#Any attempt to be accepted by a system of power that hates you will probably just make you miserable even if it does seem to make an ex

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Realised in this post it might have seemed weird to say Muro was miserable being a man even if it was closer to his genderqueer identity than being a woman. But that's bc trying to pass to be accepted by cis people is fucking miserable 👍

Even Cecio, who is a trans man and very happy to be seen as a man and gets a kick out of being seen as a cis man feels shit about his need to pass for his own safety and how it restricts him. He has to act in a certain way, he can't be in community with trans people, he can't date or have sex because if people found out he was trans then everything could come falling down. He's so good at being manipulative and being who people want him to be because he's spent every second since he transitioned trying to be exactly what people want him to be.

Both of them spend so much time acting how people expect men to act in an attempt to keep themselves safer that they have to hide their trans identity, cut off and hide that part of them.

Its why it's important to me that Rametta doesn't hide that shes trans, doesn't hide such an integral part of her identity, and says she will be seen as a woman because she says she is, not by proving it to other people by her actions and 'earning' the right to call herself one.

[qqueenofhades]

The 2025 project seems to reflect that the Republican Party is becoming more and more fascism, but it actually reflects the growing number of extreme nationalists, misogynists, and racists among ordinary Americans. US is a democracy, and politicians rely on votes to stay in power. The fact that the Republicans dare to draft such a project shows that they are confident it will gain significant public support. Politicians aren’t fools; they wouldn’t pursue something that only a small group agrees with while the majority opposes it. The global rightward shift is evident, and though I’m not American, my country is also deteriorating in many ways. Why is this happening? Because the economic base determines the superstructure?and in recent years, the global economy has been in decline?

Mmmm, I'm gonna have to challenge you here.

First of all, it's just flatly not true that there's a "growing number of extreme nationalists, misogynists, and racists among ordinary Americans." That movement has become more vocal and visible in post-2016 America, but there's absolutely no evidence -- and indeed, a lot of evidence to the contrary -- that their numbers are growing instead of shrinking. The Republicans got lucky with Trump's win in 2016 thanks to a combination of decades of anti-Hillary smears, extensive Russian interference/psyops, the anti-democratic Electoral College, and general misplaced complacence that he was never going to win and people didn't need to bother voting for two disliked candidates. They've flatly lost every competitive nationwide election since then -- 2018, 2020, 2022, and very probably 2024. In between, their hand-picked Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade (guaranteeing the right to an abortion in all 50 states) and set off a titanic tidal wave of voter support for abortion rights, even in very dark red states like Kansas and Kentucky (which are not liberal by any stretch of the word). In fact, the Republicans' (flatly false) excuse that they just wanted to "return [abortion rights to the states]" has been unveiled as another lie due to their desperate attempts in this election cycle to ratfuck voter-approved abortion questions off the ballot in Arkansas, Missouri, Florida, and elsewhere. This is a badly losing issue for them, even in deep red states, and they don't want people to vote on it, because they hate democracy. We'll get to that.

Likewise, polls of "culture war" issues like LGBTQ+ rights, abortion rights, immigrants' rights, etc., consistently get much more support among ordinary Americans than not. The ordinary public is becoming more liberal, not less, even in the face of constant aggressive and reactionary attempts to undo the sum total of social and civil rights movements from the 20th century. Republicans' views are getting less popular, not more, and this is also driven by the ongoing demographic change in America. Within a generation or two, whites may be in the statistical minority, and that deeply terrifies people whose entire political and social identity is built on ethnostate white supremacism. The reason Republicans are getting so extreme and antidemocratic now is because the electorate is getting younger and younger, more diverse, more accepting, and less tolerant of their age-old bullshit. As such, there is a very visible window of time outside which the Republicans will not be able to win competitive nationwide elections, even despite all the advantages they're building into the system and have always had. That terrifies them. It is also why they have decided to destroy democracy.

Which leads us into your next assertion that "US is a democracy, and politicians rely on votes to stay in power. The fact that the Republicans dare to draft such a project shows that they are confident it will gain significant public support. Politicians aren’t fools; they wouldn’t pursue something that only a small group agrees with while the majority opposes it." Yes, maybe, in some exceedingly generic logic that doesn't take any account of the actual situation in the US and the fact that the Republicans have made their hatred for democratic free and fair elections very, very clear. This is why Trump pushed the "election fraud" Big Lie in 2020 and sent a mob to attack the Capitol in an attempt to prevent the certification of Biden's win. This is why states controlled by Republicans have frantically enacted as many voter suppression and voter-removal laws as possible and conducted constant purges to get voters (especially the mysteriously missing 1 million Democrats in Florida) off the rolls. This is why they talk approvingly about Trump being "a dictator on day one." This is why they have pursued a decades-long strategy to capture the federal judiciary (by installing extreme right-wing hacks to the bench and then funneling extreme-right legislation into their courts to get a favorable ruling and/or send it to the extreme-right Supreme Court). And on, and on, and on. The Republicans are explicitly aware that their ideas cannot win in a free and fair election, because their ideas are terrible, and as such have been taking massive, ongoing, and coordinated efforts to disenfranchise American voters, expose them to lakes of sordid Russian propaganda/psyops in favor of Trump, double down on the xenophobia and white nationalism to stoke Fear Of The Other, and everything else they possibly can to prevent voters from voting for their opponents. They hate democracy and they are not counting on democratic methods to implement Project 2025. They intend to do it by secretive oligarch methods funded by right-wing billionaire dark money and their Russian friends. That's the whole point.

Indeed, you can see that in the fact that as soon as Project 2025 became widely known and therefore widely hated, the Republicans were thrown into a panicked fluster of disavowing it and insisting that Trump didn't actually know about it (which is a lie, but that's all the day). Because it is electoral kryptonite, they are trying every single method they can to lie to voters long enough to get into power and do it anyway. Authoritarians can often come to power through democratic elections, but once there, they do their utmost to degrade, erode, or otherwise destroy the institutional safeguards that prevent them from keeping power forever. Trump is a literally textbook example of this and he has made his intentions very clear. He flat-out told a group of Republicans at an event earlier this year that "we'll fix it so you won't have to vote again." He already tried a coup and somehow the Republicans nominated him again, because of the deep corruption of the party on every level, but the Republicans are not doing Project 2025 because they think it will organically generate popular support (and they know it doesn't.) It's a blueprint for a tiny group of extreme right-wing theocrats and fascists to get their way regardless of what the broader public says about it, and represents the culmination of decades of far-right power-play strategies related to exploiting economic, racial, social, and cultural grievances. They're doing this now in order to lock in their power before long-term demographic changes make it impossible for them to win another democratic American election. So their solution is to get rid of democratic American elections, the end. This is explicitly a project for permanent minority rule. They know that and that's what's driving their strategic choices here.

As such, essentially saying that the Republicans aren't really fascist, and/or the real problem and/or are just giving an increasingly fascist American population what they want, removes any moral responsibility for their deliberate choices and legitimizes the populist claim to be acting "for the people" instead of a corrupt institutional system. Everyone knows the many, MANY problems with American politics and government; we don't need to go through them again. But even if they were "just giving the people what they want," which as noted above they're not, it still wouldn't make it okay or defensible. To use the obvious example, just because Hitler was popular and democratically elected in 1933 doesn't make what he did right, and the social forces that propelled him to power weren't just a passive "reflection" of The People's Will but were shaped by the larger fascist-curious interwar 1930s. In fact, America also had a burgeoning fascist movement in the 1930s, driven by WWI and Great Depression fallout, but Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal explicitly created extensive government mechanisms to support society, provide new jobs and welfare, and other integrative and restorative economic methods. This crucial difference in approaches -- the New Deal vs. the Nazis -- is why America remained democratic despite the challenges and Germany fell into autocratic genocidal fascism.

This is because populism and dissatisfaction with democracy rises when people feel that the government is not listening to them, is not responsive to their needs, is ignoring them, or otherwise not doing what they want. It is driven by multiple factors, primarily but not only economic, and it is stoked by powerful interest groups who have a vested interest in using the fissures to discredit democratic governments and movements. It is also by no means limited to America, as you note at the end. Think of the decades-long campaign by the British media against the EU, driven by British isolationism and exceptionalism and a sense that the petty bureaucrats in Brussels had no right to be telling the almighty British Empire what to do. This created and stoked existing social grievances which were often domestically caused (since as Margaret Thatcher destroying the British social-welfare state in the 1980s) and turned that grievance against an external opponent who was easier to blame. As such, as we know, it led to the country voting for Brexit in 2016 despite what a whopping, overwhelming, incredible own goal that was and continues to be for the UK, especially economically and socially. It was obviously dependent on many contextual factors from British history, politics, and culture, and there were certainly many people who actually thought it was the right thing to do (and not just about racism, which uh, hmmm), but it's very difficult to think that this organically or naturally came about without a direct and extensive popular-pressure campaign designed to do just that.

People often vote against their own interests because they have been convinced that democracy is corrupt or ineffective or "just as bad" as authoritarianism, which allows illiberal populists to rise to power. These populists often use racial, religious, or cultural grievances, especially against perceived "outsiders," to artificially stoke existing prejudice and justify crackdowns and/or consolidations of their own personal power and destruction of institutional systems and safeguards meant to stop them from doing that. That's how we got Erdogan in Turkey, Bolsonaro in Brazil, Orban in Hungary, and Trump in the US. Other authoritarian movements around the world are also driven implicitly or explicitly by the massive autocratic and antidemocratic global influence disinformation machine headed by Putin in Russia. As such, it's not accurate to insist that this just represents a simple passive "rightward shift" among the global population overall. It is happening because it has been designed and manipulated and pressed into happening. It can still be electorally resisted, which is also the most effective strategy for removing authoritarians, but if we fail to vote out Trump once and for all in 2024, it will be MUCH harder and much more deadly.

