#its honestly tragic. for both of them

[fluffydice]

Did a Kusuke analysis about his relationship with his brother, it’s not very friendly toward him so be warned about that,,,

TW for mentioned abuse, everything except the physical parts, funnily enough

Honestly, I really wished I actually liked Kusuke because he’s an intriguing character and represents a developed villain whose whole being isn’t just “he’s evil.” He’s other things, and among them is caring toward Kusuo, even if it’s really fucked up. But I just can’t comfortably read his scenes because of the things he does to his brother. Everything is so normalized, even by Kusuo himself. Kusuo’s reaction to his brother literally getting off to him is one that speaks to just how normal it is to him. And that’s not even speaking about how Kusuo sometimes almost regurgitates the things he grew up hearing about himself and takes them as truth.

I think Kuniharu fucked up both his kids (and Kurumi did too, inadvertently), but I really believe Kusuke was the one who made Kusuo believe his powers made him unlovable. Like:

Come off of it, Jesus Christ.

And he fucking weaponized it is the worst part. He knows Kusuo won’t step out of line because he’s always holding the threat of exposure over his little brother’s head, and exposure = abandonment.

The reason Kusuke would never go after Kusuo’s friends is because the threat of exposure still works in that case: none of them know about Kusuo’s powers, ergo Kusuke can still leverage it. And I think that’s why Toritsuka gets roped in during the Cat Tank arc. Threatening to tell Toritsuka about Kusuo’s powers doesn’t work in this case because he already knows. So he goes bigger. He tries to brainwash him into hating Kusuo.

I really think the Cat Tank was meant as a punishment for Kusuo trying to have friends. The reason Kusuke backed off was because Kusuo threw his chance at a normal life away once he saw the trouble ‘he’ brought to them. He hates feeling like a burden, hates being indebted to people. Once Kusuke realized his usual way of incentivizing Kusuo was done (and also that he technically ‘won’ by Kusuo taking out his limiter), he realized that was the end of it.

Of course, Kusuo offering to still be his playmate opened up a new world to Kusuke. Now, he wouldn’t have to force Kusuo into it (besides maybe the occasional bribe). It opens up new avenues for their relationship to actually improve, perhaps.

[joseigamer]

Patalliro! is fascinating to me because of stuff like this. It's unapologetically gay - even within its anime which aired during primetime hours in 1982 - in a way that many later BL manga would never be, like the ones from the early 2000s which would never dare to call their characters actual homosexuals. Patalliro has actually aged quite well in this regard, there's something comforting about how campy it is.

[nonuggetshere]

25 for White Lady?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I remember she came off as so mean, cold and detached. And then I went to look up art of her and everybody portrayed her as a loving mum who's SO devastated over the fate of her children and I got SO confused?? Had to rematch her interactions with Ghost bc I thought I missed something LMAO, felt like i was being gaslighted for a hot second and didnt understood her character. But, honestly I wasn't crazy about her At All until I got back into Hollow Knight this year, like I just couldn't care less about her before, she didn't even exist in my mind and my AUs or any content I created of her (drew her Once when I was making concept art for FaaF and her fave wasnt even in the picture KDBDJDBD). The literally One Single Time I wrote about her was when I first made FaaF AU and she was SO awful there (both she and PK eventually got rewritten to be better parents, it works better story-wise)

Anyway I kind of got off track-

I really got into her character proper just this/last year when I got back into Hollow Knight. I still think she's mean but I love her for it, I support women's wrongs 💜 I think her character is interesting, I also think it's kind of wild that Ghost can just. Go and talk to their mum. Like that's just something they can do. And they can just keep coming back to her to show her stuff, like the flower. It's neat. Her actions are haunting the narrative but she's just kind of chilling there and doesn't give a fuck

(The fuest time I drew her vs the first time I drew her for realises (both faaf))

[cashmere-caveman]

My Country: The New Age, first and last episodes & Hanif Abdurraqib, For The Dogs Who Barked At Me On The Sidewalks in Connecticut (text/audio) image descriptions in alt

[heartofstanding]

I want to talk about anne neville and Elizabeth of York. I always thought they knew each other very well. They all have vague personalities in the eyes of passers-by, turbulent fates, tragic experiences caused by their father's death, good relations with husbands who have blood feuds indirectly through marriage, and unstable dynasty rule caused by death ... Because of their vague personalities, both women are easily used by historical authors to express their views, and they also have some connections (such as clothes that are often discussed, Elizabeth once had marriage rumors with Edward and Richard in Lancashire ... Their biographies were also criticized by readers as biased (I think this is because these two women are not extroverted, so the author can only imagine themselves ...)I am very frustrated that historical novels mostly use them to shape the men around them, and rarely pay attention to the inner thoughts of "silent" women. I can see some vivid characteristics of these two women in historical literature. One of my favorite facts about Elizabeth of York is that she arranged for her sister to marry her uncle's former supporters, and had a good relationship with the relatives of the Delapol family, which reminded me of her father's attempt to reconcile with Henry Beaufort. Unfortunately, the novels I read do not describe this at all. The marriage between Anne Neville and Richard III is originally described in the novel as Richard saving her, but from her escape from George's supervision, there is reason to believe that they are in a cooperative relationship, as well as Lancaster. Edward, in the novel, is always just an "evil ex husband..." But I think their brief marriage is not so shallow…

I think your frustration with the way Anne Neville and Elizabeth of York are written about is very justified. I'm not very knowledgable about their lives (honestly, I'm a little confused why you sent this to me) but even from a distance, I think they must have been a lot more complex that historians, commentators and novelists typically suppose they were. I think they largely serve as Ricardian mouthpieces now - Anne as Richard III's one true love, tragically lost and Elizabeth as his chief mourner and as another victim of Tudor rule - but it's also very easy to turn them to mouthpieces for Lancaster and Tudor, which was the image that dominated in Tudor times - Shakespeare's depiction of Anne as the chief mourner for Henry VI, the story Richard murdered Anne in order to forcibly marry Elizabeth, the depiction of Elizabeth as purely the idealised, virtuous and dutiful prop for her husband's rule). I think that, because there's a lack of information that lets us build up a more detailed idea of either women, they tend to be written in a way that expresses how the author really feels about the events and personalities of the Wars of the Roses. I can understand this impulse but I wish this impulse was focused more on them as individuals and less on being mouthpieces for the author's feelings about Richard III or Henry VII.

