#And of course they have to frame it like that because if they didn't the clear domestic violence would be put into question

[hachiane]

ranking the LADS boys on who takes the best Instagram photos

a/n — just my headcanons!! may be OOC, majorly she/her reader pronouns

count : 950 words

#1 Rafayel Qi

— takes one look at your inspo photos and scoffs, “puh-leaase, i can do better than that.”. under his calm exterior, his painter's eye is roaring to life, the gears in his brain immediately turning when your phone is passed into his hands.

Rafayel matches your freak instantly and pretends he is like every photograph boyfriend every it-girl online seems to have; he's guiding you to pose, where to place your hands, tilt your face so he captures all your best angles, even the ones you didn't think you had. your personal hypeman as he snaps away, "yesss, cutie! you look so good!' "kill me with those sexy eyes of yours!" "makeup on point! show off your pretty lashes!"

it doesn't end there. Rafayel is also looking over your shoulder helping you choose the best shots, giving his small comments and suggestions as you edit them in your phone, things like "up the contrast, the shadows are dark in this one" or "why are you cropping like that? this makes you look taller".

after your impromptu photoshoot, he sings praises about you being the most beautiful muse, the cutest bodyguard. and of course, you have to take some couple selfies with him too as reward for his hard work.

Rafayel is your first like, first comment when you post, bombarding your notifications with comments. “that’s my bodyguard right there 😍” “you’re sooooooo hot 🔥🔥” “slay queen 💅🏼✨”

he'll do everything again, no doubt about it.

#2 Xavier Shen

— when you asked him the first time, he was hesitant. he says he read a book about it but never put it to practice, warning you that you might be disappointed. you shove your phone into his hands and that you're fine with whatever he gets in the end. (unintentionally that awakens his inner prince, determined to ensure his princess look her best in every frame)

the entire time, Xavier says nothing. you hear him snap away and hum to himself, but he's not saying anything to you; doesn't tell you how to pose, where to place your hands or if you should be looking at him. so most of the time, you’re by yourself testing out the poses you saw online and placing your blind, full-hearted trust that he gets the picture you imagined. 

the thing is, while poses look good on you, Xavier behind the camera much prefers your candid moments, because these says much more about you than poses other people have thought of. you in your natural state is the most beautiful to him, and he says so, “i only take pictures of pretty things and you like this is the most pretty to me”.

later, being the old soul he is, he purchases a polaroid printer to get physical copies of your photos and stashes them away in a journal or box, for these memories of you deserve to last lifetimes.

#3 Sylus Qin

— his pictures of you are decent enough. when you asked him the first time, he says he’ll get you a personal photographer if you so desire good photos, but your cutesy pleading and debating your point about the sentimental value of photos taken by him makes him give in. he follows your inspo photos to the T, but because of his height, you notice the angles are slightly higher than what they should be. like Xavier, he doesn't tell you how to pose; he just taps away on the shutter button as he moves around you here and there, occasionally hunching down for a low angle shot, with his other hand in his pocket, nonchalant as Sylus usually is.

accidentally left the live photo feature on for most of your photos, and while perturbed at first, those become his favourites; he gets to see a glimpse of your genuine smile at his ministrations before your expressions snap into a smouldering, radiant look that he would fall to his knees for time and time again. he sends the photos to himself afterwards without asking, shrugging when you question him about it when he was being so indifferent at first, “sentimental value, kitten”.

#4 Zayne Li

— unfortunately, Zayne takes photos like an aged father with two daughters; straight on, no angles, no direction, not much effort given the first few times. but after seeing your slightly disappointed look as you review the photos, even when you reassure him you're okay with them, he knows he’d done you wrong.

the next day, Zayne promptly asks his female colleagues and acquaintances with a photography hobby at the hospital for some tips and crash courses. of course they oblige him (because who could say no to the Dr Zayne when he asks for a favour?) with simple go-tos and the tricks. and Zayne being Zayne, he notes them all down in his personal notebook, studies it in his downtime, brings it home to read and practice on some "subjects" lying around the house: your collectible figures, the fresh bouquet for the living room, and so forth.

the next time the opportunity comes up, he breaks it to you he's been studying for this exact moment and asks if you would give him another attempt. although the photos end up not what you expected when he said he's been "learning", it's miles better than the first few times. Zayne would look at you expectantly for your reaction, and he heaves a sigh of assured relief when you compliment his improvement. when you post the recent photo he took of you, he cracks the widest smile he's had all week, liking and saving the photo to make it his phone background (though you've probably already sent it to him).

