#Or is aware but blatantly refuses to acknowledge it

[ailithnight]

Consider: Danny, in full ramble has no filter. Danny isn't really a great liar to begin with, mostly relying on omission to skate by. Without a filter, he is saying all sorts of things he probably shouldn't be. Hence the following.

Danny: You are very big and intimidating and I am very tired and lost and small and technically only like 8 months old. (Referring to his death age.)

Works even better if Danny -on some instinctual ghost level- identified Batman as a Big Ghost, chosen of the Haunt Owner, maybe Dad? Dad hurt us, we need new Dad. Please?, elder to be listened to, authority to be obeyed.

Imagine the batkids fuck up major and a batdad had to step in and clean up their mistake

Everyone kinda embarrassed because of their blunder and Jason is lashing out to protect himself from shame

Dick is joining is cause well he feels bad about it being his idea

Now Tim is arguing too

Damian wants to feel involved and u can’t convince me other wise

Bruce is trying ti make a point about safety thats just fully derailed

Anyway Danny as Fenton is just there in the background around all the bad guys he took out before Bruce actually got there like “awkward” but the moment he tries to just tippytoe his way out Bruce turns to point at him “and don’t think you are getting out of this. Your grounded too”

He just freezes. Can batman do that? Is he legally allowed to do that? Wait what does Batman mean by grounded?!!? Whats his move here.

“Everyone in the batmobile we will discuss this more in the morning”

Oh ok thats his move. Ok yea Batman just grounded him. He better go.

So they r having the ride home and everyone is sulking and Danny is just there confused but doesn’t say anything because hes probably tired and it’s batman wtf you gonna do.

So they are at the cave and Danny finally just “so can I call my family to tell them I wont be home tonight?”

You everyone just stops. And slowly turns to face him. “Ah yea dumb question. I guess uhhh no phones huh?” No one moves. Everyone is pretty shocked. Cause one bruce kidnapped some kid. Two theres a civi in the batcave. Three bruce kidnapped some fucking kid. Four some random kid just got in the car with them. Five holy fuck bruce kidnapped some kid.

Breaks over enjoy post

[valeechtine]

I am going to be entirely frank here some of you people cannot keep being like Well I'm like this cuz I'm mentally ill take it or leave it I don't owe anyone anything! Because like to be so real with you if you're being a cunt to people who didn't do anything you're being a cunt thats the bottom line and while being mentally ill makes it Harder to work on like. You still need to. It is such loser behavior to acknowledge that you're just a genuinely unpleasant person and then to not do anything about it and actively pride yourself on your unchanging nature, and then you're going to sit there wondering why you're in a cycle of entering relationships be they romantic or platonic and then they become toxic and you're left alone again. And you'll fill that emptiness soon enough because misery loves company but the company is always going to be miserable as well and you are going to be killing each other trying to use the other as a life preserver to stay afloat in this tar pit of your own creation and this can only go on for so long. Everyone has the ability to change themselves for the better and I simply do not have the patience or smpathy for those who so blatantly refuse to while well aware of their problems

[pokegyns]

alright so an argument i’ve recently had with a particular person on here is what initially motivated me to make a post about this, but it’s something that’s overall been bothering me a lot in trans spaces, so i have decided to talk about it.

it’s a known fact that trans people are very sensitive to any talks of biological sex, and that they refuse to analyze or hear out any form of sex-based oppression, however sometimes this discomfort can truly delve into a more dangerous territory. if we cannot talk about sex-based oppression, we cannot have feminism. something that has seriously been circulating around trans spaces recently is a very serious form of sex-based oppression denial, one that crosses the borders of “i’m uncomfortable with talks of biological sex because i’m dysphoric”. the outright refusal to acknowledge that female people are legitimately oppressed in ways that male people never will be, the outright denial of deathly forms of misogyny such as medical & reproductive misogyny that systemically only harm those born female, bold & vocal statements such as “transmisogyny is worse than misogyny” [why are you borrowing & coining a word that originates in *misogyny* if you are going to blatantly & boldly undermine the existence of misogyny?]– those aren’t harmless statements, and are actually actively contributing to the medical negligence of female bodies. they are supporting the continuation of this mystification of female bodies, the underresearched nature of female bodies; by refusing to acknowledge the very factual reality of the male body being seen as default, creating fallacies, hypothetical situations & people, engaging in whataboutism & overall denial of reality, to support their weak arguments of female oppression not existing on its’ own & genuinely asking questions such as, “what makes an afab person more oppressed than an amab person?” [but then again continuing to use the word “transmisogyny”, when, by their logic, the word would be an oxymoron, since they do not recognize misogyny as an actual axis of oppression], they are essentially saying, “medicine is correct for neglecting the female body, following the male model as the default, and should continue doing so”.

“what makes an afab person more oppressed than an amab person?”, they ask. “there isn’t some inherent oppression faced by afabs!”, they shout. well, i’m about to answer their so kindly articulated questions, although i’m very aware they are going to dismiss my words as bigoted attack against transfeminine people, as bio-essentialist propaganda, and “terf shit”. although male people absolutely can & do face sexual assault & rape [and the rates of prostituted & sexually exploited & brutalized trans women are alarming; which is something that should most definitely be discussed in feminist circles, as it is an issue of transmisogyny, which is equally damaging & oppressive], the ability to be impregnated is an additional vulnerability. the ability to get someone pregnant puts you in the privileged position here, no matter how uncomfortable that makes you feel. next up, female puberty is a very traumatic experience, as is female socialization. the stigma surrounded around “girlhood”, being locked away from freedom while seeing all your male peers enjoying a childhood of leisure– how is this not an advantage? add on the societal stigma around growing breasts, getting your period, developing a more adult-ish female body type– all of those are female-specific issues [trans women can add their insights about their experiences with hormone reassignment therapy & share their struggles with gender childhood trauma & unique discomfort with socialization + forced/unwanted male puberty, and their insights are more than welcome & appreciated]. furthermore, female infanticide is still unfortunately a form of oppression that we have yet to end, and bringing up the homicide of trans women is not at all comparable to this. a parent does not know their male infant is going to be sex incongruous, and this very much protects the male baby from being aborted or literally femicided after birth for being female, which is, quite literally, tangible proof of female-specific oppression existing on its’ own, starting even before or from birth, without any other accompanying & contributing factors. to add on, female genital mutilation is likewise still a sexist practice that is yet to be stopped. as is the existence of child brides. as are abortion bans.

strawmanning & using whataboutism, such as “there are cis women who cannot menstruate! there are cis women who cannot get pregnant! there are cis women without uteruses! there are cis women without *insert female organ*!” is not going to negate the fact that *trans women inherently remain without uteruses*. it is not going to negate the fact that historical medical misogyny, such as the misogynistic claim of “female hysteria” was intrinsically linked to uteruses. it is not going to magically make trans women the primary victims of the abortion bans. it is not going to negate the reality of negligence of female bodies in the medical field. it is not going to negate the historical reality of female people being unable to open their own bank accounts up, and male people of all sorts being able to. in no way am i saying that medical & reproductive misogyny are the only sorts of misogyny, nor am i claiming that period stigma is *the central* aspect of misogyny & *the deciding factor* to who experiences the worst of misogyny; all i’m saying is, that even female people who personally cannot menstruate/don’t have specific female sex characteristics/are intersex– still are systemically affected by medical misogyny & period stigma. trans women can experience female-specific misogyny when assumed to be female, medical misogyny is not the only form of misogyny nor is it the most important one, trans women can & do experience social misogyny, economic misogyny, cultural misogyny– but they are not experiencing medical misogyny. that being said, medical transphobia can absolutely be deathly, and should not be ignored in feminist discussions.

it is not a violent threat to your humanity to acknowledge that oppressed people are oppressed in different ways, holy fuck. it should not be seen as a direct attack against a minority group to analyze intersectionality & different forms of bigotry. we all have experiences that are equally valuable & we can all equally contribute to the fight against oppression, with all of our differing struggles & diverse battles. neither oppression is worse. both are fucking bad, and both suck equally, having both overlaps & differences in their manifestation. you just have to realize that you sometimes are, in fact, the privileged one. cis women may be at advantage in other situations, but you are at advantage in other situations. we all need to be good allies to each other. medical neglect of female people is real, but so is the medical neglect of transfeminine people. they manifest in different ways, which isn’t dangerous to point out, and it should be pointed out. neither is inherently worse or more traumatic & important than the other. both are oppressive to the core, and both stand in the way of feminism & anti-patriarchal action. it’s not going to fucking kill you to just be mature for once. i promise you.

– mod zoroark

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Dating Earl and Valentine would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Earl and Valentine come as a pair so it’s no surprise that you’d wind up dating both of them; even if things don’t start out that way. 

- Chances are you’re not a blonde with big tits and legs that go all the way up, so, even though you’re most definitely a catch in your own right, it’s initially only Earl who actually notices and shows any interest in you. Valentine is too busy standing back and being disappointed, questioning his friend’s taste in women as he watches him lightheartedly flirt with you. 

- He makes a comment about his buddy’s attraction to you once the two of them are alone together and Earl spends the rest of the car ride home lecturing him about his high standards and refusal to date anyone who doesn’t fit his very specific list of requirements. 

- Earl gets to know you and probably takes you out on a few dates before Valentine starts to actually pay attention to you: mainly because he has no other choice but to acknowledge your existence when you’re suddenly being included in a majority of their affairs. 

- His attraction to you is a somewhat slow burn: seeing the way you act around Earl and considering the fact that he wouldn’t mind a relationship like yours, looking at you when you’re all dressed up/distracted by a task and surprising himself by thinking that you’re actually really pretty, interacting with you more and finding out that he actually really likes your personality, etc.  

- He keeps his distance most of the time and occasionally acts sort of stand offish, but it’s plain to see that he likes you; even if he doesn’t want to admit it. And Earl takes notice of this, sending the two of you knowing looks that tell you he’s aware of what's going on but that he isn’t particularly upset about it. 

- The two of them are vaguely aware of how much they care for one another and that it may or may not be closer than your average handyman partnership, but nothing comes to fruition until you come into the picture and make them consider things that they normally wouldn’t have to consider. 

