#THE DOUBLE STANDARD HAS ALWAYS EXISTED

[rowdylupegang]

"#ALSO friendly reminder that the mods are still intentionally targeting trans people on the site" i'd be grateful if you could expand on this? ik there's a shitty player that was chain silenced then unchained silenced by tnt even though they're a transphobic ass. is that what you mean? same person has pretended to be trans just to get someone reported

Did I... not answer this? I thought I did. When was this even sent? Is time real?

Anyway basically trans people were getting silenced left and right immediately on the spot for mentioning things like HRT or top surgery (casually mentioning and not going into specifics btw ) while one person was posting actual violent descriptions of what they think trans people's genitals look like (I won't go into detail) and racial slurs in response to the annoyed trans people and their posts weren't taken down for hours. I strongly suspect the mods were waiting for something they could silence the trans people for instead. The person who was saying slurs and making graphic gore descriptions claimed to be a mod herself and with how long it took for the mods to take the board down... yeah I'm a little worried she wasn't lying about it.

Also that one board about an unwanted pregnancy that turned into a pro choice/life debate and was still up for several hours despite the content being a "hot button topic" they claim is banned. Kinda seems like topics that cause heated debates are only actually banned when a queer person is involved.

Also that time a bunch of people on the pound chat were talking about how trans people shouldn't be allowed to talk about being trans because "think of the children! It will corrupt the children!" (No I'm not kidding and I wish I got more than one screenshot from that) and none of those users got silenced or anything despite peddling far right talking points about trans people being groomers as if that's good and normal.

Very intrigued by whatever you're talking about cause it sounds wild. Some cis person can get away with pretending to be trans to report someone when actual trans people will sit there helpless against a wave of transphobia because the mods won't help us because they also hate us?? Come on XD how is this reality.

So the double standard of who can discuss what still absolutely exists. If people can ANGRILY DEBATE abortions on the site for several hours it seems a bit silly trans people get silenced for even mentioning HRT. As in just saying "I start HRT soon." got these people silenced.

( I just KNOW there's gonna be a bunch of "oh it's only reasonable those topics are still banned uwu they really aren't appropriate for kids" bootlicker assholes in the replies or whatever so let me just say: You're not new. That argument existed when saying any LGBTQ terms resulted in a ban. But go ahead and tell me how people can have an angry aggressive abortion debate, talk about dying family/friends, mention non trans related surgeries, and pregnancy in general and THAT'S fine but god forbid a trans person mention HRT in passing without going into detail about it (unlike cis people describing the above). Please explain how it's Fine Actually young trans kids can see how much full grown adults hate them or don't believe them while any adults who would validate and protect them are silenced and stomped out. It'll be good for a laugh.)

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[northern-passage]

Reblogging something about celebrating terrorist groups murdering and kidnapping people.....I just hope that anyone who enjoys seeing such things will *never* have the experience of having their loved ones disappear one morning.

I hope they never have to see the faces of theirs relatives, friends, classmates, colleagues and neighbors on palestinian tv being beaten and dragged to gaza by terrorist.

Could you imagine seeing your friend who was missing the whole day on palestinian tiktok being kidnapped while people are happy about it? While entire streets are closed inside their homes because armed terrorist raid your city? Breaking into homes to kidnap people?

No matter what side theyre on i hope no one ever has to experience that kind of horror.

the Palestinian people have had to watch their children and brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers be murdered violently in the streets of Gaza for decades because of the violent occupation of Palestine.

you get to call the colonizers "relatives, friends, classmates, colleagues and neighbors" but the Palestinian people are only ever "terrorists." when the Israeli police drag Palestinians out of mosques and kill them in streets-- more than 200 Palestinians have been killed this year alone, plus the 161 that have already been killed in retaliation-- are you going to call them terrorists, too? as Israel continues their retaliation and kills 30 Palestinians for every single Israeli soldier, is it "terrorism" or will you find a way to justify it, then? will you care about the "relatives, friends, classmates, colleagues and neighbors" then?

"No matter what side theyre on i hope no one ever has to experience that kind of horror." again, Palestinians have been living this for decades. and what we're witnessing now is the inevitable response to those decades of oppression & occupation.

as for your "friends, classmates, colleagues and neighbors" -- they are living on occupied land. land that was taken by force through ethnic cleansing. they can leave at any time-- most of them have already, fleeing back to their home countries with their dual citizenships, or theyre safely sitting in hotels waiting for it to be over. they are settlers. they are part of the settler colony that is actively oppressing, dispossessing, and murdering Palestinians. and to be clear, that post you're talking about is not "celebrating civilian deaths," you are just purposefully misrepresenting it here to further dehumanize Palestinians and depict them as "terrorists." of course i do not want civilians to die. no one wants that. i feel for the Israeli people, the children & the ones who cannot leave. but at least they are allowed to be people, they are allowed to be friends, classmates, colleagues, neighbors. Palestinians have never been granted that, and you are proving it here in my inbox.

these "terrorists" you decry are oppressed people taking up arms-- scavenged from the weapons Israeli soldiers and police have been using against them for years-- to decolonize and take back their home. decolonization is a violent process. we absolutely cannot tolerate a double standard. there is no "both sides."

Myth: Israel is defending itself | Decolonize Palestine

Myth: Israel is not an Apartheid state | Decolonize Palestine

Myth: Israel has always sought peace | Decolonize Palestine

Myth: The Palestinian Authority subsidizes "terrorism" (pay to slay) | Decolonize Palestine

Myth: Israel (or any other state) has a right to exist | Decolonize Palestine

all of my support to the Palestinian resistance, from the river to the sea Palestine will be free.

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[bluberryfields]

"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR THIRTEEN

in which eddie wants to distract you from the one thing you ask for: honesty. it's a shame he never realized just how dirty you can play when you want something bad enough.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, smut, female masturbation/male masturbation, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), minors dni

→ wc: 3.2k+

→ a/n: probably the shortest chapter of the entire series. if i added anything else from what will be in hour 14, it would simply get too long. and this length felt good for what i was trying to accomplish! as always with my smut, my apologies if it ain't up to standard. i don't really edit my smut chapters haha. thank you all for being so kind and for all messages, reblogs, etc! <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

13:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

HOUR THIRTEEN - 4:00 AM

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll? Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?” 