Overall, to simplistically claim that the Republican party is just giving the increasingly fascist Americans what they want and expect it to derive broad popular support is, as I have demonstrated above, a diametrically backward conception of the problem. The Republicans are deliberately and increasingly fascist because they realize that very soon, if allowed to continue operating in its accustomed fashion, the American democratic system and American public opinion is going to make them obsolete. They're racing the clock to cement permanent super-minority rule, and to change the rules overall, before America's shifting demographic composition and ideological mindset locks them out. That is why they are throwing so much misinformation, fearmongering, lies, Russian propaganda, and everything else that they can think of at this election, to get Trump and loyal Project 2025 footsoldier Vance into the door before the door slams shut for a long time. That is why this election is so fucking existentially important and why it is so crucial to accurately conceptualize and describe the problem, what it is, and how to respond to it. As such, while I otherwise don't do this much anymore because I no longer have the desire to argue with the people who are likewise brainwashed in the opposite direction and insist it's a Pure Leftist Moral Duty not to vote against fascist authoritarianism (as, uh, also happened with the fragmented and infighting German left-wing opposition in 1932 and good thing nothing bad happened next):

The end.

[queer-cosette]

Actually I've come to a realisation (most of you will probably have hit this one already, I might just be slow at saying it) as to why Varian was sent to jail for committing treason while Cassandra was allowed to go free without any sort of real consequence despite arguably committing much worse treason and making several more attempts at murdering Rapunzel than Varian ever did.

Varian was sent to prison because... it wasn't Rapunzel's call. It was King Frederic's call. And it's established right off the bat that Frederic is known for coming down very hard against criminals especially when they strike at his family because he's traumatised and paranoid as a result of his infant daughter being literally kidnapped and held captive for eighteen years. I'm not saying it's a fair system... but it's pretty understandable.

Rapunzel on the other hand... holds a lot more empathy to those on the wrong side of the law. Eugene, the love of her life, was the most wanted criminal in the kingdom when they met. The Snuggly Duckling thugs are extremely loyal to her partly because it's her influence with the king that has kept them out of jail for past misdemeanours. Rapunzel couldn't even bring herself to fully hate Mother Gothel, who abducted her, kept her prisoner, and abused her psychologically, because Mother Gothel was the only 'family' she knew for virtually the first eighteen years of her life.

Actually, it's thanks to Mother Gothel that Rapunzel never blames Cassandra for betraying her, even when Cassandra leaves her to die in the mines beneath Gothel's old cottage. Rapunzel recognises that Cassandra isn't just trying to kill her for kicks - she's another victim of Gothel's abuse, and that abuse has led her to blame Rapunzel for 'stealing' Gothel's love because she can't accept the truth that her mother simply never loved her at all. And by the time Cassandra is no longer power-crazed and covered in impenetrable stone armour, Rapunzel is the one making the calls. She's still the acting queen at the end of the series because her parents still haven't fully recovered their memories.

Frederic's approach to preventing crime was to make sure that if you'd committed one crime, you would never have the chance to commit another - because you'd be in a jail cell. Rapunzel's approach to preventing crime was to find the reason you'd been driven to crime and work on fixing that, so you wouldn't need to commit another.

And that's why Cassandra didn't face the same consequences for treason that Varian did.

[fallindomino]

thinking about the way they adapted kaz’s trauma and didn’t touch inej’s makes me mad. it’s def not a big revelation or anyth but i just wanted to rant abt the idea of “safe” trauma vs “dangerous” trauma, in hollywood’s eyes.

kaz’s backstory, written in simplest terms, is that he and his brother moved to the city as kids after their parents died and got conned out of all their money by a crime boss. soon after plague comes to the city, which kills his brother and brings him as close to death’s door as one gets, leading to them both being thrown out on the barge boats. kaz is too weak to wait for the bodymen to come back, so he is forced to use the dead corpse of his brother as a paddle board to make it back to shore.

and then inej’s is that she slept in for five minutes that one time and was kidnapped and sold to the menagerie by slavers.

i’m not trying to compare the impacts of their trauma on them, they’re equally traumatized imo. but one trauma is easier for hollywood to adapt because to do the other would be polarizing and they’re probably scared to.

but for me this also raises another question about kaz’s trauma, assuming they keep exploring it in a soc spinoff, if it happens. another important aspect of his trauma that does make it different from inej’s is choice. it’s actually the one aspect of his crooked kingdom development they didn’t touch, which gives me some hope it might be used well but idk. in crooked kingdom this idea of an honest man is explored, “who’s the one mark you couldn’t fleece” yk. in (book) pekka’s final confrontation w kaz he even says it, how jordie was a fool and if he hadn’t been trying to cheat to get ahead they never would have been in a position to get conned. did pekka still prey on a child? abso-fucking-lutely, but this idea that jordie fucked up, that by believing he could be smarter than the system he doomed both kaz and himself, is something kaz also has to come to accept.

its something that all the crows’ traumas have in common in the books that make them resonate, and idk if it’s gonna come across as well in the series, that the system failed them all. kaz and jordie, orphans, left with no one to help them make their way. inej, objectified and dehumanized by both men and a fellow woman. jesper, who had unintentionally been raised to be so afraid of who he is that he developed a gambling addiction to cope with and hide it. wylan, who lives in a world where there apparently is no word for dyslexia, stuck with a father who defined his worth as a human being by his “flaw” and never any of his talents, a father who was powerful enough to take lives, including making an attempt on wylan’s own. nina, who was forced into training for the army too young by a war, and then so desperate to please that she jumps into the field, too young, during the reconstruction period, and gets captured. matthias, who was raised on hate after he became vulnerable when his whole family was killed in a grisha raid, to become prejudiced against the entire group of people those responsible belonged to.

well, we’ll always have the books, and i’m in the process of making peace with the fact that this au version of sab and soc is what we’re getting. between the ways trauma is often handled in hollywood, and the differences in attitudes between book writers and screen writers, it kind of makes sense that this is where we are. the cast did a stellar job, no doubt about that, but in a different universe (an au, one might say), we got an adaptation that was faithful to all of the crows’ traumas

[rappaccini]

do you ever think about how in 1970 on earth 616 gwen stacy and hobie brown first meet when he blasts through her living room window in a spider-man costume.

do you ever think about how gwen nearly escapes her narrative as the doomed good girlfriend by fleeing to london and the event that gets her on the plane is hobie standing guard outside her apartment in his prowler costume because he's worried spider-man will get her killed, and how that's hobie's first attempt at escaping his narrative as a reluctant villain. do you ever think about how he's right, because when gwen's ultimately drawn back to new york, she's murdered a few months later and it's arguably spider-man's fault.

do you ever think about how on earth 138, the world where hobie's anger at systemic inequality is validated as his parallels to peter parker are finally expanded into making him the spider-man, gwen stacy, rock icon, is hobie's idol whose music gave him a creative outlet for his anger, the language to articulate it and a community to support and be supported by, (whose murder probably radicalized him even further) and therefore is arguably the architect of the revolution he starts

do you ever think about how on earth 65, the world where gwen's anger at being denied respect and agency is validated as her white feminist tendencies are called out and deconstructed, gwen's radicalization arc begins with hobie blasting her in the face with spray paint and calling her on her girlboss bullshit (which she accepts and commits to fixing), and ends with hobie having quietly watched her redemption for a year and concluding that she's grown and changed into such a genuine hero that he decides to memorialize her

do you ever think about how in the worlds where they get to be the heroes, where hobie keeps the costume instead of borrowing it and it's his from the start, where gwen gets a life defined by herself and not her boyfriend, their alter egos' ideologies are shaped by their worlds' versions of each other and if not for having met each other they might never have become heroes at all

do you ever think about how as soon as spider-gwen and spider-hobie became aware of each other's existence they became fast friends in web warriors and hobie starts treating gwen like a peer instead of a love interest within one issue instead of years of publication like miles and peter, they were stuck to each other like glue during the battle in spidergeddon and were flirting in the corner of spider-brit's funeral, promising to be there for each other, and then they never met again

do you ever think about how gwen-65 and hobie-138 have both been informed by powerful multiversal beings that they're doomed to fates they'd both hate, but he's doomed to die young and have his memory disrespected posthumously by capitalists and she's doomed to live long after losing everything that makes her who she is for a life as spider-man's wife and babymaker, and they've both fully internalized their fates given how hobie doesn't care about his own self-preservation and gwen's coming untethered from her world and being pressured into 616, the home of the guy she's going to be forced into a romance with if she's there long enough. they can be heroes, but only for so long before something stops them, and their legacies will undo everything they stood for.

do you ever think about how in atsv, which came out exactly fifty years after the night gwen stacy died, gwen stacy and hobie brown are the closest they've ever been in any canon yet, so close that they may not be a couple but they have a shitload of chemistry and just mentioning each other makes gwen's love interest sweat, that they built that relationship in london and their bond is what sets gwen free from the spider-society, makes it possible to rebuild her personal life, return to her homeworld where she's the main character of her own story, and escape her narrative but in btsv gwen will almost inevitably give in to her role of Miles's Love Interest by the end and he will be expected to cheerlead them

do you ever think about how in every other universe where gwen and hobie have a significant interaction, every single time they get closer and closer to permanently changing their narratives for the better as they get closer and closer to each other. idk man i do.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I keep regurgitating my OC in your askbox but you must know that Ansi is a liar, a swindler, and a thief (because it's fun pulling on over on the rich). She is actively swindling all of her coworkers out of their money via phishing emails or just giving a sob story to those who are particularly generous with their funds. (Don't feel bad they're all selfish, entitled, and egotistical. The Alchemax of her world is mostly just rich people who think that they understand science kinda like someone we know irl cougheloncough. They have too much time on their hands and too many friends in power. Ethics laws are pretty much meaningless. They only give her money to make themselves look better. They make a big stink about how they're making a change for their community and blah blah blah. Anyways.) If she doesn't need the cash she'll most likely donate it.

What's really funny is that she attempted to do the same as soon as she arrived at HQ. Much to Miguel's dismay. She got some of the spiders who live in an older dimension. Unfortunately after a while Lyla had to teach them about internet safety.

