Sure, David and Teruko knew, maybe Eden at best, but other than that, only Levi knew of that secret.

And this is where the murder method may come in. I’m still unsure. Because the only reason I can find for this amount of elaborate planning and brutality, beyond the BDA thing which I mentioned likely isn’t important, is the killer having a deep grudge against Arei.

Levi is a guy who cares about his family. Sure, he was disowned, but he claims it was good, because he and his family were ‘bad influences on each other’. He seems like he genuinely wants the best for his brothers, it just so happened that the best thing was going their separate ways.

So, how do you think he feels when he learns that Arei, someone who had already insulted and belittled him, calling him a pushover and stuff, did horrible things to her sisters? If he doesn’t have the full picture, it’s not impossible to see how that may make him angry at her, especially with his already established anger issues.

Not to mention, keep in mind the setup for the crime was done one night after the Nico - Ace incident, one which ends with Levi grumbling ‘why do I even bother?’ as he locks himself in his room. This could imply a complete loss of faith in the group in general, which could lead to him deciding to kill.

Of course, that theory has more holes in it than Swiss cheese. Levi’s outbursts of anger don’t really last long enough for it to explain such a long and elaborate murder scheme. Not to mention, if he really did react negatively to the motive, he’d have done it the moment he received it, not several days later. He has murdered without remorse before, if his secret is to be believed, but until we get the specifics, we can’t know for sure how okay he’d be doing something like this.

However, the important question Levi as the culprit answers isn’t the ‘why?’, but the ‘how?’.

I’ve sorta glossed over it until now, but it would take quite a bit of strength to stop the spinny thing in the trick. I don’t think Levi’s the only one capable of it, but he’s certainly the most capable, if that makes sense. Not to mention, actually overpowering Arei in the first place wouldn’t exactly be easy. Plus, the ball of clothes being involved implicates him in a meta-sense, as it could technically count as his talent being involved in the murder.

The problem, of course, is that I have no definitive evidence. His custom weapon, brass knuckles, wasn’t involved at all, and there’s no way to place him at any of the important scenes. No one has an alibi for nighttime, no one has an alibi for 7:30 AM, and pretty much no one has an alibi for the Eden - Arturo - Arei incident (afternoon of the day of Nico’s attempted murder, when for now we only know Hu, David, Nico and Teruko where talking in the Relaxation Room. Though of course, the exact time is impossible to know).

I suspect he’s going to be suspected for the motive and the strength thing, and either someone will come up with something incriminating, or he’ll make a slip-up a la Mondo. I have no idea.

So… what did we learn?

Kinda nothing. As you can see, the murder method doesn’t really point to a killer in any definitive way, so we’re just back where we started, basically. But hey! It was fun! I guess.

Now, back to crying over the hiatus. See you!

[tokillamockingbird427]

yes !!! exactly !!!! u do it get.

elias was like 23 when Hesh was born so like YOUNG and the military is def all he knew. I think the walkers are probably a military family. I can just imagine the brothers grandfather telling them abt The War and hesh is super into it and Logan's eyes are glazing over bcs hes 5 and doesn't know jack abt shit. point being elias treats them closer to soldiers/war dogs (side note do you think elias had to use one of those baby leashes for them?) despite loving them. he's trying he just wasn't prepared for any of that.

also yes I am an autistic logan bpd/attachment anxitey hesh and elias/rorke (worke, if you will) truther

-angel

Yay I get things!!!! :D I'm literate!!

Oh yeah, that's the vibe I get too. Hesh and Logan seem like they'd be such brats lol. Makes me wonder if maybe Mrs. Walker was military too? Maybe that's how she and Elias met.

"doesn't know jack abt shit" adopting that into my lexicon.

He absolutely had those fucking leashes for them but they were like the backpack harness kind and Elias only needed one (That was styled to look like a lil chimp hugging the wearer.) because Logan would follow David no matter what so all he needed to do was leash his oldest. Boom. Solved.

Mans really wasn't ready given he's like... Barely an adult by the time he has two damn kids and THEN Sand Viper trauma and THENNNNNNN his wife also dies so now he's a single dad. Mans had it rough. AND THEN ODIN COMES IN WITH A STEEL CHAIR-

Oh we 🤝 LISTEN THEY HAD TO HAVE S O M E T H I N G alright. You mfs who've read Devil's Breath know this; What other explanation is there for the few sane moments Rorke has in the pit being "Elias Elias Elias Elias Elias Elias-" Like there's some codependant hero worship right there we should talk about HEAR ME OUT--

[crookedteethed]

STORM’S be heavy soon (1) Billy the kid

Pairing: Billy the kid x Rich girl reader

Summary: Billy is hired to be the bratty Y/N Bristow guard on a five-day trip to Macon, GA; who knows what may happen on the long trail?