Against your better judgment, your knees spread for him. 

Honesty can wait, you realize, as his palms are warm against your skin. He’s slow in his descent, dropping to his knees on his kitchen floor at an antagonizing pace. 

“Is that what you want? I was interrupted earlier, after all,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours as he finally settles on the floor, hands cupping the back of your knees before tugging your hips to settle at the edge of the counter, “Use your words for me, sweetheart.” 

No, we can’t settle a fight with sex. That is not becoming our new normal. 

“Yes,” you breathe out, your mind in shambles as you look down at him on his knees for you. As if he’s prepared to worship. As if the two of you weren’t just arguing. 

“Yes, what?” 

He’s weaponizing himself against you now. Fingertips tickling down your calves, smiles lilting in a knowing grin. He knows that he has you right where he wants you right now. He knows just how desperate he can turn you. 

“Yes, please,” you beg, giving into the desperation far too soon. But he only tsks in response, not fully accepting the plea despite the rashness that drips from your tone. And so you try again as his fingers return to your waist and plays with the band of the sweatpants you had just put back on, “I want you to eat my poor pussy right here, right now. On this counter. Please.” 

He doesn’t expect the straight-forwardness, the crude words – you shock even yourself. You can see his upper-hand immediately falter as his breath catches in his chest and his hands curl unexpectedly into the bare skin beneath the clothing he was fiddling with. 

He thinks he has you right where he wants you, but you know better. You’ve caught on quickly; he isn’t just doing this to distract you, but because he needs it just as much as you. This is not a weapon against just you in this argument, but himself as well. The distraction is a double-edged sword, and just as he was pressing it against your own skin in the form of a devilish grin and wandering hands, you decide to press it right back. 

You go for the sternum as you whisper, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s a win-win for you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he keeps his face stoney, but you can catch his blush rising underneath the fluorescent lighting. 

In another daring move, you swat away his hands, and you remove the sweatpants.

Fuck Eddie. Fuck all the fights. Fuck letting him have all the control, all the fun. 

“No? Allow me to explain,” your voice grows in volume and confidence simultaneously, and you relish the way his eyes have widened when met with your clothed core once more. He’s looking at it like it’s the first time, as if he hadn’t just had his way with you on his couch, you at his mercy fully. “I think you want to get your mouth on me even more than I want it. And if you get your way, you also get to avoid honesty. Again.” 

Your mind somehow becomes sharper in the haze he’d originally caused. The look in his eyes only fuels you as you bring your hands to the edge of his sweater, toying with the hem and smirking at him. 

“I see,” he hums, reaching out for you, eyes still glassy and distracted. You swat his hand away before it even gets the chance to reach your knee. In an instant, his gaze adverts from your pussy to look up to you, stunned with a dumb-struck expression, puffy lips parted as his mouth hangs open ever-so-slightly, “That sounds like a win for me and for you. I’m not seeing the issue here, doll.” 

“The issue is you avoiding honesty, Munson,” you scoff. You finally lean forward, pulling his sweatshirt off of you. You toss it to the ground beside where he kneels, now wearing nothing but your panties and the shit-eating grin that would usually belong to him, “I’d like to propose a deal.” 

He’s easy to turn dumb. Too easy. The moment your breasts are exposed, the man before you is nearly drooling, eyes darting from them to your core, rinse and repeat, as if he can’t decide what to focus on. Anywhere but your eyes. Anywhere but your smug expression. 

You have the upperhand. 

“Look at me,” you demand. Your voice doesn’t hold the same strength as his would – that’s not your forte. Your forte is in the softness you continue to carry, the delicacy you now weaponize with shy fingers that trail down over your own stomach, inching closer to your underwear.

“What’s the deal?” he asks without complying to your request. 

Immediately, you pause your wandering hands to lean forward, balancing your elbows on your knees as a hand grabs at his chin. It’s daring, even for you, but oh so rewarding. Blown out pupils swallow up the shades of gold that thread his irises as you give him no other choice to focus on your face again. 

“What do you want?” he’s the one now desperate, still on his knees, urgency drowning out any cockiness that had been in his tone to begin with. He’s at your mercy, “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” 

“Honesty.”

He’s turned into something impenetrable. You can practically feel the waves of his ocean still. Neither of you breathe for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Only three seconds, but it could have been an eternity there in his kitchen. 

Your grip on his chin never falls. 

“Honesty?” he questions, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing, “I already told you, princess, you either get one or the other. You can’t have both. Not happening.” 

“No?” you coo, finally removing your fingers from his skin. There’s not a single sign of the hold you had on him, your touch having been as soft as a butterfly’s wings. He’s unmarked, and he’ll remain that way, unless he agrees to your terms. You’re determined now. The upper hand won’t be sliding from your grasp as easily as it had fallen from his, “That’s a shame.” 

You lean back and his eyes follow your every movement, “And why’s that?” 

“Because if you’re not honest, you’re not laying a hand on me.” 

“That’s still my deal, baby,” he’s trying to be condescending again, to get you back under his thumb and constrained by his idea of a distraction. 

It won’t work. Not this time. 

He leans forward, and just as his breath hits the wet spot that had begun to form over your clothed cunt, you bring a hand to his forehead and push him away. Your knees snap shut immediately as he tries to keep his balance, leaning back on his haunches. 

He’s glaring up at you now. But he’s still not desperate enough. 

“Not your deal at all,” you continue on. You’re enjoying yourself far too much, and he can tell. His breathing is picking up, his jaw has locked as he gazes up at you, “See, pretty boy, with my deal, we could have our cake and eat it too,” He swallows hard as you bring a hand up to one of your breasts, “You’re honest with me, and I let you get your mouth on my pussy. A win for everyone.” 