[nick-eyre]

Tell us about the colleen hoover book that you rated as 1 star

Okay so the book was v/erity and I read it because a cute girl told me it was really good and I wanted to talk to her again but it was a mistake!

Its basically just hetero smut pretending to be a mystery thriller (no shame in liking that but I personally prefer less blowjobs more murder) + the ‘twists’ are so stupid and there so much lost opportunity! Idk how to even talk about it just 0/5

I never saw that girl again but its probably for the best because I don’t like your book taste is not a great conversation starter

[lesbianpepsi]

sweet like cinnamon

pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader

summary: you fell in love with her voice years before you fell in love with her.

link to request

series masterlist

words: 2.619k

warnings: reader makes blind jokes?, light swearing, bad writing

authors note: this isn't my best work which i heavily apologise for, life has been a real mess lately and i just haven't been enjoying it at all🫠🫠

Nobody in this world has the same voice; nobody. Some might have similar sounding voices but nobody's is identical.

You didn't really notice that until you were fifteen years old, the young tragic age you turned blind. You were the one in a million that was born with thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder) which resulted in you getting vessel occlusion in your eyes, making you slowly become more blind as the years passed until it completely vanished. 

It was horrible in the beginning, to tell the truth but as the years passed the more you got used to being blind and the more you became okay with it. 

The one thing you didn't appreciate enough when you had sight was people's voices. When that was the only thing that could help you detect who was talking to you, you became entranced by peoples voices. 

The soft spoken people, the gruffly sounding people, the neutral sounding people. You loved hearing people's voices, but there was one voice you had completely fell entranced to, like a pirate to a sirens mystical voice. 

A actresses voice. 

You have never heard such a soft and relaxing voice before in your entire life. It was as sweet as honey; warming your heart as a smile played on your lips whenever you heard the voice.

The first time you heard her voice was when you were sixteen, your friend had invited you over to watch a random horror movie 'The Babysitter: Killer Queen.' 

In honesty you didn't enjoy the movie at all, finding it boring and annoying at times. But one thing compelled you into watching it; one voice. 

The voice of the character Phoebe who was played by 'America's It Girl' Jenna Ortega. 

Her voice was so soft spoken yet it had that gentle raspiness to it that captured all of your attention, her calming voice soothing you in a way that even surprised you. 

You were utterly fixated on it. 

After that day you proceeded to find out what other movies she had been in, listening to them all at least once.

The more movies you listened to, the more you became in awe of the calming voice of Jenna Ortega.

As you grew up, your fangirl behaviour died down. You didn't religiously listen to her voice as you did in your teens, but you'd never forget her sweet voice. 

—————

"C'mon Yelena." You whispered to your guide dog, the grip to her harness in your left hand while your right hand was occupied with your mobility cane, running it along the pavement as you walked down the street, the golden retriever leading you towards your favourite cafe. 

It was a warm Thursday morning, the sun shined brightly over the town you lived in, warming you up as you walked down the quiet street.

You didn't have a particularly busy day that day, so you decided to head down to the local cafe. 

The place was a family run cafe that you absolutely adored for a myriad of reasons. Its loving atmosphere, the best coffee you ever had and your own signature booth at the corner of the cafe. 

It was honestly like your second home at this point.

As you rounded the final corner you smiled to yourself and walked over the one crooked step on the sidewalk, remembering exactly where it was like the back of your hand.

With a few more steps you felt Yelena slow down as she prepared to face the cafe door, you smiled down at her as you gave her a quick pat before you pushed the door open, the familiar ring reaching your ears as you entered the cafe. 

You and Yelena walked over to the booth in the corner with a smile on both of your lips. As you reached the booth you loosened your grip on Yelena's harness, knowing you'd be okay without her and the fact she was an extremely well behaved dog.

Leaning your cane against the corner booth seat, sighing as you listened to the sound that filled your ears.

Idle chatter heard was the first thing you could hear the second being low music that played throughout the cafe, a Taylor Swift song that you didn't know the title of. 

As you focused even further you suddenly heard quiet breathing from the booth. You snapped your head instantly in the direction of the noise, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know someone was in the booth." You rushed out slightly embarrassed, not expecting someone in so early and in the booth.

A quiet whimsical laugh filled your ears, you tilted your head to the side. You knew that laugh, it sounded so familiar.

"No it's my fault for not saying anything before, I'm really sorry." The woman apologised back, a small laugh still noticeable in her voice.

Your eyes widened dramatically behind your thick black sunglasses, you definitely knew that voice. 

As you tried not to physically explode when you realised Jenna Ortega was sitting in front of you, you rubbed the back of your neck as you smiled crookedly.

"I should've asked if someone was here, nobody's usually at this booth, especially this early in the morning." You explained to her as you clicked your fingers, Yelena swiftly moved to your side, her harness already between your fingers.

"Honestly you don't have to apologise, we can share the booth if you'd like?" She offered in a honey sweet voice, her voice enchanting you as it did when you were sixteen.

You honestly couldn't believe your absolute luck, I mean it's not everyday you'd run into Jenna fucking Ortega. 

Loosening your grip on Yelena's harness you gave an eager nod to her, smiling brightly. "Yeah that sounds great." You told her as you slowly sat down, Yelena moving to sit down on the floor next to you.