Ansi ended up scoping the place out to see what she could steal to sell for parts back in her home world since her scams were no longer effective. However she was so mesmerized by all of the tech there that she ended up keeping most of her stolen goods for herself to tinker with. Her and Hobie usually find themselves in the same areas snatching stuff and exchanging potential ideas for what to do with the parts. Disco has caught them a number of times with their pockets stuffed to the brim sounding like they got pockets full of loose change before they just pop back into their respective dimensions.

(Who am I kidding Hobie probably stays and denies everything when asked. Ansi is too tired to lie from lugging her loot around so she just goes straight home.)

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

It would turn into like a whole operation cause game recognize game!!!! Disco would respect Ansi so much cause black spider-women gotta stick together and she lets Ansi get away with anything, sets aside parts for her cause she's like 'hell yeah fuck miguel he doesn't need it'

but with Hobie she's the OPPOSITE.

Ansi's like 'yeah Discos cool with it ur fine' then one day she catches him and he's thinking 'oh it's the groupie girl i wink and im outta here'

until Disco is like

"Is that Hobie Brown??? Is HOBIE BROWN over here STEALING???? That's crazy!"

Because Disco runs game in her own way and up until that very moment she was playing the airhead groupie card

Hobies like "????Surely ur taking the piss"

And she's like "You know what'd be crazy?? Me not having to pay cover at your show this weekend, rightttt? You know what'd be even crazier..me being VIP, rigghhttt?

cause for the first couple weeks of knowing her she let him get away with the wink and flirt thing cause she thought it was funny. but she works in a nightclub back home and she's NOT about to play that

Disco was raised by the Panthers so she knows how to collect and trade information like an informat. So she trades info and other stuff around HQ ALL the time.

She's the plug for anything - if you wanna hack ur watch she dont know how to do it but she knows someone he does, if u need to get into lylas systems for any reason she wont do that but she knows someone who will

but she doesnt accept cash cause she doesn't need it and she doesn't 'get into no mess'

(And this may sound unhinged but this is my favorite one jgkbdknbg)

My main HC is that the first time she does it to get into a show free but the next time she asks for his guitar pick cause she just wants it

she starts wearing it (which Jess HATES) but suddenly she realizes theres a couple girlies on campus telling her they'd do anything for one of Hobie's picks and then suddenly she's asking him for more

She starts giving groupies picks and getting information from every department and then like two weeks later the hobie brown fanclub is just a full on info network

Working with Jess and the club she collects all the underground info and shares the information with Hobie ON THE CONDITION that the club gets free entry into shows and he keeps giving her goddamn guitar picks

He'd try to get around it and be like "Diane, love - you're looking fit today :)) about that meeting with Jess and Miguel you were in-"

and she's just like "uh-huh-

"Where's the pick? And don't say you ain't got it on you, I know you do." Cause one thing about Diane is you ain't playing her. And Hobie goes along with it because 1) Disco is actually really trustworthy, 2) it's damn good info about the society, and 3) he thinks it REALLY funny to see people walking around campus trading and collecting his picks for the sole fact it pisses Miguel off SO MUCH.

Suddenly people are talking in meetings and whispering about guitar picks and trying to get their hands on rare, unique ones cause Hobie etches his logo into every one

and one day Ansi's hanging with Hobie and Disco comes up to him and is like 'Pick, please'. And Ansi watches as he hands it over and she's like "?????? What's happening here"

I have to PHYSICALLY STOP MYSELF HERE I CAN GO ON AND ON IM SORRY THIS IS SOOOOO LONG BUT PLEASE!!! I love this please send more!! I love hearing about Ansi and Hobie and causing havok and an underground rebellion in the Society!!! And sorry I got so carried away I just love this idea, you can send any you have, I'm down! They would all get along so well lol

[mr-president]

I really like your take on Levi, and now I wanna hear what was your Marxist critique on Levi.

Levi being transfem is interesting, though I can't really detach from Levi being tranmasc because the brainrot said so. I am aware there are trans men who also crossdress so it would seem like an interesting idea to have Levi dress in a feminine manner (probably courtesy of Marina) as a way as to not only distant himself from his past but also help him understand that he doesn't need to conform to society's standard of what a man should be. Wouldn't be surprised he initially accepted conscription because he tried to live up to that standard.

transmasc levi is a perfectly valid interpretation as well! if a character speaks to you in some way that makes you connect deeper w them, then kudos rock n roll my dude :3

anyway, k so basically the Marxist critique was like “levi’s suffering as a child soldier is somewhat presented as a depressing, unchanging ‘fact’ of reality is kind of disingenuous and peddles the harmful idea that everything awful in this world is ultimately unchangeable, and any attempts to change it is ultimately pointless.

‘because the funger world has the old gods who (though they have supposedly left) hold ultimate dominion over every event, then everything levi and to an extent all characters suffer is merely a machination of their existence. because the old gods exist, there is a sort of “reason,” the series posits.

‘and yeah, this is somewhat true to our reality because the systems that govern our world are quite intricate, vast, and unknowable—like a god beyond our comprehension— but it’s just that, a system, not a rule like the old gods of funger.

‘basically, Funger does this thing that i hate with most series where deeply bad shit happens and says “well, that’s just the way things are” to some extent—most attempts by people to break out of the cycle just repeat it once more, as per design.

‘levi—and every character’s suffering—may be resolved on an individual level (as they are in my interpretations bc i’m a whiny pissbaby who likes happy endings), but that still doesn’t really aid in addressing the root issue, does it? because that “root issue” is often ultimately presented as a result of otherworldly influences, beyond comprehension.

‘another Marxist critique is how the narratives of history have been ritualized, the world is ultimately controlled by the “Great Men” of history who decide how the next century should proceed. that’s literally how the New Gods operate, and though it’s mostly to emphasize how history continues to repeat itself, Funger doesn’t really acknowledge how humans have made real change. not through some kind of “great man” who was just Better than every other Guy around to cause any sort of change but

‘in a sense (and a potential counterpoint to my critique), you can interpret the ending A of Termina as a Marxist revolution—a collective movement of the people to unite as one and overturn the previous regime. the characters who get absorbed into Logic describe the process as something warm, like sleep, as they become something infinitesimally greater than themselves. the events of the festival can be metaphorically interpreted as a set of workers being pushed to their breaking point—individuals who have been largely cast out of their society and isolated from their work who now have “nothing to lose but your chains.” but i’d have to see where Mr. Haverinen takes Logic bc this interpretation is already super shoe-horny.”

But I didn’t go with this “opinion” mainly bc it doesn’t really address Levi too much and also bc I don’t really like presenting this opinion as something holistic. Like, this isn’t how the Funger-franchise is meant to be interpreted, and it’s point of view on suffering is less of a critique on class, power structures, the narrative of history, etc and more a reflection on a basic human condition: life sucks. Sometimes, you can’t do anything about it, but you persevere anyway. Here’s how you can use it for the better. But ultimately, this shit sucks, and sometimes that’s just the way it is.

It’s less concerned with solving problems and more focused on sympathy, suffering as empowerment, learning from it, that kind of thing. And I’m okay with just interpreting it as that bc that still is meaningful in its own way, and I think you get the most meaning out of a work of you view it from the perspective of how it’s meant to be interpreted.

Not to say that critiques or different POVs are completely irrelevant—the contrary actually. They reveal the deeper complexities abt the work or provide a fun reinterpretation for the sake of it. But ultimately, I didn’t think I’d be giving a genuine analysis if I analyzed Levi with this heuristic.

tldr; not everything needs to be disco elysium, unfortunately

[bonefall]

Out of curiosity, what would a Warrior Cats human au be like?

I’ve seen many interpretations of it and the most common one seems to be set in the past with the clans having a bit of a tribe-like life style. So far these are the legible ones. I can think of.

1. They are set as tribe-like groups in the past. Evidence: their “clan” ways of life, naming ceremonies and religion. Also, hunting, group / clan importance and etc.

2. They are set as modern humans in 1900s England. Evidence: location of clans and timeline.

3. They are set in England, around the 1500s. Evidence: the extreme importance of religion, xenophobic beliefs, superiority complex, battles and the occasional attempt to force outsiders to accept their ways of life as “superior”. That and Pinestar’s crusade could be an attempt at colonialism.

My absolute favorite take on a Warrior Cats Anthro-type AU is the stuff done by FortunataFox over on Furaffinity/Twitter/DA. She's heavily inspired by Redwall (a series I have not read) and her style reminds me a lot of Don Bluth's work, particularly in Secret of NIMH.

I can't recommend checking that out enough; her work is very inspiring to all of my takes on Warrior Cats, even non-anthro types.

As a side note I also just... don't like looking at human faces very much? Nor do I like drawing them or thinking about them. So Anonnie, I gotta be honest with you, I probably would not make a "Human" AU fdgfsdgdf You're gonna get anthro from me

If I did an anthro AU, it would be soft fantasy. A couple of small magic powers, some unique animal species. It would also look a lot more like manoralism than decentralized 'tribal' societies... though I'm iffy on the idea of really calling them 'tribe-like' because the phrase gets my goat--

Lemmie comment point-by-point

Tribe-Like Society" is a phrase that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The Zulu Kingdom and the Haudenosaunee Confederacy couldn't possibly be more different from a social perspective, yet they're both described as "tribal societies" because Colonialism... ANYWAY, not trying to get too into it, it's a really vague phrase that invokes stereotypes I don't hate the word Tribe itself but there is no 'tribe-like society', you get me? Indigenous societies are just as (if not more) varied than colonial ones but they tend to get boiled down to "tribe-like society". The term inherently crunches social groups down to an aesthetic-- something I try to avoid in worldbuilding. I heavily consider the territory and how that would shape their lives, then add a very strong cultural value for land stewardship, and work outwards from there, instead of starting with 'nature connection' and working backwards. Does that make any sense?

2. 1900s England Nah, I wouldn't be fond of that one. That would mean these cats have Capitalism, and I just can't imagine the Clans existing the way they currently do if they were under that economic system... at least, not the way that I really enjoy the Clans.

I like reading stuff where the fandom draws out their cultural practices, and the bonds and politics between the cats in the social groups. It would be a very different story if it was just post-industrial England, and there were like... factories, roads, work hours, employers, and... OH GOD what the HELL would the World Wars be for Warrior Humans??