[shitpostingsapphic]

First thing, if you haven't watched Arcane, don't have an opinion on it and broadcast it to the internet. That should be common sense.

Second, if you're only able to internalize the Piltover and Zaun storyline from s1, just say that. Don't say it was the main plotline, because it wasn't. There were several that ran together during the course of the first season. So if you're shocked that the show called Arcane was focused on the magical side of things in the 2nd season, I'm afraid that's a personal problem.

The Piltover and Zaun plotline is indeed important. Just perhaps not in the way you made up in your mind. So the ways it was addressed (and it indeed was addressed) didn't satisfy what you'd been hoping for. Perhaps the story being told wasn't the one you think you were being told. Rewatches help. Pick up details you didn't process before. There's no shame in that.

And keep in mind that with a medium like animation, YES, the little details tell as much of the story as the dialogue. Every frame is so much more intentional than live film can ever be. So if you resent the idea that you might have to rewatch something to pick up on miniscule details you missed upon first watch, perhaps animation isn't the medium for you. Especially with a show so detailed and painstaking and with as high a budget as Arcane. More has gone into this than most any other animation project.

Just rewatch the damn thing. And stop making a fool of yourself on the internet.

[ikkyfics]

Adorable Kitchen Disaster

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: "Dave..." your voice nearly faltered. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

Warnings: just fluffy - Dave being a lovable disaster in the kitchen

Masterlist

The Christmas spirit was already in the air when you heard the doorbell ring. An instant smile appeared on your face as you left the cookie dough on the counter and went to the door. When you opened it, there he was: Dave Lizewski, wearing a comfy blue hoodie under a dark green coat. The beanie hid part of his messy dark hair, and the round glasses framed his big, warm blue eyes that always made you sigh.

"Hey," he said, smiling that shy, adorable way of his. He was holding a plastic bag filled with candies and treats. "I'm ready for the mission, chef."

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you pulled him by his coat, pressing your lips firmly to his. Dave seemed surprised for a second but soon returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss. He still tasted like chocolate—because, of course, he always brought something sweet along the way—and the way he smiled against your lips showed how much he loved it.

"Wow." He laughed quietly when you finally pulled away, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. "I think I'm going to come help in the kitchen more often."

"My parents aren't here," you told him, slightly out of breath, ignoring his playful comment. "They went to visit some friends. So, we have the whole house to ourselves."

"That explains why you're so happy to see me," Dave teased, but the way he bit his lip, shy and enchanted, only made him more irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, holding his hand and pulling him inside. "Come on, hurry up. The cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

The kitchen was a well-organized mess, with cookie cutters scattered on the counter and a bowl of dough ready. Dave observed everything with one eyebrow raised, leaving the "supplies" bag on the table.

"Wow, you're seriously letting me touch the food?"

"I'm trying to give you a chance," you laughed, positioning yourself next to him and extending the bowl. "Now take the dough and start rolling it out with the pin. Just make firm movements, forward and back."

Dave grabbed the rolling pin with both hands and shot you an amused look. "Seems easy. Like a video game. I'm great at this."

But within minutes, you had already spotted the impending disaster. He was pressing the rolling pin too hard, the dough was getting all crooked, and the effort was only making him more frustrated.

"My God, Dave, you're going to destroy everything," you said, laughing.

"I'm not destroying! Just... customizing," he replied, completely convinced, as he rolled the dough any which way.

With an amused sigh, you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his arms, your back pressed against his chest. Dave froze, surprised by the proximity, but let his hands relax when you held his wrists.

"Like this," your voice came out soft, almost a whisper, as you guided his movements firmly. "Calm. No force. Just... glide."

Dave let out a low chuckle. "Do you realize this looks like a movie scene? Like, 'Ghost' but the cooking version?"

"Shut up, Lizewski," you warned, but a smile escaped.

The truth was, the proximity wasn't helping your focus. You could feel his body heat through the hoodie, the rhythmic sound of his breath close to your ear, and the soft scent that always seemed to surround him. What had started as a funny moment quickly turned into something more intense.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Dave murmured, his voice deeper and lower, too close to your neck.