"I'm Jenna." She says, you smile at her as you extend your hand to her direction. "Pleasure to meet you Jenna, I'm Y/n." 

Her soft hand met yours as she gave it a gentle shake, her fingers having a strong yet a gentle grip on your hand. It was as if electricity coursed through your veins the moment her palm connected with yours, tingling your entire body from your fingertips to your ears.

Your and Jenna's hands lingered there for longer than any handshake should be, as if both of you didn't want to take your hands back. 

Slowly, you and the brunette did eventually pull away as you smiled nervously at her, still heavily intimidated that you were currently sitting in a cafe with Jenna Ortega.

"Are you a regular here?" She asked once the two of you had duly pulled away, her hand grasping around her mug. You nodded your head as you smiled softly. "Yeah I've been coming here for years. You?"

Jenna smiled at you as she sipped her coffee, a gentle smile toying on her lips. "I just found this place a few months ago and have been coming here at least two times a week ever since then. I've never seen you here before though."

You snorted out a laugh. "I've definitely not seen you." 

Jenna stumbled over her words as she let out a nervous laugh, not knowing how to respond to your joke. Most people didn't know how to react whenever you made a joke about your blindness. They'd always get flustered as if they'd offend you if they'd laugh at your joke. 

"You can laugh, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want you to laugh." At that Jenna finally let out a genuine laugh, not a nervous awkward laugh people do when they don't know whether to laugh or not.

Your heart fluttered in your chest the same way it did when you were sixteen as you heard her laugh, it still being one of the most heavenly things you had ever heard. 

As her laughter died down Jenna was leaning on her hand as she gazed at your features, a smitten smile already on her face.

"Why've you been coming here for years?" Jenna asked curiously, her sole focus still on you. You purse your lips momentarily as you think of an actual reason. "Well, I've been told the place is beautiful and they serve the best cinnamon latte I've ever tasted." 

Jenna grinned as her eyes flickered down to her drink, a cinnamon latte; her favourite.

"Is that your favourite?" She voiced as her slender fingers wrapped around the warm mug. You nodded your head with your own smile on your lips. "Yeah, been my favourite forever. The ones here are just so strong it beats any other cafe." 

Jenna hummed as she sipped her latte. "That I agree with." 

 You grinned at her as you felt more relaxed with the entire situation, relaxing into your chair as you listened intently to her.

Footsteps were heard coming in your direction, light but they were still noticeable. You moved your head in the direction of the footsteps as you smiled, you already knew who it was from the footsteps.

"Nance, great to hear you again." You greeted her with a grin, the old woman cackled as she arrived at your booth.

"Y/n, my favourite customer. How've you been, dear?" She asked as she bent down to place the dog bowl full of cold water and a few ice cubes for Yelena, the golden dog greedily began slurping away at the beverage the moment it touched the ground.

You nodded your head weakly. "Mediocre but much better now since I arrived here." Nancy let out a quick chuckle as she shook her head. "One cinnamon latte, I'm guessing?"

"You know me too well." You answered with a smile as you turned back to face the woman sitting across from you. 

"You want another one, Jen?" She asked as she turned to face her; Jenna nodded her head with a polite smile on her face. "Please."

Nancy nodded her head as she scribbled away on her christmas notepad. "Two cinnamon lattes for the two lovely ladies. Enjoy your date girls." She said with a mischievous grin that only Jenna witnessed before she turned away to go make your drinks.

You blushed heavily, looking down as you hoped Jenna wouldn't notice it. Little did you know Jenna herself had a soft blush that tainted her cheeks beautifully.

Coughing, you covered your hand with your mouth as you picked your head back up, your face facing Jenna's. 

"Great minds think alike?" 

Jenna laughed lightly as she looked at you in awe. "Only the greatest."

You quickly realised that conversation between you and Jenna flowed by swiftly. 

Jenna eventually did bring up the fact she was a well known actress, to which you simply replied with what you knew. 

She was slightly surprised but it didn't change how she spoke to you, and it never changed for you once.

Both you were so lost in your own small world in the corner of the cafe neither of you even noticed how much time had passed. 

As you were telling her the story of how you almost died twice in the same holiday her phone rang loudly, interrupting you quite rudely. 

Jenna groaned as she glanced at the screen, her face souring as she noticed her time with you was up.

"It's my manager, probably wondering where I am." She explained as she declined the call, clicking the 'Sorry, I can't call right now.' option as she shoved her phone into her pocket.

You exhaled as your fingers played with the empty mug in front of you. "Duty calls?" 

Jenna frowned as she nodded her head, growing the urge to throw her phone out the window as she felt the low vibrations of the text messages from her boss. 

"Unfortunately." She grumbled as she looked at her half empty cup of latte. You smirked at her as you stopped moving your fingers. "What, you don't wanna leave me or something?" 

"Nah, I just don't wanna go listen to my manager yap for hours." 

"Wow, being mean to a blind woman? I'll cancel you for that, Ms Ortega." You remarked with a playful smile, chuckling yourself. 

Jenna shook her head amused as she ignored the onslaught of messages from her manager.

"Cancel me? Oh no, what could I do to make you rethink your decisions?" Jenna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her mug to take another sip of her drink.

Your mouth was running much faster than your mind, before you could even process the words coming out of your mouth you replied back to her in a confident voice.

"Take me out on a date." You answered in lightning speed with a nervous smile, a blush appeared on your cheeks moments after you noticed what you said. 

Jenna was silent for a moment, in that small moment your confidence was easily diminished as your fear began increasing as fast as your heart beat. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I know we just met and I probably just made you really uncomfortable." You apologised as you tilted your  head down.

"Y/n." Jenna said.

You ignored her as you kept apologising to her, you had already convinced yourself she was going to reject you and thought you were weird.

