#and then perfectly accept that one

[indigo-constellation]

It's taken me far too long to have this thought out in public

Daniil should be Artemy's sacrifice in the termite ending.

tl;dr Haruspex route is the only one Daniil doesn't fit the criteria for a sacrifice in and it's been haunting me for years.

NOW, what's the criteria we get for the sacrifice? Beautiful young woman who is in love with Artemy right? well, yes, but that prophecy is given to the player by Katerina, the false mistress, all of her other prophecies are in some way wrong, why is this one followed to the letter? Well there is another definition to the sacrifice Artemy must make, two actually. (it's one, I know, but this is easier for me)

The first is that it has to be equal to the udurgh, which the polyhedron isn't. This is why Artemy does not become the foreman in the termite ending and why that ending feels so deeply unsatisfying and unfitting for him, because he never actually fulfils his goal (THIS IS WHY HARUSPEX ROUTE UTOPIAN ENDING IS SO MUCH BETTER but I already ranted about that) Aglaya fills that criteria.

Now you might ask why, and that leads very cleanly to the second point, the real need in the sacrifice to be equal to the udurgh is that it isn't a man, and in Aglaya's own words, "Simon was almost human. And me-I'm not quite human." Aglaya is not quite human, because she is aware of her status as a doll.

What does this have to do with Daniil?

Well, Daniil is "not quite human" himself in the two other routes.

Bachelor route is very simple to explain, not only does he get to discover that he is a doll, but even if he doesn't heal another bound and meet the powers that be, he is still the player character, he still has this level of separation from the world caused by the player, this distinction between the player and the character is made most clear in the Haruspex route where it's explicitly said that Aglaya isn't in love with Artemy, she's in love with the player, as the player themselves say, "Did you fall in love with him because he was free? But that wasn't him; it was me." Meaning that the player is separate enough from their character to justify the player character being "not quite human."

Now Changeling route is where this gets interesting. because there it is also not his route but Daniil is still aware of his status as a toy in it, claiming it to be the third time he's been deceived, outright stating, "I'm a plaything! And so, undoubtedly, are you." Now this obviously makes him fit the criteria of "not quite human" as established by Aglaya, but, this is where it gets interesting.

Because in that same conversation, Daniil can say, "Self-denial is the meaning here, silly. Deny yourself and you win. Yes, that's how it is! That's the essence of my discovery." And this, this line. This one line, which is specifically set after the player played the Bachelor's route, implies that he has known since. Now that might be a bit of a stretch but with the recommended order of playing being Bachelor -> Haruspex -> Changeling, how hard is it to believe that there is a chance that he is aware during the Haruspex's route? Honestly that makes that possibility so fascinating, because he is right when he's saying that he only wins by self-denial, because by denying to himself (and to Artemy, ie, still himself) the fact that he is a doll, he is keeping himself alive. Because otherwise, he would fit the criteria, being a Healer, a past (or future) player character, and "not quite human" he would very well fit the criteria to be an equal sacrifice to the udurgh.

Let us revisit the prophecy by Katerina, by Artemy's own description, Daniil is handsome, he is 28/29 so arguably young, not a woman, and well, in love with Artemy. Considering the fact that Katerina's prophecies are never outright true, this is as close to confirmation as I am going to get.

Why do I care?

WELL, one, potential, so much potential, I have a wip waiting about this.

But also, it would make the problem of Haruspex route termite ending being a kind of boring and unfulfilling ending not be that, and add another layer of tragedy to it. Let me explain, the problem with termite ending (Artemy route) as it is, is that Artemy makes the wrong choice, it's said multiple times that the right choice for him, is to destroy the town, this is stated in Clara's ice prince story, in the character selection screen, as well as the conversation with the executor in the end which states that "inevitability" is the only true villain. Daniil being his sacrifice would prove that wrong. It would give Artemy a way out of that trap laid for him. It would mean the acceptance of the butchers and Artemy gaining access to the living blood below the earth, not just what will spill from the polyhedron's base. It also adds another interesting aspect to the game in that this would be the one chance for a player character not your own to die, and it will be by your hand. Which assuming the player played/is planning to play Bachelor route, would hurt.

I'm not even going to go into the queer interpretation of that possible ending just know that I am thinking about it constantly

I hope this was somewhat coherent, I have been thinking about this specific thing for years and it's not leaving me alone.

