#and his solving problem skills

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

"Ford is intellectually smart and Stan is emotionally smart" is a statement that makes me want to nose dive into academic studies in order to single-handedly redefine the categories of intelligence because that *cant* be right.

[hitlikehammers]

AVOIDANCE: the only real solution to all of Eddie’s your falling-in-love problems!

(0 out of 10 participants in this approach have proven its INeffectiveness; talk to your ✨love interest✨today to avoid this heartbreaking waste of your energy!)

It’s not like they were bosom buddies for years and years. A week at the outset, a couple months since, and now they’re all back in their own homes living their own lives and Eddie can avoid the way he’s most definitely, one-hundred-percent certainly in love with Steve Harrington. Very effectively.  By simply avoiding Steve Harrington. 

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, eddie munson and his newfound obsession/unprecedebtedly-close-to-love feelings for steve harrington, answer: avoid steve harrington like the plague, excellent and emotionally-mature ways of dealing with your problems! /s, primary hiccup in existing plan: forgetting steve harrington doesn’t take well to failure, (oops), miscommunication, boys so dumb, confessions, hint of angst (because eddie is a very silly boy with very silly ideas sometimes), self-confident!steve, steve harrington facing the issues head-on, feelings confessions, peak eddie dramatics, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day fifteen: “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”―Jane Austen, Emma

True fact: Eddie thought he was playing things cool. Thought he was totally copacetic, in, you know, keeping it all subtle. He can do subtle, y’know: being loud and proud, shouting on tabletops and shit, screaming at drunks—that was a choice, not a…a rule. He’s a freak, he’s an outcast, he’s a weird-ass motherfucker: he’d have had far more brushes with his actual-factual demise in this podunk town if he was literally incapable of blending in with the background, and not just kinda sickened by the concept, let alone the effort involved to appease fucking…normies.

So yeah, he’d…he’d thought he was flying under the radar. And anyway; why the fuck would Steve Harrington even notice eddies absence in his day-to-day? They were apocalypse ‘friends’. Hospital buddies at best.

They’re back in the real world now.

Eddie supposed Vecna or whatever the fuck his name is will come crawling back in the foreseeable future, but brighter minds than his are preparing for that shit. The sheepies will let him know if they need his assistance—pending what that assistance may or may not be worth dependent on how far along his PT journey he stands at that point.

But it’s not like they were glued to the hip. It’s not like they were bosom buddies for years and years. A week at the outset, a couple months since, and now they’re all back in their own homes living their own lives and Eddie can avoid the way he’s most definitely, one-hundred-percent certainly in love with Steve Harrington. Very effectively.

By simply avoiding Steve Harrington.

It’s kind of a foolproof plan, really. He starts wrapping Hellfire earlier, tells the little shitheads he’s gotta run, Wayne needs a hand with a revolving door of household projects now that they’ve got their own place with more than one bedroom. Gotta mount that hangers for that ball cap collection just right, you know, yadda yadda.

He thinks they gave up being suspicious without a week or two, now just hit him with annoyed eye rolls. God bless the scourge of self-centred teenage bitchiness playing directly into eddies hand.

What he failed to account for, however, about eleven weeks into his up-to-now flawless scheme, was…well. The leading man himself.

Showing the fuck up at Eddie’s door, which Eddie answered for once like a fool and now can’t back out of cleanly because there’s no truck in the drive—it’s clear he’s here on his own.

Motherfucker.

One thing can be said for the plan, in terms of like, general side quest observations—absence definitely made the heart grow fonder. Or at least didn’t contribute at all to the opposite. Which Eddie hadn’t been entirely sure was possible, because the speed and strength of how he fell with every fucking cell in him had honestly terrified the shit out of him on its own. But after avoiding Steve, nodding at best if he canoed paths and sneaking away when the man called out like he was gonna snake through a crowd at any of the number of the family dinners for interdimensional-trauma-survivors-anonymous that Eddie couldn’t weasel out of: it’d been clear pretty fucking quick.