“And if I’m not honest?” 

“Then I’ll take care of myself. I’m a big girl, simple as that.” 

You’ve had to spell it out for him, but it finally clicks in his mind. You can watch the mechanics of him processing your words in real time, and that desperation you’ve been seeking out this entire time has arrived. Pathetic, big eyes. Lips twitching to avoid falling victim to a pout. If you could see his knuckles, you’d find them turning a bright shade of white as he grips his knees painfully. 

Just as he opens his mouth to argue again, your finger flicks at your nipple. All words on his tongue die, shrivel, dissipate at the sound of your soft moan. 

“Such a shame,” you sigh out, heading lulling backwards. The back of your skull hits his cabinet with a soft thump and you hope that it won’t ache once the adrenaline and euphoria has passed, “I was kind of excited to see what that mouth could do besides piss me off.” 

“You’re bluffing,” he deadpans, zeroing in on your fingers as they let go of one nipple and move onto the next, “You’ll cave before I do, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I will,” your voice is breathless as you twist your nipple, arching your back into the touch for emphasis. It’s not as good as his hands would be, you know that, but you’re not backing down now. You have your eyes on the prize, staring down honesty with the same intensity that he stares between your legs. 

“No? Are you sure you aren’t imagining how much better my fingers could be? My hands?” he eggs on. Almost as if subconsciously, he’s leaning forward into your gravitation again. When his nose brushes your knee, your thighs clench harder. 

It’s not to keep him out. His words travel down your spine, wrapping and shocking all the way down until they’ve reached your core.

His hands would feel better, but his honesty will feel the best. 

“You forget that before tonight, I went about life just fine without your hands,” you reply as you finally let your hand begin down a path over your torso again, starting at your sternum and traveling at an agonizing pace. You’re teasing yourself just as he would, as you know he wants to. 

As you know he craves to. 

“Yeah?” he chuckles lowly. Your eyes flutter close as your fingers reach the band of your panties, and you try to imagine the look on his face as you prepare yourself for his taunting, “I’ve seen the way you stare at my hands, baby. I’ve caught you staring when I’m playing with my rings. That dumb expression on your face as you watch me tap on tables. Just how many times have you imagined them wrapped around your throat, or knuckles deep in that pussy, before tonight?” 

Your eyes snap open. His chest is puffed up both in self-satisfaction and heaving breaths, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. And he knows you’re watching intently, making a show of it as he slows the drag of it. A small teasing of this tongue could be on you right now. 

“See, now you’re asking a bit much of me, don’t you think?” you try to keep your tone even as your hand stays poised at the edge of your underwear, making eye contact once more, “Sounds a lot like you’re asking for honesty from me. You shouldn’t ask for things you can’t give in return.” 

With those words, your hand plunges into your underwear, fingers sliding between your folds, teasing your hole as you gather wetness to trail back up to your clit. 

It breaks Eddie. Seeing your fingers hidden by your panties, pleasuring yourself, making whines begin to spill out between gasps, pulled from the back of your throat as your knees separate enough to accommodate your hand. 

“What do you want me to be honest about?” he nearly barks out. You see his shoulder moving, arm crossing closer to his lap, and know his palming himself through his sweats. 

You take the time to insert a finger into your clenching hole, Eddie’s eyes finding yours at the intrusion, biting down your moan into a mere hum before saying, “Why do you hate me?” 

“Right now?” he gasps out, confirming he is touching himself to the show you’re putting on, “I hate you for being such a fucking brat. I hate you for thinking you’re in control right now.”

“I am in control.” 

You slip in a second finger, curling them in sync as you press them in knuckle-deep. It’s not enough – it’s not as good as his fingers. You whine out at the thought, bucking your hips against your hand, palm applying pressure on your clit. 

“Baby, you wish you were-” he goes to bring a hand to your knee again, and you’re already ready with a hand, grabbing his wrist sharply this time. 

“How hard are you right now?” you ask, having to slow your movements to get out any coherent words. You can feel his heartbeat racing below his skin, feel the taunt muscles of his arm as he tries to exercise self-constraint. He’s losing – he’s failing, miserably. 

Just having his skin against yours as you continue to pump your own fingers into yourself has more intense waves of pleasure tearing through you. 

“How- I-” he stutters. He’s licking his lips again, but this time, it’s not to tease you. 

He craves it as much as you need it. You need his honesty, and you need his goddamn mouth on you. 

“I asked you a question,” you pant, grip tightening on him. You can see his shoulder shifting more fervently now, see the flush of his cheeks. He’s touching himself, and he’s close. 

If he finishes first, he wins. You can’t have that. 

“Tell me how hard you are right now, honestly, and I’ll let you touch me.” 

A snap in his composure. You feel it in the twitch of his wrist in your grasp. “Hard. So fucking hard, I can’t fucking think right now,” you begin to get starry vision, pumping your fingers faster, curling harder to reach for a spot you can’t seem to find when his eyes are on you and his hands are right there, “If I don’t get my mouth on you within the next five seconds, sweetheart, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

You’re right on the edge, teetering over a cliffside. At the bottom are all the repercussions of what is to come. The breeze of your defeat, the call of his honesty. You don’t have to think twice; you remove your hand from yourself despite the disappointment that ruffles your entire body, and your knees fall open to him. 

He hardly gives you the time to release your grip on his wrist before his fingers are tearing into the waistband of your panties and tearing them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor limply once they brush your ankles. His palms dig into the meat of your thighs, spreading you impossibly apart and tugging you to nearly hang off the edge of the counter before he’s bringing his face to your hot core.

And then he pauses. You’re waiting for the feeling of his tongue in you, his nose to bump your clit, and he pauses. 

“For the record,” he breathes out, and it has your core clenching against nothing as you feel it against you. His fingers dig into your thighs harsher, “I never hated you.” 

You look down at him, pretty between your thighs, brown eyes sparkling, “Are you being honest right now?” 

“I am,” he doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward and kissing your mound, “I could never hate you.” 