- Earl is the one to initiate things, but he’s fairly subtle about it: inviting Val to come along on your dates, telling him to spend time with you, saying things that are meant to make him think about his feelings towards you, etc. 

- He probably has a conversation with you about your openness to the idea and subsequently brings it up to Val, letting him know that you like him and that he’s welcome to be a part of your relationship if he wants to and/or whenever he’s ready to. 

- It throws Val for a loop and though he initially insists that he isn’t interested; mainly because he doesn’t want to admit that Earl is right, he does start to grow closer to you after getting the verbal go ahead. He’ll start showing you a lot more kindness, start doing you little favors and acting more friendly towards you. He’s always acted a little shy with you but he starts getting a bit more bold: touching and spending more time with you, looking at you a lot more, etc. 

- He doesn’t do a lot of it in front of Earl, but that’s sort of to be expected; especially in the beginning when he’s still trying to figure out how he feels about the entire situation. He doesn’t need the old man making comments towards him or giving him his knowing glances whenever he’s being blatantly obvious about his growing feelings towards you. I think a part of him would also be a bit worried that Earl is making fun of him and merely joking around whenever he talks about sharing you or the feelings that you apparently have for him. 

- Earl may or may not teasingly tell the younger man to go and “help her out” whenever you head into the house alone. But regardless, Val does end up making some kind of move on you when the two of you are alone and that’s how you finally end up securing both of your boys....

- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship but it’s kind of unnecessary when the entire town already knows that the three of you are dating. Both of your boyfriends aren’t ridiculously touchy individuals so they sort of keep to themselves, thinking it kind of unnecessary to be hanging all over you; especially when you’re in front of your neighbors who they may or may not be trying to keep your relationship a secret from. When they do give you affection, it’s the rough and tumble sorts of touches that are common with “manly men” like themselves. 

- For instance, they give you a lot of little pats on the back or squeezes to your shoulder; silently asking how you’re doing or gesturing that you should all start to head out of “there”. Their actions show a level of familiarity or closeness, but if anyone outside of the residents of your small town were to see it, they’d probably just assume that the three of you were caring acquaintances or close friends.

- Earl is generally a bit more touchy and affectionate than Val is. The younger man may talk a big game but he tends to get a bit shy whenever it’s time to actually “walk the walk”. He’s a hardheaded and cocky youngster who occasionally cares a bit too much about his tough guy reputation or feels he’s backed himself into a corner because of it; especially in comparison to the old man who’s willing to show you that he cares and be more sweet on you from the get go. 

- The two of you exchange a lot of quick pecks; especially when you’re greeting each other or saying goodbye. Earl tends to kiss you himself or meet you halfway, while any kiss that you share with Valentine tends to be initiated by you; knowing that the younger man won’t make the first move unless he’s been working himself up to it or gets it in his head that he “has to” for one reason or another. You’ll usually kiss his cheek and watch as he tries to hide his shy smile or play it off like it doesn’t affect him as much as it does. 

- Kisses with Earl tend to be lighthearted and a bit on the shorter side. They range from sudden and giddy sorts of kisses; shared when he’s particularly happy or excited, to romantic and sweet kisses; shared after the two of you have been flirting back and forth and finally end up leaning in. His beard also adds a level of roughness; particularly in comparison to your other more baby-faced boyfriend. 

- Kisses with Valentine tend to be longer and a lot more passionate. He usually waits to kiss you until he’s about ready to bust or is so wrought with emotion that he just can’t help himself anymore. You can practically feel him buzzing against you with how eager he is: ravishing and clinging to you in a fiery and lasting way, one that leaves you feeling a little breathless whenever the two of you finally separate. It isn’t often that he really kisses you, but when he does, he certainly makes it worth your while. 

- The three of you kind of just sleep in a mess of limbs. They’re not really huge on cuddling; they sleep like logs and kind of just cluelessly conk out the minute their heads hit the pillows, but you usually squeeze in together and sleep on and around each other, sharing the same small bed that honestly wasn't made to fit three full-grown adults. If you’re just hanging around and not planning on napping, then they’ll throw an arm around you and cuddle you into their sides, letting you relax against them while you watch television or whatever bonfire they’ve set up in the yard. 

- There’s a lot of affectionate name calling in your relationship but they’ll still call you terms of endearment whenever they feel like it. They call you “girl” a lot, but when they aren’t addressing you simply by your gender, Earl will call you sweetheart or sweet pea and Valentine will call you sweet cheeks. 

- Taking part in the cooking cycle. If they start to fight about whose turn it is to make breakfast, you’ll usually just start to do it yourself, or surprise them with the fact that you already made it before the two of them even woke up. Once the three of you start dating, they might reason that it’s kind of your job to do all of the cooking, but don’t take it to heart. They’re simple country folk who were raised on some strict gender roles, and one eyebrow raise and unamused look from you will send them straight into the kitchen themselves. 

- Diner dates. 

- Grabbing a soda and/or a snack at Chang’s general store. 

- Being gifted junk that they’ve found and think that you'll like; if you’re into that sort of thing. 

- Watching tv and drinking a beer with them after a long day, or; if you have other hobbies you’d like to indulge in, parallel playing with them while they crack open a cold one and do their own thing. Catch them watching you with mild interest as you crochet a blanket or paint a picture, just zoning out as they watch you count your stitches or search for a different color, trying to understand how the hell you’re doing that. 

- Occasionally joining them on some of their work outings or having your own little job that they visit you at. I feel like they’d probably insist that they can fully support you themselves; wanting to bring home the bacon like the stereotypical men that they are, but they’re also not gonna force you to become their stay at home wife if that's really not something you’re into. Just know that it’s an option and that they’re willing to follow through whenever you feel like taking them up on their offer. 

- Sitting between them in their truck or occasionally sitting on one of their laps. Sometimes you nap in the back of their truck or stargaze in the bed of it when the sun sets and you’re still out in the wilderness. They have a tendency to live out of their vehicle when they get too tired to drive all the way home, and since you’re probably out there with them, you’re forced to get used to it just as much as they are. 

- The three of you are incredibly comfortable with each other, like there’s no way that you couldn’t be after going through all the things you’ll undoubtedly end up going through during your relationship together. Rest assured that there’s going to be moments where you are forced to get over your natural discomfort at the thought of seeming gross in front of your partners: whether that’s bleeding through your pants on your period or needing to pee in front of them while in the middle of nowhere. They’re completely unphased and probably somewhat amused or empathetic, so it’s really just mind over matter. 

“Are you done yet?!”

“Would you look away! I can’t do it while you’re watching!!” 

- And Valentine is really just the epitome of boys will be boys. Don’t be surprised when he does stereotypically gross “boy” stuff: drinking straight from cartons, pissing off cliffs, adjusting himself in his jeans, etc. Earl is a bit more civilized and tries to get him to act right, but it certainly helps to lower your need to seem perfect in front of them and help the three of you grow closer in the long run. 

- Earl apologizing for cursing in front of you and giving Val looks whenever he does; as if you’re some kind of saint who has never cussed in her entire life and will faint at the sound of it. Generally, anyone who cusses in front of him will garner some kind of disappointed reaction; even you.

- Getting fatherly advice and reprimands from Earl. He nags the two of you quite often, but it’s done out of love so you usually just laugh it off and/or assure him that you’ll do whatever he’s asking you to. It’s usually pretty easy to get him to soften up whenever you manage to tick him off; especially if it’s you who’s managed to get in trouble, just kiss up to him and he’ll melt, even if he tries to act like he’s still a bit upset. 

- Both you and Earl look to Valentine whenever there’s a job that needs to be done, and though he usually gives you a look or complains, he’ll still follow through with it. 

- If you have any kind of special education; or even if you’re simply mildly intelligent, they’ll both ask you questions as if you’d undoubtedly know the answers to them. You could have majored in literature and they’d still ask you scientific questions, as though simply going to college would allow you to possess the answers of the universe. Valentine, I don’t know if mixing those two cleaning chemicals will blow up the house. I studied photography. 

- The both of them looking to you for final confirmation before actually going through with something. For all of their preconceived gender roles, they’re more submissive to you then they’d like to admit; both because they think you’re really smart and because you secretly have them by the balls. 

- Them asking you where their belongings are: pants, boots, keys, cigarettes, lighters, etc. You’re probably the only one who ever knows exactly where they’ve left things. Although, if you tend to be forgetful yourself, you all probably act like three peas in a pod: one person has the keys, another has the cigarettes, and the last one has the lighter, etc. 

- Valentine gives you his jacket to use as a blanket; and would do so even before the three of you started dating. He used to love to pretend like he didn’t like you, but he’d always be taking care of you in one way or another, even when it wasn’t even really necessary. 

- Messing with each other is commonplace in your relationship; at least for Valentine it is. You’ll either stand back and watch as he shoots you a wink and pranks Earl, or join in and get an earful about how the younger man is a bad influence on you. Although, he isn’t complaining when you’re helping him get back at the blonde later in the day.

- Calming them down and holding them back whenever need be. The both of them have pretty fiery tempers so you try to mediate whenever there’s an issue, whether between the two of them or some outside force. 

“I’m gonna kick his ass.”

 “I’m gonna help.” 

- Melvin flirting with and making indecent comments towards you. The two of them genuinely almost throw hands with the 13 year old at least once a week. 

- Valentine tends to be a bit more jealous than Earl is, but whenever the mood strikes; like when an outsider rolls into town and starts trying to flirt with you, they both join forces and make it obvious that you’re off limits. They’ll deny that they were jealous after the fact, and pretend like they didn’t do anything after intimidating the other person, but it’s pretty obvious that they’re lying whenever they laugh off your accusations. Valentine will usually blow their cover by letting some kind of “did you prefer having him hang all over you?” comment slip whenever you press them on the subject any further. 

- Valentine also tends to be a bit more outwardly protective: mainly because he’s young, dumb, and selfless. He reacts faster than he thinks sometimes; like when he punched the graboid with his bare hand, so Earl usually has to hold him back whenever he thinks starting trouble is unnecessary. Regardless, they both back you up whenever they feel someone’s giving you a hard time and patch you up whenever you get hurt, apologizing for not being there to help you out or for hurting you in the process of dealing with your wounds. Earl tends to be protective in a more caring and understated way: like refusing to let you walk home alone or serve a shift at the dinner when it’s dark outside, etc. 