The almost-indefensibly-absurd affection he’d developed for the King of Hawkins—it wasn’t just reign over the high school if the parents were so charmed, if the fucking hospital has cowed into acting and quick when they tried to hesitate in treating an accused murderer, as Eddie’d been regaled with by everyone but Steve, who shrugged his kinda crucial role in saving Eddie’s ass with a shrug and of course, man, like there was ever even a question—but his indefensibly overwhelming and absurd infatuation that spent every month expanding further to try and crack his fucking ribs, well.

It was chronic, at best. He wasn’t gonna shake it…any time soon.

Any time soon.

So: best to at least keep the catalyst at bay, stop it from causing the condition to worsen.

He’d made the mistake of thinking it couldn’t get worse already. Learn from your mistakes, and all the shit.

So what if it’s been months now and not only has the malady of being ass-over-nipple in-fucking-love persisted, but got so much fucking worse? Deeper? More, when that shit should have even been possible?

No. He just has to be persistent. Keep at the plan. Eventually, it’ll die off. It’ll whither and blow away. It’ll fucking fade—

He does, however, fail to calculate all contingencies.

Namely Steve Harrington’s incapacity to accept defeat.

He’s also too fucking scatterbrained to check the door before opening it when there’s a knock, just after Wayne’s left for his shift. When Eddie has no excuse to slam it back shut on the exceptionally exquisite face waiting when the hinges swing open.

Exquisite, but looking…pinched. Sour.

Pissed the fuck off.

And worst of all of it—because so far the list only server to underscore that unfortunate state of being fucking beautiful, on every possible level—but worst of it all, because it’s worst on its own but also because it twists, distorts all the beauty, and it’s so clearly Eddie’s fault because Steve is standing right here, and not elsewhere, after all this time.

Looking hurt, under everything else.

“I’m done with this, yeah?”

Eddie could run. He’d only make it to his room; Steve would probably be able to break down the door and get to him before he could slither through the window and run, but he’s still not 100%, right, he’s physically at a disadvantage anyway, it’s not even gonna be a question—

Steve’s got him cornered.

So he just stands. Blinks.

Doesn’t…know what Steve’s ‘done with’, but he feels his literally twist, wring like a dishrag, when he figures out the most likely answer is just:

 Eddie.

Even trying to keep the maximum distance, he either knows, and hates it, hates him, or…

He doesn’t know, and doesn’t need to. He just is over Eddie and his bullshit.

It’s in the heart-piercing distraction of either and both possibilities that Steve pushes past him into the front hall.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?”

Steve crosses his arms as the door latches closed, caging them in.

Eddie’s heart starts kicking hard, which is painful. He assumes that’s because it’s been pierced by the hurt still on Steve’s face.

“I thought we were, like, that at least we were friends?”

He says it like he also has maybe had thoughts like there’s something else they were, or could have been. That by association and context would be somewhere more than friends?

Eddie’s pieced-through heart switches to a double-thumping sort of thing that’s really just as confused as the rest of him.

Hurts like a motherfucker, too.

“Did I do something?”

Steve asks, finally sounds more defeated than any of the other things Eddie can pick up in how he holds his body, and honestly that’s what breaks Eddie’s resolve, of everything; after everything. After holding out this long and failing for the entire fucking effort, after hurting Steve, the last thing he could ever want, probably the main underlying reason he’s been running from him the whole goddamn time—to not hurt him.

He’s suck a fuck up. He’s such a fucking fuck up.

“You know how sunflowers grow?”

Steve startles a little, grows the slightest bit.

“They find the sun, and the grow toward it,” and Eddie’s not stupid enough to think the whole disaster that’s unfolding in front of him, from his own chest, his own fucking mouth—he’s aware.

He can’t do nothing, but he also doesn’t think he can sugarcoat this in a way that goes down easier; sand the rough edges to make it make better sense.

He has to wrench it raw and bloody from his ribs, caught on the jagged bone like the messy fuck he is.

“You were the sun,” Eddie finally says it out loud, and his voice is so small and wondering, he can’t hide it. “You were the sun and I woke up broken, I had to grow back so much and I did, because I had the tools,” he swallows, takes a shaky breath:

“I had the sun right next to me, to do all the growing toward. To…rebuild around.”

Eddie’s always been a weirdo, and outcast—he’s spent a lot of time in libraries; often hiding.

But he’s read a lot of random shit. And enough of it’s stuck to make some sense of this fucking mess.