You’ve won. Your victory settles in the air around the two of you, your victory whispers between each kitten lick he makes at your clit, to each thrust of his fingers when he presses two into you without warning. Your victory tangles in his hair just as your hands do as your hips buck up against his mouth, desperate and uncaring in lack of control. Your victory splotches your vision, blacking it out when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Your victory dances with the stars behind your eyelids as he curls his finger into the spot you’d been searching for, as he traces an unspoken language over your clit, as you repeatedly call out his name and he murmurs “good girl” in vibrations that reverberate through your core, your spine, your vines, your flames. 

You’ve won. But it doesn’t feel like winning when you’re coming down from your high, Eddie pressing kisses to your inner thigh and lips shining from your slick, and his words come back to haunt you. 

“I could never hate you.” 

The victory has come at a cost. One that neither of you address as you catch your breaths. As you slump to the side, resting your temple against the side of his cool refrigerator, you look down to see a wet spot spread across the crotch of Eddie’s sweatpants. 

You knew he had been touching himself to you touching yourself, but the patch is far too large to have just been precum. 

“Did you…” you murmur, fighting a grin, “Did you cum from eating me out?” 

Eddie, remarkably enough, isn’t even shameless as he rakes a hand through his curls, pursing his lips in a way that only accentuates to the slow curl upwards of the corners, “You look so surprised for someone who was so insistent that I needed that more than you did.” 

“I was right,” you laugh, lifting out of your lean supported by the appliance to your left, “I knew it.” 

He only chuckles back in response, rising slowly from his kneeling position, “Yeah, yeah, Sherlock Holmes. You cracked the case – congratulations,” he doesn’t close the space between the two of you as he stands there, and his words pester the back of your mind again. If you could never hate me, why are you so far away right now? “Stay here, I can come back with another ra-”

“You don’t have to clean me up again,” you interrupt. His words are pushing forward now. I could never hate you. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t fit right into everything you already know of Eddie, “I’ll be fine. Just clean yourself up, yeah?” 

He looks taken back, but says nothing more as he nods before leaving the kitchen. He sends you one last glance, one last chance to say more. But you can’t say a word to him, or even meet his gaze, as you filter through endorphins and try to pull sensibility from what just happened.

He leaves, and you regret. You don’t regret doing all of this with him – you’d enjoyed it, he’d enjoyed it, it was good – but you regret how it’s happening. You regret all the emotions it’s nurturing. Feelings that turn it all complicated, that make this entire ordeal more than something casual. This night is going to haunt your mind for the rest of your days. It has carved out an emptiness inside of you that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had been, and you had already spent a year filling it in with the dirt of sour interactions and abrasive fights. 

It didn’t really matter, though, whether it had been there before tonight or not. All that matters is the space there was empty once more, hollowed out by five simple words.

“I could never hate you.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[messiahzzz]

i’m not here to claim that wyll doesn’t deserve more extra content or that larian’s perspective of him isn’t rooted in racism in any way whatsoever. however, i sincerely believe that it’s always important to list the facts first before misinformation continues to spread which only results in more needless outrage.

these are all of wyll’s scenes that exist in the game as of now:

meeting karlach, mizora, and his transformation, the tiefling party kiss, the dance scene, mizora visiting camp, another scene where mizora visits camp, and the proposal scene. additionally, mizora and uldred can join camp, if he is alive.

in strict comparison - this is the exact amount of scenes the other origin characters have:

Astarion has 9 scenes, 6 of which can possibly be romantic.

Lae’zel has 7 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Shadowheart has 6 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Gale has 6 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Karlach has 4 non-standard dialogue scenes, 3 of which can possibly be romantic.

Wyll has 5 non-standard dialogue scenes, 2 of which can possibly be romantic.

source: [x]

wyll is lacking one scene compared to characters like shadowheart and gale. lae’zel merely has another non-standard dialogue scene, while astarion has double the amount of possible romance scenes and 9 scenes in total.

here is a video of wyll’s entire story: [x] at a duration of 2:25:24 in total it’s very similar in length to the romances of the other companions the same channel uploaded. (minthara & halsin excluded)

i have also seen many people refer to the datamined voicelines as proof of how much content wyll lacks. this, however, doesn’t tell us much since those compilations include battle grunts, noises, and other repeated lines. if you want to check them out for yourself, here is chubblot’s playlist on youtube: [x]

wyll’s romance/approval-specific greetings also exist, they are merely bugged. although i have heard that some people have been able to trigger them. bugged content is something that also affects other companions – in fact, most of gale’s romance scenes and some integral dialogue have been bugged for months now with no fixes anywhere in sight. if you don’t want to look for wyll’s greetings in the files, i took the liberty of doing it for you:

alas, his general reactivity after act i remains the same as with the others. aka: he's barely responsive to his surroundings nor to any key decisions the player makes.

wyll also isn’t the only character who isn’t able to make his own choice on whether he agrees to sell his soul for his father’s life or not. in fact, the only characters who can decide their own fate are shadowheart and lae’zel. the latter option only now being added with patch 6.

so what exactly did wyll get after patch 6? the same amount of kisses like everyone else: 4 in total. as well as some new idle animations and polished facial expressions. the kiss where he invites tav for a quick twirl had already been added in an earlier update (patch 5, 30th november 2023). which means it’s understandable that certain characters who didn’t receive any new animations or other content before were now added with patch 6 as well.

wyll’s quest regarding ansur also didn’t get removed from the game. this is plain false. larian merely changed the subcategory in the journal (which larian had done previously with astarion’s gur-related quest as well)

if you have a gripe with this particular decision: that is valid. the quest, however, is still the exact same as it was before.

i see fandom heading in this really dangerous direction where people fully believe they have the right to attack others for pointing out the existence of false information. i understand that people are upset about wyll having less content than characters like astarion and i am in no way here to claim that you should refrain from calling out racism where it’s due. however, this hostile behavior directed at anyone who dares to disagree with you is creating a really toxic environment within online spaces, where people hesitate to engage with the wyll side of the fandom at all (out of fear of immediately receiving the racist card for merely correcting inconsistencies in logic). and in case it needs to be said again: it is never justified to harass real people or send death threats to others under any circumstances, much less if it concerns a fictional character.

i, much like everyone, really want wyll to receive more love from fandom and larian alike. but it is no one’s place to police other players on how they should engage with this specific character in their own game. if others simply couldn’t connect to wyll as much as you personally have – for whatever reason – that is on them. it's them who are missing out. this shouldn’t hinder your enjoyment of this character in any way or discourage you from creating more fan content.