ABORT MISSION BACKSPACE BACKSPACE BACKSPACE

3. 1500s England

I think this would also be a bit too far ahead. The absolute latest time period I'd look at for inspiration is Early Medieval England (5th to 11th centuries). The Clans are four/five distinct fiefdoms without a king that unites them, a city-state at the highest possible population.

When there isn't emphasis on the different groups, it stops feeling like Warriors to me, you know?

(side note; Crusade was the closest word I could find for Oakstar's campaigns, a pointless religious war of appeasement, they aren't exactly like the actual crusades which started in the late 11th century. After all-- I just look at history as inspiration, not to copy or make 1:1 recreations)

[bluemoonball]

Another November 2024 Post

I've little doubt that this will be remembered as one of the greatest self-humiliations that any country has ever engaged in. Nevertheless, there is a great deal of ruin in a nation, so we move on. We don't have a choice, you know.

There are at least three kinds of excusable motives for people. One is just being dumb as shit, and there's plenty of those. That's "he'll make the economy better" and so on. This is excusable inasmuch as it's driven by an entirely appropriate ignorance. Most people are dumb as shit, and that's not their fault; it's nothing immoral or sinful. In this system, people are supposed to be presented with two reasonable choices: go on as is, or do something else. This is precisely to account for people being morons; even morons are well equipped to decide if they like what's been happening or not. Morons who exert this basic form of democratic accountability are doing their job and can't be blamed. I think this is probably most voters on either side, and certainly most of those who swung. And really it's the party's fault for putting up an unacceptable, addled wannabe-dictator as the alternative.

The second kind of error is some kind of passionate principle or narrow interest. People who love money and hate regulation, or believe abortion is the greatest sin, or seek to punish the guy who tepidly supported Israel in its bombing. This is an error of principles. These principles are subjective, and while it's a poor idea to put them above the elementary social compact, most everyone has something they'd put above that compact--their family, their own skin, whatever. On some level, we ought to be humble enough to accept their choice of principle.

The third possibility is accelerationism. There are those who believe that the system is so broken that someone needs to smash it fully. They accept that this man is not only a piece of shit scumbag, but also incompetent and incontinent, but this is the tool they have. Arguably, some would say, only a person this warped and shriveled, this empty and cheap, this totally void, could do so. I think there's something to this view, and it is held by some intelligent people. This one is very excusable in some sense: I think the system we have is imperfect but very good and should be sustained (that is, I'm a conservative); they think it needs to be torn down in order to make progress (that is, they are progressive); and that's an instinct I can sympathize with.

By contrast, what I don't excuse is the plain old narrow sadism of trolls. One may feel resentment, one may genuinely be wronged, but to respond to it by giving in to your sadistic nature? That's the behavior of a villain, of Richard III. At its core is unformedness, immaturity, raw and tender self-obsession—"His Majesty, the baby." I also don't excuse delusion, which surely is a lot of it as well; Qanon or whatever. There's nothing to excuse when you're orthogonal to reality.

No doubt these factors are all mixed up in people, in reality, and so it would be more generous to excuse the majority in general. And so I will. But to understand and even excuse them means only not to blame them. It doesn't mean to shield them from the consequences of their actions, or to behave as though we're common citizens and need to row together now. We are not. They've made a category error. In each case, they have consciously or unconsciously, knowingly or unknowingly, made a value judgment that the fundament, the cornerstone, the centerpiece of our society—the principle imperfectly reflected in our Constitution, that power belongs to the people and so when the king loses, they leave—is less important to them than something else.

To my mind, this was clear enough the first time, but after January 6th, it's unconcealable. It shouts to the heavens. It's the Emperor's new clothes. To disregard what was done and what worse was attempted that day, well, that's their choice to make. But the response to that can no longer be persuasion, offers, and bargaining. The response to a fundamental irreconcilable difference is divorce, it's secession, it's annulment, it's contract-breaking, it's war.

At best, we are, unfortunately, cast in the role of a parent to a child. A wayward and obstreperous child who wants candy and wants his stomach to stop hurting and to stay up late playing video games all at once. We've tried to shield them from the consequences humanely, while being beset by a million other problems, as an adult is; of course it wasn't perfect, had many failings, but all in all it was a creditable adult effort, and it's been rewarded with another tantrum.

What is the response? It can only be to let the consequences hit. If amelioration doesn't work, the next move is our own accelerationism. The tat of the tit-for-tat has to come out of the sack, and this time we should do what we can to push it along. We don't need to take any joy in this, and probably shouldn't, but if they insist on eating candy despite being warned that they'll shit their guts out, then the thing to do is to hand over the candy and a bucket and leave the room.

Give it to them good. Let them have what they asked for, as hard as they asked for it, or harder. Innocent people will be caught up in the crossfire and that is unfortunate, but that is why war is bad.

With malice towards none is always a sound principle. With charity towards all is a good one that will have to wait. No charity, no succor, no aid, no sympathy other than in private; no bandages, no insurance, no safety, no sanctuary. No mercy. Let 'em all hang; I'll see them in four years, and we'll all see how they've reaped in that time.

[local-queer-classicist]

I need more people to know that my little brother (6'1", 20-something, but still little in my heart) is the best fucking dude ever. Just an amazing little guy. He listens and empathizes with people and meets them where they’re at and accommodates people’s needs and he’s so nonjudgmental and he’s studying sustainable economic development to help make the world both greener and more equitable through the power of calculus or something and he’s by far the most accepting family member I have and he’s just such a good bean and I love him so much.

Storytime to support this characterization of him as “good bean”:

So I recently adopted a nickname (for trans reasons), and I let the family (sans dad because I’m a coward) know about it. I specified that I didn’t really expect any of them to use it, just wanted them to know that that was a nickname that might be in circulation among friends so they wouldn’t be confused if it came up with other people. It didn’t go great. My mom specifically hates the name I chose because it’s a “boy name” (no shit lol) among other reasons and has done nothing but suggest alternatives that she personally likes better (and express offense that I didn’t include her in the name selection process from the beginning because she knows some trans people do that and thus feels wronged that I didn’t), my sister isn’t really talking to me now (she literally just chose a name for her upcoming baby, so the timing is a bit unfortunate since the idea that I wouldn’t love the name my mother chose for me at birth is a bit touchy for her right now; I’m sure she’ll come around when she’s had time to process…probably), but my brother. My brother, everyone.

He texted me, privately, within minutes, to let me know how much he loves me and supports me and then sent me a screenshot of my new name in his phone. Just. Guys. I’m tearing up just thinking about it.

I know that that’s like bare-minimum behavior in more supportive environments, but it’s such a rarity around here. We didn’t grow up like that, and that’s why I love that that was his immediate response, because I recognize that he had to put in work on his own to blossom into someone who responds that way, and I love that he took the time to do that because he wants to be better than the values we were raised with and learning to listen and be kind and support people’s attempts to be happy was something that he saw as worth the effort to do. Does that make sense? I hope that made sense.

Idk I just really felt like gushing for a second about my brother. I just have so much faith in him as a person to succeed and put so, so much good back into the world and I love that for him. He was also kind of a menace back in the day, so this doubles as a story of successful character growth. You, too, could grow up to find that your gremlin siblings have become chad support systems. Be inspired or something idk.

[maddgical-boy]

THE CHILDREN EVER ^^ <3

i will tell you abt mystic para but you better tell me about hollister too, infodump for infodump!

sorry if this is quite long, i tried to condense it as best i could but i have chronic Can't Condense Things Into Summaries disease. tw for abuse mentions below, it's kinda dark but i made it very short and vague

firstly i have to tell you a bit of ✨ legends of tomorrow lore ✨ bc idk if you've ever seen the show

around season 6 one of the main characters, john constantine, loses his magic (he's a warlock of the occult) and decides to seek out the fountain of imperium, a fountain that is said to give the drinker god-like magic powers. it is a gift to earth from aliens and reappears at different places at different moments in time. one of the other main characters, spooner cruz, has the ability to sense aliens due to having been in contact with the fountain before. that's all the canon stuff. and of course, i've added in my paraself into this world, there's some very complicated lore but all you need to know is that their name is vinny fitzsimmons and he too is a teenager like aforementioned para.

in my paracosm, after failing to use the fountain in spain 1939, john is still in denial that he isn't "worthy" of it and makes the legends track it to a town in california 1960, where they discover a mystery regarding a woman named elodie batterman. everyone in the town claims to have been attacked by her at the same time in their homes. when they came to, they searched the town for her but couldn't find her or her son jessop (who is our aforementioned para :)).

the legends aim to solve this after finding the fountain and getting john's magic back, but think that there's more to the story, especially because elodie is a single mother who adopted a non-white child and probably faced Some Shit from her community.

spooner is able to lead the team to elodie's home and feels a strong alien presence in the basement, which turns out to be jessop hiding out down there. it turns out that the fountain of imperium appeared in his backyard garden, and it gave him hallucination inducement powers. at this time he was only able to induce hallucinations of things he personally feared.

it also turns out that while elodie never attacked any of the townspeople, she was physically abusive towards jessop, and soon after he got his powers, she attempted to hurt him. he grabbed her arm and induced a hallucination in her (one of a similar situation in which she was hurting him) so powerful that it made her head explode and send a wave of the hallucination across the whole town, causing the townspeople to think they had been attacked by her.

john is still unable to use the fountain, at which point he proceeds as canon and begins using the vials of magic. however, since the legends are already well equipped to take in a random child (they have vinny and his,,, mitosis-adjacent clone-esque twin cicero), they accept jessop into the legends to teach him to use his powers and to give him a better family.

fun facts about jessop:

he collects ball-jointed dolls, they are a special interest of his (he's autistic)

his eyes and hands glow white when he's using his powers. over time he learns how to create more positive hallucinations, which can help because sometimes his powers can backfire onto himself

he uses 60s slang sometimes (except "groovy" i can't stand that word and will NEVER have a para say it regularly ever), but is generally more formal

he doesn't use the last name "batterman" even though technically it's his legal last name. instead, he uses "jiang" (i suppose to be the most historically accurate, it would be "chiang" since people mostly used wade-giles instead of pinyin overseas until i think 1979, but clunky ass wade-giles is my most hated romanization system) because it is all he knows about his birth parents (other than that they are dead. lots of people die in this universe it's very sad)

his favorite food is cheerios, he eats them like they're popcorn

he loves deep pressure sensory input (firm hugs/squeezes, thick sweaters, weighted blankets)

anyway now that i've told you about my para i'd love to hear about yours! yay :>

ooh you have a para with emmy deoliveira as a face claim? i have a para with a face claim (mystic inscho) from a source she's in (tmbs)! i didn't know we had that in common so that's pretty cool :> — @ssmadd

:000 YOOOOO!!! That’s so cool omg… TMBS is where I found Emmy deoliviera!! For the first half of the paracosm Hollister didn’t really have a set faceclaim because of Reasons and then I watched it and was like. “Ong it’s her,,,”

the children…

please please please tell me more about mystic inscho para I would love to hear the infodump 👀

[eliemo]

Snake Bite

Summary: Janus hadn’t meant to lash out. He’d just felt too much like a cornered animal, and now they all had an excuse to cast him out as the villain once again. 