Steve’s face gives nothing away. It’s usually so…so generous with its feeling, even if there are some feelings Eddie knows Steve’s careful to never let show.

But in the now, he just stares.

“Otters,”Eddie blurts out, fingers twitching, wrists shaking; “they hold hands when they sleep,” and he looks up for a second before looking away again, pulse a mullet in his throat.

“I used to hold onto your hand when I fell asleep in the hospital,” and he says it like it’s a secret, a confession, even though of all people, of course Steve already fucking knows. The part he doesn’t, though:

“I still reach, and how fucked that? Like I deserve it as a rule, like it’s mine.”

Like you’re mine.

He can’t say it. But he doesn’t have it. It rings out on its own.

“But then there are the trees that shoot up all tangled,” Eddie can’t remember what they’re called; “where the trunks split off into one another, or they’re so braided up together the share their bark, whole pieces left Bernal’s, naked but the other tree covers it, makes it strong and safe but only so long as they’re literally fused together indefinitely,” and Eddie hopes that one…that one explains itself.

He pauses, waits for any reaction.

No dice.

“Bats sleep in pitcher plants.”

That at least gets the slightest lift of the chin. Probably because it’s weird, and also…bats.

Right. So Eddie’s gonna have to spell it all out.

Which he kinda knew. The examples are fucking weird. But they’re…they’re true. They’re where he is.

“If I get too fucking close, I will destroy you,” Eddie says, because that’s the fear, right—or no.

That’s the fucking truth. Eddie always ends up with the tatters of the things he loves the most.

“I’ll take too much, I’ll take everything,” Eddie confesses, pleads in his tone to be seen, which Steve’s always been weirdly good at, and understood—the bigger gamble.

“There won’t be any stoplights, there won’t be a barrier or a boundary where I’ll know I’ve gone too far because I won’t even think of what that fucking is, what it could be to even watch for, like the barebones idea of ‘too far’, let alone what it looks like, I won’t,” and his breath runs out, so he gasps, and he thinks he sees Steve move to reach, to help, to steady.

He thinks.

It’s probably just wishful thinking.

“I won’t stop holding on just when I’m sleeping, I’ll,” Eddie licks his lips, because now…now he’sstarting to hurt, closer to what it felt like with teeth ripping his flesh than anything has felt, than any loss has threatened. He has to clear his throat, because otherwise the rest will just spill out like a sob:

“I’ll tear your bark so you bleed, and you’re exposed and you die off slow, because I was selfish, so selfish, I held to close, I fucking…” eddies voice cracks; his eyes fucking burn; “because I fucking demanded the whole of you, and damn the cost because I couldn’t process an end, why would I stop doing to even think to be logical and careful when an end to you was, is, well, fuck,” he huffs, and a tear spills out white hot down his cheek;

“It’s incomprehensible, because that would be the end of everything, that was made real fucking clear for me with the bats, both times,” and Eddie means that—he’s had time to think through the origin of his aching and it was early, it was any hint of being in the world without this person in it, too; “and the end of everything, well,” he shakes his head, some of his hair sticking in the single trail of salt on his skin:

“Tied up in you, so tight we couldn’t physically untangle?” His voice drops to a whisper, and he knows his smile has to look sad, but he means this is the deepest places his heart even holds:

“What better way to go?”

He maybes watches Steve’s throat bobbing. Maybe.

Probably not.

So Eddie just sighs. Because…none of that matters. None of that matters in the face of the core truth:

“Those pitcher plants dissolve things inside them, it’s how they eat,” he half-recites, retreating into those deep-heart places, where the feeling is most saturated, but hard to find, somewhere to hide as he whispers, cowers in himself as he flats his own flesh:

“I’ll leech from you for wanting too much just the same. I’ll fucking destroy you, Stevie,” he moans, feels his arms wrap around his chest, protective. Trembling.

“I’ll love you so hard I’ll suffocate you, I’ll tear you to pieces trying to get closer, trying to hold the heart of you closer to mine,” he doesn’t even make a conscious decision to press a palm over his flailing heart where his arm already holds, hugs himself so fucking tight. His lungs are sore. It’s tight, trying to breathe.