WARNINGS: Original characters, Cursing, reader's last name is "Bristow", mentions of guns, gun usage, reader is snotty, Eventual smut , (gonna add more warnings as I go)

Authors note: Typically I don't write for this show, but this idea popped into my head a few nights ago. Also, I haven't watched this show in months, so I'm just going off my imagination/what I remember. Enjoy!! <3

Word count: 2k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

New Mexico, 1881

On Ovid Bristow's hand-crafted cherry wood desk lies the sand color sack of silver dollar coins he'd just offered Billy.

The sack had been plopped on the desk and sat there untouched for a whopping two minutes, two minutes in which Billy been debating if he should take Bristow's offer.

Surely, Billy wanted the money. He could use a new rifle--ou--two new rifles, afford a new pair of boots, and maybe even a new horse--a quarter horse since quarter horses were the best for ridin'.

However, Billy had a sinking suspicion of immorality towards Ovid Bristow a sinking suspicion that boils in the pits of his stomach whenever he sees the aging, gray haired man with a deceitful smile on his face (Billy always smiles back, though). A sinking suspicion that's been brewing in his stomach for a while now.

But to mention this "sinking suspicion" Billy had wasn't suspicion at all; everyone knew Ovid Bristow was cruel; Bristow himself knew he was a cruel man, so he couldn't blame his wrongdoing on his ignorance.

It was just last week Billy had been playing cards with Ovid, along with several other aging gray-haired potbelly men, inside Ovid's new Saloon and Brothel (it used to be the old church house, but Ovid paid the church house's landlord twice as much as Pastor David did to own the building.)

Normando something (Billy had forgotten the man's last name, but it doesn't matter now since he's dead.) claimed he won the game, showing all the men his hand. A royal flush, he had one 10, one Jack, one King, one Queen, and an ace of spades.

Poor Normando; if he hadn't been smiling so hard and gloating about his win, he would've seen it when Ovid drew the gun from his holster. And then that was the end of Normando something, shot in the head by a colt revolver. Ovid said Normando had been cheating; he saw the stash of cards underneath the table.

No one doubted this, as you don't want to provoke the man with a gun in his hand.

In the present moment, Billy thought of this: how cold Ovid had been to murder someone over a card game (a card game?!). Billy imagined what Ovid would do to him--how worse his punishment would be if he: "Lost sight or let anything happen to his darlin'."

And that's where Billy resides in the place of dubiety.

"What? Did ole' Ovid Bristow scare you?" Bristow laughs, a flock of seagull-type laugh; when Billy doesn't join in on the laughter, Ovid suddenly becomes serious.

"Look," Bristow says, standing up from his desk, now face to face with Billy. "I'll give you some more money if that makes you feel any better."

He goes into his left breast jacket pocket, pulling out a rolled-up wad of cash. Bristow tosses the wad of money onto the sack of coins.

"1,500 in total." He says. "It's all there, you can count it."

As callous Ovid been, Billy knew he wasn't a liar. He believed that the sack of coins and the wad of cash had amounted to 1,500.

Billy stayed silent, as silence is the loudest response.

"C'mon, Billy, I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't trust you, you're one of the only men I trust, let alone trust you being around my darlin'."

Ovid sits on the edge of his desk with disdain, his stare not particularly on Billy but just above Billy's head.

"I see how those bastards look at my little Y/n at the Saloon, they look at her like she's one of those harlots at the whore house." He spats. "How I wish I can put a bullet through every one of those no good lookers head."

Ovid stands to his feet again.

"But you Billy, you don't stare at my daughter like she's a piece of meat, to you Billy my daughter ceases to exist. I like that about you."

Billy seemed calmed on the outside, but in the inside, he heard the bells ringing in his head.

Of course he looked at you, every man looked at you when you walked by. You were enchanting, the most beautiful woman Billy had ever saw.

Billy did most of his staring when you or your father hadn't been looking. Most of his staring had been from the corner of his eyes or below his hat.

The first thing Billy noticed about you was your bright eyes. They were a pretty shade of (your eye color) that matched your pretty crimson-colored lips and rosy cheeks. You were light on the makeup, which Billy had liked. You'd done your makeup in a way that almost seemed like you weren't wearing makeup at all; Billy liked that about you too. He also liked your elegant collarbones that sat right before your cleavage.

What Billy liked the most about you was that you were educated. You were going to college soon, the first woman Billy had known to do something like that--hell, the first person.

But if it weren't for you getting accepted into Wesleyan College in Macon, GA, Billy wouldn't have been asked to escort you there.

"It's only a week there and week back." Ovid told him at the beginning of the conversation; then Billy had his mindset that he wouldn't take you.

But now, thinking about you--thinking about anyone but himself taking you to Georgia, one of those no-good lookers Ovid described somewhat infuriated Billy.