[ryllen]

well yuu said watch, not hear

[ghostdrinkssoup]

girls don’t want hannibal season 4 girls want a spin-off show that’s basically master chef but hannibal is the only judge and the rest of the cast are contestants except the catch is they don’t know all the ingredients are people-based (except will who’s desperately trying to convince everyone while also having homoerotic tension with hannibal) and it’s filmed like the special features clips on the shrek 2 DVD

[inoreuct]

drink from me

a sherry-laced conversation about thirst and running away. zosan | 2k | hurt/comfort

Being a coward isn’t as easy as one might think.

It’s juxtaposition in its own right; cowardice is, as defined, a lack of bravery— And yet Sanji supposes it takes bravery to be able to ditch everything you stand for. To turn tail and run. Bravery to bear upon your shoulders the disappointment of everybody who had ever believed in you. 

He sighs deeply, tilting the bottle in his hand so that the dregs of liquor slosh within. This is why he doesn’t drink.

It’s relatively easy most days. To lock his past behind a set of double doors, bar the handles with a padlock and chain so he can pretend that everything he’s running from isn’t just three paces behind, snapping at his heels, starved and ready to eat him up whole. Alcohol slots the key back into place and twists it without his permission. Twists his heart until it aches.

He doesn’t know why he’d started. The bottle of sherry had sat, nondescript and guileless and half-full on the galley table after the night’s dessert, and Sanji had paused before he’d slowly wrapped his fingers around the neck of it and let his nails scrape against the dark glass.

The cork had popped almost too easily and here he is now, taffrail digging into his forearms as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and lets bitter smoke fill his lungs full to bursting. Blood orange coats the back of his tongue, cloyingly sweet, thick on the roof of his mouth— He’d made a layered trifle with cacao nibs and caramelised cream that had been slathered between slabs of boozy vanilla sponge, and the aftertaste clings to his teeth. Sanji peers down as what’s left of the sherry glimmers vaguely inside the bottle and fights the urge to chug the rest. 

He could, if he really wanted to. He hardly drinks but it certainly doesn’t mean he can’t. 

A soft scrape against wood catches his attention, barely perceptible. He fights to keep his spine from stiffening, fights to maintain his loose-limbed, easy demeanor; the liquid warmth in his veins helps some but not enough, and he’s halfway through another drag when near-silent footsteps stop just behind him. 

Zoro’s haori shifts in the wind, palm loosely wrapped around the end of Wado’s hilt where she’s strapped alone to his hip. “Was wondering where you went,” he says easily, looking out over the ocean. 

Sanji scoffs. It burns his throat more than the sherry did. “For someone built like that, you’re surprisingly quiet, marimo.”

The immediate urge to kick himself is something new. He rarely feels it— It appears often, don’t get him wrong, he just. Ignores it. It’s a little more difficult tonight. Built like that. The noise that escapes him is mirthless. What’s that even supposed to mean, huh? Alcohol’s always made him snappy and he does feel bad for once — But he’s tired, and the chores won’t do themselves. 

“Make it quick, would you?” he mutters when Zoro still hasn’t replied, low and quiet in the still evening air as he curves down to dig the heel of his palm into his temple. “My spice jars are still all over the counter, and I have to mop the floor before I wash the dishes—”

“It’s done.” 

Sanji blinks, before his eyes narrow and he turns his head to look at Zoro properly. “The dishes?”

“Everything.” The swordsman huffs when Sanji gives him a dubious look, gaze flicking over and away again as he rolls his eye. “Luffy asked me to clean up the galley. Said you needed a break.”

Well. The cook exhales, measured, and buries his face into the crook of his elbow. Taps his cig so that ash doesn’t fall into his hair where he’s holding it aloft above his head. “Tell him thanks, but I don’t.”

He clocks it out of his peripheral vision when Zoro smirks and waves a hand to gesture to his cigarette and his slouch and the glass bottle dangling against wood. “What’s this, then?”

I don’t know. Shop’s closed, please fuck off and come back tomorrow morning. 

The other words that sit at the tip of Sanji’s tongue are far more scathing. He feels them, bites them back viciously before he can burn anyone other than himself. “If there’s a single thing out of place in there I’m gonna—”

“Kick my ass, I know, I know.” Zoro chuckles under his breath. “Don’t you get tired of saying the same things over and over again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly choose to be selectively deaf, moss-for-brains.”

The swordsman huffs another soft laugh, and conversation peters out after that. Sanji feels an itch building at the base of his skull, flickering just under his skin; it’s making him restless. He taps the bottle against the rail just to fill the silence. Zoro reaches a hand out and Sanji gives it to him easily, unthinkingly, watching and pretending he isn’t as the swordsman thumbs over the faded paper label that’s peeling at the corner. 