"I honestly don't know what came over me, I probably just ruined any small potential of a friendship we could've had by that." You carried on apologising, unaware of the delighted smile on Jenna's face.

"Y/n." She said with a more firm tone, her voice raised to steal your attention. Gingerly you lifted your head, that scarlet red hue still tainted your cheeks. 

"I'd love to go on a date with you." Jenna exclaimed in her sweet voice that practically made your nervous frown flip into a boisterous smile. 

"Really?" You asked in disbelief. 

Jenna laughed as she nodded her head, her smile so wide she was showing her pearly whites to the world. 

"Really." She confirmed as she lowered her empty mug, placing it next to yours. "I'd love nothing more if I'm being honest."

You beamed at her words, your heart never calmed down as you still couldn't believe Jenna Ortega said she wanted to go on a date with you.

Abruptly, Jenna's phone rang loudly once again, making you and Jenna annoyed at the distribution. 

"Can I have your number?" Jenna asked you as she ignored the ringing, you nodded your head eagerly. 

"Oh thank god you asked for it, I was so scared you were gonna say something like 'fate will  bring us together again.'" You replied as you took out your phone from your pocket, passing it over to Jenna.

She giggled as she looked for your number on your phone. "You don't believe in fate or something?"

You shook your head. "Oh no, I  believe in fate. I just don't think fate would let me magically see you and spot you in public." You joked as Jenna began entering her own number into your phone after she was done with hers. 

Jenna didn't say anything as she chuckled quietly, passing your phone back to you.

"I really have to leave now, otherwise my manager will actually send a team looking for me." Jenna apologised with a sigh. You laughed softly as you smiled as softly at her.

"I'll call you?" She asked as you heard her shuffle out of her side of the booth. Your head followed the movement of the noise, nodding your head with a smile. 

"I'll be waiting." 

"I won't make you wait too long." 

—————

a/n: fun fact, i fucking hate cinnamon with a passion

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[cemeterything]

PLEASE elaborate on “davidelizabeth in alien covenant if i wrote it” they squandered her potential so bad !

okay so first all i have already talked about how i feel that covenant should have built on the sticky psychosexual gothic horror tension between david and shaw and developed it into a toxic codependent dynamic (that predictably ends poorly due to their fundamentally opposing ideological stances as well as one-sided obsession on david's side), so i'm going to attach that rather than rehash it.

but honestly if i'd written covenant i would have had elizabeth survive david long enough to establish herself on the engineer planet in hiding from him (following a "breakup" caused by his act of genocide), and have the arrival of the colonists in covenant be the catalyst that forces them to confront each other again and finish what they started. i'm not entirely certain of the specifics, but i think there's a lot you could do with the central themes of alien as a cosmic/existential horror (a story about horrifying revelations, terrible change and progress/evolution that is unrecognisable as anything but nightmarish to the human minds bearing witness), a body horror narrative focused on sexual assault, pregnancy and childbirth/parenthood, and an examination of extraterrestrial horror as this colonial mindset - the fear of being violently replaced by something that deems itself better than you and works ruthlessly to eradicate you from your places of safety which it has taken for its own - as well as the more prometheus-specific themes of parental trauma and religion (mostly christianity) by making the core conflict between david and his xenomorphs and elizabeth and humanity, like a sort of fucked up retelling of adam and eve in the garden of eden.

to tie up loose ends, since prometheus and covenant are meant to be prequels to the original alien films, i'd probably have elizabeth succeed in being the final girl (a parallel to ripley in the original franchise) but tragically go into self-imposed exile/die alone in an attempt to prevent the xenomorphs from being stumbled across by future explorers and becoming a threat again, as well as possibly out of some warped sense of guilt, both for having allowed herself to ever love david and believe him capable of change, and for failing to save him ("save" very much in the biblical sense, as in persuade him to share her point of view and abandon his descent down a dark path). needless to say, she doesn't succeed, making her "victory" all the more phyrric.

[etheries1015]

Writing letters to each other

Lilia x Reader

Gender neutral reader

2 scenarios - first one angst, second one fluff

I was reading Aces suitor card vignette, and in it Sebek mentioned how Lilia taught him the proper way to pursue someone romantically was to first exchange heartfelt letters. (He mentioned the third letter would include a photo of them smiling if I understood it correctly.) and this made me think about two different scenarios:

Firstly, Writing to General Lilia during the war. It was a fluke honestly, and he finds it the most romantic yet tragic of stories. The way he found your letter that you had addressed to someone else with a name he was unfamiliar with. Against his best judgement he had opened the letter and read its contents; immediately falling in love with the style of writing this stranger had taken. He wrote back using the return address you had put on the front, informing you that the letter had not gotten to the person you had hoped. You yourself was rather interested in the writing of this strange person who had simply marked his letter as "L.V" , thus began the exchange of letters.

and when he finally received the letter he was most excited to see- he never felt more conflicted. He sat in his camp, opening this letter with great excitement. It was a rare sight seeing the general light up, he was quick to skim through the contents before finally unfolding a picture he knew to be the face behind the beautiful writing. Moments after unfolding the photo, he felt his smile drop into a frown and eyes widen in a mix of emotions. The photo of you smiling wasn't that of another fae as he was expecting, but a human. He felt his heart twinge with guilt, his heart skipping a beat before dropping like lead into the pit of his stomach. The letters you wrote all made sense to him now, your interesting way of writing was different than that of your average fae; some things you spoke about left him curious yet the puzzle pieces now fit together in his mind. He was frowning as he held your photo in limp arms, hunched over with his long hair covering his expression. You truly were beautiful; your hair, your eyes, your smile, he could feel the warmth of your soul through a single photo. With shaking hands, one held firm to the photo with the other rubbing his forehead, Lilia Vanrouge had to come to terms with something very dire- he fell in love with a human.