“It’s not an overstatement, though, the other plants, the flowers,” Eddie feels overwhelmed, suddenly, with a need to make clear that there’s only one person at fault for this, and it’s him—Steve didn’t deserve to get hurt. Eddie should have found a better way to keep him safe—from Eddie—from the very start. Because—

“You are my sun,” Eddie makes himself look up, look at Steve. “I didn’t realize how little I was growing even before spring break. I didn’t notice, how fucking thriving wasn’t even in my goddamn vocabulary, until there was you.” His breathing shudders again, followed by the rest of him:

“I turn toward you as a rule,” because here’s the thing. All these weeks and months.

Eddie’s been shrivelling. Eddie spends his nights dreaming of sunlight.

It’s inescapable.

He was going to have to find a more sustainable compromise soon, anyway. Might as well…lay it all out now.

He’s already ripped off his bark. He’s already prepared to dissolve in the acid, to burn for what it means to have left the feeling grow so big.

“I hope,” he coughs, starts slow, formal-like: “I hope you can do me the favor of just,” he has to clear his throat again; fuck, it’s hard; “politely ignoring that part. Like, even at a distance, it’s not something I can seem to stop.”

He was aiming for apologetic for that last bit, honest.

He fucking fails spectacularly, so. That’s cool.

“I swear, I won’t bother you,” he tries to convey how he’s sorry, for all of it, save for the core of the loving, because he as granted. A taste, no matter how it’s fallen to ruin; he’s selfish that way anyhow, to have seen some of the sun versus darkness alone for always.

Still:

“I won’t come near, I’ll do what I’ve been doing but better, I’ll be better, I’ll try harder, it will—“

Eddie thinks maybe he’s finally died. Of heartbreak, of whatever the Upside Down did to him. Of living without his sun for a long.

Any. All of the above.

Because the next thing he knows is pressure. Heat.

On his lips.

He barely processes responding before its town away: of course death wouldn’t be a reward. Not for him.

“Are you fucking telling me,” a voice bites out close enough to Eddie’s lips that he can feel how sharp they cut:

“That you have been avoiding me, running awayfrom me,” and Eddie knows that voice—

“Breaking my heart,” and fuck, fuck Eddie knows he knows that voice because when it’s hurting—and those words are irate and disbelieving and they’re hurt—

“Because you’re fucking scared of loving me too hard?”

And Eddie pulls back, opens his eyes: Steve.

Steve’s eyes are fucking vibrant with feeling, so many feelings. He’s…he doesn’t think he’s dead, because a lot of those feelings are ones Eddie’s not familiar with, and how would he know to place them there if he’s never known them at all?

He doesn’t know of it’s better or worse, to not be dead right now.

Because he just apparently got to feel Steve’s lips on his lips.

But then:

“Because that’s what you’re saying, right” Steve raises a brow, demands in posture as much as in tone:

“You’re in love with me.”

And then on the flip side of being alive-or-dead: he has to deal with the consequences of spelling out the answer to…that.

Which he’s apparently broken Steve’s heart over handling…the only way he could figure out. And still fucking it up.

“That sounds less than what it feels like,” Eddie whispers; it’s the only thing he can latch on to.

Steve’s eyes narrow at him, contemplate him.

“And you think me, of all people,” Steve finally asks, slow, his tone wrenchingly deliberate; “that Iwouldn’t meet someone loving that big and that much,” “and he huffs, shakes his head in searing disbelief Eddie almost wishes he could flinch from, but it’s so warm, it’s his sun:

“That that wouldn’t feel like there actually was a heaven, and I’d died and somehow made it there?”

Eddie’s breath catches, then stops entirely. He can’t seem to properly suck in another one because…

“That finding that wouldn’t feel like I’d won the lottery, like I’d figured out what it meant when people talk about a blessing, and all that shit?”

Because what…what it almost sounds like Steve is saying can’t actually be—

“That finding it, with you,” and oh, oh Steve is a lot closer than he was last Eddie processed the world around him, his chest is grazing Eddie’s chest when he seems to have no trouble breathing, just is doing it really deep and reallt fast—

“That it’d be anything less than a gift,” Steve murmurs half against Eddie’s lips; “a dream come to life?”