Zoro’s hands are scarred, he notes. He knows this, of course, but he never gets tired of letting his gaze drift over tan skin and old scars, thin slivers of pearly tissue painted silver in the moonlight. A breeze ruffles his hair as Zoro finally drinks, and he’s distantly surprised to see that it’s a measured sip and not a swig like what it usually would have been. 

Fucking hell. Sanji’s inhale shudders when he pushes himself up and stands straight, now-free hand wrapping around lacquered wood as he finishes his cigarette and tosses the butt over the side. He needs to stop thinking. He’s paying too much attention. There’s a pressure building behind his forehead and Zoro is an overwhelming presence beside him, unavoidable, stoic and staunch as ever, perfect posture, perfect honour, a sentinel with a pure white sword like some sort of— of hero from a storybook. Perfect perfect perfect.

It’s all building like a scream behind his lips, a river at a bottleneck, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in. Grits his teeth until he hears them creak because what would happen if he opened his mouth? Nothing good, he’s sure. Nothing anyone needs.

Sanji nearly startles when the bottle taps against his elbow. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say,” he replies immediately, taking a careless gulp and holding in a cough. 

Zoro’s slow exhale feels like it shifts the wind itself. Their ship creaks gently. “You always have something to say, curls.”

“Look, you—” He cuts himself off, tempering his breath. “I’m tired, alright? So can you just get to the point?” Fuck, he needs another cigarette. 

Maybe that’s the problem. He knows he’s the problem, sure, but Sanji suspects that he’s been running for so long that he’s forgotten how to walk. It’s grown into him like weeds wound through his ribs, the way he sees poison in water that’s perfectly clean, the way peace makes him more anxious than chaos does. He needs to stop running. He doesn’t know how. 

Zoro pries the sherry from his fingers and it’s only then that he relaxes the death grip he’d unintentionally had, a shudder slipping over his shoulders. Zoro holds the bottle loosely between his scarred fingers and doesn’t drink.

The silence thickens. Static crackles within his bones.

Sanji doesn’t know why he starts talking. Doesn’t know why it feels like a dam breaking in his chest, but his mouth is open, and the words are emptying out. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder for something that isn’t there. Luffy gave me something to run towards, for once, but—”

He doesn’t know how to say it’s not enough without sounding ungrateful, without being greedy. “Sometimes I think I could… consume every one of the Blues, and still want more,” he allows. “Need more.” His fingers lace together, and Sanji dips his head with a wry smile even as he looks at the endless expanse of sky in front of them. “I’m afraid I’ll drink the world and still come up dry.”

There is a thirst in him. Something different than what had wracked him for a month on that barren rock. Hunger he can handle; he eats just enough to stave it off and goes about his day. This, though— Sanji can’t help the way it buzzes in the back of his head and keeps him wound up like a coil of electrical wire. He kneads dough and whisks egg whites just to have something to do with his hands. He defaults to his usual barbs when he’s feeling ungrounded so he can kid himself into thinking he possesses some semblance of normality. His shoulders ache as he stares out over the sea and wonders what it’s like to hold so much and still, still, be so achingly empty.

The winds change, carding cool fingers through his hair. 

“Drink from me,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s breath catches between his teeth.

His head snaps up to find Zoro already looking at him, face unreadable, elbows on the taffrail and bottle cupped in his hands. The swordsman looks serene, Sanji thinks. Gaze trained straight ahead, ever clear of his objectives as Wado gleams at his side, starlight in an ivory sheath. 

“Drink from me,” he repeats. The words are solemn as they always are in moments like these, the liminal space just after dusk but before true night, as his eyes shift over to Sanji and lock in place. “I won’t let you go thirsty again.” 

Sanji’s mouth dries. It’s hard not to feel pinned as Zoro looks at him; the weight of his gaze is almost physically tangible, like a familiar green coat settling over his shoulders. That’s the thing about Zoro— For all Sanji jokes about him having plant life in his skull, the swordsman has a penchant for dropping absolutely earth-shaking statements without even seeming to think about them at all. The cook swallows once, twice, tries to find his words as his lips part and loses them as soon as he takes his next breath.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling like a ticking time bomb. But as Zoro’s lashes flutter and he looks away, Sanji feels something in him settle. The relentless buzz that always seems to sit just beneath his skin soothes out into a quiet hum. 

Maybe part of it’s how Zoro’s scarred and still perfect. Untouchable. Sanji couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, even if he blows apart.