It was a horrible punch to the fae, the general of a nation who had slaughtered many humans during the ongoing war. He hurt those you were akin to, and your species done the same to him in his homeland. The General had known the difference between you and those who he fought in the war- you were kind, organized, hopeful, loving, you had told him your dreams of the future for fae and human alike, but that didn't change one very important fact; with this information he could never truly reveal his identity to you. Being the general of an enemy army, revealing his disposition to you was almost the same as putting not only you yet his own position at risk. Quickly wiping the tears that had fell from his melancholy ruby orbs sprinkled upon your smiling form, he folded and placed the photo back into the envelope, throwing both your letter and the one he had prepped into the fire, with great guilt upon his chest he felt his heart void of emotions as he had to make a difficult choice that night; love would be something forever foreign to him.

And you never received another letter since.

Secondly, Writing to our current Lilia and personally handing each other letters. Of course, texting is always an option with recent technological advances, but nothing beats a letter hand written with thoughtful precision and love put into every single word. How this began was rather simple; it came up in conversation. You had expressed your enjoyment of letter writing, something that Lilia had noticed was seldom around at that time. With his interest piqued at your rare interest, he wrote the first letter, popping by Ramshackle and handing a neatly written letter with a black envelope and green wax stamp with his initials etched into it.

It soon became tradition to write letters to one another, even when you saw him in the halls, played games or texted, writing letters was but another form of medium that had brought you two closer together. Malleus had noted how it was a gesture of romance, something that he never thought he'd see Lilia partake in, yet was glad to see his excitement every time he opened a new letter you had written to him.

Dearest prefect,

We have been writing letters to one another for some time now! I'm certain you are aware of my intentions at this point, surely. It is custom in Briar Valley in the period of time I grew up that we share a printed photo of one another, however as times change, so does such old traditions. May I ask, in replacement of a photo, that I come by whenever I desire to gaze upon your smiling face at a moments notice? It's almost embarrassing for a fae my age to write letters as if I were a boy smitten, however you seem to bring out emotions I never thought I would experience in this lifetime. Rather silly, isn't it? Despite this, You wont say no, will you? I eagerly look forward to your response, and perhaps I will drop by regardless of the answer, kehehe.

Sincerely,

L.V

Silly fae,

What age you are means very little to me. I find your traditions fascinating, and I respect them to the fullest extent. I have always loved writing letters, and not many these days are interested in such "drivel." I reciprocate your feelings, thus enclosed you will find rather than a photo of myself, but a photo of us from a memory I find near and dear to me. I printed myself a copy and keep it upon my person, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. Photos are beautiful memorabilia, it's a moment frozen in time forever preserved by paper and ink. Let us create more memories such as this photo, you need not my permission to stop by to your hearts contents. Your presence will always be healing to me, and I look forward to hearing you say those words face to face. Meet me in my dorm as soon as you receive this letter.

See you soon,

(y/n)