Specifically tagging @anothersanderssidesblog and @wyvern-tales

Based on This Wonderful Post

TW: Panic attack, brief mention of blood, sympathetic everyone

At this point, Janus wasn’t even sure what was being said anymore. 

He knew everyone was yelling over each other, and he knew the anger and insults were all directed at him, but right now he didn’t think he could focus on the words even if he wanted to. 

And he supposed, if it weren’t for the weight on his chest and the pressure building behind his eyes, his sudden lack of awareness would be a blessing. 

He just wanted to go to bed. It had been a bad week, one inconvenience piling up after another, and he was certain if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to snap and say something he would regret. 

But Roman was still ranting, arms waving as he paced Thomas’s living room, and Janus knew leaving now would only make things worse. He’d let the Prince get it all out of his system, smile like it didn’t matter, and sink out until everyone calmed down. 

He understood why Roman was angry, and perhaps some of it was well deserved, but the tirade of shouting seemed entirely unnecessary. 

Sure, maybe Janus shouldn’t have disguised himself as Roman after Thomas had summoned his sides for help, especially since he’d begrudgingly agreed not to shape shift since his name reveal, but today there hadn’t been a choice. 

No one would have listened if he’d come as himself. Everyone was still wary around him, and they all seemed extra suspicious around him this week. He knew it was because he’d been a little short with all of them lately, but it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been able to get a full nights sleep in weeks. 

He’d been waking up every morning even more tired than he’d been when he’d gone to bed, limbs aching and heavy, and by the time he found the strength to force himself out of bed everyone had already been finished with breakfast, which ruled out any chance of friendly conversation or “bonding” as Patton so lovingly called it. 

Not that he cared. He had absolutely no intention of sitting down for their little family meals, no matter what the nagging voice in the back of his head said. 

Besides, he wouldn’t have been wanted anyway. Every time he so much as breathed Virgil would act like he’d just tried to set the house on fire, and Roman didn’t even try to hide his glares. 

Logan just seemed uneasy, and Patton’s attempts to be friendly were so glaringly obvious and fake. 

When Remus made his appearances, at least everything was honest and out in the open. Nothing could offend Remus, and besides filling Thomas’s head with less than ideal thoughts at night he didn’t really mean any harm. 

Things were different with Janus, and he knew they always would be. 

So, it wasn’t completely unreasonable that Janus was beyond tired and frustrated, and he knew Thomas was too thanks to his demanding schedule. 

He needed a break, and Janus was determined to get him to see that. If he called off a few meetings, they could easily have the rest of the week off to recharge and Janus could figure out how to pull himself together. 

But Thomas would never agree to a break unless his anxiety allowed it. And it didn’t matter if Janus was correct, Virgil would be caught dead before agreeing with one of Deceit's suggestions. 

Virgil and Roman seemed to bond over their mutual hatred of him, so in a last ditch effort, Janus had disguised himself as the Prince and risen up with the others. 

He hadn't meant any harm, and it had been going so well. Roman was distracted somewhere in the Imagination, and once he’d gotten Logan to see the logic in taking a few days off Virgil had almost immediately jumped on board. 

And then of course Roman had returned just as they were wrapping up, the living room falling into silence as the two Princes stared each other down, and everything erupted into chaos. 

Janus revealed himself, despite everyone already knowing what he’d done. He’d heard Roman shout a few things like “Villain!” and “Lying fiend” and the surprisingly hurtful “Why did we even give him a chance?” before he promptly lost the ability to make sense of anything happening around him. 

He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling to avoid having to see everyone’s stares (not to stop himself from crying, because he was not about to cry. He was used to being villainized, he didn’t care), and waited for someone to call Roman off. 

But no one did, and suddenly Roman was right in front of him, jabbing a finger in his face, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath.

“You’re not even listening!” Roman shouted. “He’s not listening! What else have you been doing behind our backs you snake-faced lia--” 

Janus didn’t even realize he was moving until his fangs were suddenly in Roman’s hand, fingers wrapped tight around Roman’s wrist, and he felt the Prince go completely still as Janus’s teeth sank into his skin. 

It all happened so fast, Janus’s mind a frantic, racing blur as he pulled away, feeling horribly like a cornered, wild animal. 

He had exactly two seconds to process what he’d done and collect his scrambled thoughts in the sudden, deafening silence before Roman seemed to realize what had just happened. 

“He bit me!” 

Patton was taking a step forward, and Janus backed away until he was pressed against the wall, wincing when he realized he could faintly taste something coppery in his mouth. 

“Kiddo, try and relax,” Patton said, a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was just--” 

“What, an accident?” Roman demanded. “Patton, he bit me! Like- like some kind of snake-faced demon! Pat, I’m bleeding!” 

He was barely bleeding, the bite nothing more than two little pinpricks, and if Janus could find his voice he would have pointed out that Roman was behaving like an overactive toddler. 

But he couldn’t. Because he’d been trying so hard to make progress with the others, to be seen as anything other than a lying villain, and one bad day had just undone all of that, completely erasing any chance he might have had. 

Because as small as it was, he’d just hurt Roman. In front of everyone. In front of Thomas. 

He watched as Logan took the initiative, hurrying to Thomas’s side and guiding him over to the couch. 

Thomas looked pale and panicked, which meant that all the commotion was probably making Virgil—

Virgil. Janus couldn’t even bring himself to look at the stairs, painfully aware he’d just see horror and disgust...and maybe a bit of satisfaction. The anxious side had probably been looking for an excuse to send Janus away. 

“I’m going to die!” 

Janus was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by a very loud, very distraught Roman who was diligently ignoring Patton’s frantic attempts to calm him down. 

“I find that highly unlikely,” Logan spoke up. “While the reaction was completely unnecessary, the likelihood of Janus being venomous is--” 

“Was this your plan all along?” Roman yelled, and suddenly his sword was in his uninjured  hand. “To wait until our guards were down and then poison us?” 

Janus felt numb. “I did not poison you--” 

“How can I believe anything you say? You were just masquerading around pretending to be me trying to ruin Thomas’s career!” 

“I’m not trying to ruin anything!” Janus couldn’t keep himself from snapping back, feeling abruptly trapped and suffocated. He needed to get out. “I’m doing my job. I’m trying to help. Thomas needs a break- we all need a break!”

“You don’t help Thomas,” Roman snarled, letting Patton pry the sword out of his grip, his bleeding hand held against his chest. “All you do is bring him down! All you do is try to hurt him!” 

“Funny,” Janus snapped, well aware of how much power his next words held. “I remember you saying the exact same thing to--”

Patton was suddenly beside him, resting a gentle hand on Janus’s arm, and Deceit felt like he’d been electrocuted. “Kiddo--” 

“Don’t touch me!” 

Janus yanked his arm away, frantically scrambling away from the wall and nearly colliding right into the television. The room was silent again, but that hardly mattered as he realized with growing dread that he couldn’t breathe. 

The room was going blurry, his vision hazy and distorted, and it took him a moment to understand it was because his eyes were flooding with unshed tears. 

“Janus?” 

He was sinking out before he could even try to identify the voice, rising back up in his room with a strangled gasp. 

It felt like his chest was being crushed, everything too loud and too much even in the solitude of his room. 

He threw his hat across the room, yanking off his gloves with trembling hands and letting them fall to the floor, grimacing at the glittering scales along his left arm.

He hated them. He hated every part of himself that made him different, everything that proved he was just a villain. Virgil could be accepted as one of them but Janus had no right to...to…

Janus was on the ground, his legs no longer able to support him, landing hard on his knees. He didn’t bother to fight against the sobs tearing at his throat. There was no need to hide, locked away in the seclusion of his room. 

He ended up hunched over himself, wrenching sobs tearing their way out of him, his hands moving against his will to tug at his hair, scratch at his scales, pound at the floor- anything to try to unsuccessfully ground himself. 

Anger and sorrow were waging a bloody war in his heart- anger at the others for being so cruel, anger at himself for allowing himself to lose control and hurt one of them. 

Sorrow because...because he knew it was over now. There was no way to undo this kind of damage. He’d tried- tried to be one of them- and he’d failed. Miserably. Really, he never should have expected anything else but...well, lying to himself was a bit of an unbreakable habit. 

They didn’t want him here. And Roman was right, he didn’t help Thomas. 

When had Thomas actually listened to him? Just once after the wedding? They would have come to a conclusion without him once Patton calmed down a bit. 

They didn’t want him and they didn’t need him. Nobody wanted a two-faced, monstrous villain. He’d tried, he’d tried so hard, but…

Virgil had tried to duck out once. He’d been lost afraid and alone, but…

But he’d been needed. He’d been wanted. 

If Janus sunk out it would be different. But maybe...maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Thomas would be an honest person without Janus and...wasn’t that what they all wanted?