You didn't have time to respond because, in the next second, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the side of your neck. The sensation was so unexpected that you shivered, letting out a sigh.

"Dave..." your voice nearly faltered.

He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

"You're distracting me," you replied, though not with much firmness, because the truth was, you were loving it.

"I don’t see you complaining for real," Dave teased, giving one last kiss before pulling away just enough to study your face. His cheeks were red too, but the crooked, loving smile remained. "Why do you have to be so pretty, huh? Can't even be a disaster in peace."

"Who says I want you to stop being a disaster?" you retorted, your voice full of amusement, but the look in your eyes was sweet enough to be hard to hide.

He smiled even more and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips brushing against yours so gently it felt like he was afraid to break you. You felt his fingers slide along the curve of your waist, almost as if he wanted to memorize every inch, as the kiss slowly deepened, stealing any remaining breath.

"I swear you're going to be my undoing," Dave murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Well..." you began, with a shy, daring smile. "At least we’ll get lost together."

His laughter was genuine, and he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. It was the kind of look that made time seem to slow down — his blue eyes filled with affection, admiration, and something deeper, an intensity so pure that you didn’t know how he could keep it all contained in just that gaze.

"What luck I have," he replied softly, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he acted on impulse. With a somewhat awkward movement, Dave grabbed your waist and lifted you up, making you let out a surprised squeal instantly.

"Dave! What are you...?"

But you didn’t even finish the sentence. The sudden movement made your leg bump into the open bowl of flour, creating a white cloud in the air that looked like something out of a cartoon. You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as he gently set you down on the counter.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he laughed, not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the chaos he had just caused. His hands were now covered in flour, as were parts of his hair and the blue sweatshirt he was wearing.

"You’re a walking disaster, Lizewski." You laughed through your grumbling, trying to brush some flour off your face, but you were quickly interrupted when he leaned in again, his smile still dancing on his lips.

"I didn’t hear any complaints earlier." He said, and before you could respond, he sealed his lips to yours once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more engaging, as if he were trying to capture every bit of that moment. His hands slid back down your waist, a firm yet gentle touch, as if he were still surprised to be allowed this close to you.

You pulled him even closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours and realizing, once again, how he seemed stronger than you gave him credit for. It was a subtle strength, but it was present — a constant and charming surprise from someone who could still be so sweet and caring.

"Since when have you been working out like this, huh?" you asked, your voice slightly muffled between the kisses he was now spreading across your jawline and the corner of your neck.

"Since I started carrying my girlfriend around in my spare time," he replied with a proud smile, his voice lower and full of affection.

"How cocky." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the big smile on your face.

Dave looked at you again, his blue eyes tracing every detail of your face, and you felt your heart squeeze in a good way. He was still too close, your bodies almost touching, and the redness on his cheeks only made him more endearing.

"I’m serious." He spoke softly, brushing a lock of flour out of your hair with his fingertips. "I never thought I’d have someone like this... you know, someone like you."

Your heart melted instantly. You leaned in, pulling him into another kiss, but the moment was brutally interrupted by a strange smell and a low sound coming from the oven.

Both of you froze, eyes wide in unison, until you let out an "Oh no!" and gently pushed Dave off the counter.

"The cookies!" you exclaimed, rushing to the oven.

Dave stood still in the middle of the kitchen, still covered in flour, watching as you, somewhat clumsily, opened the oven and tried to save the cookies — already too dark to be considered edible.

"Okay, okay, I admit it," he began, trying to suppress his laughter. "Maybe the movie scene was too good to be true."

You shot him a sharp look, but you couldn’t hold back your own laugh either. The kitchen was a mess — flour on the floor, sugar on the counter, both you and Dave covered in white powder. But none of that mattered.

You sighed dramatically, holding the baking sheet as if it were a lost cause.

"I think we’ve lost this batch."

"It’s just proof of how irresistible I am." Dave shrugged, walking over to you and holding out his arms. "But hey, I promise the next one will turn out right."

"You really are a lost cause, Lizewski."

"And you still like me this way." He grinned widely, pulling you back close, as if there was no mess around.

And, to be honest, at that moment, there really wasn’t.

[gojodickbig]

sub!choso x dom!female reader.

(i just know that choso loves having his ass fucked!!)

anywoooo, get the strappppp😝😝

conts: nsfw!! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

wc: 2,3k.