What if one of them were to take advantage you? Or try to harm you? What if one of them were to kidnap you, take you to one of the many enemies Ovid Bristow have made and hold you for ransom?

Ovid had said it himself, he trusted Billy, so if the job was to be done, Billy was the one to do it.

So as Billy left Ovid Bristow's office, he had the 1,500 stuffed down in his pockets.

Walking Billy to the door, Ovid had his arm snaked around Billy's neck, with a wide smile on his face.

"I knew you wouldn't let ole' Ovid down." He says. Ovid then instructs Billy to arrive at his manor tomorrow by a quarter till seven and pack lightly, as the rest of the wagon is reserved for his "sweet darlin'. "

Leaving Ovid's office, Billy thought he might've seen you inside the waiting room, but it was just that harlot--the one that works at the Brothel that looks like you.

It was 6:45--a quarter till seven when Billy arrived at the Bristow's manor.

Ovid Bristow's riches had been by pure luck. He used to work in the fields, digging holes to plant crops, and one day, he accidentally struck oil. The best kind of accident that could happen to a man.

Ovid Bristow was the Rockefeller of New Mexico.

Approaching the manor, Billy was greeted by a heap of men and women, all housekeepers, butlers, maids, and landscapers, all of whom had been waiting to give Y/n Bristow a farewell. Plus there been a marching band of all men standing at ease.

He didn't know if he could go inside the manor to tell Ovid he'd been here right at a quarter till seven and was lightly packed, because the doors had been locked shut.

So Billy waited with the rest of them, alongside the coachmen who was to take you and him to Georgia. He slips his sack into the back of the wagon.

"Warner." The man introduces himself as, he was a fellow old enough to be Billy's grandfather, Billy questioned Warner's ability to ride for five days straight day and night.

Your entrance was rather grand, ostentatious.

As soon as the white and gold doors flung open, the marching band began to blow their trumpets and bang their drums.

You stood in the doorway, a demure smile on your face, until the marching band's song (which sounded like a bunch of commotion) ended.

"Farewell, my good people, as this is yours truly last day on Bristow's Manor." You spoke dramatically. "Goodbye Nettie, I'll never forget that day you yelled at me for breaking that vase, and then I nearly gotten you fired for raising your voice at me." You waved to an older woman in a maid's uniform, who looked like she was suppressing an eye roll. "Goodbye housekeepers, whom I've never learned the names of, Goodbye Landscapers who kept planting thorn bushes even after I pricked my finger on one when I was five, Goodbye…"

As you continued saying your goodbyes the word "Shallow" was on the tip of Billy's tongue, but he hadn't want to make his judgement. Though he saw you around town, normally accompanied by your father, he hadn't spoken to you yet.

He'd been too scared he'd get shot or beaten by Ovid for simply saying a "Hello" to you.

Ovid had been beside you as you said your goodbyes, carrying a round pink leather suitcase, presumably yours. Behind the both of you were two butlers carrying the rest of your luggage—ten suitcases in counting, all pink, some round, some rectangular.

"Jesus Christ." Billy mutters to himself.

"Goodbye--" you stop in front of Billy, scanning his face--those dark curls and dark blue eyes--wondering what was his occupation on the manor. He'd look familiar to you, but then again he didn't.

Trashman? The stableman? Daddies assistant? No, he was to ruffian like to be Daddies assistant.

Then you suddenly remember--yes, that's who he is.

"Farewell, stablehand, I don't have any memories of you, but I shall wish you the best of luck cleaning shit for the rest of your life at Daddies stable." You smile.

A scowl had formed on Billy's lip.

That shallow bit-

His thinking is cut off by Ovid's laughter. "My sweet darlin, this isn't the stablehand, this is Billy. Billy here's a gunslinger. I hired him to keep you safe on the trail to Georgia."

You hum, a slight smirk on your lips. You raised your dainty hand to Billy and introduce yourself.

Billy puts his rough hands in your warm, smooth ones. You feel a jolt run through body, you wonder if Billy felt the jolt too.

It wasn't like you didn't know his name now, so Billy just tipped his hat and called you “Misses.”

"Fantastic," Ovid says with a deceiving smile. "Darlin', why don't you make yourself comfortable inside the wagon while Billy and I exchange a few words," Ovid tells you. "And gentlemen, why don't you start loading up darlin's luggage," Ovid instructs the butlers.

As you get onto the wagon (with the help of Warner) and the butlers start loading your things, Ovid pulls Billy to the side by the scruff of his neck.

"Now, remember yesterday I said I trust you, Billy. Darlin's all I got, Billy, it be a shame if something were to happen to her while she's in your care… It be even more of a shame what'll happen to you." Ovid says in a calm voice.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of her during those five days, promise me that Billy."

"I promise, sir." Billy says, looking at you from afar, you yell at the butlers for "manhandling" your "valuables."