And Steve’s eyes flick up, and it’s when they land on Eddie’s and see him that his lungs shiver and he chokes out the only word he thinks his every molecule knows by heart:

“Steve?”

And Steve doesn’t move, neither. Loser nor farther away.

Doesn’t look away; doesn’t blink.

Just asks:

“Do you love me?”

And something in Eddie unfreezes, some string holding him up, holding him back snaps free and he just grabs Steve’s hand and presses it to his chest, like he needs to be tethered now that the string in him’s been cut, and the touch, this touch: Steve is really all he’s been wanting to keep him.

To keep him at all.

And maybe this is the one shot he gets.

But Steve, Steve said…

He presses Steve’s hand to his chest a little harder, because he’s bathed in the sun again. Their hands are linked, and they’re not asleep. He’s peeled off all the pretense, he’s as bare and vulnerable as he can possibly get. His heart’s beating into Steve palm. Eddie will happily fucking drown in this, dissolve and be…

He’s already consumed.

How is it any different, save that maybe, just maybe, beyond all odds and against everything he’s feared—

“More than I can hold in here,” Eddie scarcely finds the air to breathe; “more than I can say.”

“Then share it,” Steve says, the assuredness, the rightness in his gravity that’s always been at his core radiating forth and warming Eddie in a way he’s never known to feel before.

“Let me know it, let that feeling not be alone anymore,” and the words hold more than their syllables, by so much; “let it out to see the sun,” and then Steve’s flipping their hands so eddies the one caught agains this chest, but he’s always pulling them close enough that Steve’s knuckles are still catching the drum of Eddie’s pulse. It feels…

Eddie didn’t know what to expect, to let the feeling be felt beyond his own chest.

It’s breathtaking in a new way. It’s…

“Let it meet its match here, in how I feel,” Steve doesn’t suggest, just speaks, instructs, leads with a match to what Eddie feels, has been drowning in, save where it stole his air it’s breathing into him; where it took his light it’s reinventing the sun as Steve murmurs close, so close to his lips:

“Let it see how it was killing me all this time without you,” and Eddie whimpers for the cost of what he’s done, what he felt so sure he had to do—

“Let the feeling inside here,” and he presses his touch back to Eddie’s chest just a little bit firmer; “know how much sharing it’s like stitching my broken heart back to rights.”

Eddie’s exhales shakes so fucking hard; he can’t be this lucky. It can’t…he can’t…

But his heart’s beating so hard, so fast, so free.

So fucking alive.

“You can’t say it, big enough?” Steve pushes, his breath so goddamn warm, his lashes so thick, Eddie wants to feel them on his skin like a blessing, a sacrament:

“You can’t say it? Then show me, instead.”

And Steve looks up at him before he grabs around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulls him close enough that speaking rubs their lips together, more combative than affectionate but still undeniably intimate as Steve growls:

“Fucking months, Eddie, Jesus,” and his grip is firm, but there’s no force, Eddie could pull back, Eddie could try to run, and fail, but how could he, how could he ever—

His hand’s crushed to Steve’s chest. The same wild thrum he feels in his veins is there.

Let it meet its match.

“Make up for it,” Steve’s breath trembles on Eddie’s lips, taunts him, begs him, asks so many questions.

Eddie flips their hands one more time, presses Steve’s hand to his heartbeat with nothing less than desperation until his ribs goddamn creak, and then he leans, makes the pressure bigger—

Meets the feeling in Steve with all the feeling in him with their lips on each other like they mean it this time, ready to dissolve in it. To grow themselves to protect around the soft parts. To keep their hands entwined for always.

To come alive inside this sun.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

[highlyincorrect]

I’ve heard a lot of people chatting abt what sort of career Five would have if not what we got in s4 and I wanted to weigh in

Personally, with the way I thought s4 was gonna go, i figured he’d jump back to his assassin routes and maybe become a gun for hire (like he was in the comics). Even if he wanted to be on the straight and narrow path, I still don’t think the CIA would be a good fit for him (bros not a fed, ACAB🗣️)

I had a long lovely discussion with someone from ao3 on this very topic and I think they might have had smth with their response- investigative journalist

That way he can still live a very adventurous life, help people and fuck over corruption and criminals without being a part of the bureaucratic thing he doesn’t like anymore (like in the commission)

Idk tho. What do y’all think

[videnrambles]

Itadori Yuji is both extremely emotional intelligent and street smart, but dumb as bricks academically.