Even after time has passed, the letters never ceased. It truly was a match made in heaven- ignoring the judgements of others who found it inconvenient, there wasn't a day gone by without a letter from your beloved fae.

~~~

in celebration of our favorite bat faes birthday <3

Masterlist

[littlemonday]

So much of the difference in player response to the Emperor vs. Raphael comes down to aesthetics.

I’ve been seeing a lot of fan posting of Raphael lately, which is honestly fine. I enjoy seeing fan creations on all the characters. But I feel like I need to address something that is, for me, rather glaring in the fandom. Raphael is a pretty popular character, while the Emperor gets so much hate posting I’ve had to block users and entire groups on other sites because it was so over the top. These characters are functionally quite similar in the game, but the disparity in how they’re each perceived couldn’t be more different.

Both characters need to form an alliance with the main character. Both characters need the main character to defeat the brain. Both characters are willing to manipulate the main character to meet their own ends. But, one character is a conventionally attractive middle aged man, and the other is a humanoid squid monster. (How many times have we all seen posts about how upset someone was when their hot dream guardian turned out to be the squid monster?)

Not only is Raphael conventionally attractive, but he stays that way when he reveals himself as a devil.The Emperor presents himself as someone the main character would trust, but when he’s finally revealed, he bears no resemblance to the facade he was wearing - a facade that he sincerely believed was necessary to keep himself safe and to win your trust. Raphael is quite literally the handsome devil. His ascended form barely makes an appearance, but even so that form is not alien. It’s devilish, but not alien, and “alien” unlike devilish, invokes a deeply discomforting fear of the unknown.

Raphael is all opulence and performance, wearing tailored clothing and living in a grandiose house that hides the horrors of what happens there until late into act 3. While the mind flayer colonies by comparison are grotesque organisms that look like the inside of a body, and the Emperor’s home is a bare bones cellar with the last remaining keepsakes of his former life. The chains he uses to hold his victims are right out in the open.

Raphael is like an old school campy Disney villain who tries to entertain you all while openly admitting that he wants you to come to him when you’re desperate and all hope is gone. And like those old Disney villains, he just enjoys being evil. He even comes with his own villain song that he sings. He enjoys your suffering. He’s openly playing with his food. The Emperor does try to seduce you, but mostly tries to appeal to your pragmatism and empathy. However, he doesn’t have Disney villain camp to help him out here. He embodies all the body horror and fear over the player's loss of humanity by virtue of him being a mind flayer. He does have a song, but most of us miss it on our first play through and don’t hear its tragic lyrics.

Raphael, and this one is perhaps the most frustrating to me, imprisoned and tortured Hope for years! He takes advantage of people, including orphans, and gets them to sign away their souls for eternal torment in exchange for something they desperately want or need in life. While the Emperor has that one infamous cutscene in which we see him enthrall Stelmane, but it comes on the heels of the player dehumanizing and provoking him. A lot of players will refer to this as a “call out” and a “mask off” moment, which is very disingenuous framing. It’s frustrating that so few players never seem to consider the deeper role their choices may play in triggering this scene: you treat him like an inhuman monster, and you get an inhuman monster. Players will complain all the time about how the Emperor manipulates you and lies about everything, but apparently in this one scene he’s suddenly being completely honest and not manipulating you? So many never consider the possibility of confirmation bias when it comes to this character.

As I said, this cutscene is an obvious threat, but I know that just because he’s threatening you, it doesn’t mean there’s no truth to what you’re seeing. However, it also doesn’t mean that this is somehow “the truth” as so many players seem to think it is. I’ll write more on this in another post, but there’s just not enough information in the game to make definitive conclusions on their relationship. And I bring this up because I don’t see anywhere near the outrage over Hope as I see over Stelmane.

Then there’s Ansur. The Emperor killed his love, Ansur, out of self defense (we know this from Ansur himself), and for a lot of players, this was what solidified their hatred for the Emperor, and they will endlessly hate post about it. Raphael, on the other hand, never killed any of his loves. But the reason he never killed any of his loves is because he’s never loved anyone. He’s incapable of it, and anyone he has killed was, at best, a mere tool for his use.

Which brings me to my next point, even though both characters are trying to manipulate you to their own ends, only the Emperor sees you as more than a means to an end. Raphael does not. In fact, I wrote a lot of words on this very topic.

I’ve had people tell me that they like Raphael more because he’s upfront with his intentions, while the Emperor isn’t. That’s not entirely true. The Emperor tells you he wants his freedom, even tells you the power he uses to protect you is power he’s stolen, but he goes to great lengths to hide his identity, where Raphael barely goes to any lengths at all. As I said, the Emperor sincerely believes he must do this to protect himself. He likes to puff his chest out, but he’s quite aware of his own vulnerability, so he lives a life in which he’s constantly hiding and disguising himself. He’s surviving, as he puts it in the end. Raphael is essentially a prince in the Hells who wields a lot of power, and whatever vulnerabilities he might have are well protected. Whatever difference this makes is not enough to justify the gulf in how much hate the Emperor receives versus how little Raphael does.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this is not me saying that you have to like one character or dislike another. That’s personal, and I’m not going to waste time telling people how to feel. So please don’t take away from this that I want to see more hate posting about Raphael. I don’t! Please don’t hate post about any characters, and if you absolutely must, please don’t use character tags to do so. What I am saying is that there’s a clear double standard in this fandom, and I want more players to engage with this media in a way that is both empathetic and analytical. I think both of those things together can prevent a lot of toxicity.

[o-wild-west-wind]

okay, here’s my actual thoughtful post: I get why people are upset about the finale…I really do. but I want to mention that there’s a bigger picture to this story that’s missing if you’re zooming too close onto Izzy as a character, and I’m honestly so grateful that the show stuck to the thematic arc it introduced in season 1 because, as per usual, it’s about the themes 🤌 and this show never skimps on the symbolism!!

so here’s the thing: the primary themes are toxic masculinity (& it’s opposite, queer joy); trauma; love as a healing force for the above; and, title alert—DEATH. because it’s so much more than a cool title!

now, Izzy has always represented something metaphorical about all of these points; most directly, he’s always represented masculinity, and s2 has been an arc of toxicity deconstruction. but crucially, he’s also represented all that for Ed, who is the deuteragonist of this show. because—don’t forget—Stede and Ed are the show.