- They have a habit of being too busy arguing to really listen to you, so sometimes you just have to sit back and let them hash it out whenever a fight between them arises. They might try to get you to back one of them up, but it’s best not to do so unless it’s completely necessary, since they’ll likely be a bit upset with you if you happen to choose the other persons side over their own.

- Valentine is a little more hardheaded and hot tempered than Earl is, so if you’re going to argue with one of them, it’s probably going to be with him. The only thing is that he struggles to make amends due to his stubbornness, so even when he knows he’s in the wrong, he’ll probably hesitate to approach you and apologize, unsure of how to bring up the subject and what to say. 

- Earl will always apologize whenever he’s in the wrong; albeit a bit shyly, but if you want to make up with Valentine, it’s best to approach him first when you stop being mad and let him feel as though you’ve calmed down enough to hear him out. It’s easier for him to say sorry when he feels like you aren’t gonna snap at him for saying the wrong thing: so at the end of the day, he’ll hang back and offer a little “sorry for ...you know, everything.” whenever you find yourselves alone. 

- They both struggle to outwardly tell you they love you, feeling like a bunch of pansies whenever they say it, but they do enjoy hearing it coming from you, and seeing the smile on your face whenever they say it back. They tend to mumble it a little; as though someone will pop out with a camera and laugh them out of town, but Earl grows more comfortable with it over time: leaving only Valentine to really struggle with his inability to appear too soft in front of anyone; including you and your other boyfriend. 

- The three of you honestly live in the perfect place to be a poly couple: no ones bothering you or prying into your relationship, no ones passing judgement or starting trouble. You just get to live out the rest of your days as ambiguous roommates who may or may not have been seen kissing each other every now and again. 

[wordy-little-witch]

Buggy: the surprising bombshell the Addams pine over.

Mihawk: The Long suffering uncle who needs to have a serious talk with his sister over flirting with his cru- HIS ASSOCIATE in front of him.

This leaves Crocodile and I will offer this possibility: Uncle that married into the family (even tough he and Mihawk aren’t even married… but when you’re an Addams you know when something’s up) and is suprisingly beloved by the kids. He just seems like the type who’d be only minorly irritated by those… frankly insane children, but soon sees them as the few kids he can actually stand. He comes over and both Pugsley and Wednesday are just immediately drawn to him.

Bonding time with Uncle Crocodile include: playing Houdini and wrapping Pugsley up in chains before putting him in a watertank that slowly fills up with Crocodiles sand like some fucked up saw trap (Should be added Pugsley is ecstatic about this because weird little freak,masochistic Pugsley has always been my favorite interpretation of him)

Live feeding the Wani with Wednesday. Morticia is so touched that her little girl is doing so much for endangered species…. Mainly keeping them endangered but the way she takes to the alligators is cute as well. There is probably a commotion though when Crocodile decides to gift her a fully grown one for her birthday. Not because of the dangerous animal but because Morticia and Gomez are both worried if their little bat can handle the responsibility and an animal is not just for one day after all.

Just… “Uncle Crocodile” as that “When your double income, no kids, lesbian aunts come over and unleash the gift happening on Christmas.” Meme, except he’s another gay uncle and the kids are … peculiar to say the least.

Yes yes yes this this this AAAAAAA ♡♡♡♡♡

Okay but Uncle Crocodile being the one to unabashedly spoil the children, Mihawk being Morticia's brother, all of it is simply!!!! CHEF KISS!!!!!

Also Croc gifting Wednesday a fully grown wani is. Yes. Just yes.

Especially if you go full "of course I did not specifically breed one to be appropriate for my niece what do you me for-" Crocodile who did in fact carefully cultivate and breed certain wanis to get a specific result. Crocodile who absolutely began the process out of curiosity and then later on pushed it a little further because no niece of his would have anything less than the utmost best. Crocodile who refuses to acknowledge the facts because damn it all he has a reputation-

Bonus points, Buggy the Bombshell charming the hearts of everyone in the family. Pugsley has a bomb buddy. Wednesday has a fellow chemist. Gomez enjoys a change from strict swordplay. Tish enjoys the gardening and tinctures they both indulge in. Grandmama is by no means doubting this boy, and she is delighted that Buggy knows so much of the Old Ways of sailing, stories and the lesser known spiritual aspects. Fester just thinks he's neat.

Mihawk is SUFFERING and Crocodile is... well he's Something alright.

Depending on how this goes could impact end results. Either cross guild poly, where Mihawk and Croc finally blow a fuse over the flirtations, to which Morticia and Gomez both offer smiles like "see, we knew he would make a marvelous edition! And look, dearest, you've even embraced your rage. How delectable."

OR CrocHawk and Buggy being romanced by Hawky's sister and brother in law. Nobody knows what's going on beyond Tish, who is blatantly admiring the lipstick the clown has and seems intent on wearing it herself in some manner, and Gomez who is simply VIBRATING because he loves his wife and now he and his wife love this clown, how charming! How beautiful!! How Delightfully Odd!!!

((Bonus points, at one point, Wednesday and Pugsley decide they are sick of their parents' oblivious pining and the clown's unbelievably obtuse awareness. There is an Incident during their play time. Buggy's clothing is ruined. Wednesday offers to go find some replacements.

It just so happens that Buggy is a fair bit taller than Gomez, making his clothing far from workable, but a bit smaller than Morticia. He is, however, slightly chubby, so the closest to a workable size would be one of Tish's dresses. Buggy isn't fazed at all, even mentions that he even owns a few in similar cuts. They send him off to change.

Gomez nearly drops his coffee when the blue haired Emperor glides in, hair piled into a messy bun after his quick shower. Tish for her part pauses with her lip leaving a dark smudge on her own cup, dark eyes laser focused. The dress they'd given him was a bit more conservative in neckline than her more recent fare, a square neckline and flowing long sleeves in a charcoal mesh, web like stitching that drifted in lackadaisical waves to his wrists. The bodice was not boned, but it had careful paneling which embellished the dip of a waist, the curve of a hip. The hem drifted to the floor with a silvery belt hugging his hips with a metallic spider charm glinting sharply from its delicate chain.

He looked phenomenal.

Nobody noticed when Wednesday and Pugsley casually high fived one another from the doorway.

((And later on, in the dead of night, Wednesday's eyes shoot open in alarm as she realizes that she may well have inherited her parents' apparent taste in brightly colored, jovial partners who were more dangerous than the world believed. Mind drifting to a certain werewolf, she rolled over in her bed to bury her face in her pillow. Suffocation seemed an apt response to this realization.))

[nothorses]

re: your recent ask abt terf recruitment

Long ask, but your anecdote struck a cord as I had a very similar experience to you when it comes to hidden terfs online

I was a younger and less experienced in online spaces, I had no idea what a terf was (had originally assumed it was some garden variety Internet insult not to be taken much note of) and ended up following a terf that didn’t openly say they were a terf (but openly labeled themself a radfem, another label I was only vaguely aware of)

I was very lucky that I had also followed ppl who were anti terf and one of their posts on identifying terf rhetoric set off alarm bells, which led to me digging into the other persons blog and realizing the “predatory men” they referred to were actually trans women

This revelation led to a lot of self reflection of how I ended up in the early stages of terf recruitment, especially the “men bad” mindset I was prone to (which is how I was drawn in in the first place), but the idea that I had thoughtlessly agreed with such beliefs was obviously horrifying to me

It’s because of this experience that I get so frustrated with many ppl who seem to be unable to pick up terf rhetoric and gotcha tactics without a neon sign saying they hate trans women in specific. Especially bc I see so many ppl who openly say they’re anti terf & anti transphobia but blatantly and thoughtlessly regurgitate terf talking points (men bad, equating genitalia/hormones to personal morality, aspec & bi/pan exclusion, “q slur”, etc etc)

The idea ppl seem to have that they’re magically immune to terf rhetoric bc “well I don’t hate trans women” is so dangerous, the most dangerous thing to believe when it comes to a pervasive ideology is that “I could never be tricked into believing that” when clearly you can! Many are! Without even realizing who they’re agreeing with!

And when ppl DO get called out and told that it’s terf rhetoric many bury their heads in the sand and deny it

It’s just so disheartening, I don’t know how ppl expect to prevent terfs recruitment if they refuse to acknowledge how they gain foothold and exploit pre-existing mindsets in the first place

God, yes, all of this.

imo, people who have actually been through and seen how TERF recruitment works are also the most valuable resources we have in learning how to prevent it. I interviewed an ex-Radfem a while back, and the insight is genuinely so helpful.

(I also have a couple of other people I asked to interview before I left for camp and never followed up with 😬 if that's you, I'm sorry, and I will probably try to DM you again soonish in case you're still down for that.)

[livelaughlovecassie]

Maybe Someday

Book: Immortal Desires

Pairing: Gabriela Adalhard/Cassie Harlow

Rating/Warnings: M, contains scenes of nausea and descriptions of throwing up, blood, depression, and refusal to eat

Summary: Gabriela still hasn’t gotten the hang of drinking blood

A.N. Please keep the above warnings in mind! If there are any additional warnings or tag you need me to add please don’t hesitate to let me know!

The nausea is threatening a reappearance again, there’s a drip in the faucet, she’s long gone. There’s nothing Gabriela is willing to do about it right now.

Willingness. What a concept.

The solution sits there, blatantly taunting. She graces it with the finger, sending a mental apology moments afterwards to whoever had to be drained for this.

It’s never getting easier.

She catches a forced sight of herself in the mirror, breaking gaze just as quickly. Silver follows her back, and she loses her reflection. There’ll be no looking at herself anymore, now that it won’t result her in seeing herself.

‘Can’t see what’s gone’ she reminds herself. She curls up. The drip goes on.

Her days have blended into this lately, since she died. Since she awoke with her stopped heart in her throat and the keen eyes of a community watching her every move. (They are a community, for all she says about them. Just not one for her). She wonders for a moment if they’re at all entertained by what she presents to them now. For a marvelous moment, she remembers she doesn’t care, and manages a partial smile.

A knock, and seeing Nicole’s responding smile startles her out of the stupor, and she scrambles to sit up in a decent position. Her hoodie is crumpled she knows, and her hair in an extremely messy ponytail. Not ready for company. Again though, this not caring thing does wonders for her.