Ovid catches Billy staring. "Also, Billy hear this, I know my daughters a pretty girl--she gets her looks from her late mama--god rest her soul, but I swear if you even must lay a finger on her with the intent of lust; I'll have you castrated, you got that boy?"

Billy thought about it , walking around town without his manhood, be known as the man without a cock.

"Y-yes sir." he sweats.

"Good!" Ovid exclaimed, letting Billy go.

"Daddy!" You yelled "I'm not getting any younger here!" You say impatiently.

Then, as you, Billy, and old man Warner left the gates of Bristow Manor, the marching band played another loud commotion. The blaring drums and tubas still ranged in Billy's ears as you all were 2-3 miles down the road.

Billy looked at you, cocking his head--you'd been filing your nails.

A Rose thorn bush, Billy labeled you--so amusing to look at, tempting to touch; when he felt the courage to touch it, he'd realize he gotten pricked and was starting to draw blood.

*I plan on making this a two part series*

[ww2yaoi]

[Here's another taste of my so far untitled webgott fic because I feel like sharing but know finishing the fic is going to take a while longer so enjoy...]

The sun is beginning to set when David finally rises from his chair, eyes stinging from staring at a blank page for so long. He closes his notebook, grabs a towel, then starts down the winding pathway from the hotel to the lake.

Thankfully, no one’s at the dock when he gets there. The horizon is bathed in burnt orange light, slowly dimming as the sun settles between the mountain peaks in the distance. The air is a bit too cool for a swim, but David enjoys the breeze as it bites at his skin. Anything to draw him out of his thrumming head, to distract him from the lacuna in his sternum, aching with oblivion.

He strips all the way, wanting nothing between him and the water, and dives into the lake. The cold water hits him like a grenade blast, roaring past his ears and soaking him deep to the bone. When David was a child, spending summers away from school on East Coast beaches, he used to see how long he could hold his breath underwater. He would revel in frightening his mother when his head failed to emerge from the waves for minutes at a time. He liked it down there. It was quiet, and he could imagine himself coming from a different world, somewhere unknown and endless where he was better understood, inexplicable like the ocean but loved for his inexplicability all the same.

In the present, David holds his breath until his lungs sting and his head feels fuzzy. Eyes closed, he welcomes the black, embraces the stillness surrounding him. Then, he emerges, gasping, droplets beading like pearls at the ends of his hair. His eyes flutter open, and the first thing he sees is the bottom of a jump boot resting at the edge of the dock. David follows the line of the attached leg to the face peering over at him.

Joe is lounging there with an elbow propped up behind him. He nurses a cigarette, the cherry burning tangerine between his pursed lips. His paratrooper jacket is opened to reveal the clean white of his undershirt, his Magen David glinting around his neck in the dying sunlight.

“Thought you were never gonna come back up for air,” Joe says and the smoke he exhales conceals his pinched expression.

David is surprised to see him. He stands up in the water, toes nestling in the wet sand. Luckily, the waterline comes up to his waist, hiding his nakedness.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asks.

“Long enough to wonder if you’d fucking drowned,” Joe says, scowling.

“What are you doing here?” David replies. He crosses his arms over his bare chest, feeling oddly exposed underneath the razor’s edge of Joe’s gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was,” Joe admits. His eyes flick downwards. “I heard about Janovec. Chuck says you were there.”

News travels fast; David frowns. “So what? You here to blame me for it?”

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. “Jesus, Web. Why the fuck would I blame you?”

David shrugs. “I don’t know, Joe. You blame me for a lot of things.”

Joe smirks, a disparate concoction of amusement and irritation that David has memorized on his face a thousand times before. He takes another drag of his cigarette and taps ash into the water. It floats on the surface like flakes of pepper in a bowl of tomato soup.

“Yeah, Web, like what?”

David meets his eyes, unwilling to back down. “Well, for one, you blame me for getting wounded in Holland. You blame me for missing Bastogne. You blame me for not killing a man just because you asked me to—”

“He was a fucking Nazi,” Joe spits, expression hardening. “He deserved to die.”

“Maybe so,” David volleys back. “But the war is over, Joe. Why bloody our hands? Where does this end for you?”

“Until they fucking pay.”

“Yeah, who? Who pays? Millions of people are complicit. Are you going to kill half the population of Germany?”

Joe goes quiet at that, fiddling with his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. His silence simmers with anger and something else, something somber and oppressive, and David realizes he much prefers his open-mouthed rage to this. The only time he’s seen Joe this short for words was after Landsberg, and the last thing David wants is a repeat of that.

It makes him think back to the German baker whose throat he held a gun to. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of the pistol in his hand, his finger inching closer and closer to the trigger. Sometimes, in his dreams, he pulls it. He never told Joe what happened that day. Maybe Joe would say he should have done it.

“You want to go home, right?” David adds quietly. “Leave all this behind?”