His fingers wrap, unthinking, around the neck of the bottle as it’s pushed back into his hand, the pressure of Zoro’s touch lingering until he’s sure that Sanji has a good grip. The swordsman’s boots brush softly across the planks as he turns to leave and he’s halfway to the stairs before Sanji speaks.

“Marimo.”

He knows Zoro turns without even looking. “Hm?”

“Did Luffy really ask you to clean up the galley?”

A pause, before Zoro starts walking again. “Get some sleep, cook. I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

The silence he leaves in his wake is honey-thick. First watch is Sanji’s shift, it always is— He cleans up the galley and stays awake until Zoro comes to take over. 

(The galley is clean. His watch is covered. His mind is quiet.

For once, he can’t find himself another reason to stay.)

 

The sherry holds no evidence of them ever having shared it. Sanji lifts the tinted glass and there’s no trace of Zoro, no proof that his mouth had ever been where Sanji’s is— None of the candied orange and rosemary from the duck they’d had for dinner, gamey and blood-sweet.

I won’t let you go thirsty again.

Sanji tastes it still, gentle in the back of his throat as he drains the bottle.

[yardsards]

i personally think marcille is bisexual but in the "i am attracted the Occasional anime twink and also every woman who has ever walked the earth" way. like a solid 5 on the kinsey scale, y'know?

[captain-astors]

Creature. (The rendered ones are referenced from manga panels)

[writeouswriter]

Bro, bro, there is no second Pacific Rim movie, bro, it was just a bad dream, go back to sleep

[mrghostrat]

why do you need so many playlists 😭

are u in my house why do u know i have many playlists ???

[lancabbage]

Some idiots claiming YZYs abusive actions were justified because of the historical and cultural setting of MDZS... Because I used this very argument against one of their little friends and their claims WWX's revenge and JGYs are similar, and if WWX could be "excused" so could JGYs.

Firstly, there's a fine line between discipline and unnecessary cruelty. What YZY does crosses that line unequivocally. She does this not only physically, but mentally. She wears him down with lashing of both vicious tongue and cracking whip. Yes, discipline is very much part of that era, but singling out one child specifically and beating them for reasons that are far from punishable is abuse no matter what. Let's not forget WWXs back was covered in scares, both new and old. These are marks from a high-class spiritual weapon! This is not an official method used for disciplinary purposes.

And the major thing here is, it's not JUST the setting that shows us how the MDZS universe works, but MXTXs worldbuilding and the examples of what is expected culturally in her fiction. The Yi City arc shows us how revenge works in her universe - similar to the era. She also shows us what is acceptable punishment and how such things are carried out in the Cloud Recesses arc - again, somewhat similar to the era. These are shown to the reader so we understand the clear boundaries world and the rules MXTX has set in place in her fic.

It really is all there in black and white if you'd just actually read 🤣

[achaotichuman]

After extensive research (looking at my moots reblogs and my own) I have come to the conclusion that this is what the pro vs anti side of ACOTAR actually looks like.

Anti side- We believe that SJM isn't good at portraying the themes she uses in her stories, and she doesn't do her characters justice.

Pro side- We believe SJM is good at portraying the themes she uses in her stories, and she does do her characters justice.

People who are insane and should not be a reflection of either side- IF YOU LIKE *INSERT CHARACTER* YOU DESERVE TO FUCKING DIE!!!!!

This post was sparked by this post, @wingsdippedingold

[nondescriptloin]

Because I am a big fan of tender Hannibal but do also believe that his manipulation and medical malpractice in regards to Will is something that is important went looking at their relationship, here’s what I (at 11:12 pm) think Hannibal was thinking throughout the show (yes I left off the end of S3, I’m very tired.)

- Hannibal meets Will and is OBSESSED

- Realises Will is way too bitchy and into the whole crime fighting/solving thing to accept him for who he truly is

- Sees Will’s potential and decides the only reasonable thing to do is to manipulate him and let him almost die from encephalitis

- Falls even harder when Will tries to have him killed, would do anything for that man

- Will won’t elope with him so he gets gently spritzed with a water bottle (stabbed and his pseudo daughter killed in front of him)

- Broods in Florence for a while

- Sees Will and instantly decides he will once again do anything for that man because he has absolutely got separation anxiety and if Will won’t play ball then Hanni will just have to get arrested so Will knows exactly where he is when he’s ready (willing to elope with him)

[uncanny-tranny]

One conversation I remember people having about people who have endured abuse or trauma is the use of survivor versus victim language, and I think a lot of people have misconceptions about the "right" language to use.