“How’re you holding up?” Nicole questions, and Gabriela’s eyes dart to the bag. Nicole sees it too, but thankfully she keeps whatever sympathy she’s sure she’s harboring to herself.

“Holding up fine” she lies, and her eternal punishment comes through exactly moments later. Cas Harlow is here, and she looks as though she’s been handed a lottery ticket. She has no energy for the smugness.

“Cas” Nicole acknowledges, and Cas immediately ignores this pleasantry to eye the bag. Maybe she’ll keep it there rather than deliver it to Shiloh’s door later that night- it’s clearly a conversational point.

“You’re still holding out?”

“It’s a principle-” she begins. Harlow’s laugh is as amused as she imagines she can get, the usual rough edge sneaking its way through.

“It’s killing you, is what it is. Look, you don’t have to hunt. But the blood was given anyways. So feed. You know you want to”

It’s an act of otherworldly, hunger induced defiance that has her lift the bag from the table, bringing it to her lips. She doesn’t need to much less want to- has more control than Cas. Than them. She can keep herself from doing this.

Her fangs dip, and she thinks she’s never eaten before this. The ecstasy overtaking her as the blood coats her tongue and eventually lips as she grows sloppier elicits the faintest moan, clearly not lost on Cas.

The bag is drained down to the dredges, and she could swear she hears Cas laugh as she growls in her desperation to get more. Another bag is downed, somehow smoothly procured by Cas’s deft hand.

“Lifted it” she explains, surely purposely ignoring Gabe’s (unfocused) glare of judgment. “Hey, this one was given by L. Russel! You should start a collection- some people treat doing this like a free ticket to paradise and give every couple months. Maybe they’ll come through for you again- since you like the taste so much apparently”

It’s all it takes to Gabriela on her feet and in the bathroom, a nausea even stronger than before threatening to overtake her. Footsteps follow, but whoever it is isn’t important. Who is is this L. Russel, who’s unwittingly extending the life force and strength of a monster.

She can feel Cas’s hand steadying her, hyper aware of the surprisingly gentle touch that grasps the stray hair and chain of her cross out of her way as she vomits. Her fingers linger over a rash from the faint bit of silver mixed with the gold, brushing at it with a careful reverence. It’s unexpectedly grounding, and she flinches back from the stained red bowl- leaning against Cas. It’s a comfortable position- she must have shifted to make the room for her.

She sits with that for a moment, with a bloody toilet bowl and Cas Harlow and a mouthful of blood her body stubbornly refused to let go of, and somehow it’s the most grounded she’s felt in some time.

[sholiofic]

Whumptober Day 5: Sunburn

No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | “If my pain will stretch that far.” (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

Algy & Biggles, a bit of fluff from the 20s or early 30s. (I thought I wasn't going to have anything for this one, and then suddenly inspiration struck last night.) Also posted on DW.

***

"Oh no," Algy said, stretching as far as he could from Biggles's glistening hand, dipped in a vaguely greenish substance. "What's in that?"

"The locals swear very highly by it."

"If that touches me, I'll be swearing very highly at it. Biggles -- James Bigglesworth, no --" But the hand had already come into contact with his hot shoulders. He hissed in pain, even more so when the concoction sent a stinging wave rippling across his skin. But it was followed by a strange, cool, albeit somewhat slimy relief.

Refusing to acknowledge that it had helped in any way, Algy turned a grim look on his cousin.

"It's made from a plant known to science as aloe vera," Biggles told him, dipping a hand in the pot again. "My uncle says that it is scientifically proven --"

"Your uncle is cracked, and we both know it," Algy said darkly. But he leaned forward to let Biggles get to his lower back.

"Is it helping?"

"No," Algy said, lying blatantly. But then, feeling not only slightly better but also aware of the hot red flush across Biggles's cheekbones, he dipped a finger in the concoction and rubbed it across his cousin's sunburnt nose. Biggles jerked back in surprise. "Physician, heal thyself."

"So it does help?" Biggles scooped up a small handful and smeared it cautiously across his face.

"Only at the cost of never feeling clean again," Algy muttered. "By the way, I am never going anywhere with you ever again," and even now, only a few short years after the Great War, he suspected that he was lying.

[luesmainblog]

for those wondering why i have been mostly quiet regarding israel and palestine: most of the pro-palestine stuff i come across is dismissive of hamas' horrors, blatantly antisemetic in parts, and generally conflates the israeli population with their government. or worse, treats them as a monolith; it is true that there are many israelis mocking the people their soldiers are destroying. it is NOT true that all of israel doesn't care and is just totally cool with what's going on. i will share what i find of israel's atrocities, but i will not make my jewish followers feel unsafe for shit they had nothing to do with. most of the stuff i've seen that *does* acknowledge the horror is jewish bloggers who have spent much of their life advocating for palestine, now having to struggle against antisemetics coming to them, furious that they DARE to be upset at the lost israeli lives. as though they are not allowed to mourn for both sides. as though they are not allowed to be horrified by what has happened; that they can ONLY be worried for palestine and how the attack was the perfect excuse for israel to double down. i refuse to send even more hatred their way by spreading their grief further into the void; you never know Exactly who's following your follower's followers. i am glad, at least, that nobody i follow was outright celebrating. but i know that people WERE, and now they're trying to act like that never happened. so incase this wasn't clear, cheering on the deaths of Israelis does not fucking help palestine.

I am truly disgusted with the blatant racism and colonialism that manifests israel's very core. it is an attempt at a violent ethnostate, intent to not only destroy the people it seeks to replace, but fully erase them from history. i am also disgusted with the way that the left is happy to celebrate genuine terrorism if it's committed "for the right side", as if parading dead bodies and raping people does fucking ANYTHING good. as if that doesn't fuel the israeli government's chances for propoganda. as if it hasn't traumatized your jewish neighbors. there are no fucking winners in war. free palestine and protect your muslim AND jewish friends in this time, they are BOTH getting their shit kicked in by ignorant people who want to take out their anger on some random kid in ohio. we are all posting in anger here. but let's check ourselves before we post; misinformation and antisemitism weakens our voices. Edit for clarity: this post is for my mutuals. I am specifically asking my mutuals to think carefully about what they post; i am aware that i've been too quiet, and i am trying to remedy that. i am also warning my jewish and muslim followers that if you've been using my blog as a safe spot to not think about it for a little bit, you're gonna wanna block the tags below. 'horrible things' will usually do it. i am also venting about how every jew i follow is getting hit with the "die you stupid zionist" shit from coward anons who can't tell the difference between supporting israel and just being fucking concerned for your family over there. it's fucked.

[soullessjack]

don’t know if I’ve brought it up before but i think another one of the weirder aspects to baby-jack or the perception of him as an “actual child” is that it relies entirely on willful ignorance, and even belligerent disregard for the show’s canon (which very obviously portrays him as a teenager/young adult with obviously expressed desires to have ‘normal’ human teenager/young adult experiences; see 14x06).

like, it’s one thing entirely to say “here’s an au where [insert thing] is different and not canon,” (which is marginally better than the alternatives but still perpetuates ableism), but when you’re aware of canon and have to blatantly ignore or refuse it just to…idk? feel better about your au, or something? it’s just weird. and for me it brings up the question: Why?

Why is it so important to you that jack is always a child, or still grossly childlike as an adult? Why can you only engage with or enjoy his character when he isn’t even the same character, and why do you staunchly refuse to acknowledge him as he actually is? Why do you assume the show holds the same perception of him when it clearly doesn’t?

i mean from his personality traits to his basic interests and even his actual development, it’s all completely removed in these au’s and various perceptions because they directly contradict the narratives you’ve created for him. he chose to be an adult, he hates being considered a child, he is a genuinely angry person who masks his anger to be safe. he wants to make friends and have sex and fall in love and get a parking ticket and all the other things he perceives as normal human experiences. it’s just so incredibly odd to me that people are continuing to choose to see him as an infant, not as their own headcanon or au, but with the willful ignorance of his portrayal as a teenager/young adult.

and it’s even more odd, and frankly upsetting (if not completely disgusting) from an autistic perspective — when we tell you guys over and over again “the traits you view as childlike are just his autistic traits,” or “turning him into an infant constantly is very ableist, please stop,” — you instead turn to blatantly ignore our voices as well.

TLDR I have absolutely no respect for any concept of babyjack because almost all of it relies on willful ignorance of both the show and autistic voices 👍👍

[anghraine]

I'm iffy about reader-response theory in general, but sometimes there's really no way of avoiding how profoundly interpretations can be shaped by personal experience. I mean, yeah, there are headcanons with acknowledged projection (I have these!). But even things that are ostensibly more, well, interpretive can involve a lot of projection if you dig about two inches in.

I was thinking about this, because my best friend and I have talked about our views of Anakin as Vader and his relationship with Luke in the films, and we just blatantly come at it from our different Bio Dad Issues.

For me, Anakin is a kind of photo negative of my bio father, who was never menacing, but just didn't ... care very much.

He missed my birth because he was watching a football game, he ditched my mother and me when I was two and took several of my (scarce) toys for his new SO's children even when they had duplicates of them, would tell me that he'd come to visit or was going to take me somewhere and then not show up, had to be essentially dragged by my stepmother into paying his $300/month child support even though my mother was dirt poor, etc etc.

Apparently I called him a liar when he bothered to visit once when I was four and I refused to talk to him, but eventually I just sort of adapted to this weird dynamic where I could never be sure that he wouldn't show up or express affection (sometimes he did!), but certainly couldn't expect it. I still tend to engage with the world with the kind of neutral expectations he instilled: X might happen, or might not, so I won't assume it won't, but I'm not going to expect anything either, since that leads to disappointment much of the time.

Anyway, he gets sad that we're not closer, but it's like ... you were 27 when I was born! And you always knew where I lived! Nothing was stopping you from offering to rule the galaxy as father and daughter reaching out before I was 29! This is on you.