Joe says nothing. By now, the sun has dipped behind the mountainscape, painting everything in a spectral blue. A gust of wind whips across the lake, casting ripples through the water, and David shudders slightly. Goosebumps pimple his arms.

“Come on,” Joe says, beckoning him with the tilt of his head. “Get out of the water, Web. You’re shivering.”

“Okay,” David says, but heat blooms on the back of his neck. “You might want to look away though.”

“Why?”

“I’m naked, Lieb.”

Joe snorts and smoke pours out his nose. “What? You ashamed of that tiny, uncut dick of yours?”

David rolls his eyes. “It’s not tiny.”

“Well, it’s hard to see with all that hair on you.”

“You’ve been looking?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joe says. “Come on. We’ve showered together. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

“Suit yourself.”

David wades over to the edge of the dock and pulls himself up out of the water, getting to his feet. He reaches for the towel by his discarded clothes, keeping his eyes trained on the tree line in front of him, knowing full well if he glances over at Joe and sees him looking he’ll flush from head to toe. David wraps the towel around his waist and sits down beside him on the dock, pale legs outstretched and freckled with lake water.

They look out at the horizon and David feels the distance stretching between them, like he and Joe are the twin but separate mountain peaks piercing the dusky sky miles ahead. Joe finishes his cigarette and butts it out on the dock, leaving a scorch mark on the wood. He tosses it into the water and it floats for a moment on the surface before being swept under by a wave.

“Hell,” Joe says after a while, his voice low. “What the fuck do I have to go home to?”

David snaps his head to look at him. “What are you talking about?” he says.

“Nothing.” Joe looks sullen, chin tucked towards his chest. “Forget it.”

“What about your job at the cab company?” David asks. “The Jewish girl with the big tits? What about your family?”

Joe scoffs. “Yeah? What the fuck am I gonna say to them? What am I gonna tell my ma?”

“You tell them whatever you want to tell them,” David says. “That you’re a war hero, that you saved Western civilization as we know it.”

Joe laughs, a bitter, leery thing. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

David shrugs. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore, about the war, about the things he’s done, the things he’s seen. Sometimes he lies awake at night and wonders how his life might be different, if in some version of history the right politicians had shaken hands and all this destruction and bloodshed had been avoided. Joe would still be driving his cab around Frisco, maybe he’d have a wife and a home and children to fill it, and David would be back at Harvard, studying Tolstoy and Flaubert and writing his novel. They never would have met except in this ravaged and desolate place. They would have no reason to relate to one another, vastly different men from vastly different backgrounds, situated on disparate coasts on opposite sides of the country.

David doesn’t believe in fate, or predestination, or whatever the poets call it, but there’s an inevitability to it all, that David would find his way to Easy, to Joe. He’s not even sure if they’re friends, but since Joe lifted him up into that truck in Haguenau, he’s felt drawn into Joe’s orbit. If David’s being honest with himself, he’s never fit in well with the guys of Easy. Not really. They tolerate him, sure, but they never seek him out, not like Joe does. David has never fit in anywhere, not at HQ before his transfer, not at Harvard, not even in his own goddamn family. Without Joe, without his ardour and annoying persistence, it’d be like being lost at sea.

David is pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a knobby finger jab him in the leg. He looks down and sees that Joe is poking him in the calf where the Kraut bullet pierced his skin in Holland, just barely missing the bone. The scar there is pink and mottled, the flesh raised and twisted like the mark on Joe’s neck.

“Hey, quit it,” David says and drags his leg away from Joe’s touch.

Joe leans back on his elbows, smirking. “So that’s the million-dollar wound.”

David glares at him. “If it was a million-dollar wound I’d be home by now,” he says. “And I’m still fucking here, aren’t I?”

Something softens in Joe’s expression, and if David didn’t know any better he might mistake it for fondness.

“That you are, Web. That you are.”

[scotianostra]

On May 11th 1685 Margaret Lachlane, or McLachlan, and Margaret Wilson were put to death.

The sins of our past are sair tae bare at times and this is certainly one that qualifies as such, what makes it all the more sad is that they had been reprieved, but the distance from Edinburgh to Wigtown but for reasons unknown it never made it to save the women.