Choso sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his fingers, his dark hair framing his flushed face as he avoided your gaze. His cheeks were burning red, his entire body tense with nerves, though the way he shifted slightly in his seat told you he was more than just nervous—he was eager. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, trying to calm the flood of anticipation coursing through him.

"You don't have to be so tense, baby," you said softly, your voice soothing but laced with playful amusement as you stepped closer. The strap slung around your hips made his eyes dart toward it, widening slightly before he quickly looked away. You tilted his chin up with your fingers, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"I—I'm not tense," he muttered, though the way his knuckles tightened in the sheets said otherwise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Choso," you murmured, your lips brushing against his with teasing softness, "you trust me, don't you?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I do. just... I've never done anything like this before."

You kissed him fully this time, your lips soft but insistent, coaxing him to relax as his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you like you were his anchor. When you pulled back, his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming quicker.

"It's just me and you," you reassured him, your tone softer now. "You're going to be fine, baby. If it's too much, all you have to do is tell me, and I'll immediately stop, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, his voice shaky but resoluted

"Good boy." You kissed him again, this time a little deeper, your fingers tangling in his hair before gently guiding him to all fours.

He obeyed, his shoulders trembling slightly as he shifted into position. You ran your hands down his back, your lips brushing over the nape of his neck. His breath hitched when he heard the snap of the lube bottle, and you caught the way his toes curled against the sheets.

"Relax for me," you murmured, rubbing small circles over his hips. "You're gonna feel so good. I'll make sure of it."

Choso nodded quickly, his forehead pressing into the pillow as you slicked up your fingers and gently spread him open. The first cool touch of lube against him made him jolt, and when your finger pressed into his asshole, he gasped loudly. his body going rigid.

"Shhh," you cooed, pressing a kiss to his spine. "You're doing so well, baby. Let me take care of you."

"It feels... weird," he admitted, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"That's normal," you said, slowly working your finger deeper. "It's just because you're not used to it yet. I'll go slow, promise."

You took your time, stretching him with patient, deliberate movements, until he started to relax into the pressure. By the time you added a second finger, his hips twitched, and his cock hardened, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Fuck," he whimpered, his voice trembling. "It's... a lot, but it's n-not bad.”

"You like it," you teased, curling your fingers slightly and grinning when his moan turned sharper, his hips rolling back instinctively. "See? You're already opening up so nicely for me."

Choso's breath stuttered, his hands fisting the sheets even harder now. "I—I didn't think it'd feel like this," he admitted, his voice breaking into a whimper.

"You've barely felt anything yet," you said, withdrawing your fingers and grabbing the toy. "Are you ready, baby? You want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," he gasped, desperation creeping into his tone. “Please…”

You pressed the tip of the strap to his entrance, teasing him by pressing it against his clenching hole, making circles against it. When you put it in, he whimpered. You started with shallow thrusts, letting him adjust to the stretch. His body trembled as you eased in slowly, inch by inch.

"Fuck," he choked out, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Breathe, baby," you cooed, your hands gripping his hips. "You're taking me so well. Just relax and let me in."

When you finally bottomed out, you paused, letting him adjust as you leaned over to kiss his back. "How does it feel?"

He turned his head slightly, his voice muffled but needy. "It's so much... you're so deep," he whimpered. "But it's so good. I didn't think it'd feel this... full. You're—fuck. Stretching me so good."

"That's because you were made for this, Cho," you purred, pulling back before sinking in again, your hips rolling with slow, deliberate thrusts. "Made to take it. Look at you, baby, moaning like a whore for this cock."

His moan was loud and shameless, his back arching as he pushed back against you. "F—fuck," he gasped, his voice breaking into a whine. "It's... it's so good. You're— ah!—ugh! Stretching me so good. I feel you everywhere—Fuck!”

You smirked, gripping his hips tighter as you picked up your pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. "That's right," you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "You love it, don't you? Getting fucked like this, stretched out by this cock. Such a good boy for me, you're so perfect, baby."

"Yes," he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure. "I love it—fuck!—I love it so much. I love you so much."

"I love the way your body reacts, Cho. You're so sensitive." His moans grew louder as you shifted your angle, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His body trembled beneath you, his thighs shaking as he clawed at the sheets.