He buried his head in his sleeves in an attempt to muffle his cries, the sobbing becoming loud and uncontrollable, and if he had a little more control he might have laughed at the irony of it all. 

Crying over being the bad guy. God, he was so selfish. 

He was just barely able to hear the knock on his door in between ragged, hiccuping gasps, but the sound made panic burrow further into his chest, squeezing until he saw spots. 

“Go away!” He screamed, voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t- I’m...fuck! Just leave!” 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he screamed or yelled or hurt anyone, it didn’t matter if someone heard him breaking down. It wouldn’t matter if he just got a hold of himself and ducked out for good. The sooner they could all forget about him, the better. 

But the door to his room was opening (he’d forgotten to lock it, stupid, stupid, stupid), and he quickly curled further in on himself, nails digging into his scalp. 

“Jesus Christ, Jan.” 

Janus shook his head at the sound of footsteps hurrying closer, flinching when someone grabbed at his wrists. 

He tried to tell them to stop, to go away and leave him alone, but he couldn’t get the words out. Every frantic breath was more shallow than the last, and it felt like there was something beating at his chest. 

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” the voice said, and the shock at realizing it was Virgil was enough to clear his head for a split second. “Come on, look at me. Take a breath and look at me.” 

Slowly, as Virgil pried Janus’s trembling hands away from his face, he carefully lifted his head to meet the anxious side’s gaze. It might have been his imagination, but he thought Virgil’s eyeshadow might be a shade darker than usual. 

“Hey,” Virgil said with a small smile that didn’t match the distress in his eyes. “I need you to just focus on my voice right now. You’re having a panic attack.” 

Janus shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor until Virgil squeezed his wrists slightly, prompting him to glance back up. 

“I think I know what a panic attack looks like,” Virgil said, once again with that small, unsure smile. Janus thought this might be the first time in months Virgil hadn’t glared at him. “I’m gonna help you. I’m right here, ok?” 

It was all backwards- Virgil shouldn’t be the one crouched on the floor talking a side down from a panic attack, he shouldn’t be forced to be anywhere near Janus who clearly made him so uncomfortable. 

All he was doing right now was hurting Virgil, hurting everyone, and this wouldn’t be happening if he just wasn’t here--

“Hey, hey hey.” Virgil was suddenly readjusting his grip to take Janus’s hands, bringing them to his own chest. “You’re ok, you’re fine. I want you to copy my breathing now, can you do that?” 

“I- I can--” 

“You can do it,” Virgil said. “You used to help me do it all the time, remember? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, right?” 

Janus swallowed and nodded, squeezing Virgil’s hands despite himself. 

Virgil smiled back at him, and slowly began to count out the breaths, gently encouraging Janus each time he made it through a count, quickly reassuring him when he didn’t. 

He sounded a bit like a mixture of all the light sides, and Janus briefly wondered how many panic attacks his new family had helped him through.

It felt like hours, but gradually Janus was able to begin to breathe on his own, his whole body still shaky and weak. 

He took one last deep breath, and Virgil released his hands when he exhaled. Janus tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the loss of contact.  

“You ok?” 

Janus nodded, running an unsteady hand through sweat soaked hair, steeling himself enough to lie. “I...I’m fine. You can go now.” 

Virgil scoffed. “Yeah, not happening. You’re gonna get cleaned up and calm down, and I’m going to sit here in case you need help. And then you’re going to let Roman apologize before he does something stupid and self destructive--” 

“I don’t need an apology,” he snapped, and it would have been much more threatening if his voice wasn’t still shaking. “And I don’t want to watch you all force him to apologize for something he isn’t even sorry about.” 

Virgil was watching him curiously as Janus attempted to get his half asleep, aching legs out from under him, furiously wiping at his soaked face with his sleeves. 

He needed Virgil to leave and stop pretending to pity him. 

“Why are you even here?” He’d meant it to come out as a snarl, but it turned into nothing more than a quiet, tired question. Virgil tugged at his hoodie sleeves, silent for a moment. 

“You were having a panic attack.” 

“Oh right, and you definitely care about that,” Janus said, finally pushing himself off the ground, grabbing his bed frame for support. “All of you made that perfectly clear today.” 

Virgil moved to stand, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I know, I’m sorry. We...I should have stepped in. Roman was pissed and he gets carried away sometimes. I was serious about him wanting to apologize.”

Janus cleared his throat and ran his tongue along his teeth, wincing at the reminder of what he’d done. He glanced back at Virgil, at the sudden lack of contempt or distrust in his eyes. 

“I would have thought you would be thrilled,” he said truthfully. “Today is the perfect excuse to finally get rid of me.” 

And Virgil actually looked...guilty. The anxious side had never been one for eye contact, but now he was definitely doing all he could to look anywhere but Janus. 

“You lashed out because we all ganged up on you after a long week,” he said. “I’d...kinda be a hypocrite if I held that against you.” 

“I disguised myself. I said I wouldn’t do that anymore.” 

“You did,” he agreed. “Because we made you feel like you wouldn’t be listened to if you didn’t, and I...I feel like that’s my fault. Jesus, you just wanted Thomas to take a break. So...yeah. I’m sorry I’ve been a jackass lately.”

“I…” he paused, clenching his jaw against the new wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “Virgil, I...I bit Roman.” 

And Virgil actually smirked, like it was funny. “Yeah, and I know a panic response when I see one. Roman feels bad, Janus. We all do.” 

Janus froze, wondering briefly if Virgil had just suddenly gotten better at lying since the last time they spoke. But his eyes were genuine, hopeful, and Janus found himself wanting so badly to drop his defenses and believe him. 

“Look,” Virgil continued. “I don’t...completely trust you yet. But I know you want what's best for Thomas, even when we disagree. You’re a part of him and...and I know how it feels. To not be sure if you’re wanted. But...but you are.” 

“Virgil--” 

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” Virgil said. “You’re gonna clean up, and when you’re ready Roman is going to set aside his pride and apologize, Patton is going to smother you for a few hours, and Logan is going to ask you a bunch of invasive questions about your teeth because he’s a nerd. I can tell him to back off if you want me to.” 

Janus let himself smile, small as it was, and he watched as Virgil took another step closer, the anxious side finally looking Janus in the eyes. 

“And then Thomas is going to take a break,” he continued. “And you are never ever going to consider ducking out again.” 

Janus paled, cold panic returning with a vengeance. “Oh, please. You know I would never--” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Virgil said, voice low, and Janus fell silent. “I’ve been there, Janus. I know the look, and I know what it takes to push someone over the edge. You can’t fool me.” 

Janus sighed, running a hand over his face. He was speaking before he could talk himself out of it. “You did it.” 

“I tried to,” Virgil agreed. “I was wrong. Thomas needs me, and he needs you too. Nobody...No one hates you, Janus. I’m sorry things got this bad.”

Janus just shrugged, pushing back the emotions he wasn’t quite ready to feel, let alone share aloud. But it was...nice, he realized, not being given the cold shoulder anymore. 

He hoped it lasted. He missed Virgil more than he was willing to admit. He...wished he was closer to all of them. 

“I’m not upset,” Janus said, even as he wiped at watery eyes. “It’s just...been a long couple of days.” 

It had been a lot more than just a long couple of days, but he figured Virgil knew that. The anxious side smiled sadly. “Well then it’s a good thing you convinced Thomas to take a break.” 

“I just hope it helps.” 

“Me too,” Virgil said. “Now go wash your face- you look awful. I can hang out here until you’re ready to see the others. Unless you, like, want me to leave. I can leave you alone.” 

Janus smirked, finally starting to feel like himself as he straightened his cape and made his way towards the bathroom. 

“I’d really hate it if you stayed,” he called over his shoulder. “You know I absolutely loathe your company, Virgil.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Janus let himself break into a full smile for the first time all day, closing the door behind him as he heard Virgil flop onto the bed. 

[nellygwyn]

different anon, thoughts of harlots portrayal of historical sex work?

I got another anon asking for a similar thing so here it goes:

Season 1, in particular, I think, had a really nuanced approach to sex work, historical and contemporary. It says a lot that some of my friends who are full service sex workers felt it explored a lot of the complex thoughts they have about being sex workers. We had Charlotte and Emily who are both ambivalent and ambitious, practical, knowing that money is the most important thing in their world whilst also being unattainable for them in other socially acceptable careers (also, since I did my MA thesis on the rape of working class adolescent girls in Georgian London, where I basically found that working in a pub or as a servant in a house could just as unsavory, if not worse, as being a sex worker in the same time period, I like to think Charlotte in particular knows this very well and that's why she wants to control her own narrative so much). We also have Lucy, who hates it and is taken advantage of by her mother in many ways, and other characters who end up in the sex industry through ~Hogarthian~ methods i.e. tricked by a kindly older woman who turns out to be an unscrupulous brothel-keeper a la Mother Needham. This kind of thing certainly happened, though not as often as 18th century moralists might like you to think, but in the show, it plays into the overarching theme that this is a world where the people who should be looking after sex workers and making sure they aren't treated like shit literally do not care (which definitely mirrors our own times). Like, Emily likes sex work in many ways but when she experiences awful aspects of it? It's always because of powerful people letting other powerful people do whatever they want to these women....the only thing outside forces ever seem to do is moralise or take away their money, or punish them. People who have the power to actually transform the system are basically useless, except Josiah in S2 who initially starts off as useless but does later try to make amends.....he's just not powerful ENOUGH though.

I do wish they hadn't made so much of the '1 in 5 women in Georgian London sell sex' because....that's not necessarily a false statistic but it doesn't actually just include sex workers, it also includes women who lived with men they weren't married to which could've been a financial arrangement or could've been simply women living with long term partners. It also includes women who dabbled in sex work, which was extremely common in a world where other, more socially acceptable jobs for working women didn't always pay very well. We know that a lot of women who were in domestic service in Georgian London also had what we might call 'a side hustle' as sex workers, specifically strollers and bunters (sex workers who didn't work in a brothel and usually picked up clients/did work on the streets). I think Harlots did a good job of showing us like, sex workers who work in brothels but also more independent sex workers like Nancy and Violet, but it would've been nice to have a character who was a maid in a middle class home most of the time but occasionally dabbled in sex work in the late evening. It would've emphasised the theme of money being important and barely within reach, but also would've shown the reality of women's work in this period OUTSIDE OF sex work.