I watched the OT as a teenager (after seeing parts of TPM) and, to me, there was something weirdly powerful about just how far Anakin was willing to go to track down Luke. Yes, he does terrible things to achieve it and yes, his desire to throw the Empire's resources into hunting down Luke is uhhh problematic, but hey, he cares! He ultimately cares enough to essentially throw away everything he's worked for and his own life so that Luke can live. As he's dying, he just wants to see Luke with his own eyes and get a message to Leia.

teenage me: *mind blown*

Luke's refusal to leave him and grief afterwards was immensely powerful as well to 15-y-o me—the idea of this father and child who (through the intervention of others) barely know each other and yet have such a powerful bond and are willing to do so much more than my bio dad would ever do for me. For all the evil that Anakin does, there's a kind of raw wish-fulfillment in that arc for me that definitely affects how I see them and why their relationship matters more to me than any other in SW.

I won't get into my friend's history, but he does see Anakin pretty differently even though we agree on some particular points, in a way that's equally filtered through his experiences. So it's like. I don't think I'm wrong (lol), but I'm aware that I'm coming at it from a specific perspective, and the meaning and power I find in the arc and what tends to be most impactful for me is strongly influenced by my own experiences apart from SW.

So sometimes I do look at reader-response theories and I'm like ... okay, fine.

[philosophicalparadox]

Cough, it’s me again

Our dear demon bastard stated what type of women he likes. What do you think would be the type of woman (and maybe even man) he dislikes the most?

He is living in my head rent free

This one is much easier and less complex to answer 🙏 (I promise your other ask is in the works 😚 its just taking its dear sweet time to manifest in coherent thoughts)

My picture of a person Mephisto absolutely would not like conveniently exists in canon: Michael Gedouin. And no, I'm not just saying that because I hate the bastard.

Gedouin is everything Samael loves to despise. He's clingy, desperate, arrogant, short sighted, pushy and rude. He's got delusions of grandeur and crippling insecurities. Mephisto would eat him alive out of spite - possibly literally if he weren't so fat as to give the malnourished demon clogged arteries for the effort.

I personally think that when Samael expressly dislikes or loathes someone he goes out of his way to be an absolute menace to them. Because he's petty like that.

Canon kind of backs me up on this, and offers a compelling series of reasons why. Everyone he dislikes in canon, he dislikes because they're too intrusive or rude (Lewin) too cocksure and ignorant (Arthur) too needy and pushy (Yukio to a degree) or too self absorbed and narcissistic (Lucifer).

What do all these people have in common?

They're all liars.

They all lie to themselves and to others constantly. Lewin lies to others because he has to in order to appear normal; Arthur lies to himself so that he feels normal-ish despite blatantly knowing he isn't; Yukio lies to both himself and others for the sake of status quo and because he has crippling insecurities he would rather pretend didn't exist; and Lucifer lies to everyone including himself because his mind and ego can't handle the truth or reality, so he twists the narratives to suit himself, and to hell with the rest.

Samael, Father of Lies, absolutely despises liars.

He despises liars, and he despises those who turn away from a hard truth they'd rather not face. In his mind, these people are cowards, possibly, and I don't imagine he is fond of cowardice either. Part of why he is so hard on Yukio is because Yukio refuses to see or acknowledge the present, focusing -- and hiding in - the past or sometimes the future. He is similarly stern with Rin at times because Rin was running away from the past, but with no sense of direction for the present or future; he was lost, though, not deliberately hiding. Yukio hides; he uses the past or possible future to justify the present while acknowledging neither, and that makes him both annoying and dangerous; vascillating between the past and future without thinking about the present is how you end up circling a drain with no outlet. Yes, Yukio is depressed and stressed and has some serious trauma issues, and that is why he acts that way - no doubt Mephisto is well aware of that - but he also was stubborn and foolish and refused to accept help in any way except very marginally for his way, and his way was not what he needed. And I just don't see Samael having the greatest patience with people who wallow in their misery and refuse to help themselves, or if they are, like with Yukio, then they won't listen to reason if they're wrong.

Samael does not like people who deny the truth. Who insist they know better than he does, who won't budge an inch no matter what he tells them. He has not the patience, and after a lifetime of dealing with Mr. Narc Himself I honestly can't blame him for that.

At the same time, he finds great delight in tormenting people he despises. He ribs Arthur all the time and makes a mockery of him, he belittles Yukio and infantalizes him in some respects; He openly says he doesn't like Lewin and finds him creepy due to his persistent, invasive intrigue regarding himself, and doesn't bother him much I feel because anything Samael did do to bugger him would only entice him more; and he can do nary a thing about Lucifer, except quietly chide him in the back of his mind and hope his brother comes to his senses eventually. A hope I think he has lost all faith in.

Now, I feel a need to bring up an odd little relationship regarding these things - Amaimon.

Does Samael dislike Amaimon? Yes, i think he does, in a way. But he dislikes him because he is rude and lazy and doesn't like to think for himself or make hard decisions and acts like a total child about it when he does. Amaimon doesn't pick sides because he doesn't want to think about the ramifications of either choice, so he just doesn't make one. (until he has to). Amaimon doesn't like actual hard work, so to entice him to do anything one must invite him to "play" or offer a reward - and sometimes punishment - worth motivating him. Amaimon does not give a single flying fuck if anyone really likes him or not, which I do think Samael finds admirable about him actually, but it comes with the caveat that he can't trust Amaimon to blend in very well or follow a set of rules he sees no point in following, like "Dont punch people, because they die, and we dont want them to die". To explain anything to Amaimon, one must explain it in his terms, on his terms, which makes him difficult and annoying to deal with at times because if there's no relevance to himself going on, he has no reason to care. He is the quintessential "not my problem" guy.

(I confess after writing this I am a lot like him in many regards)

Samael doesn't appreciate people who make his life more difficult, I would say for the above case. He prefers things to go a certain way, and people who propose to mess this up by being stubborn and difficult to control are thorns in his side; but he is willing to put up with them for the greater good of his work.

Rin is another thorny case for Samael at times, though its more that Rin has the utmost potential to be a problem than that he presently is one; Rin is strong willed, though not exactly stubborn - he can be plied fairly easily with the right kind of persuasion, and as recent chapters have so kindly delivered onto us, Rin is the faith-having sort of person; he believes in Mephisto's power and abilities, and has faith that Samael would be able to put the world to rights if Satan wasn't being such a stubborn Git about it all.

That being said, I could easily see the tables turning if Rin decided to get in Samael's way and provoke him with his stubbornness, especially since Rin isn't always keen on listening to reason, so I hesitate to say Samael likes or dislikes Rin outright - I think he's an edge case and that Samael cautiously likes him, but would absolutely kill or maim him if it came to that. And I personally am of the mind that Rin is very much aware of this.

So, to recap -

Samael does not like Liars, Truth Deniers, and People Who Make Life Harder.

I also am of the mind he has a particularly vengeful distaste for thieves, based on the possessiveness of his personality and penchant for collecting things, but only insofar as they have stolen from him. After all I doubt he got all of his own belongings by moral means, given Loki and Dionysus' penchant for being thieves themselves. So steal away - just don't steal things from the Devil, maybe. Unless he wants you to. (Ahem, Impure King arc). But even then, probably not the wisest idea.

[super-hero-confessions]

The Boys fandom is really out here tossing their self awareness to the wind and I'm so tired of these clowns.

What the fuck.

1000 complaints about Hughie getting SA'd. 100000000 complaints about utter nonsense if not about satire itself and completely missing the mark. 10000000000000000 about the writing from people who seem to lack a fundamental understanding of creative freedom and respecting other artists ability to practice this or even what a HUMAN is by their apparent hatred of the characters not being fucking sock puppets that do everything perfectly exactly as they want or expect them to—because I'm sure the real life people in their day to day life work exactly like this and they have everything and everyone under control, no one ever makes an irrational or emotional decision.

Good job. Pat yourselves on the back. Clearly, you know everything and understand everything with enlightened clarity. Every argument and criticism of canon you make is not bad faith or completely biased because what you say is gospel and cannot be wrong because canon is wrong for not confirming those biases. Nevermind the blatantly displayed ignorance of what legitimate criticism is or lack of basic respect for other artists and points of view with the constant obvious oblivious white Karen gossip and baseless accusations! You care when SA happens to men—oh wait. Only specific men. That's right. The same people complaining about it happening to Hughie love to write shitty torture porn fanfic that does EXACTLY the same shit if not WORSE, by far, than anything the show's writers have come up with or done. The only difference is which CHARACTER they get off on torturing and that these fucking clowns actually do it to get off, the very thing they are... Accusing the writers of doing. Huh. Funny how that works out.

Homelander torture porn?

"A-OKAY! No tagging necessary even CAUSE WE ALL WANT IT AND HE TOTALLY DESERVES IT OR EVEN WANTS IT, who the fuck cares if it triggers someone! Also! Make it worse! Make an AU version of Homelander that is NOT a rapist—but torture him with rape anyway because somehow, he still deserves it! Lololololololololol he's such a bottom babygirl loooooooool!!1!1!"

Hughie torture porn?

"NO! BAD WRONG! HOW DARE THEY! HE DOESN'T DESERVE THAT AND I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT SO THE WRITERS SUCK!"

The old, "rules for thee, not for me" or " it's okay when I do it" bits, right?

FUCKING. HYPOCRITES. MAKE. IT. MAKE. SENSE.

Or AT LEAST tag your shit properly! I even think the episodes could have included additional warnings but we've known this kind of stuff is present since day one. But to write half the shit that these people put out in the fandom, fucking refuse to properly tag it—so it will inevitably trigger someone, and then have the audacity to complain about what the show does when they know damn well what the show does barely scratches the surface of some of the garbage these fanfic writers have written?

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

And yes, I'm calling it GARBAGE, not because it might be poorly written or OOC although there's certainly no shortage of that. People still refuse to acknowledge and tag their kinks properly.

These are the people who trigger others for fun but then complain when they get triggered. These are the people who give fanfic a bad rep. These are the people making BDSM stigmas worse. These are the people that routinely make DEAD DOVE the fucking SAFE SPACE, by comparison. Rape kinks are super fucking common—but they need to be tagged.

These are the people that write shit as badly romanticized and ignorantly trigger happy as Twilight or 50 Shades Of Grey and unironically think it's good.

Egos from fanfic writers more inflated than Homelander's should not be this common, especially when it's people who seem to get off on fucking triggering other people.