"Please—please don't stop. I—I don't care how sensitive I am, just keep—ah!—keep going, please." Choso begged, his voice breaking into a desperate whimper. He pushed himself back against you, seeking more. Every nerve overstimulated, his thighs shook as he buried his face in the pillow, muffling the moans spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

You laughed softly, your nails grazing his hips as you picked up your pace. "So greedy, baby. You want me to ruin you?”

"Yes," he whimpered, the word spilling from his lips before he could think. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you want. I'll take it—I'll take anything from you."

"You're such a good boy," you praised, reaching around to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He let out a scream, his hips bucking into your hand as you started stroking him faster. "So hard for me, baby. You're gonna come for me, aren't you? You've been holding back this whole time."

"I—I can't, he whimpered, his voice desperate and high-pitched. "I'm gonna... ah!, I—I can't hold it." He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged pants. "I'm sorry—hgh—fuck!, it feels too good! I can't help it! I need to cum, please!"

"You don't need to hold it, baby," you purred, stroking him in time with your thrusts. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart on this cock."

With a broken cry, Choso's body tensed, his cock twitching in your hand as he came hard, spilling over your fingers and the sheets below. His entire frame trembled as he moaned loudly, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Yes, baby, let it all out." you murmured, slowing your movements as he rode out his orgasm. His body went limp beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his shoulder, carefully pulling out and tossing the strap aside before laying down beside him. Choso turned his head, his eyes dazed but full of warmth as he gazed at you. "You did so well, Cho."

"T-Thank you... it... felt really nice.." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked, brushing the hair from his sweat-dampened face. "Mmh, I told you you'd like it, baby," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

Once he pulls away from the kiss, he looks at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-closed.

…

"Can you sit on my face now, pretty please?" he asks, his voice low. "I miss eating your pussy."

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[gamingavickreyauction]

Without a proper understanding of which elements of the causal path are active, and which elements of the causal path are passive, the problem cannot be properly resolved

I reject this because the active/passive distinction is not an empirical one.

and blame and punishment will fall on innocent or only weakly guilty people, wastefully causing more suffering.

I reject this because I reject retributive justice—if you aren't punishing people for the sake of punishing them, then you aren't going to change your mind about where fault lies and realize you've been torturing someone innocent for years. More pragmatic things, like whether someone is likely to do the same thing again, and whether not punishing someone means there's an incentive for others to do the same, aren't going to change like that, unless you're just bad at figuring out what's practically going on.

In your example you regard the landlords as passive, and the politicians as active, but you provide no hard-and-fast definition that this arises from. It seems like you are using these as synonyms for 'at the start of the causal chain' and 'not at the start of the causal chain.' You don't see the landlords raising rents as a step in the causal chain that could have been broken, or that anyone had a responsibility to break—you see the landlords as passive, because they are just doing what is 'natural' in a more demand-dominant market environment. You see the politicians passing the legislation as the start of the causal chain, and you see them as culpable, so you see that as active.

I certainly agree that you need to get to the root of the problem to know how to address it, and many political problems are caused by people not doing that. I agree that in your example, it would be an unhelpful distraction to blame the landlords. I disagree that this is an objective judgment. And if this is what you mean by the active/passive distinction, I think that is unhelpful framing, as it clouds your thinking by biasing you towards accounts where agency is concentrated, not distributed.

Because there were steps in the causal chain before the politicians: a politician voted for it because that's where their party was at, and they didn't want to rock the boat—they were just going along with social forces, in the same way that landlords were just going along with market forces. And that culture, while self-sustaining to a degree, also comes from polling that says building prohibitions are popular with the residents of the city, and that's because for most of them it really does benefit them by increasing their house price. So the real problem is the arrangement of government where the only people politicians are accountable to is people who already live there, and there is no consideration of the interests of the people wanting to move into the city. I'm not saying that is the correct view, but it illustrates another place you could put blame, and illustrates that you can always go back a step in a causal chain. There is no start, and everyone sees themselves as passively, naturally responding to the situation they're placed in. Of course, they aren't actually wholly passive, but at every step people have limited agency, so agency ends up very distributed.

But moreover, causes rarely actually come in these neat chains—there are generally many conditions that lead to an effect. A building falls down killing 3 people, because it hadn't received necessary maintenance, because the previous owner had given inaccurate information about a previous renovation, but also because the renovation hadn't been as sturdy as it was meant to be, because the plans the builders received were for an earlier version of the plan, because the architects had gotten their documents mixed up, because that was been done by an intern and their secretary didn't do a good job of that part of the training.