Yuji can spend 10 minutes with someone and tell you everything wrong them and who they have a crush on. It's pretty much impossible to hide how you're feeling from him.

Yuji does great working in unpredictable situations or with limited resources. He's never fazed by any situation, doesn't matter how weird it gets.

If you give Yuji a math problem with a letter in it, he will just cry

[salvatorelizzie]

me when i was little: ugh i don’t like batman he’s so lame he doesn’t even have any powers he’s just moody and rich

me now: ugh i LOVE batman. he has no powers and he’s doing ALL THAT??? his ingenuity is so impressive he’s so intelligent and can keep up with overpowered super humans no struggle?? that’s so cool. plus he’s a single dad.

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[faithandfairies]

Re-visiting Antoinette

So, I've been re-watching the show and it has me coming back to Antoinette. Which, I think I always come back to Antoinette because she is important, just not in the way a lot of people think.

The thing is, Louis and Lestat don't communicate properly so you have to look at their actions to figure out where they are at mentally and emotionally at any given time. And painting a more complete picture of Lestat's actions in relation to Antoinette and her purpose according to Lestat does that.

You see, I think by the time Antoinette enters, Lestat feels like he is losing Louis. Their relationship is going down the drain because they're not communicating properly and on top of that Louis isn't feeding well so he doesn't have energy for the parts of their relationship that do work. Louis' lack of proper feeding though is tied to his feelings, his humanity. And his shame of what he is, for which Lestat partly blames himself because of how he handled Louis' turning and their relationship.

And so Lestat starts trying to re-write history to get Louis back. Fix the mistakes he made in the past that Louis holds against him to get Louis back in the present but also as a way to remind Louis of the good times. And he uses Antoinette to do that.

As such Lestat casts Antoinette in the role of Ernesto. Because that's where everything started to go wrong in their relationship. Louis being disgusted with how and why Lestat kills. In Louis' opinion Lestat should never have killed Ernesto. At the very least not in the way he did.

Just like Ernesto Antoinette is a musician. And just like with Ernesto as she leaves Lestat is looking at her like he wants to drain her but he doesn't at that point even though I believe he wants to.

He then also uses Antoinette to remind Louis of his courting period with him. I think Lestat's intention with Antoinette is for Louis to miss him during that two week period as he lavishes all of his attention on someone other than Louis only to then try to seduce him at the end of it, recreating the first time he and Louis slept together after their two week courting period with Antoinette in the role of Lily. Also using the fact that Louis is hungry to try to get him to feed.

I genuinely think Lestat would have killed Antoinette if his plan had worked here. Drained her with Louis most likely. Ernesto's death, but with different circumstances. No humiliation, no torture, just pleasure and lulling her into a false sense of security so Louis can feed. Trying to listen to the objections Louis had to the way Lestat killed. Because the killing itself is non-negotiable, but the circumstances can be negotiated. Lestat is willing to hunt for Louis, and in whatever way that will make it more likely that Louis will feed human.

Lestat's genuinely trying to find viable alternatives for Louis to feed on. Because Louis isn't opposed to feeding on animals. But that isn't a sufficient diet. So what is the human equivalent of an animal to Louis? Louis is opposed to feeding on black people because he considers them his people. Louis is also gay, attracted to his own sex, so all men might be off the table. So I think Lestat goes, would white women suffice? Would that be impersonal enough? Or do you need it to be more personal? Would a white woman that looks like me make you angry enough to feed if you can direct your anger at her? Since male criminals don't do the trick? Or do you need variety of the sexual sort? Do you need to have sex that then devolves into you draining your victim in the heat of the moment?

And I mean, Lestat hit the nail on the head too, you've got to give him that. He knows Louis very well. Because Louis in Paris feeds on humans when he hallucinates his victims as Lestat and directs his anger at them. And in San Francisco Louis sleeps with his victims then drains them. They need so much therapy by the way.