The diversity of the industry was also good, although it's a shame that the show kind of failed at showing us male sex workers, or queer sex workers - I mean, we did see mollies (contemporary name for gay men sex workers) but not in a particularly meaningful way imo. Plus, we could've had a trans woman sex worker, especially as there is precedent in this period! Princess Serefina, for example, was probably a transgender woman and one of the most famous sex workers of the early 18th century. But I think Harlots did show us the amount of women of colour who not only lived in Georgian London, but who worked there and not just as sex workers. We also had sex workers with disabilities, too. One of my favourite details is that Harriet Lennox is inspired by a real Georgian sex worker called Black Harriet who only employed sex workers of colour at her brothel (which Harriet Lennox also does in S2 and 3). And there is quite an admirable attempt to explore intersectionality in the series - Harriet doesn't just experience sexism but pretty awful racism (I mean, she literally used to be enslaved by the first man who made her his mistress)....and this changes the way she experiences the world.

My biggest criticism is of the way Charlotte was killed off. Well, first of all, I have an issue with the fact Season 3 put her in a relationship with a pimp, which is so fucked up on every level. Like, not even just a pimp but a pimp who tried to kill her and the women she lives with. Then, she ends up being ACTUALLY killed off by said pimp and his brother (also a pimp) in the most deranged way possible a.k.a getting in the way of a fight and being pushed down the stairs. So many stories about sex workers, historical and contemporary, employ the 'Dead Hooker' trope and I hate it and I especially hate it for this time period because dying violently or tragically as a sex worker doesn't have much basis in reality. Charlotte specifically was inspired by famous courtesans of the time like Kitty Fisher and Fanny Murray. Both of whom......met someone who was willing to keep them long term/marry them and left the industry, financially stable and contented. This series wanted to honour women like that but I don't understand how it could do that by killing Charlotte violently (and other characters violently). We know that most sex workers left the industry around their mid twenties, usually because they had found a long term keeper/husband or because they became actresses/singers in the London theatres (a job that had strong links to sex work and courtesanry at the time). There were so many options for Charlotte but the writers picked that one, as her exit. It just brings us back to the fact that for some people, sex workers don't deserve any kind of happy ending. In fact, John Cleland, the writer of the scandalous c. 1749 erotic novel 'Fanny Hill,' had his book banned and criticised not just because it was obscene but because Fanny never repents her life as a sex worker. Instead, she marries a decent man and has a decent life and explictly says she doesn't feel bad or upset about her old job. Like, that's an example from the actual time period so imagine my disappointment when history seemed to repeat itself in a period series c. 2019.

[thefanficmonster]

Finally, You’re Back

Part 1: ‘There You Are’

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil 8: Village) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of Injury and Human Experimentation, Insecurity, Swearing, Spoilers for RE8

Genre: Angst, Romance, Some Humor and Fluff too

Summary: And there they are, back in that village half a decade later to retrieve what’s theirs but unaware of what they’ll find in place of what they remember.

Requested by one Anon and the idea was modified by another Anon, so thank you both so much for sharing your creativity with me, it’s really been a huge honor to write a fic inspired by such a beautiful idea. Love you both! 💕

If again is what he hoped and prayed for, why is he damning it now Why does he resent himself for having hope When he previously wished nothing but to have it Why does their presence hurt When it used to heal him Why do they remind him of how much of a monster he is When previously they were the only one making him human Why is he worthy of their presence When he’s only become worse They upheld their promise But the person they are coming back to is no longer alive He’s taken his place and he hates himself for it He’d kill himself to get him back He’d do just about anything Just to prevent those eyes from seeing them differently Just so he can greet them with open arms and say:

“Finally, you’re back“

But as of now all he can say is:

“You’re back, but the one you’re searching for will never return“

He was made aware of their presence the day of their arrival in the village. He knew all about their venture, going around the village asking for him to be looked at with terror by the villagers they came across. He watched as all the people refused to tell them his whereabouts, claiming they didn’t know or they couldn’t tell. No matter what bribery or convincing method Y/N tried to use, the villagers refused to stand down from their determined ground.

They refused to give up though, going against his prayers that they would. They might have felt discouraged but they never, not even for a second, thought to give it up. Never did they even consider forgetting him as an option. It’s been half a decade and they still remember him, they still have the will to look for him despite all the time that has passed, despite the odds that aren’t in their favor, despite the lack of help from anyone.

They keep going, keep trying. They keep driving the sword deeper into his chest, piercing his heart.

If only they could accept me like this. If only they could look at a monster the same way they looked at that boy they met five years ago...

His mistake, although blatantly obvious even to him, is not something he’s willing to correct. He doesn’t want to give them a chance. And the answer to the question many - even he himself - would ask ‘why’, that answer he doesn’t want revealed.

Because he knows it and would do anything in his power to keep it from swimming to the surface.

The answer? - It’s because he’s afraid. Terrified really.

What of? That’s the part he’s not sure about. Is he afraid of them being scared, disgusted and repulsed by him? Or is he afraid of the complete opposite - that they won’t bat an eye at the change he’s undergone. That latter option leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth, his stomach turning. He doesn’t believe he deserves that reaction, after all he’s done, after becoming the monster he is now, he’s done his best to not even think about them - attempts that have failed miserably. Not a day has gone by that they haven’t been on his mind. He thought getting rid of the dog tag necklace - the promise - would cleanse his system of their memory that’s etched itself so deeply within his mind and soul but his hands refused to cooperate when his brain kept telling them to lift that necklace off his neck. He couldn’t do it, and he hated himself because of it for a while, but if he’s being honest he felt more relieved than anything else. He doesn’t want the only real memory, the only pleasant memory of his human days gone. He doesn’t want to wipe Y/N from his mind, they’re the only thought that still sends his heartbeat speeding in a positive way. He knows he’s a coward for what he does, hiding in the shadows and watching them waste their time with the villagers who think they are downright insane for going around looking for Karl Heisenberg whom the entire village knows as Lord Heisenberg. Not using his title each time they ask never fails to bring a smile to his face. It’s a relief that they at least have a nice picture of him that has stuck with them. And if it’s up to him, that’s the picture that will remain, they won’t see him like this, this new him won’t replace the old him in their mind. He’d do anything to make sure of it.

That being said, you can imagine the massive shock and mini heart attack he experienced one day when his motion detectors picked up on someone entering the factory in broad daylight. Rushing to the camera display, the briefest glimpse was enough to make out who this foolish person looking for their death was. 

Goddammit, Y/N!

It was no longer a danger to his sanity, their presence at the factory was an even worse danger for them. His creations wouldn’t think twice about slicing their tiny frame in half with their implemented chainsaws, designed to do exactly what he’s hoping they won’t get the chance to do this time. Running to the elevator, all he can do is silently pray he reaches them before they come across one of his minions.

What he’s going to say to them? How he’s gonna greet them? He hasn’t got the slightest clue, all he knows is that he has to get to them asap.

Running out of the elevator once it settles on the ground floor, he almost crashes directly into them, eyes wide with shock as the adrenaline is still pumping throughout his body despite the immense amount of relief he feels wash over him. He doesn’t notice at first, but when he does his heart sinks: their gaze is empty and their face unreadable. He can’t bear to have them looking at him like that, it hurts more than physically hitting him. Hell, it hurts more than the experiments Miranda did to him.

“How’d you find me?“ He decides to end the silence for his sanity’s sake, his heart heavy and aching in his chest.

They shrug, “Wasn’t easy, I’ll have to admit, you’ve trained the villagers well, none of em wanted to give me even a clue.“ They give him a small smile before looking around at the factory walls and everything lining them, “And then I put it together on my own. It was a bit of a stretch...“ they trail off, their eyes scanning him from head to toe, “...but I see it was a lucky one.“

He can’t help but huff, more out of disgust for himself than anything else, “If you call this lucky you’ve gotta have a few screws loose.”

Much to his surprise, this remark earns him a genuine, wholehearted laugh from Y/N, “Oh Karl, didn’t you pick up on my loose screws back when we first met? That’s odd, people usually take one look and can already tell.”

He scoffs, letting a small smile slip onto his face before he chases it away, forcing himself to maintain the seriousness, “I can’t believe how foolish you are. Didn’t you, even for a second, think there was maybe a good reason why people didn’t want to give you my whereabouts?”

“Oh I didn’t need to think about it!“ They say, lifting a pointer finger in the air as if to emphasize their point, “They were pretty clear when they were calling you stuff like ‘monster’ and ‘cruel Lord’ or whatever.“

Heisenberg’s eyes widen in an instant, “So you knew? You knew I was...I wouldn’t be the same as you remember me?” He asks, his jaw almost reaching the floor.

They nod nonchalantly, “I mean, I was sure of that part, it’s been half a decade, after all. Of course, I didn’t expect such a drastic change but it changes nothing. The villagers made it all sound super scary and dramatic...”

Karl doesn’t get confused often. However, right now, they’ve got him completely flabbergasted. “You were told about me...about me being what I am and you still showed up and walked into this place everyone fears like you own it? Where the fuck is your self-preservation instinct?!”

With an eye-roll, Y/N pushes past him, entering the elevator and walks over to the buttons to choose a floor, “Up your ass, Heisenberg. Right next to the stick that’s got you in such a foul mood. Is this how you welcome back an old friend?” Though the words themselves were harsh, they spoke them in such a way and with a sincere look in their eyes that they had the complete opposite effect of what they’d usually have. Hell, he wants to laugh at the vocabulary on its own, it’s so refreshing to hear someone use those terms and speak so freely around him, unfazed by his powers. To be fair, they’re probably not even aware he has any.