Here’s the background, some of you might know but not all, back in 17th century religion was very important to most people in Scotland, indeed the worldover. The reformation waa over and Protestants were in the vast majority, especially in the more populace lowlands. By now The Stuart Monarchy ruled both Scotland and England, having survived a civil war in which Charles I lost his head, eventually his son, Charle II was invited back to take the throne. You would have thought that Charles II had learned his lesson, his old boy had tried to enforce the English form of the Protestant religion in Scotland but failed, young Charles tried again but the Scots were not having it, many Scots signed what is known as The National Covenant that pledged to defend “their” true religion against innovations like those down south. Many were put to death for refusing to swear allegiance to the King and “his” prayer book. Over the years there were many battles and lives lost, it is now known in Scotland as “The Killing Time"

ny way the people thought it might come to an end in February 1658 when Charles II died, those who had been hiding from persecution started returning to their homes, including the young Wilson girls who were sheltered at the home of Margaret McLachlan, a 63 year old widow who lived at Drumjargan in Kirkinner Parish. A local man betrayed them when they came into Wigtown, and the two girls were taken prisoner. At the same time, Margaret McLachlan was seized while at prayer in her own home, and held in custody with them. The women were required to take the Oath of Abjuration which had earlier been administered to everyone in the County over the age of 13 years. This had been introduced on 25 November 1684 by the Privy Council, in order to catch sympathisers of Richard Cameron. In a public declaration at Sanquhar Cross, Cameron had denounced the King as a tyrant and declared war on him.

Refusal to swear the Oath allowed execution without trial; men could be hanged or shot; a new sentence had been introduced for women: death by drowning. The women refused the Oath and were brought before the Commission. The Commissioners, Grierson of Lagg, Sheriff David Graham (Claverhouse’s brother), Major Windram, Captain Strachan and Provost Coltrane of Wigtown, have been described as “five of the most vicious scoundrels in Scotland”.

Margaret McLachlan with Margaret and Agnes Wilson were found guilty on all charges and they were sentenced “to be tyed to palisadoes and fixed in the sand, within the flood mark, at the mouth of the Blednoch stream, and there to stand till the flood over flowed them, and [they] drowned”. Agnes Wilson (aged only thirteen at the time) was reprieved, when her father promised to pay a bond of £100, a fortune in that day.

A pardon was issued in Edinburgh, dated 30 April 1685, for both women

It remains a mystery what happened to it, since no record of it remains beyond the Council Chamber. They were taken out and tied to stakes in the waters of the Bladnoch on 11 May 1685. The older woman was tied deeper in the river channel forcing young Margaret to witness her death, in the hope that she would relent. Instead, she seemed to take strength from the older woman’s fate, singing a psalm, and quoting scripture.

The events are recorded in the Kirk Session records of both Penninghame and Kirkinner parishes, vouched for by elders and ministers who were present on the day, and the records confirmed by the Presbytery of Wigtown. The Penninghame records say that Margaret Wilson’s head was held up from the water, in order to ask her if she would pray for the King. She answered that she wished the salvation of all men, but the damnation of none. When her watching relatives cried out that this proved she was willing to conform, Major Windram offered her the Oath of Abjuration again, but she refused, saying “I am one of Christ’s children; let me go”.

The Kirkinner records state that Margaret McLachan’s head had been “held down within the water by one of the town officers by his halberd at her throat, til she died”. A popular account adds that the officer said “then tak’ another drink o’t my hearty”. Legend has it that for the rest of his life the man had an unquenchable thirst, and had to stop and drink from every ditch, stream, or tap he passed, and he was deserted by his friends.

Likewise the constable named Bell, who had carried out his duties with a notable lack of feeling, allegedly said, when asked how the women had behaved, “O, they just clepped roun the stobs, like partans and prayed”. Clepped means web-footed, partans are crabs. Bell’s wife bore three children all with “clepped” fingers, and the family was referred to as “the Cleppie Bells” which was believed to be the sins of the father being visited on the children.

It was not only women who died, William Johnstone, John Milroy and George Walker were hanged in Wigtown the same year, for refusal to take the oath, but Margaret Wilson, due to her young age has become the most famous of the martyrs and is the subject of a famous painting by the English artist John Everett Millais called The Martyr of Solway.

Art conservators have x-rayed the painting and found out that Millais had originally painted the upper torso of the young woman naked. However when the painting was exhibited in 1871 there were strong puritanical views on nudity in paintings and Millais’ work offended Victorian sensibilities. It was badly received and was the butt of many negatively critical reviews. Hence it was painted over to save the Victorian eyes of such a sight!

The photo is from Stirling Old Town Cemetery a monument to the Wigtown Martyrs, further afield a Victorian statue of Margaret Wilson’s martyrdom is on display at Knox College, University of Toronto, Canada, as seen in the second pic, the third pic is the Martyrs' Grave, Wigtown parish church, Dumfries and Galloway.

[vaulthistorian]

Not solid, but I pose an idea of ex-lovers (who are toxic) Joshua and Caesar end up meeting again and shit happens. This is ramble with some scene, but it's getting a feel for if this is a demanded market. (Hehe, I'm in business bitches)

After Six gets the Sorrows out of Canaan, Joshua has to face the very real possibility of facing Caesar again. Or at the least, his men. Now, Joshua was no stranger to legionaries wandering too far from home even in New Canaan, but they were normally taken out quickly. He didn't like looking down upon a reflection of his old life.