And look, I'm sorry for ranting but to put it bluntly, I shouldn't have to rant about this! Tagging is basic fanfiction etiquette, it is literally one of the rules on AO3. Refusing to tag or improperly tagging is a "failure to warn" and can get you suspended if it's a repeated pattern. They even have a catch-all warning in case you aren't sure! It's not difficult and it saves everyone time and pain.

Please be self aware, please tag your work accordingly. If you're someone who gets triggered by a work like this, please politely ask the author to tag it or just report it.

Considering the source materials and what it actually covers and criticizes, this behavior in the fandom is downright disgraceful.

[star1ight0]

How to exist as me

How do I exist as an autistic person without feeling guilty,

I know that unlike a lot of people i got the privilege of being diagnosed before becoming an adult but it was really late nonetheless. Even so,

I've not been treated the way any other person would be with autism, having to follow a script penned by neurotypicals all the time is hard and draining I constantly feel like i have no energy to do anything at all after as much as an hour at the store.

I've been told more times that I can count " It's not your fault you have a hart time unmasking "

but I feel as if cant be accepted by my community if i cant unmask,

I know in some part of me that I'm allowed to feel venerable and that I deserve to have people around me that can both see and acknowledge my struggles as a disabled person,

but to be told "your not autistic" because I don't act the way a 10 year old autistic boy does feels so unfair.

I grew up always changing the way acted to be seen and treated as human, so its hard trying to undo all of that.

"learning how to be 'unapologetically' you" Seems imposable, learning how to be my own person, rather than conforming to the behaviors and standards set by people who are simply not like me and don't understand why its so hard.

Growing up with an unaccommodated disability has left a scar in so many ways, and trying to heal isn't easy. I've grown up trying to protect myself from the inherent discrimination shown to me.

I do not "have autism" I don't "suffer from autism"

I'm autistic

Maybe its silly but its this type of treatment is what has sent me into relapses living in a world where nothing is made for you be it my epilepsy, being diabetic but especially being autistic. It feels like nothing is in my control, be it: the way public education is or how inaccessible the 'real world' is.

Not being in control of you body is scary and stressful weather it be because of a seizure, being overstimulated, or feeling like my body is about to shut down because my sugars are low its scary.

Feeling my body shake and not knowing if its because its too hot or if its my blood sugar, its caused me so much mental pain and put me in many depressive episodes of which I blatantly refused to take care of myself as a means of self destruction.

Being able to control something feels helpful, even if that one thing you can control is burring your skin off. Its a form of pain I feel an unhealthy amount of comfort in. Even so getting high until I cant remember where I am is better than being hyper aware of everything around me. The unbelievable amount of trauma I've endured is only adding to the fact.

When the help you need is so inaccessible what am I meant to do, when a system that is meant to help you is built to help you seems to work against you, or has failed you so many time what is it I'm meant to do?

what is there left for me to do?

[infracti-angelus]

Pale Fire, Chpt 5

PALE FIRE, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction

Pairing:  Éomer and Lothíriel

Summary: Lothíriel wasn’t unacquainted with infatuation; after all, she was nearly twenty-one years old and (by Gondorian standards, at least) well past her prime. But while she was acquainted with infatuation and the whispers of attraction, this was entirely different. And it infuriated her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot. No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame.  She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight’s dinner.

Rating: M

Click here for Chapter 1

Click here for Chapter 2

Click here for Chapter 3

Click here for Chapter 4

Chapter 5: The Incident

His manner and bearing belied a cool aloofness. Indeed, the only fault that could be found in his interactions with the other partygoers was his stiffness, most likely due to inexperience as a warrior thrust into the role of king. But his eyes betrayed him. Lothíriel didn't know how to describe it, but his gaze held such awareness, a true presence in this very moment, that it almost alarmed her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot.

No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame. She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight's supper.

If this was what a brief look of indifference caused, she couldn't imagine what it would be like to be the center of his attention. The likelihood of that, however was in her favor, since he was making it a point to not rest his eyes on anything for longer than a few seconds while his captain was otherwise occupied, probably due to the amount of eligible women being blatantly paraded past by hopeful fathers.

Lothíriel felt perpetually flushed, not helped by the arrival of more partygoers. She announced to the rest of the family that she would find Ada, which left a very put-out Amrothos holding Alphros whilst Rosilith secured a dance ("or two!" she winked) from Elphir. Venturing this way and that and consciously keeping her gaze averted from the table housing the King of Rohan, she was able to cover a large amount of ground without any sign of her father. The surrounding lords seemed no longer content with her excuses and she could sense the electricity of their frustrations with each additional dance refusal. She had officially given up looking for her father and was going to seek out wherever Amrothos and Alphros had set up camp when her path was blocked.

"My lady," a masculine voice drawled.

"Lord Brayan," Lothíriel dipped her head in acknowledgement, schooling her features to one of cool indifference.

"You're looking…well."

Lothíriel inwardly squirmed. The epitome of gentlemanliness, Lord Brayan gave no indication to being the contrary. His gaze remained respectfully on her face the entire time, which was more than she could say for some of the other lords she had encountered. They had lasciviously dragged their eyes on her form, and one had even waggled his eyebrows suggestively (he'd been thrice her age, and she had to contain her laughter). Despite this, the statement from Lord Brayan left her ill at ease.

"Thank you, my lord. Excuse me." Lothíriel took a step to the side, attempting to extract herself before this chance meeting could evolve into something more.

He stepped to be in front of her again, blocking her path. Lothíriel felt a bubble of panic before narrowing her eyes. She had done much more difficult things than rebuff unwanted advances from a nobleman.

"I must confess, I find your appearance to be a bit of a surprise," he said, taking a step towards her to close some of the empty distance.

"Oh?" she countered, trying to sound entirely uninterested in his opinions (which wasn't hard).

"I thought you were sequestered away on your seaside palace," he said.

Lothíriel's brow quirked without her intending it to. She knew he meant what she was wearing, but spoken aloud he was referring to her presence in Gondor. Classic misdirection.

"Hmm," she said. The less she answered, the less fuel she gave him.

"It's nice to see your family let you out of that sandcastle." Lothíriel bristled at his reference to her ancestral home as a sandcastle.

He continued, "If you were mine, I would keep you tucked away, safe and sound. It's still very dangerous for such a journey. Then again, I'd be sorely disappointed if they did that."

Lothíriel stepped to her left this time.

"I could also understand if you were to get too bored being locked up, and need a release for your pent up energy." He stepped again to impede her escape. "Perhaps you've passed the time with other…activities." Lothíriel looked up sharply, and by the glint in his eyes, he knew he had touched a nerve. He grinned. "Horseback riding, perhaps?"

Damn him, Lothíriel thought. She could comprehend the deeper implication of his words.

He was extremely close to her now. She knew he could see down the front of her dress; his eyes dilated. "I'd like to see more of you."

Damn him again.

"Dance with me," he demanded and grasped her hand to place a kiss on her pulse point. Coils of revulsion curled inside her stomach. Lothíriel wished she could shed her skin like a snake. The memory of his lips on the inside of her wrist reminded her of a jellyfish sting.

"No," she extracted her hand from his. "Thank you," she added as an afterthought.

"When I wanted to escape, I had a special, isolated place I would go to," his voice lowered. "But I'd be willing to share it with you." He did not give up, despite her rebuff. She glanced around to see if she could find her family.

She noticed her father across the room –there he was! — and glanced at the man he was talking to.

Lord Brayan grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, sliding his finger suggestively down the back of her dress. "If you're good, I'll let you come."

Lothíriel locked eyes with the King of Rohan. Fire seeped through her veins. Elbereth, the way he was looking at her. She felt a flush envelop her, and tore her eyes away from his as Lord Brayan's words registered in her mind.

If Lothíriel hadn't known the commotion it would cause, she would have thrown a fist (Erchirion had taught her how to fight when she was eight because Amrothos had, in her words, "kept trying to drown" her). Nonetheless, she knew the disgraceful behavior of her potential actions would only bring shame on her family, and perhaps affect their livelihood.

Lothíriel, instead, yanked her arm out of his grasp and took a step back. Her face burned in anger and she all but hissed "No, thank you" before she rudely (not enough to sate her rage, but enough to make a point) pushed past him and found the first exit she could.

She sought refuge in the pleasant but ill-tended gardens of Minas. Once lovely like the city, they too had fallen into disarray with the growing shadow. Even with the end of ethuil, spring, the gardens were lackluster. They could no longer compare to the gardens in Dol Amroth, but perhaps now that there was a new King, the gardens would be tended to once more. Even with the threat of war upon the lands, the gardens still held hints of aromatic scents from medicinal herbs cultivated by the Houses of Healing. Lothíriel leaned on the nearest stone balustrade and squeezed her eyes shut. She could still feel the imprint of his grip around her wrist as he pulled her against himself. She stifled the urge to retch.

Lothíriel breathed shakily. She was on the brink of one of her attacks. No, not now, she thought. She swore under her breath. She would not relive her encounter with the Corsairs. She refused to do so; she refused to let Lord Brayan trigger that memory. Recalling that pain seemed to be a reliable distraction, she sunk her fingernails into the flesh of her hand, causing angry crescent shaped welts to appear. Focusing on the sting in her palm, she could feel attack dissipate. Merciful Nienna, thank you.

It was dusk but the air still held the warmth promised by fast-approaching laer. Lothíriel found herself a well concealed alcove inhabited by a stone bench. Perhaps she could obtain a moment of reprieve before rejoining the party. She dusted off the moss the best she could, hindered in her task by the fading light. She would have to, unfortunately, see and interact with Lord Brayan eventually. Hopefully he didn't follow her out, or she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Before she could turn to lower herself onto her seat, she heard a masculine voice behind her.

"My Lady, I-"

Lothíriel spun around and at first all she could see were broad shoulders. Before she could identify the speaker, she saw two shadows and a flash of steel to her right.

"My lord!" she cried in warning as the figure wielding a sword approached and shouted something. She instinctively put her arm out to protect the man—Lord Brayan?—in front of her and move him out of reach.

If she had thought the King's eyes made her burn, she was so wrong. The unnatural sensation of cold metal sundering her flesh was followed instantly by agonizing pain. Her whole arm felt aflame and the trauma of her body accepting such a wound blinded her to the subsequent scuffle. A glint of a dagger and the whole affair was over, with the uninvited man hailing victorious.