Where does the blame lie here? It lies in lots of little pieces. Everyone was just trying to passively follow procedures. And this is still a simplified cartoon version of causality. This is why law is complicated. Maybe you have an opinion of who in this chain of events is actually responsible, and maybe other people who believe in the active/passive distinction do too, but I bet you wouldn't all agree, because it comes from a judgment that is ultimately subjective.

But maybe you do have a criterion to decide what is passive and what is active without leaving it to judgement. If so, please share it, so I can see how objective it really is.

"How can I be privileged? I struggle constantly and no one understands."

That's not how privilege works. Privilege does not mean other people struggle and you don't.

Privilege often means that society is designed to traumatize you and make you angry then direct your anger at the socially acceptable target.

Male privilege does not mean it's easy to be a man. Male privilege means it's traumatizing to be a man and you're expected to take out that trauma on women instead of fighting back against those causing it.

White privilege does not mean you have everything handed to you. White privilege means society is designed to make you suffer then blame your suffering on black people or immigrants instead of the capitalist class who are causing the suffering.

[pretty-weird-ideas]

Episode Seven and White Tears

The trial's allegory is not just a lynching, it is a lynching for a Black person entering a relationship with a respected White man, and proceeding to leave him. It's not a murder case, as seen through the show, there's actually very little emphasis on the murder in the episode in regards to Louis. The emphasis is on his "seduction", his "ungiving nature", and "refusing to give his body". It is a public humiliation and lynching for turning a respected white man down. The crime isn't hurting Lestat, it's hurting his feelings.

Lestat doesn't speak to the audience about the pain of his throat being slit. He speaks of loneliness, the audience chants and jeers about how cheating was justified if Louis isn't putting out. Santiago isn't talking about the murder, he's talking about how much of a sexual deviant Louis is the second he is introduced. The show is telling us what's important to the case, and what language hurt and stuck out to Louis the most. The deciding factor in the eyes of the audience, the story that Sam and Santiago are trying to tell, is that the crime is heinous because Louis turned down Lestat.

The audience isn't mad about the murder, they're mad about Lestat's emotions, they're mad about the betrayal, and they are mad that Louis and Claudia didn't put up with things. The case built against the two of them isn't based on violence, it's based on white tears. Louis isn't called a monster for slitting Lestat's throat, the audience member calls him a monster for turning down Lestat's advances.

The show is clear that the trial isn't really about the murder, it is about Louis not "giving enough" for Lestat. It's about Louis asking Lestat to turn Claudia and literally bargaining his happiness where he literally gets on his knees and says "I'll be happy for you, I will never leave you if you do this for me". It's never been about the murder, it's quite literally just shaming Louis for not "loving a good man who might be abusive".

At the end of the day, the trial as framed and written by Sam is building a case off of Lestat's tears, not actual physical harm.

Like my skin is crawling but also the show is so chilling with how it portrayed the "He's a good man so hold your tongue and endure! Lest you read as ungrateful".

Anyways someone take the laptop from me before this becomes my life.

[irenespring]

After my latest fic chapter I feel compelled to remind people who have never read the SGE books that Clarissa Dovey (whose ideology and behavior I did not alter) is supposed to be a good guy. She is the benevolent, motherly mentor figure. We are supposed to like her very much.

In related news: The School for Good and Evil is the single largest case of authorial "oh shit I forgot all my world building when it came time to do the story framing" I have ever seen in all of media.

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

Every time i stumble upon another "omg Manfred Von Karma was a good father!!!!!1!1!1!" post i kinda want to scream? Like are we all talking about the same man.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation

how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:

ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys

connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!

“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful

second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds

rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all

assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons

(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)

a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?

b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.

c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit

can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions

coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after

now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?

hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it

connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.

version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.

version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals

also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?

um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au

[gammija]

i love s4, and im enjoying listening to it with the magaday, but i forgot it would also lead to the worst thing: seeing people interpret media differently than me on the internet OTL

[keeps-ache]

i need more object-head OCs. it's So imperative to my health

[leatherbookmark]

hongjoong's cutest outfit in the thanxx mv

[bitchfitch]

For all the teething I've been doing on Pavo and Esti i haven't been able to like, actually write any thing for them recently mostly because I've been Busy.