But then here that doesn't work. Louis leaves to feed on animals instead of joining Lestat and Antoinette. So Lestat's like okay, I've got to go back even further. Fix every mistake I've ever made with Louis. Not kill Lily, not turn Louis two weeks into knowing him and use Antoinette to represent that. And so he continues to cast Antoinette in the role of Lily and adds Louis-stand-in and doesn't kill or turn Antoinette. Instead he continues a relationship with her as a human.

But I think Lestat's also realizing it won't make a difference, even if he has learned from his mistakes. I think his relationship with her devolves into a form of self-flagellation through her then. Because he can't turn back time and not turn Louis after only two weeks of knowing him, ease him into things so that Louis doesn't hate Lestat and himself for what they both are. So that he doesn't want to hurt himself and Lestat for what they both are.

I think Antoinette also ended up becoming a way to bridge the gap between Lestat's vampirism and his humanity to save his relationship with Louis when Louis became hard to reach, because Lestat stopped being able to read Louis' mind to understand him and because they didn't communicate well. And because Lestat kept making missteps that created an increasingly larger chasm between them.

Because that's one of the problems, although Lestat understood where Louis thought he went wrong enough to try to fix it I don't think Lestat fully understood why Louis thought certain decisions Lestat made were wrong, why Louis saw things the way he did. Lestat acts on instinct a lot, having been a vampire for as long as he's been by the time he meets Louis and having embraced it as he has. He just doesn't think about things the same way Louis does or at all.

He left Antoinette human as long as he did because it was beneficial to him, because it meant she could help him understand Louis' human side, to be a confidante and a sounding board, but it also genuinely offered a layer of protection to him and Louis for him to be seen with a woman when he and Louis were suspected to be lovers by the town.

Until of course it was more beneficial to have her as a vampire. And of course her love becomes a stand-in for the love he wishes he got from Louis, that he feels he could have gotten from Louis if he'd handled things differently with him.

The thing is, just like everything else in Lestat's mind his involvement with Antoinette is for Louis. It's just that Lestat being Lestat everything he does or thinks he does for Louis alone he's usually also doing for himself.

[blueskittlesart]

do u have any navi thoughts from your oot replay

i've been waiting to answer this until I actually beat the game in my current playthrough because navi is another one of those characters that i think of in like a "set" with several other characters who serve relatively the same thematic purpose; in this case that purpose being the "mother" character, and i wanted to have all the characters in that set fresh in my mind. it's notable that while oot shows us very clear and consistent instances of the ways in which the adults of hyrule fail to protect their children, there ARE several adults who DO go out of their way to both oppose ganondorf and protect and nurture the children under their care. All of these characters are adult women, and all of them explicitly help the children out of some sort of parental responsibility or sense of duty towards them. in this group I include link's late mother, impa, nabooru, and navi.

all 4 mother characters, despite being adults or adult-coded, reject the inaction mentality which characterizes other adults in the game. they become either direct supports or shields to their children from the conflict the world has to offer them, and they are always explicitly punished for their interference--link's mother is killed trying to protect her son, impa's village is burned, nabooru is brainwashed. The mother's fatal flaw is that she will protect her child above all else, even in a world in which children cannot truly be protected. however, with the exception of link's mother, these characters manage to persist even in the face of her punishment, and this is where I think navi becomes the exemplary character.

Navi, after a lifetime of being link's only support system, the only adult in his life he could truly, consistently count on, receives her punishment at the hands of ganondorf--in the final battle, she is pushed out. she is unable to reach her child. she cannot protect him. However, BECAUSE link has grown up with her at his side, he is strong enough to take ganondorf down. and when ganon rises again, navi is there to support link, promising not to leave his side, and the intuitive targeting of that battle (a mechanic which navi is inherently tied to!!) makes it a cinch to win. Navi, and the other mothers we meet, are a reminder to the player that the world doesn't HAVE to be the way it is. Their persistence when punished, their insistence that their children ought to be protected, is a reminder that good adults do exist, and that good adults raise good children. link and zelda are able to win in spite of the adults who refused to help them, but also BECAUSE of the adults who DID. It's a reinforcement of the core theme of oot--that childlike idea that the world SHOULD be good and fair and if it isn't, it should be changed until it is. The mothers of oot are examples of what the world COULD be, reminders that it is possible to grow up without losing hope or growing bitter, and they are examples of the next step for the children they've raised to change the word--to continue fighting even in the face of punishment, to refuse inaction, and to foster that same hope and persistence in the generations to come.