TL;DR: it’s completely valid to request more wyll content, but please don’t resort to “demands” or public pressure directed at the devs. this is only doing more harm in the long run (to wyll’s, as well as his fanbase's reputation within the rest of the fandom instead of actually accomplishing much). don’t spread misinformation that he’s the only one of the companions who is continuously receiving the short end of the stick in terms of content, general reactivity, and bug fixes. if anything, the biggest difference is between him and astarion (again, much like every other companion).

🙏 please be respectful to each other 🙏

update, 19th february:

a user suggested providing an alternative to petitions on this post and linking directly to larian’s official feedback form, which you can find here: [x]

you’ll be able to add screenshots of the specific issue you’re reporting. keep in mind that you need to name your exact game version if you plan to send in a report. i’ve had larian ask me to send them the specific game files in the past, so it’s best to keep them on hand in advance.

larian also has a faq page on how to submit a general bug report [x]

here is an example of what to write:

(I’d like to address the disparity in content between Wyll and the other origin companions.) As of now, Wyll is lacking an entire scene compared to the rest of the characters, and his romance-specific greetings remain bugged as well. The lack of equal scenes makes Wyll’s story feel lackluster at times and undermines the pacing of his romance and overall character arc. It is very disheartening for POC players specifically to see racial biases reflected in his treatment and that Wyll didn’t receive the same amount of resources. Considering his narrative role as the Grand Duke's son he also deserves to be in the spotlight. When can we expect any fixes or additional content?

[dalliancekay]

Double Standards

I'm having thoughts.

You know how women are generally (almost always) held to higher standards than men? This also goes for people who are seen as good vs bad. If an overall good person (or a woman) in public eye does something even a little bit out of line, they get crucified. But if someone who is perceived as something of a bad (boy, it's basically always a man*) does something good, the praises are never ending. I'm afraid this has seeped into the way Aziraphale and Crowley are sometimes perceived. The good one (a literal angel no less) is absolutely forbidden to make mistakes or say anything out of line (I forgive you definitely counts) while the bad one (yes, I mean the demon with the golden heart) is not really blamed for anything, cos he's supposed to be bad, right? Anything good he does or feels is a bonus point.

That's. That's not how this should work. They are both beautifully flawed, evolving beings, in love with one another trying to keep each other safe in a hostile environment with uncertain rules.

Aziraphale is NOT BEING PURSUED by Crowley and is not being held back by the love of his toxic family (and/or his inner objections to being in love with a demon) he doesn't have the courage to abandon. Aziraphale is not a damsel in distress Crowley is rescuing. I thought Aziraphale admitting that he enjoys being rescued because it makes Crowley happy was proof enough but apparently not.

Just because they enjoy giving each other the things they didn't get to feel from their homes/jobs - Crowley being needed and Aziraphale being appreciated, doesn't mean they aren't fully functional separate beings.

Are they better together? YES But there is no one right or wrong here. They've been dealt a really bad hand at cards and they are trying their best. Aziraphale doesn't need to do anything to deserve Crowley (this is an extremely flawed relationship trope). He is already loved, he is already enough. And the SAME is true the other way round. Aziraphale is not holding out to some future Crowley who will be a better version to who he is now (or being an angel again!!) Aziraphale loves him just as he is.

Their problem is not with each other. It never has been. Their problems all stem from the fact that their existence, although in principle they are immortal, is not really all that secure. Especially not if they want to spend time together. And they do. So their problems pile up. This is their tragedy. And also why their love story is so compelling. Not because one is better or will change or abandon everything to be with their lover. But because they are imperfect in very bad, often scary situations and they are drawn to each other, and care for each other above everything else. That's why Crowley wanted to stay and that's why Aziraphale had to leave.

*I'm sorry to have used terminology for cis people in my examples, but these are what we generally perceive in public life and media - at least we do for now. I do adore my NB and trans friends - hopefully their representation will brighten the future in these things as discussed above soon.

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who often was in debt to jewish money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[fanfictionbard]

Something I greatly appreciate in Hazbin Hotel is how western facist and imperialist coded the angels are.

You have Heaven, a place only for “good” people and are conventionally seen as “the good guys”. These “good guys” regularly launch attacks with significantly stronger weaponry on Hell, a place conventionally seen as “the bad guys”. But there are countless parts in the show where we see the angels and demons not being all that different. There are probably several posts of how Hazbin characters in Hell (and some Helluva Boss characters) mirror those in Heaven, so I won’t get too much into it here. But when you boil down to it, the biggest differences between Heaven and Hell are each place’s living conditions, and how they are typically viewed.

Next you have the Exorcists, a reflection of the military. Adam, patriarchal misogynist who leads the Extermination, and feels comfortable enough to say that he finds the carnage fun. Then we have Lute’s zealous faith in Heaven always being right and her unfettered disgust towards anyone in Hell. We find all of these traits in imperialism and facism: the dehumanization of an entire country’s worth of people to the point where killing them off is seen not just necessary, but entertaining, and the delusional righteousness in the impeccability of the facist state.

Not to mention the hypocrisy of killing a thousand of “the enemy” is something to laugh about and celebrate, but the minute one of your own gets killed? By the so-called “enemy”? Even if it’s in self-defense? Suddenly it’s a serious problem that has to be met with swift action.

And when you have the audacity to not want to commit these acts of violence anymore, like Vaggie? You’re discarded as a traitor to your country and your people, and lumped in with “the enemy”.