I’ve always doubted myself for feeling this after seeing how fandom saw Izzy as a third romantic figure (which like by all means have a blast in your fanfics I don’t care it’s about joy at the end of the day and pursue that as you want to), but after hearing something about djenks referring to Izzy as a father figure, it confirms a major point for me—Izzy is also in a lot of ways a parallel to Ed’s dad, and a representation of the trauma and guilt Ed felt from that formative killing. for so long, Izzy was an aggressive shadow in Ed’s life, and a tangible reminder of those daddy issues—someone telling him what to do, keeping him Blackbeard—and the beautiful thing is how that changed this season, how Izzy became a version of masculinity that could love and be beautiful and make good from the hurt, the literal poison into positivity. someone antithetical to his own paternalistic force, healing our daddy issues one drag show at a time. BUT, Izzy is still thematically representative within Ed’s arc—and by also representing the trauma that made Ed “Blackbeard,” it does make smart writing sense as to why Izzy died (NOT saying you can’t be sad about it—stick with me for a moment).

because here’s the thing—as aforementioned, this show is also about DEATH. killing is the root of everyone’s trauma, and reconciling a relationship with death is the ultimate arc Ed and Stede are both on, with the ultimate path of learning to live despite its inevitability. there’s a reason it was such a huge thing that Ed couldn’t personally kill, and then in this episode killed so many people with his bare hands in the name of love—and there’s a reason that was framed as a good thing. and there’s also Ed’s (and arguably Stede’s) active suicidality, which has been a huge force driving this season. these are characters who see death as this all-consuming thing, and they see their own deaths as the only solution. death is the traumatic force driving almost everything about their being for so long—and its reconciliation is everything for them, the greatest sign of growth. so Izzy’s death, and everyone beginning again with love—healing each other with love—is a cap to it all. it’s death as a positive force, for once. it’s death as love, not trauma. it’s death as something that will always happen, but this time not forced by your own hand. it’s a death to everything toxic, to what “Blackbeard” represented, and all the while a sort of rebirth. it’s kind of a death to…death? it’s functionally like the real physical moon replacing the giant romantic imaginary orb: it’s taking the thing that’s been artificially morphed in Stede and Ed’s heads and making it real this time, with all the bittersweet emotions that come with tangible reality.

and honestly, I’m glad that it was tragic and emotional. I didn’t think I’d be so devastated to see Izzy die, but it really did get to me, especially because of everything he said to Ricky and then to Ed. but think of it this way: Izzy and Ed might be romantically compelling because they were toxic and charged (and I hope people still enjoy everything they get from that dynamic in fan work), but imagine if the show had actually gone in that direction—where would it take us thematically? it would kill the thesis; it would be love as chaos and entertainment, but not healing. instead, this show gave us something so much more powerful: a legitimate, fully-fleshed trauma arc.

trauma hurts. Izzy’s death hurts. but that’s okay. that’s great, actually! it means the storytelling was effective—that Izzy’s arc made you feel something. and i know this won’t be every viewer’s experience, but honestly? I’m glad I can have this grieving process in such a beautifully framed light in the safe space ship of this show, because let’s be real—death, real life death, fucks you up. and let me tell you, I could’ve used this show during so many episodes of grief in my life. but here it is now, reminding us that our grief and trauma doesn’t define us—and WHAT a powerful thing for queer love, especially, to be presented as the thing that heals us all. ESPECIALLY when so much grief and death in this community is woven so deeply with the trauma of our identity.

so grieve as you need to, but don’t forget to turn the poison into positivity 💛 because that’s what the show is telling us—choose live, despite!

[pareiwheeler]

i’m gonna rate pjo ships because i’m bored and my opinion is Correct

percabeth - 11/10, i actually love them so much i don’t think there is a single ship i love more than them.

grover/juniper - 7/10, they’re cute, i just feel like there’s no depth there. also wasn’t grover willing to cheat on her with that daughter of iris?!?! correct me if im wrong but …🤨

jiper - 2/10, actual snoozefest like i’m sorry but it’s just copy and paste percabeth without everything that makes percabeth good. also they’re both queer and were forced into the relationship by hera/juno

valgrace - 10/10, I LOVE THEM. the tragedy the trope i just. ugh i love them

caleo - -890/10, hate it.

jercy - 9/10, they’re silly, also love a good enemies to lovers trope. at the VERY LEAST they both had a lil crush on each other

percico - 1/10, it rubs me in all the wrong ways, especially with the age gap and the nature of their relationship. i can’t see them as anything but friends who occasionally run into each other and have awkward catch-ups. obviously love the unrequited crush but the relationship is . Different

solangelo - 9/10, used to hate them but then i read s&ts and cut them some slack. just wish will was an actual character instead of just “nico’s boyfriend :3”

jeyna - 8/10 SO much potential but i still feel like it would kind of be basic. also reyna kind of throwing away the idea of being with jason when percy showed up was odd

pipabeth - 10/10, silly silly silly. i love them. also love the idea of a little polycule with percabeth and pipabeth and jercy. i’ll shut up now

valdangelo - 10/10, almost feels like what rick wanted solangelo to be. like sunshine character with a tragic past x dark character with a tragic past in its prime. they’re also hilarious

frazel - i DESPISE the age gap. i wish rick would have just made her 16 like everyone else because 13 x 16 is such a huge gap in emotional maturity. she’s a kid dawg 😭🙏 OTHER than that they’re cute, but i really hate the gap

valzhang - 7/10, honestly can’t see frank being into leo LIKE that but it’s a fun ship, they’re honestly so silly especially in mark of athena. they hate each other (besties (boyfriends))

jasico - 10/10, Oh the tragedy i can’t take this. like if it wasn’t tragic i wouldn’t like it if that makes sense. but the image of nico needing to be held back from shadows so he won’t freak out and avenge jason himself Ohhhh yeah that hits hard

perleo - 5/10, eh, they’re just friends to me. BEST friends, but that’s it

ruegard - 10/10, the patrochilles parallel will ALWAYS GET ME. they better kiss in the show

[alphaofdarkness]

(ღ˘⌣˘ღ) he missed her ✨ (can you believe? (⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝) ෆ)

Based on this fanfic called Hunting Ghosts by DashRenders, both on fanfiction.net and Ao3! Rated M, so.. just read at your own discretion ~

I don’t know why this particular story has just intrigued me to the point I wanted to draw for it. I think it’s just the alternate timeline and the depiction of Sabine being a bounty hunter and coming across Ezra again after a tragic incident years prior. The loss gets me 😔, unnecessary but I understand ;;w;;.

Written, I believe, sometime when season 2 was still airing; it’s a good read :) a oneshot, bless 💜 I recommend it if y’all haven’t read it already, I think it’s a good fic ✨

I have two more draws to go with this. I wanted to post them or rather two of them altogether, but spacing out my draws so I can catch up to draw more of the sillies.

I may or may not post the last one (〃▽〃),,, due to its content,,, but uh we’ll see if I have enough confidence to post it by then~ it’s honestly not as bad as I make it out to be, and compared to things I’ve drawn before it's rather tame,,, pero bueno we’ll uwu

[transmascutena]

the scenes where characters go to the dueling arena without an actual duel are so interesting with the context of it actually being the planetarium in akio's tower.