Lothíriel felt her heart palpitate at an alarming speed and she began gasping for air. Immediately the man knelt to the ground in front of her –how did she get down here? -and guided her arm to his lap.

"The laceration is mild. You are in no danger of losing any permanent feeling," he stated, his tone clinical and dispassionate marking him as an experienced war veteran. She could feel the pressure of some sort of fabric he pressed down to staunch the bleeding.

Lothíriel could not thank him, could not quip that loss of feeling would be a blessing, or even check to see if he had sustained any harm. Indeed, she could not even breathe and her vision started to blur.

"My Lady?" the man's voice had colour to it now. He was clearly alarmed.

Lothíriel tried to even her breathing or she knew she would pass out from hyperventilation, as she'd seen it happen to more than one noblewoman. She only managed to choke out a mangled noise. With her left hand she reached behind her and attempted to unbutton her gown.

"My Lady!"

"Lothy!" Amrothos' concerned voice joined the shocked one. Lothíriel looked up to see Amrothos jumping over a corpse and skidding on blood to kneel by her side, joining the man who had blond hair. "Lothy, what happened? Are you alright? What's wrong!?"

If Lothíriel had been in her right mind, she would have chided Amrothos for pestering her with questions without waiting for answers, but the relief of the arrival of her brother surpassed everything, and she managed to choke out "corset."

She could see comprehension flash across his eyes, and Amrothos, with a set task given to him, immediately took over unbuttoning her gown. After opening the back, he reached the lacings and began to loosen them. But he was going too slowly and her lungs burned as if someone had jabbed an iron poker, blazing red from heat, into them. Everything was aching and the edge of her vision started to blur. She could feel herself slumping from the lack of oxygen; Amrothos started to panic. Immediately she felt his hands shoved aside, and a quick glance revealed a solid arm reaching around her. It held a small dagger, still dripping with the assassin's blood, and took her brother's place. A swift motion and the lacings of her corset were sliced apart and she could finally draw a full breath. She slumped forward all the way forward, into the blond man's chest. She felt exhausted and closed her eyes; her head felt too heavy to lift. Though her arm still burned, the pleasure of filling her lungs with the night's fresh air caused her to inwardly rejoice.

"Lothíriel, what happened?" Amrothos questioned again. She felt the man she was leaning on inhale and felt the reverberations in his chest as he answered for her.

"I followed her out here to speak with her. She was able to warn me in time before either of us were killed." He cursed in a foreign language-was that Rohirric?—and continued, "I wasn't quick enough and she sustained injury." His voice was deep and reminded her of waves on the shore during high tide: powerful and unstoppable, but peaceful and soothing. There was a certain lilt to it that betrayed an accent she wasn't familiar with.

Lothíriel could feel hot, white light pulsating from her arm with each heartbeat. She steeled herself for the effort it took to speak and croaked out weakly, "Amrothos, please get Ada."

"I will be right back," Amrothos replied, eager to do something useful. He stood up and darted away, evading the pool of blood on the floor.

Lothíriel took another deep breath and exhaled shakily. The man's arms, which still held her, tensed slightly. After a few more moments of breathing comfortably in silence, Lothíriel finally shifted. Wincing a little, she untucked her head from beneath his chin and glanced up.

She shivered. And his arms tensed around her again.

It was the King of Rohan.

"Do you have the strength to stand?" he asked, the tone of familiarity he had used with her brother was replaced with a strained one.

Gooseflesh prickled across her skin at his breath on her neck. Lothíriel nodded. He carefully shifted her from his lap and stood. Gently, he picked her up at the waist and set her on her feet. Lothíriel swayed a bit and he caught her before she could tip over.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, looking up at his face. His jawline was incredibly sharp even beneath his trimmed beard, and she tempered the urge to reach up her hand to cup it. She observed that his jaw was clenched. She watched the corded muscles in his neck twitching, and noticed that he wouldn't look her directly in the eye.

"Lothíriel?!" she heard her father's panicked voice call to her. The King of Rohan stepped away from her immediately and his stinging gaze honed in on Imrahil. Lothíriel turned around and saw her father, Amrothos, a few of their most trusted Swan Guards, and a Rohirrim hurrying toward them.

"Ada," Lothíriel cried out immediately, rushing into her father's embrace and holding onto him tightly with one arm while cradling the other. Lothíriel could hear whispered Rohirric behind her. Imrahil gripped her tightly by the shoulders to move her away from himself so he could take inventory of her injuries.

"You've been harmed," Imrahil's voice was low and tight. He took off his splendid mantle and draped it over her shoulders, as her dress was sliced and was starting to slip further down her body. Without the King's heat, she realized how chilled she was. The majority of her back was bare, and the mantle provided cover she didn't realize she needed. She watched as the Rohirrim left his King and slipped away.

The King of Rohan cautiously approached them and cleared his throat. Imrahil looked at him. "Prince Imrahil," he spoke lowly and quickly, "I do not think it prudent to stand out here in the open any longer where prying eyes may discover us."

His eyes darted toward Lothíriel and back to her father, raising an eyebrow. Imrahil's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his daughter. His eyes widened at what he saw and he nodded in agreement. Lothíriel felt confused.

Imrahil looked at the King, knowingly. "You are wise, my friend, and I perceive you have a plan. Mayn't I be aware of it?"

"This must be dealt with discreetly. It would do no good for our peoples to know what has happened here, on this night. Peace is still too fragile, and news of assassins infiltrating during the coronation day would cause chaos."

"And Lord Aragorn?"

The warrior-king looked thoughtful. "I am loathe to divulge this information to him immediately and taint this day with ill tidings. I would have us deal with it privately until tomorrow at least. The less people who know will be to our advantage."

Lothíriel turned at footsteps coming towards them, and the Swan Knights instinctually went into a defensive pose. The footsteps belonged to the Rohirrim returning from his errand. The Swan Knights only relaxed when Imrahil motioned them to with a wave of his hand.

He spoke rapidly to his king in Rohirric. The King of Rohan turned to Imrahil and explained. "I asked Éothain to procure the services of Éowyn. Your daughter needs her arm tended to, and I think it best that we do not go to the healer here, or else it will be reported. We needed someone trustworthy, and Éowyn has been studying the art of healing. Éothain has informed her of being needed, and she is waiting in her room with the appropriate supplies. That is, with your permission."

"That is agreeable," Imrahil said, turning from Lothíriel and speaking in hushed tones with the Swan Knights. The King of Rohan's expectant gaze shifted to Lothíriel. It took her a few seconds to realize he was waiting for her approval as well. She nodded mutely, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with her wounded arm on which she was still putting pressure. At her consent, the King spoke to the man named Éothain in their language, and though she could not understand them, it sounded like they were arguing.

Suddenly she felt a hand at her elbow, and she was being ushered away by the Swan guards. Lothíriel stumbled often, and was steadied by one of her father's most trusted guards. Lothíriel didn't register for several moments that the knights were following Éothain through the servant corridors to the guest rooms. The further they walked, the more agitated Lothíriel could feel herself become. Finally, they arrived in a wing that Lothíriel recognized as being reserved for important dignitaries, and Éothain rapped on a solid wood door in a staccato rhythm before the lock clicked open. A beautiful woman with long golden hair answered the door a crack, her face drawn tight and worried. Upon seeing Éothain, she cried out and embraced him. She spoke quickly with him in their native language, and motioned for Swan Knights to stand guard at the door. She smiled tentatively at Lothíriel until she noticed the garment wrapped around her arm, and then the woman's face paled.

She spoke sharply with Éothain who answered in what Lothíriel perceived as a snippy tone. Lothíriel watched as Éothain shrugged the woman off and left while she was in the middle of a sentence. The woman looked extremely frustrated before taking a deep breath, schooling her features to one of calm and turned to Lothíriel and invited her in.

"My name is Éowyn," she said softly as she locked the door, gesturing at a padded bench at the foot of her bed for Lothíriel to sit on. Lothíriel's blood pumped thunderously through her veins and she could feel her body vibrate with energy as she moved to the bench and sat down. Despite her upbringing, Lothíriel could not still sit. She watched Éowyn glide with impossible grace over to a table positioned underneath a window. There were a variety of herbs mixed into poultices, a sharp needle and thread, and cotton fabric strips. A set of closed doors led to an adjoining room, which was for a spouse as was custom in Gondor. Perhaps Éothain's? Based off of their interaction, Lothíriel wasn't sure. Her general knowledge of the Rohirrim and their naming customs could very well point to Éowyn being Éothain's sister, which would make more sense. The room was large for just an apprentice healer, even if she was foreign, but perhaps it was due to Éothain's rank. A fireplace on the opposite side of the room boiled a pot of water and crackled comfortingly, though it did nothing to soothe Lothíriel's reeling mind.

"I'm Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," she provided, as she tried to think of anything that would keep her still, "and I'm so dreadfully sorry to disturb you during the festivities." Lothíriel gripped the fabric of her dress with one hand and forced herself to sit still as Éowyn approached her. The Rohirric beauty was dressed in the traditional dark blue robes of the Houses of Healing. The fabric was almost black in order to disguise blood stains, and had the White Tree of Gondor embroidered in shimmery thread on the left side over the collarbone. The robe was tied with a swath of fabric, silver in color and purely decorative, which indicated she was an apprentice. The higher up in training, the plainer and more practical the belt was. The Warden of the Houses of Healing had a leather belt which held many pouches and slots for tools. Her hair was down but plaited back. Its pale gold colour reminded her of a ghost crab Lothíriel routinely saw scuttling across the sand after dusk near one of her favorite places to sail.

Éowyn knelt down next to Lothíriel and reverently unwrapped the fabric from around her arm and folded it. She replaced it with a damp cloth. "Is he alright?" she inquired quietly, while pouring a sterilizing concoction over the wound to prevent inflammation.

Lothíriel ceased the bouncing of her leg and winced at the sting, startled out of her reverie. "Pardon?"

"Is the King alright?" she clarified, dabbing at the wound to clean it.

"Oh! How did you know he was involved?" Lothíriel puzzled aloud. Éowyn gestured towards the fabric at her feet that had been used to slow her bleeding. The discarded item was a costly tunic of brocaded green.