It was like looking at a mirage in the distance but up close it wasn't real. It was a bite of his past that had sewn whispers into his ears and tugged at each little path in his mind.

Daniel would watch him get like that. Joshua wasn't someone to get antsy, although impatient and at times acted rash, he was grounded more over not.

But when they leave the walls of New Canaan, the man that Joshua turned into when fleeing to that safe place is branded to the world he ran from.

He leads the Sorrows and Dead Horses with David. He has no protection from the scorching sun except the bandages that tightly fasten his wounds. They both watch on to the shadow of Six whose image feels like just another Mirage to Joshua.

It doesn't feel good to be back. Daniel can't deny that either. He had wanted to lie and keep them safe, and now Joshua is facing the thoughts just as rash as his actions.

The next few months are filled with whispers and rumor of the Legion. They may have escaped the White Legs, but now they're just off the cusp of the war between the NCR and a force Joshua regrets ever calling home.

Daniel takes care of morale, he always has. But now Joshua is even more wrapped up in his thoughts to do much else than sit around.

What he had, or, what he didn't have, with Caesar is constantly on his mind. But really, he had no reason to fear. He had his men, he had Daniel, Six, and highest of all, his Savior.

The further they get through New Cali the thoughts in his mind shift from fearing Caesar to envying him. It's a twist that he has to pull himself out of in order to resist an old life he now has no wall (more or less physical) to keep him focused on the now.

That's when the bombs drop. It forces them back down a road they'd already walked, and regresses a huge chunk of their progress.

They're NCR. Caesars Legion moves the direction they do, driven by the bombing to cross the same path almost comically.

Joshua's last guards of anonymity are his wounds and the reliance of new legionaries knowing him only as a legend. But you never want to be faced with a part of your past that you hate. Joshua knows even with all the Sorrows and Dead Horses, the Legion could easily throw them in if they deemed them to be enough of a threat.

And the Legion would be stupid not to take in the group of wanderers looking like Cazadors out of the Mojave sand.

The Legion takes in their newfound "guests" and the drop in Joshua's stomach has him praying for the mercy of God when they're dragged back to that camp. Daniel faced a cell across from him, watching Joshua fidget. The first time he's seen Joshua so... Nervous.

"Which one of you lot is in charge of this little... Party??" One of the legionnaires steps forward to assert himself. Daniel goes to stand but Joshua reaches over to grab his belt loop.

"You're looking at him." Joshua spoke without hindrance.

The legionary stepped forward across the dusted crop of space and pushed open the cell with a loud scrape. It stung his ears as he listened but when prompted by the legionary, he followed.

"Joshua-" Daniel faintly whispered but Joshua shushed him with a motion of his hand. The legionary grabbed his arm tightly, sinking his palm around the wounds that comprised his flesh. "You have a duty to report to the Legion of any coming and going activity."

"The Legion doesn't own the world, far from it." Joshua said, being careful of his tongue.

"You're in Legion territory, friendo. And around here? Everyone is under Caesar."

The name makes him grit his teeth. He watches each step they take across the hot long. Across the rocky steps and winding paths through guards and gates. Far from his friends, and closer to something familiar.

Two guards stood at the gate as they entered past the strong wooden defense, their eyes lingering on Joshua's complexion as they walked.

The legionary motioned to some others who came over quickly. One of the men reached for Joshua's back pocket, squeezing and grabbing the gun hidden below his belt.

"Safety's on in Legion Camp. I know you understand."

Joshua huffed, but refused to say anything.

The legionary continued to take him up on campus. Past the large tents and training posts for recruits. Mongrels wandered by their master's heels, their jaws lined with thick saliva as they growled at Joshua.

He hated those things. Skin and bones but pack a mean bite, teeth able to sink in and rip you apart. And if they didn't do that, they left you unable to get away, and let you die slowly.

The legionary nudged him further up the steps until they reached the large tent with two guards on either side. Joshua felt his blood go cold. Despite the sun beating down on him and the sweat starting under his gear, the old sight of a crimson tent barely covering the bloodshed that splattered across the inside walls.

Of feeling hands on his bare skin as he was rewarded for doing good service to the Legion. Praised for his linguistic skills and being told to cry in another language, just to make it fun.

"G on." The legionary pushed him, and Joshua forced his feet to move.

"Lord your God be with me even in my trial..." Joshua whispered. "He leads me to soft waters and lays me in green pastures.." He continued to whisper, and finally pushed the tent folds open.

The guards on either side gripped their spears when he entered. Joshua stood, shaded away from the sun.

Mongrels growled, but did nothing more than lick their paws of dust and grime.

He looked at the end of the tent, across from him. Sat on his throne with two guards on either side was a man he hoped he'd never have to face again. He sat back, confident with his knees apart and one hand rested in his lap, tracing his thumb over a Legion Denarius.