[winepresswrath]

Its the jiao jiao anon again .

You keep giving me great pairings. Tell me everything how su she (Shang Qinghua) transmigrate and how will fuck jiang cheng. Is he still an author ? What was his intention with this kinda book?

I think he is still a writer but not the actual author of mdzs. He's a relatively casual fan who admires the vision and winces in sympathy every time drama gets kicked off. This is why you don't try, mdzs author! You give the people what they want and take their money. He's originally planning on keeping his head down and learning just enough cultivation from the Lan to make his life easier than it otherwise would be, then getting an urgent letter from his sick mother right before the Wen are scheduled to attack, but alas, his wandering not-cultivator dumpling sabbatical puts him directly in Jiang Cheng's path while he's frantically running for help after leaving Wei Wuxian in the Xuanwu cave. And the thing is he's still kind of reflexively haughty when he needs something? So pathetic and vulnerable. So cute. What could possibly be the harm in giving him a ride? The Wen aren't scheduled to attack Lotus Pier for ages. He can be on a ship to Dongyin by that time!

Anyway no good deed goes unpunished because Jiang Fengmian does as a general rule believe in giving credit and naming names. He should have fucking known. Now Wen Chao has a grudge against him and he's running around under a fake name wracking up credit for things he did (while trying to run away) and things he did not do (sometimes even when you have a massive army and the most powerful cultivator in the world on your side, things go wrong! He's not responsible for every problem with Wen supply lines. He's responsible for exactly one cart blowing up, and he was just trying for a distraction so he could sneak onto a ship. It didn't work and the harbour is kind of a no-go zone for him now). He comes up with a new plan: find Huaisang and use his shitty unwanted heroic reputation and talent for creative pornography to worm his way into the young master's guard, where he can get some writing done far from the front lines. Unfortunately, he once again stumbles across Jiang Cheng, who is tragically trying to rebuild his sect and searching for a missing shixiong. Shang Qinghua is still a logistics guy, because he was doing grunt work for the Lan and also I feel like that's the shape any transmigration setting is going to bend into around him. Jiang Cheng is so grateful to see a familiar face. He knows the value of a good spreadsheet. His eyes are so pretty when he's trying not to cry. The Jiang aren't in a great place during the war, but Shang Qinghua knows the sect makes it through and he doesn't remember any Jiang disciples being asked to heroically sacrifice themselves after Lotus Pier falls. Plus the food is better and there's plenty of room at the top! A veritable power vacuum. To say nothing of all the empty space in Jiang Cheng's personal life when almost everyone he loves dies and leaves him alone! Anyway this is the story of how Shang Qinghua accidentally paints a series of targets on his back, unnecessarily involves himself in the plot, and overcomplicates his life because being a sucker for a pretty face and a bad personality is even more integral to his character than underappreciated grunt work. Probably he manages to save Yanli, at least. He's not interested in being a stepfather! That's a lot of work. Wei Wuxian barely notices he exists until either he saves everyone or the second life roles around, depending on how ambitious and/or motivated Shang Qinghua is feeling. Then he hates him passionately, but it's too late. They probably eventually reach some kind of begrudging peace.

[nikoisme]

if it works it works i guess

[knotboy-dean]

Biggest red flag to me is people who genuinely hate Lisa Braeden

[guesst]

i have. caught up to the official translation of debut or die @ihavenobigbrain @moondaepuppy i am on my knees tysm for the rec omg

its so good...... i am going to hunt down the novel now.........

[c4tb1t]

also fun fact abt my brother is that he turns into a bird when he is under extreme sudden stress or gets startled. He sounds like a crow he's very odd . What's his problem.

[crimson-nail]

i miss knives (<- is actively writing about knives rn)

[annoyingchildmiracle]

i don't need a therapist, i need to fuck trafalgar law.

[waywardsalt]

dungeons in linear loz games made you feel stupid because you’d sometimes be wandering without a clue until stumbling over a little detail you’d overlooked; dungeons in totk make you feel stupid because they hardly seem to trust that you have any more than very basic problem-solving skills