And Sera, like politicians feigning compassion, claim “I made this decision with a heavy heart”, and “there was no other option”. But that doesn’t change that she’s the one who gave the green light to all of this. As a friend of mine and fellow hazbin fan said, the Extermination is state-sanctioned abuse.

And finally, we have Emily, who never knew any world other than Heaven, and who’s only knowledge of Hell came from sources from Heaven. She was the only one who genuinely wanted to hear Charlie and Vaggie out, who actually questioned why Angel Dust couldn’t be redeemed if he fit all of Adam’s criteria for getting into Heaven. And when she learned of the Extermination’s existence, she joined Charlie in calling out the Angels on their bullshit. Emily’s actions in episode 6 reiterate that this is not a “complex” issue, but one of basic compassion and decency.

Also I wanna note the look on Adam and Lute’s faces when Charlie and Emily sing “if angels can do whatever and remain in the sky.” They’re fucking angry. Because is there anything more infuriating to a facist than getting called out on their hypocrisy and double standard?

[ctrldoll]

Perfect Home

Wife!Reader/Husband!Miguel O'Hara

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Genre: Angst (⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠)

4.5k words.

Arguments are so tasking to write! They're supposed to be illogical, anyway. :⁠'⁠(

This has been in my drafts for a month! Ideas were not idea-ing! (′д｀σ)σ

Listening to a The Weekend playlist while editing was such a vibe!!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆

Warnings: Cheating, Pressure From Parents, Society’s Marital Standards, Desire To Have A Child, Cursing, Envy, Suggestive & Homely Vibes Are Non-Existent.

Peace and blessings to you, My Love!!!

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑ [𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐏] ➜ He cheated, you found out. You don't know whether to leave him or not. Now what?

The egg in the pan let out a bitter scent before you firmly flipped it. “Ugh.” You let out as you looked at it from your sunken and puffed-out eyes, breathing in mucus as you struggled not to sob once more. “Over an egg? Over an egg, [Name]?!” You thought and picked up a tissue to brush your tears and stray drops of slick over.

Just yesterday, you found out about your beloved husband's cheating with his ex for two months.

You should have caught on to the signs during your parents’ gala that took place two months ago. Dana’s excitement led her to firmly hold on to Miguel's firm arm as Miguel discussed the success of a deal with Stark Industries with the both of you, which should have been a warning sight. It irked you slightly, but you didn't view it as enough to suggest anything. Maybe how Miguel didn't depart from her hand for minutes on end should have done it.

You've always been a bit credulous. Always having one too many friends who didn't really care about your well-being from the beginning, desiring all that your younger self, who faked sickening sweet kindness, had. The public loved every bit of it, as did your parents. You noticed the subtle hints of disrespect and commented on them much later. Far too late.

You made sure your presented nature wouldn't crawl into adulthood, but it spread itself into your relationship.

Miguel was a quiet nerd when you first got to know him. Never the hot topic, he stuck to himself the majority of the time.

You bonded with him while you visited your friend in the institution, watching as she obviously flirted with Miguel's friend while they walked with one another. Surprisingly, you bonded over an idle conversation about cake.

“Tres leches is fantastic! Dios mío, there's no arguing with that!”

“Yes, Tres leches may be fantastic to you, but [ — ] definitely crosses that!”

You both didn't catch the side-eye both friends gave one another.

The next week, a double date was set.

It was the perfect TV show grounding for marriage. It all feels like a waste now that you look back on it with low eyes.

“Mi Alma.” You rolled your eyes as your husband walked into the kitchen in sweats with a water bottle in hand. You felt the chill of the Five AM air for a moment before you turned to place the egg on your plate and turned off the stove.

The crinkle of the wrapper as you pulled out the loaves of bread constantly broke the silence in the room as you looked away from him.

“Were those four years we spent with one another a waste?” You asked after a moment, then opened your mouth to chew on a loaf. A tear poured down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away.

“No, no, they were not, Cariño. They were the most amazing years of my life.” Miguel sadly sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm so sorry, Mi Amor. I promise I'll be better. For you, for us.” 

“You don't get to call me that. How am I your love when you cheat on me?” You barked, glaring at him. Your fork clinked when it reached the floor. You sighed in exhaustion and picked it up. You tossed it into the pile of dishes in the sink. “Fuck, I feel done.”

“Can’t we just get past this? We've been through so much for something like this to tear us apart. Miguel tsked and shook his head as he rolled his eyes. Nervousness ran through them, but he wouldn't show it. “Are you fucking serious right now, Miguel?! I should get over it?! Is that what you're saying?!” You yelled, frustrated, and you took deep breaths to calm down. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Miguel.”

“What about you, [Name]?! You're so damn ungrateful! I’m there for you! I support you, but you never support your husband! You barely do anything useful; you're always so caught up in your work that we can't even spend time together!” Miguel yelled, drawing closer to you.

“I have to work, Miguel! What part of that don't you understand?! I don't do anything useful?! Who's the one who does nearly everything in this household?! Me! You aren't even around for us to spend time together! If you aren't working late into the night, you're fucking patrolling! Do you want me to just sit down and wait for you?! I have other things to do!” You couldn't be more thankful in the moment that the room was soundproof. You could let out more than you would have in other spaces.

“You are so damn stubborn! Fuck! We can't even have a conversation without you trying to form an argument!” Miguel yelled, standing at arm's length as he pointed at you.

“Don’t point at me, Miguel.” You demanded and backed away from him to grab your purse. “If you honestly think that this isn't overdue, you're ridiculous. Stop victimising yourself. I’m the one who was cheated on. Go be with Dana, who probably won't piss you off as much as I do.” You said it with a crack at the end of your words as you struggled not to break down.

“[Name], I-” Miguel pushed his hand forward to grab your arm, but you pushed it closer to your form as you quickly left the hotel room. “Read the letter on the kitchen table. Or don’t. I don't really care.” You closed the door and walked away.