But also because I'm snapping between like 3 ideas for them at terminal velocity and haven't been able to actually get anything written for them and it's like having pumas bouncing around my skull at mach fuck as though theyre house cats at 2 am when you're trying to sleep,

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[backpackingspace]

okay so post epic odyssey where odysseus and Penelope have surfaced from their room finally and he and diomedes are catching up I'm imagining the conversation going something like this

Odysseus: so then I gave up being merciful and became the monster.

Diomedes:....you tried being merciful?

Odysseus: Yes?

Diomedes: you did? You tried being a good merciful person? You?

Odysseus: Yah okay fuck off it was polties dying wish. I had to try.

Diomedes:.....90% of the war crimes in the Trojan war were suggested, planned out, and carried out by you. We literally stoned to death the guy you had a personal grudge against. We framed him for treason and stoned him to death. 70% of why Athena liked you was because she thought she knew all the ways to kill someone and then you'd suggest something insane and I'd see her taking notes. You literally gave Ajex a psyoctic break just being yourself.

Odysseus: shut up

Diomedes: I'm not wrong. Did you tell Penelope about your attempt to be a good person?

Odysseus: What? Of course I did. I told her everything.

Diomedes: did she laugh?

Odysseus:...shut up that's not the point

Diomedes: she did didn't she!!!

Odysseus: ANYWAY eurylochus wasn't appreciative of my return to monsterhood and he started causing problems so I

Diomedes: killed him? Yah saw that coming. No shit. I'm so shocked.

[prokopetz]

Something that pops up in my notes from time to time is folks thinking I'm being excessively kind in my criticisms of Dungeons & Dragons, and I'm going to spin this off into a separate thread to address that without putting anyone on the spot.

First, if your own critique of Dungeons & Dragons is rooted in the idea that it's the Worst Game Ever, that speaks more to the limits of your experience than it does to anything else. Dungeons & Dragons in any of its iterations is far from the worst the tabletop roleplaying hobby has to offer – like, you have no fucking idea!

Second, I tend to be even-handed in my discussion of D&D's rules because, fundamentally, the rules are not the problem – or, at least, not the principal cause of the problem.

In many ways, the indie RPG sphere has never escaped the spectre of Ron Edwards, sternly pronouncing that the mechanical process of playing traditional RPGs causes actual, physical brain damage, and that this brain damage is responsible for the bad behaviour we often observe at the table. We don't say it that way anymore, but on some level a lot of us indie RPG designers still kind of believe it.

This is understandable. As game designers, we're naturally inclined to think of problems at the table as game design problems. When we see a problematic culture of play, our impulse is to frame it as something which emerges from the text of the game, and which can therefore be mitigated by repairing the text of the game.

Confronted with the obvious toxicity of certain facets of D&D's culture of play, we go combing through its text, looking for something – some formalism, some structure, some piece of rules technology – which we can point to and say: "this is it; this is where the brain-worms live."

The trouble is, this is not in fact where the brain-worms live. Certainly, the text of a game, particularly a very popular one, can have some influence on the game's surrounding culture of play, but that text is in turn a reflection of the culture of play in which it was written. The Player's Handbook isn't an SCP object, spewing infectious infohazards everywhere when you crack open the cover – hell, I'd go so far as to say that many of the problems of D&D's culture of play operate in spite of the game's text, not because of it!

Basically, what I'm saying is that I don't see any contradiction between being the sort of pretentious knob who writes one-page indie RPGs about gay catgirls talking about their feelings (which I am), and speaking favourably about this or that piece of rules tech from whatever flavour of Dungeons & Dragons is in favour this week (which I do), because I recognise that you can't game-design your way out of a problem you didn't game-design your way into.

The fact that one of the biggest problems facing the tabletop roleplaying hobby is something that can't be repaired by fucking around with dice-rolling procedures is a bitter pill to swallow for a lot of indie game designers, and I won't say I wasn't resistant to it myself, but it's something that's both useful and necessary to accept.

(None of this means that the text of Dungeons & Dragons in any of its incarnations is beyond criticism on other grounds, of course, and I've never been shy about highlighting those criticisms where they're warranted. The only way you're gonna arrive at the conclusion that I'm some sort of D&D apologist is if you're starting from the presumption that The Real Problem Is The Rules.)