in episode 9 there's the illusion of the castle falling down and anthy in the coffin when saionji tries to bring her to the arena. so many questions of who did that and why. definitely to mess with saionji in some way obviously, anthy's coffin is the same that he and touga found utena in, and he's been thinking about that moment throughout the episode. touga is the one who wrote him the fake letter from end of the world, but he couldn't have known all that would happen (he certainly couldn't have caused it to) unless he was working with akio. but when he calls him at the end of the episode, it's definitely implied that he didn't. so i think it's more likely that its was anthy who did it, to keep pushing things along. she and touga do kind of work together a lot in this arc to manipulate people (usually nanami, though that isn't really relevant here). touga needed to set up his fake rescue of utena and it makes sense that anthy would help him out by messing with the projector (the fact that utena gets another moment to feel like a hero is a bonus too). which means akio probably did also know, and just pretended he didn't in the phone call with touga later. i also don't think touga knows about the projector or the illusions, i think he just assumed anthy would. idk, pretend to lie helpless on the ground, not all the elaborate bullshit she pulled instead. he does only come up there after the illusion is gone, after all.

the scene in episode 36 is cool because it takes a moment for the floating castle to actually appear, which implies that utena and touga's trip up there was unexpected somehow? the projection isn't on. or not fully on at least, since it still is projecting the arena itself. i wonder what it means (i have thoughts but nothing coherent). it's also kind of funny that touga comes to get utena in the tower and then they walk all the way to the arena which is. also the tower. and they go up there to stargaze! which is ironic. and symbolic. they think they're looking at real stars, but it's still the projected ones. it shows how much touga has bought into akio's worldview, even if he is trying to do what he thinks is right here. and honestly, it is kind of a sweet moment, just not for the reasons he thinks. they're two lonely kids who have been (and are being) hurt by the same man in a very similar way, even if neither of them realize how true that really is. touga is framing his request for them to sit together in a very romantic way, which it obviously isn't, but maybe they can still offer each other some comfort. who knows. it's kind of tragic that it's all happening in akio's tower though. they are not free. not even slightly.

i think the parallel of both of these moments being touga using the arena to stage his "rescueing" of utena, the first one being entirely manipulative, and the second being something of a genuine (if completely misguided) attempt, is very cool.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

I had a long argument with someone on whether or not stomping Belos before he dies was better than letting him die pathetically, and I asked myself if that is what fans really believe in... or if they would hail any Belos' death as the perfect one if Dana choose a different one?

They also justify the stomping as being part of horror-comedy genre and that Belos should not have any dignity what so ever because apparently letting him die in despair with no stomping is running the risk of making the audience feel "sorry" for him.

Honestly, these justifications make The Owl House feel more shallow. Like, why shouldn't the audience be allowed to feel sorry for Belos? What is the danger? That people would agree with Belos' views?

Or are we supposed to develop a black and white view of the world akin to a conservative view but inverted? And then hide behind the horror comedy genre to justify less drama? I hate to say it, but Nostalgia Critic is right about Belos being this strange outlier. The show seems to be afraid of actually doing a complex, tragic and yet irredeemable villain.

It doesn't make any sense to argue that Belos' death fits because of toh's genre as a horror comedy because the scene was neither played for horror nor laughs. At best, you have the image of Philip slowly being dissolved by the rain and then Raine's smug "that was satisfying" line. The overall tone of the scene is one of contempt as Philip tries one last plea to Luz only to be snuffed out (and weirdly validated) by the heroes. Its intent is to be cathartic for both audience (though as you know doubt know, YMMV) and the characters.

Frankly, despite its marketing, I don't see toh as either a horror or a comedy because it spends more time on slice of life stuff and high school teen drama and romance. And even when it does go for the horror and comedy, both are rather tepid. You want a real example of a horror-comedy for kids, then go watch Courage the Cowardly Dog or Invader Zim.

The reason why I argue the heroes validated Belos is because in the moment of his death, he clings to the idea that as humans, "we're better than this!" It's a moment of pathetic delusion that is appropriately met with silence but then it's ruined with Eda and Co. barging in with "Well, we ain't!" only to then prove his point by mercilessly stomping an already dying man to death. There's a reason why kid shows usually end with either the villain being imprisoned or not outright being murdered by the heroes. Evil has to die by its own hubris, not get killed by the heroes after the Big Battle when they're no longer a threat. I made a post about the importance of defeating a major antagonist twice.

Belos' death also doesn't work with a "Kill your oppressors" theme because the show isn't about that. The show barely spends any time showing why the EC is bad for the Boiling Isles and Eda is the only named wild witch we see getting harassed by them and even then, it's mostly played for laughs given how inept the coven scouts are (seriously, they're able to quit without fear of repercussions).

I think a reason fans are split on Belos' death is because of differing expectations; the fans who paid attention to Belos and the implication of his backstory and waited for every lie to come crashing down on him since that's what the show seemed to be building up to only to be unceremoniously ignored in the end were no doubt disappointed. Then you have the other fans who hated the character to the point that any gruesome death will do, regardless whether it made narrative or thematic sense or not.

Ultimately, I think the biggest reason his death doesn't work is because Belos fails as a villain.

Belos' status as a colonial puritan only works on a meta-level; it serves a cathartic release for marginialized people to see a representative of real world oppression beaten by queer characters as it fulfills the fantasy of finally overthrowing an oppressive system. The fatal flaw though is that none of this works on a narrative level because the coven system is either treated as a joke or simply a career path one must choose and we never see the disenfranchisement of wild witches. People largely get off scot-free opposing Belos, which undermines his credibility as both a dictator and a villain because no one cares about him until the plot needs them to. Luz doesn't even care about proving he's evil until Hollow Mind, which is halfway through season 2.

Belos as a villain only works if you project your own feelings and desires in wanting to see the Evil Christian/Evil Parent destroyed. While this is extremely satisfying emotionally, it does not make a sound story.

All the reasons why people like his death ("it's great the evil colonizer died so pathetically!" "omg, the white christian colonizer was killed by two queer people and their adopted son!" etc) are all meta reasons. And to be clear, it's totally fine if you thought his death was satisfying. But for many people, it did not work for a variety of reasons, including narrative ones. And that differing opinion should be respected instead of arguing some nonsense like "we have to make our villain as stupid/evil as possible or run the risk of people liking/sympathizing with him."

Belos should have died in a manner that connected back to his original sin: the murder of his brother. All of his lies and delusions and fear of being wrong should have played a part in the finale. He should have not died thinking he was right. He should have died realizing that all he did was for nothing. And that he is to blame. And that there is no one waiting for him back home.