On the kitchen table, a letter in cotton paper was laid on it with your mother’s formal handwriting, inviting the both of you for lunch before your departure. Miguel cursed as he read it, the stress already getting to him as he envisioned how it would be.

Meanwhile, you headed to the café, reassuring yourself to calm down as you walked the longer route to it, hoping to have felt better when you reached there.

What you didn't notice was your mother’s gaze upon you from her balcony as she let out another puff from her cigarette while in her white silk nightgown, a black coat with a fluffy neck covering her as she cocked her eyebrows. Her eyes squinted at the moment you paused to quickly rub your eyes. She let out a hum, watching your figure disappear from her sight.

“These crumpets are quite fantastic.” Your father smiled, spreading another with blackberry jam as he chewed the spongy and soft treat. “We should wait for a few moments before requesting lunch, no? It will only take them a few more moments to arrive.” Your mother smiled at the both of you, a glass of water in hand, before taking in a long sip, bothered.

“So, Miguel, how have you been? Is there any success in the partnership with Calahan Tech? I've heard much about it in the Nueva York Times. Business moguls are just as excited about it as I am.” Your father's eyes twinkled in excitement as he imagined the size of the funding he would receive and the amount of votes the results of the collaboration would bring him in the next election as he snacked on a pig in the blanket.

“I’ve been well, Joseph. The agreement to partner has been a bit tough because we've been trying to convince the funders to work with us, but I’m sure we're about to reach a breakthrough.” Miguel responded, proud, as a smile appeared on his face. His hand shifted to your thigh under the table, alerting you as you took a quick look around before shoving it off of you. You were still bothered; he could tell by the way you struggled not to furrow your brows and the quick way your heart beat at his gesture, which reverberated in his ears as you gracefully downed a glass of water to calm your nerves.

“If you ever need some extra help, you know who to call. I can convince those hotshots to remove the sticks up their asses and agree.” “Joseph!” Mary whispered with a hiss, patting his arm as the man chuckled. “No one heard me, Darling. I whispered.” Your father said it with a wink, placed his hand over his wife's, and squeezed it. Her shoulders slouched, pleased even if she didn't verbally express it, at her husband's gesture, and she looked at their intertwined selves, then went back to her drink.

Joseph winked at the both of you once more and separated his hold from hers for the appetisers.

Your heart squeezed with want as you watched them. It was a moment of love, but also a reminder that you couldn't have that anymore. You looked away with a smile, not wanting to endure the feelings of sadness that weighted your heart.

“Hello, Mary. Hello, Joseph”. You heard in the background but were unable to focus on the two new voices in the background as you focused on calming yourself down.

“Cariño, I-” Miguel whispered in your ear, catching onto your feelings, but a sharp noise broke the moment.

“[Name]! Look at you! You're getting more and more gorgeous by the day! My gosh, you're glowing!” Elle, your sister-in-law, beamed and hugged you from your seat. You stood up quickly to hug her and beamed when you saw your brother walking up to the table.

“Aww, you're so adorable! Gosh, we haven't seen you in a bit.” “We apologise for that, by the way.” Micah shook your hand and led Elle to their seats. He smiled at the stink eye your mother threw at the both of them and rolled his eyes once he looked away from her.

“We apologise for arriving so late. Some business had to be taken care of just at the moment I was to leave the office.” Micah said with an apologetic look on his face. “We wish that we could have arrived on your anniversary as well, [Name] and Miguel. Work, once again, occupied us. Happy belated fourth anniversary to the both of you.” Elle congratulated him with a smile and thanked the waiter when he brought their wine.

You internally giggled at her personality change. Elle was always so casual around you but had to become formal when the fact that she's in public sets in. It wouldn't be good for a model to appear improper.

“How are you, Miguel?” Elle was greeted as Micah nodded. “We haven't seen each other in a while, man.”

“I’m doing well, thank you. I’m just taking care of the missus.” Miguel responded to Micah’s approval and your resistance to roll your eyes. “It’s been four years. I still can't believe that [Name] managed to tie someone down. She's so difficult.” Micah chuckled as you glared at him. “Speak for yourself. I still can't believe Elle wanted you. She could have done so much better.” You giggled and dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“Don’t you remember when you..." Micah began, but Mary interrupted him. "Children, there is no need to complain about one another. To be quite honest, I didn't expect either of you to get married so soon. I thought that you'd both get married after building up your characters.” Your mother giggled, much to both of your dismay.

“Mum? You're cracking a joke? Are you sure you're alright?” Micah questioned, raising a brow that quickly came down when you kicked him underneath the table. “What was that for?” “What are you talking about?” You evaded his glare with a smile.

“I’m just glad to finally see my children and their spouses in the same spot.” Your mother had a gentle smile as she looked at the both of you as your partners looked elsewhere for a moment. She didn't approve of Elle either.

In her view, her children were supposed to marry someone of their status. Someone who is highly regarded. Not anything but that.

However, she regarded your brother in a higher manner when it came down to who he chose to marry.

Elle was a ‘blantant gold digger’ in her words, ‘a model who just wanted someone to raise her higher in the industry’. Micah was a highly praised film director and writer. Who better to expose her to the world of the rich and famous than him?

“Before we continue, Micah and I have an announcement to make.” Elle announced and stood up along with her husband. Your heart dropped as the next sentence echoed in your brain.

“We're pregnant!” They both grinned and hugged one another while grins appeared on your parents' faces. “Congratulations!” Mary cheered and eagerly stood up to hug the couple. “Congratulations. My boy, you've done it again!” Joseph grinned, to which Micah flustered.

“Congratulations!” You finally joined in, grinning as you hugged them both, a bit too tightly. You wanted the moment to feel real. You weren't upset. You couldn't be. You shouldn't be.