"Ave." The legionaries at his throne stand watch as Joshua stepped into the scorching threshold.

"We found the lot wandering into Legion territory, they're apprehensive to share their business with our checks." The legionary who brought Joshua said before stepping back.

Caesar looked at Joshua, his eyes wandered down from his blue eyes to his feet. That felt like the worst part. A piece of meat all over again, devoured in more ways than one.

"What's your name?"

Joshua held steadfast. "In your tongue it does not fit."

Caesar shifted slightly in his chair. "And where do you come from?"

"A past, where we come from is our business, and where we are going is the same." He kept his voice level despite looking deep into those eyes. Strong, masculine stature, handsome face, strong, weathered hands. He remembered those hands, used for more than just handling a spear. They took the oxygen from his lungs, quite literally.

If he were to remember all the rough nights of fighting without real hurt or yelling until their voices became numb, he'd be there quite a while.

Caesar grinned slightly, tossing the Denarius in his palm. He motioned to dismiss the legionary who brought him and extended his heel from his chair to express he wasn't uncomfortable.

"While I respect every man's privacy, I'd suggest you tell me where you're going, as of now, the NCR has been driving in more of its recruits, and I can't trust that I won't find you or your supposed men on their side."

"We have fought long enough. We have no intent of fighting any more. We have no real set destination, only a place away from the war." Joshua replied.

Caesar hummed and stood. He slowly walked over, and Joshua was reminded of where he stood against the man. Cold spears in one direction, his old flame in the other.

Caesar looked down at him, then the vest. He chuckled in amusement and brushed his thumb over the old thing. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't.."

Caesar nodded. He frowned and ordered the guards from the room. And in confusion they quickly filed out, closing the tent again.

Caesar's hand brushed across Joshua's throat and squeezed it. Joshua reached up and grabbed Caesar's wrist, attempting to pry him away.

"Do you think I'm a fool!?"

Joshua chokes. He tried to dig his heel into the hard ground as Caesar tore him from his place and dragged him.

"Edward-" He choked, letting his tongue slip. Caesar grinned with a twisted expression and threw Joshua back against the throne. Caesar bent over him and grabbed his spear. Joshua shifted, remaining with his back digging into the edge of the sharp chair.

"Joshua..."

His eyelids fluttered and he looked down, the way Caesar said his voice made Joshua want to cave. Lord give me strength.

His eyes drew down, unable to plant his focus firmly on either the ground or Caesar's strained pants. His heart started to pick up in pace and Caesars free hand stroked Joshua's head.

"I watched you fall..."

"Didn't see me die.. did you?" He choked.

Caesar's grin didn't leave, Joshua knew it was out of strain, no other expression was able to fully encapsulate his rage.

"And now you crawl back to me on your hands and knees, isn't that funny." Caesar tilted Joshua's head up, pushing him back against the throne, making Joshua groan.

Caesar planted his knee between Joshua's legs and watched the man struggle. Something was different about him, and yet, he was still little Joshua Graham.

Caesar reached and tore away some of the bandages, seeing Joshua's skin healing. A part of him twisting in satisfaction of the hurt he's caused, another wanting to play savior.

"What should I do with your little friends, Joshua?"

Joshua groaned. He squirmed and grabbed Caesar's wrist to try and let up on him. "Let them go."

Caesar leaned closer, their lips were inches apart, his warm breath fanned over Joshua's face, making him feel faint and the stirring in his stomach dropped below his belt.

"And what about you?"

Joshua looked up, his eyelids fluttered again faintly and his shoulders dropped. Caesar stroked his thumb along Joshua's chin, as if taunting him with a possible visit to the past.

"Do whatever you want... Just let my people go."

A tense moment passed before Caesar stood and grabbed Joshua again. Joshua's heels scraped against the rocky ground as Caesar personally dragged him out. The guards watched as Caesar walked down the steps with the man pressed to his chest, begging for proper air.

Caesar made it to one of the guards posts and ordered the door open. Throwing Joshua to the ground inside one of the cells. Joshua grimaced, blinking back the haziness in his vision.

"You've changed, Joshua." Caesar bent down, wiping some of the blood from Joshua's lip onto his thumb, and licking it off.

"But I've kept you in line for a long time, and a dog never forgets its tricks." He stood and the cell screeched closed.

The guards acknowledged Caesar as he left, and the room lit by a very dim oil lamp was sealed off. For now.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. This was just a little brain worm for a possible idea in my head of ex-lovers Joshua and Caesar who have both changed, and still hate each other a lot. The idea that back in the Mojave they'll have to cross through Legion territory at some point, and Daniel is caught up in a mix of trying not to die and not tick off his buddy's crazy ex. It would be fine tuned if it ever became a thing, haha. Should I do a poll or just let y'all tell me? Please ask me about their toxic relationship, I'm insane. Bye.