Looking at them now, their intense gaze telling him loud and clear that they’re completely unfazed, has him going soft. They’re still his connection to the humanity he’s lost, he’s still clinging onto it thanks to them. And while he still believes he doesn’t deserve to preserve any last piece of it, he’s glad that he’s not the judge of that. The punishment is not his to decide. It’s theirs. And who knows, allowing him to keep a tiny fragment of his humanity may be the ultimate punishment but he doesn’t know it yet. Regardless, he’s happy with it as long as it means he has them by his side to carry said punishment out.

When all they get in response to their words is a laugh they too let a smile lighten up their features, “There you go, knock some humor into you.” They turn to look at the buttons briefly before locking their gaze onto him once again, “I like what you did with the place. Care to show me around?”

He shakes his head as his laughter dies down, “You won’t like it.”

Y/N rolls their eyes yet again, “Leave that up for me to decide, old man.”

A frown comes across Heisenberg’s face, “Old man? How dare you?”

The sound of their laughter almost manages to wipe the frown off his face. Almost. “Old man who can pull off even a century old dog tag necklace.” They say, sizing up the necklace resting over his chest which he automatically reaches out to touch as a result of her remark. “You can keep it, by the way. I don’t need it back. I’ll be sticking around for some time after all.”

Before he can even process what they said, they’ve pulled him into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, looking out of the open side of it to be able to see the inside of the factory as the metal box keeps climbing, carrying them with it. Their back is turned to him so he can’t see the look on their face but he can only hope it’s not one of horror or disgust. If he were to receive that look from them his heart would shatter on the spot. So he’d rather they don’t turn around - both for him not to be able to see them grimacing and so they can’t see him staring at them with that look in his eyes.

Look of adoration he’s never given anyone before nor will he ever give to anyone else. And so, all the pieces of his soul have found their proper spots.

Thanks to Y/N.

Finally, you’re back.

[lochnessies]

ok here’s a dissection of a post an anon sent me the link to and bc i have the worst time management possible and i completely forgot i had it lol so sorry anon here you go ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

I am constantly thinking about how Edelgard just doesn’t seem designed to appeal to cishet men.

i hate to be the one to break this news to you op but just because a character doesn’t show skin like charlotte fire emblem doesn’t mean she isn’t designed to pander to men. she’s very much designed to pander to the (majority straight male) player base with her ‘uwu i only trust you professor omg did u see that rat? pls don’t look at my painting of you uwu’.

then there’s the whole edelgard c support in japanese where byleth makes reference to having come to her room for ‘yobi’ which is

there’s also the scene where byleth can make an unsolicited comment about edelgard’s breast size. which is… uhh… gross.

edelgard also has cipher cards that go from slightly fanserviceie to full on suggestive

and also her breast armor that my sister relentlessly mocked lol

and here’s a chart from the 3h subreddit about gender/sexually in regards to edelgard and edeleth. it’s extremely straight male. op might have just overlooked this since they probably don’t go on reddit and stay on tumblr (which unlike reddit is mostly female and has a high lgbt demographic).

Like the joke is that Bleagles is the Gay House, but everything about her feels deliberately non-hetero.

i don’t like where this is going…

She’s dressed in sharp outfits covering her upper body, with proportions that don’t seem exaggerated.

so women who cover up must be lgbt because straight women are naturally more revealing? oh y i k e s

Her poise and the way she effortlessly flourishes her axe exhibits an air of coolness. While titties out =/= character of no substance, Edelgard being dressed more modestly suggests that she wasn’t designed with male-centred fanservice in mind.

“titties don’t equal no substance but here’s my post on how she has more substance because she doesn’t show titties” ok

And she still looks absolutely stunning in her more modest attire (like seriously, I haven’t felt the need to return to cosplay in years but I want to do her academy look so bad). 

yes she does. amazing design 10/10. i have a feeling this is the only part i’m going to agree with

Edelgard is intense. She does not mince her words and she is constantly evaluating you. Though she tries, she has a difficult time understanding her peers initially. Early on, she talks about how she would sacrifice herself and others in the name of some greater good. She is terrible at communicating with her peers. She has to be seen as infallible. Her heart has been hardened for years and she assumes she has to stay that way. She also assumes everyone mourns the same way she does - which is why she (kind of insensitively) insists you move on when Jeralt dies. Because to her, grief has to be channeled towards action, or else you’ll get lost in it. This attitude is demonstrated time and time again as she presses on. It can make her come off as cold and unfeeling - but look closer, and she’s anything but.

don’t really have anything to say at this part. it is pretty on the nose though i would slightly disagree with that last sentence a bit. i wouldn’t say she’s as i feeling as hubert is but all of her talks of the war boil down to how she feels and never her victims.

Her story is ultimately about her realizing that to achieve her goals, she needs to let people in and allow herself to want things like cakes and tea parties and lazy days in peace. 

????? what ????? her goals include imperialism, ethnic and religious targeting. her story is about having a set of beliefs and mowing down anybody who stands in her way. that has nothing to do with tea, friends, and lazy days. also am i supposed to be sad that she has to get up everyday and work? i do that and i didn’t start a war and only throw a pity party for myself

The game leaves the player guessing as to how involved the Flame Emperor was in each Part I event, makes you feel hurt by her betrayal, and leaves you with a choice: do you follow the orders of the woman who tried to make you a god without your consent, or a young girl with questionable morals about to throw the world into upheaval?

this isn’t an ideal situation but i think i’m going to stick with the woman who tried to make me a god since i’m not selfish and i know it’s not only my desires and life at stake here. plus the green hair slaps ngl

Choosing her of your own volition (not for completionist reasons) requires the basic ability to sympathize with a woman’s pain. It also requires the player to read beyond her unwavering will and dubious methods to get a sense of how deep that pain goes and how the theme of humanity relates to her differently in each route.

i’m not going to touch this since @nilsh13 made a post on it that i’ll link here. i agree with everything he said so to repeat it would be redundant.

The player must be able to see a young woman’s desperate resolve to change the world so it stops exploiting people and ruining lives. They must be able to accept the fact that women can make the same morally wrong and ambivalent decisions that complicated male characters get to make all the time and still be the one to root for.

literally the same reason i love rhea lol her goddess experiments are dubious at best but her reasons are the same you mentioned. i would say that i like this quality in edelgard too if her ending, while bloody, actually ended in a good outcome for fodlan.

This is not unique to LGBT+ people, but this population is likely to understand why Edelgard feels so strongly about why she has to change the system. 

i understand wanting to change a system, i really do. like edelgard, i’m an opinionated bisexual woman (who’s also physically disabled) so yeah i get it. and change can be good but it can also be terrible. even if the church was the boogeyman edelgard treats it as she still replaces it with her own shit regime. so it’s the same circus just with a new conductor.

I don’t think “Edelgard gets undue criticism because she’s a woman” captures the full picture. An important aspect of her treatment by certain parts of the fandom is that she’s a radical woman.

or maybe she does some pretty fucked up shit and it goes unacknowledged in her own route. and yeah she’s radical but in all the worst ways.

Her hatred of the Church and the Crest system resonates way harder with people who have been hurt by institutions that are deeply engrained in our society. 

and what about people who have been hurt by systems where their ‘merit’ didn’t measure up and they were left behind? what about people from nations that experienced imperialism?

Siding with her means siding against the Church - which, while different from real world religious institutions, still invokes language about “sin” and “punishment.

yeah the ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ are used in relation to attempted murders which i think everybody can agree is a bad thing that needs to be condemned.

Choosing Edelgard will likely hit different if homophobic and transphobic Christians used that rhetoric against you.

it has literally nothing to do with ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ in regards to being gay or trans. that’s you projecting. especially since the church has 2 canon gay characters and two coded ones.

like i can understand why having a church condemn you can be uncomfortable but i’m begging you to please look at the context of what’s happening.

I’m willing to go out on a limb and say that the reason F/F Edeleth is the more popular iteration of that ship because most people who would choose to S-support Edelgard are LGBT+ themselves. This is not a revelation. To anyone in the community, it’s fairly obvious. 

i was talking to nilish and he said

so yeah… while there is definitely sapphic femleth shippers out there, there’s still a whole lot of weird fetishizing going on from straight men about edelgard.

Crimson Flower was my first route. I went into the game knowing absolutely nothing. I played it during the last week of 2020 and hoo boy was it cathartic. 

i can tell. this wasn’t supposed to be a dig but it came out that way and i’m not taking it out.

I felt like I was living out a gay revolution power fantasy, where I could truly change systems of oppression while fighting alongside a group of troubled students I’d shaped the lives of.

so a gay revolution power fantasy (cringe) goes hand in hand with imperialism and installing a dictatorship? also the war had nothing to do with sexuality.

Through your unwavering support, Edelgard learns that she needs to be human, that she must listen to her friends, and that she’s allowed to enjoy the world she’s creating.

edelgard gets to learn how to be human all while hunting those who don’t. and she doesn’t listen fo her friends. she doesn’t even trust them. she’s willing to talk to byleth but keep the people who’s been by her side for five years in the dark about everything. and yeah she gets to enjoy her new words since she’s on top. hate to be a commoner under her rule after she burned down my village in her war.

I love this character so much.

clearly. and i honestly don’t care if somebody likes her. i do as well even if my sometimes scathing words can make it seem otherwise.

It has been six months since I first played and I am still analyzing her,

me too. please help me escape i’m losing my mind

because there’s so much depth. Yet so many people fail to see that depth and dismiss her as evil,

i mean, she does some fucked up shit that goes beyond any of the less than desirable actions of the other main characters and does an extremely poor job in trying to make herself seem innocent. i personally don’t think she’s pure evil but i completely understand where the people who say she is are coming from.

because they never had the will to understand complicated women in the first place. 

that’s big talk from somebody who implies that a gay pope is comparable to homophobic and transphobic irl religions and that leads an oppressive regime all because she uses the vague terms of sin and punishments that you have to gay power fantasy your way out of

[etherrealoblivion]

A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy​

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

~

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago. 

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that. 

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go. 

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

~

Y/N hated the summertime. 

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom. 

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready. 

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?���

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!” 

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying. 

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up. 

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel?  I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N. 

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her. 

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand. 

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected. 

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in. 

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek. 

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

~

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

~

TAGLIST

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