I think a lot of people have this idea that using victim language (e.g., "I was/am a victim of abuse") can send the message that you're perpetually a victim, and that because of that, it is "bad language." However, I think it's more accurate to conceptualize it more so as putting responsibility onto the people who harmed them. Framing yourself as a survivor can feel final and permanent, and some of us aren't ready for that level of definitiveness.

I think we need more acceptance of peoples conception of their experiences. It's okay to say that you were/are a victim, just as it's okay to say you are a survivor. The idea of being a "good" victim/survivor is damaging, and it's harmful to us. It puts the onus on us to think about everybody else's comfort but our own about our own damn trauma

[tswwwit]

What are some ideas you have floating around that you don't have any plans on writing but like to entertain as a thought?

Many of them, in fact! Though they sort of vanish from my memory if I don't make a record of them, here's a few ones I jotted down when they came to mind.

For a domestic one: Bill thought he'd hate a lot of being married! Even though he loves Dipper, he thought he'd rebel against the chains of domesticity - and in some ways he still does - but one major benefit he's found is not having to be 'on' all the time.

No need to be perfectly performing all the time! No shoving around for social influence, no intimidation, or clever tricks. No commanding attention or taking up the room. Hell, there's surprisingly little upkeep! Bill can undo his tie and pick his nose and bitch about his day to someone who isn't bending over backwards to agree with him on everything. Someone who doesn't give him a weird look and sneer if he, god forbid, actually wants to sit down, read a book, drop the grin for an hour or two.

The concept in question is Bill's very first moment of great surprise. That when he isn't being the most charming, terrifying, and exciting guy in the universe, and just chilling out for like, five minutes, Dipper comes over and snuggles up to him on the couch, or wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. And when Bill asks 'what was that for?', Dipper shrugs and goes 'eh, just felt like it'. It's both baffling and extremely compelling.

A short where Reincarnated Dip is Definitely Sure he's Not Gay!!! Especially not for this Hot Demon Man who is getting so close and touchy with him with his big smile and horrible wiles. Yep. Just keeping an eye on him to make sure he's not up to something Nefarious ™.

A discussion between Dipper and Bill where Dipper insists that Bill should understand this, or not do that, because, like. Y'know, Bill's a guy! There are guy things! Making Bill stare at Dipper like he's an idiot. He proceeds to informs Dipper how that's stupid for multiple reasons! First, that Bill's Not Human to begin with, his gender can't be put into a little box! And frankly, he never filled out the paperwork for his original one, come to think of it. Sure, he/him's fine, but c'mon, sapling, thinking of the whole shebang like a binary is dumb as hell. Now Dipper has to do some mental readjustment re: his own issues with masculinity/gender.

[themthistles]

i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

[vroomvroomwee]

This is your daily reminder to be kind to others. Always be kind to others. Fandoms are a safe space where people can relax and finally be themselves. Don't ruin that.

[doodlebeeberry]

what implications do u think the amelia investigations episode (possibly) being last has......

thinking about it im not sure implications is the word i was really looking for, rather i think theres like. a particular weight, to me, in placing her episode as the last one (presuming, of course, that there are only 5 episodes in investigations like is generally whats being assumed. for all we know though there could be more than that but thats the assumption im working off of)

ive always read the lack of any particularly tangible details about her pre-plane life, let alone the lake of an actual disappearance scene for her, as a means of further alienating her from her previous life. It drives in this wedge between Amelia and Scenty, such that even though shes probably the most vocal (at least throughout s1) about wanting to go home, her desire is countered by the fact that pretty much her entire existence in the show is defined by exclusively her time on the plane. The lack of a background for her (as absolutely crazy as it drives me) does play a pretty notable role in how her relationship to earth and the plane and herself are laid out.

This, in my mind, creates a bit of an interesting situation for investigations to play with. seemingly, investigations kinda requires an exploration into everyone's pre-plane lives, a certain insight into their lives that amelia just doesnt have. so, unless they do something a bit radical in the presentation of that episode in particular, youd have to explore her old life on some level without undermining the dynamic with it that we already have. I guess the most obvious answer is that it wont be amelia telling her own story to the audience. We wont be hearing her explain or be in her perspective, we'll be hearing from (presumably) garret. Its a story about her that isnt her story to tell. even when we do finally get to see it, her life, her disappearance isnt hers. not really. and i think placing it last in the sequence, the final mystery to unravel, the hardest answer to get, implies at the very least an acknowledgement of that.

but i do have a degree in Reading Into Things so like. who knows. maybe thats just what i want