"The King of Rohan was wearing this. It used to be King Théoden's, and it has blood on the outside of it. Yours has not seeped through it yet."

"Oh!" Lothíriel flushed. She hadn't even realized that the King had given her his own tunic. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed him in nothing but his under-tunic and breeches. She looked at the woman who was tending to her. Lothíriel thought that she looked frightfully pale. "Your King is completely unharmed, as far as I am aware," she reassured, recalling that the people of Rohan had already lost one King. Lothíriel watched colour return to her face and a look of immediate relief.

Éowyn breathed a prayer of thanks in her own language. Smiling at Lothíriel, she handed her a less than half full small glass phial to drink from. "This is the last of the poppy tears I could find. It should help to dull the pain while I stitch the wound closed. After this, all I have is willow bark," Éowyn explained.

Lothíriel downed the bottle in hopes that it would help. She immediately felt her heartbeat slow down, though she didn't feel sleepy like the last time she had been in this situation about a year ago.

"How is it that you were wounded?" Éowyn asked casually as she prepared the needle.

Lothíriel recalled vaguely that the King of Rohan had said Éowyn was trustworthy, but didn't know to what extent. She settled that it wouldn't hurt to tell the healer, but Lothíriel froze at seeing the threaded needle coming toward her. Éowyn, believing Lothíriel's hesitation to be from lack of trust, paused in her task. "Éothain told me it was ill-tidings for all, that you were attacked."

"He told you what happened?"

"Not the complete tale. I've known Éothain since we were very young. He grew up with my brother and I, and the three of us are still very close. My brother and he, especially. It is rare to see them parted. He said just that you were involved in a scuffle with an enemy, and the consequences of it are far reaching for us all."

"I was in the gardens," Lothíriel explained as she exhaled through her mouth, "when I heard a voice calling to me. It was your King, though I did not know it at the time. I saw a flash of steel in the corner of my eye. I tried to move him out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough. " Her speech slowed as the needle Éowyn held initially pierced her flesh. Lothíriel's eyes took on a glassy quality, and she appeared to be reliving some horrific memory from a time long passed.

"Breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth," Éowyn coached. Éowyn had witnessed many soldiers experience this after the Battle of the Morannon and had herself struggled with the episodes of the warriors' waking dream after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Lothíriel dug her nails into her upper thigh to ground herself and inhaled slowly through her nose and could feel herself return to reality as she exhaled.

Éowyn watched intently. She looked extremely contemplative as she knotted the final stitch and used a small dagger to remove the excess thread.

"I-" Lothíriel started to speak.

"Nay; there's no need to explain. It never happened." Éowyn interrupted her, making herself appear intently busy on wrapping Lothíriel's arm with cloth strips. Lothíriel looked extremely grateful, her vigor finally returning. "Well at least the assailant has been dispatched," Éowyn continued, hoping to distract her patient from feeling any residual uncomfortableness.

Lothíriel nodded. "Yes, it is good. Do you know if they captured his companion?"

Éowyn's sharp eyes snapped to Lothíriel's. "Éothain spoke only of one."

"Yes, one assassin. I'm talking about the accomplice he was with," Lothíriel said. She felt renewed energy flow through her body, like a thrumming running through her veins.

"They do not know there was a second enemy," Éowyn stated harshly.

"Well someone has got to tell them!" Lothíriel exclaimed, jumping to her feet as the urgency washed over her. She felt as if she were racing the rising tide; there were but a few, fleeting moments in which she could secure her fate. "There's a chance we could still prevent them from leaving the city."

"They are debriefing now in the war room as we speak," Éowyn spoke hurriedly. Lothíriel started towards the doors but was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. "Ye cannot go while you're like this."

Lothíriel wrenched her shoulder out from her grip and assumed her mask of indifference. "I am perfectly capable of speech, therefore I am going."

"Nay, I do not mean to prevent ye from going," Éowyn said softly, turning her palm up to suggest she meant no harm. "But ye may want to be at least properly covered up."

Lothíriel looked down at herself and blanched. Here she had been abashed at the King of Rohan in naught but his under-tunic and breeches, while she had looked twice as disheveled. The hem of her dress was a shade darker from the rest, stained from the blood pool. A rip on the side by her right knee must have happened when she hit the ground. But truly, the most mortifying thing was the top of her dress. Its mutilation to save her life had left her with little decency. The slips of fabric that served as her sleeves sagged near to her elbows, and Lothíriel realized that had she not been keeping her injured arm so close to her body, the entire dress would have slid down to expose her bosom. In fact, the entire torso at the back of her gown was ripped open, and displayed her bare back from the very nape of her neck to her tailbone.

"Sweet Elbereth," she breathed. Éowyn said something to Lothíriel she didn't catch and ventured into the adjoining room while Lothíriel took a mental inventory of everything wrong in her appearance. Her hair, which Maren had painstakingly taken the time to curl, was haphazard and wild. Lothíriel tried to run her fingers through it like a comb, but was interrupted by Éowyn returning.

"No clothing of mine will fit you," Éowyn apologized, handing Lothíriel a small stack of folded clothes. Lothíriel regretfully knew how true that statement was; Éowyn was slender everywhere that Lothíriel was not. Lothíriel's bust and hips would never fit into any of Éowyn's dresses. "I took this from my brother's room; Éomer won't mind. There's a pair of trousers and one of his old shirts, too. I found an old belt of his that should keep everything from falling off you."

Lothíriel thanked Éowyn and began to hurriedly strip off the remnants of her dress. Taking care not to unnecessarily jostle her arm, she slipped the soft shirt over her head and tucked it into the trousers. Éowyn had to assist her with tightening the belt. Lothíriel thought she looked like she'd been swallowed, but Éowyn looked at her approvingly, strangely satisfied with the end result. Lothíriel thought that was odd, but was distracted by Éowyn tossing worn leather boots toward her.

"We look to be the same size," she smiled. "You will look less ridiculous wearing these than your sodden slippers." Lothíriel looked down at her slippers and grimaced. "Now make haste."

Lothíriel threw a few words of gratitude over her shoulder as she darted into the corridor. She decided she would have to sacrifice a little time in the name of discretion. After all, imagine the fuss that would occur if some Gondorian were to recognize her, the Princess of Dol Amroth, while she wore trousers, not to mention her bandaged arm. Thus, Lothíriel followed the servants' corridors and passageways. Thankfully the party was still in full swing, unaware of the happenings, and the corridors were largely empty. Lothíriel was able to make it to the war room in record time.

Lothíriel took a fortifying breath and charged towards the doors, where two Swan Knights stood guard. One, the older of the two, looked panicked as she strode towards them. His bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise and his face paled. The younger's eyes widened, his jaw dropped open, and he flushed crimson. Both stood frozen as Lothíriel approached, and she could hear raised voices within the room. She grasped the door handle and wretched it open without delay, ignoring the belated reprimand of the elder guard croaking a distressed "Princess!"

She entered the war room.

Additional Context-  

Nienna -a Queen of the Valar, the sister of Mandos and Irmo (known as the Fëanturi), acquainted with grief and sorrow but also pity and courage. She is ranked as one of the eight Aratar, the most powerful of the Valar. Her element is grief and she is ever mourning for the wounds of the world by evil. Those who listen to her learn wisdom and endurance in grief.

[demonsfate]

soooo likeeeee idk how hot of a take this is but. with this whole jin vs kazuya debate i honestly see more people defend kazuya than i see people defend jin. “jin stans go all the way to the ends of the earth to defend him and his crimes” like no???? we actually HATE jin’s crimes, it’s the literal one thing about his character that we criticise to oblivion and drag him for. and we’re fully aware that HE was fully aware that he was doing the crimes. whereas i see more kazuya stans be like “yeah he had every right to become a villain bc he’s been through worse.” ???

like even i will tell you that yeah kazuya DID suffer worse since he was like 5. but just like how jin’s trauma doesn’t justify his actions, the same can be said for kazuya. sure, it’s an explanation as to why he turned out that way. it’s not a justification. with villains, i always wish things had turned out differently for them. but i’d NEVER say that their crimes were allowed bc of what they endured.

as i've said multiple, multiple times. most of us don't really "defend" jin's actions. we "deny" them in the way that we acknowledge it's a poorly written game, and those actions were blatantly out of character. like yeah, we KNOW he was written to perform those actions. but does it make sense? no - THAT'S what we point out. we don't defend these actions, we just want these actions to be retconned lmao.

also like kazuya had "every right" to become a villain because he was originally conceptualized as one, whereas jin wasn't until he just suddenly was. (which again, was solely harada's idea, the writing team disagreed with this, but eventually went with it because harada wouldn't shut up about it)

kazuya did go through worse, because he suffered at a much earlier age (being 5). but one of the original points of jin and kazuya is that jin was if kazuya had gone on the right path because they both still suffered similar traumas. (both had a dead mother, both were abused and used by heihachi as a minor, it just didn't happen until jin was 15, both were "killed" by heihachi, both suffer from the devil gene, both even have a hot-headed biker rival) which also doesn't make sense for jin to become just like kazuya in tek6 considering he was supposed to be his foil, or in a way, even a "what if."

there may be those who DO defend jin's actions. but those are usually the kind of fans i criticize - which are those who turn their brains off and don't critically consume the media they're indulging in. i'm talking about fans who just say jin was in the right because the game told them he did the war for a "good reason." Same fans who refuse to see how Jin being a bad guy made no sense even if you point out the inconsistencies just because the game told them he was bad now.

i think fans are also more likely to defend kazuya, not just because of his childhood, but because kazuya is... generally a more liked character. like even though i love jin, he's my favorite, i won't deny that kazuya's definitely the more popular one. probably because most fans prefer him as he isn't an ""emo"" like jin is, and because... maybe because he has been a better written character, because you know - as i pointed out yesterday, even if jin being a bad guy DID make sense in 6, his characterization was still all over the place. so, kazuya being more popular also means there are more fans who just want to see him be the "Good Guy" simply because they like him more.

anyway, i'd never defend jin's actions... in fact, they're NOT defendable. like even with the excuses Tek6 made, they can't be defended nor are they redeemable. BUT... i will always say they absolutely should be retconned, and i will continue saying that they are actions that makes little to no sense for jin's character and i will not acknowledge them as such because it's poor writing.