“That's a bit tight.” Elle said, causing you to break it. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm already excited to see your little one or ones.” You grinned. “Congratulations, you two. We can't wait to see the little one.” Miguel smiled next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You could feel the sharp looks from your parents, Micah and Miguel. Elle paused to look at you, and her brows furrowed in worry. "I hope this wasn't inappropriate." She whispered in your ear, looking at Miguel for a moment, holding your hand, to which you tightened the hold. "Elle, are you excited for this new part of your life? I'm so happy for the both of you." You shook your head to hint, and a relieved smile appeared on her face. "Yes, yes, I am." She responded and hugged Micah. He hugged back and smiled at you as a form of assurance and sternly looked at Miguel, to which he looked away.

“I can't wait to find out the gender of your little one. Searching for outfits will be pleasant.” Mary said once you all sat down, smiling at the couple who were in their own moment of adoration as food was brought on the table. Your heart broke as you watched Micah caress Elle’s stomach lovingly, and her hand lifted to squeeze his as they smiled at one another.

You looked at Miguel, whose eyes remained trained on yours, and softly sighed when his hand held yours in assurance, wanting the hurt to end when yours squeezed his. Clinging onto his attention, you hoped that it would rub off the pain you felt, but guilt and shame crawled onto you. You drew your hand from his and onto your fork.

“I just know they'll be spoiled rotten.” Ella giggled as Micah let out a chuckle. “Definately. We'll have to watch out for that.” “I can't wait to meet my first grandchild.” Your mother’s gaze fell on you for a moment, emitting her disappointment in you before having it on the couple as she grinned more.

Much was discussed around the table. The women's attention remained trained mainly on the little one and topics that interested them, as the men were cooped up in their own little world. Soon, it was near the hour of your departure. 

“[Name]. Let's chat for a moment in private.” Your mother said once Micah and Elle left to arrange their hotel room. The frown on her features became more evident the more you both drew away from the public eye. You both stepped into an empty break room. Once the click of a lock was heard, you sighed.

“Do you even realise just how disappointed I am in you, [Name]?” Your mother started. “Micah has a child before you. He hasn't even crossed two years with that girl, and he's made so much progress compared to you. You should be ashamed, [Name].” Anger flared in you as the words sunk in. You had already been through so much in such little time. Why did life’s cards decide to add more to your plate?

“Why does it bother you so damn much? I’ll have children when I want to. What part of that don't you understand?” You responded, glaring at the older woman. “You’ve always regarded Micah highly in comparison to me when it comes to marriage.” You rolled your eyes at her glare.

“[Name], Micah’s a man. Whether or not he has children early, he's alright. If he were to even leave Elle, he'd find someone new. He’d be able to have children, regardless. Men get better with age, unfortunately, unlike us. Your clock is ticking, [Name]. You need to progress into the next step of your life before it's too late.” Mary shook her head and sighed at what she believed was your foolishness.

You drifted into lassitude, it clinging to you like glue, with the realisation that she would never be satisfied with you until you did what pleased her. “I can just imagine how the public will react to this. You've set yourself up for failure.”

“I need to go.” You said, looking at the keys in her hand. “[Name]. Why can't you just listen to me? Did I raise such an impudent child? I’m just looking out for you, [Name]. I don't want you to experience regret. It'll never stop. I’m guiding you towards the right path.”

“Open the door.” You said once more, refraining yourself. “Why do you act so childish? I’m trying to help you.” Mary insisted, only further pushing your buttons. “Open the door.” You repeated it and headed towards it. You hand motioned at it. “You’re going to regret it if you continue with what you're doing.” Mary said, placed the key inside the keyhole, and turned it. “Maybe I will; maybe I won't. I respect you so much, Mum. Let's end this.” You said, then opened the door. “This will only end if you do what is right.” Was all you heard her softly say. You left.

“They offered only sixteen million dollars to help fund the project?” Your father questioned Miguel as he puffed the cigar on his lips and blew it out. The smoke waved in the air, and Miguel glanced at it for a moment as he drank his glass of beer. “Yes, they did. They didn't believe in the project’s potential until recently, when testing made a lot of progress.” Miguel responded, then drank the rest of his drink.

“Your drinking tolerance must be high. You've drank four beers since you arrived, and you're still standing straight. You'd do amazing in the drinking competitions that go on in the basement on Saturdays. Don't tell Mary; she wouldn't be pleased to know about them.” Joseph winked, to which Miguel chuckled as he shook his head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Miguel, why won't you have children?” Your father broke the silence and looked at him, somewhat disappointed. “I’m a man as well, Miguel. It's not hard to conclude the possibilities.” The cigar was nearing its last draw.

“My career. I don't think it would let me enjoy the simple pleasures of family life. I do my research late into the night. [Name] does so much to accommodate that. I don't think it would be right of me to bring children into that.” Miguel confessed with a sad gaze as he thought back to your heartbroken expression when you found out about his involvement with Dana.

It hunted him throughout the missions he did that night, rage and shame filling his form, and anyone around him sensed it. Many in the Spider-HQ avoided him in the brief night he was there. Jessica and Peter avoided him as well, aside from brief interactions. They knew he'd pour out his feelings to them eventually. 

“As much as using work as an excuse gratifies you, it's a poor choice, Miguel. You'll regret it if you decide to let it linger.” Your father looked at him from the side of his eye and rubbed his moustache.

“My work was easier in my younger days, but I found it just as challenging as I find it now. I was just an assistant to the previous politician at the time, too. You understand what I’m hinting at when I say that, right?” Miguel nodded, to which the older man smiled. 

“I had my children either way. It was a struggle to tackle the task of raising them and working. I had days where I thought I didn't do enough for them and that I found my work to be more important. Mary had her own career to focus on. She would work late into the night. I’m assuming that [Name] does the same thing since she chose to be a designer just like her mother. Do I need to be corrected?” “No, you don't. You're right.”

“We still did the best we could, regardless. We could have done some things better, yes. But we can't go back in time to correct ourselves. We can only give advice to those who seem to be going astray.” Joseph hinted, looking at Miguel, who looked back at him.

Joseph knew; he could tell by the way he looked at him, disappointed and angry, but chose to contain himself.

“I only hope you won't regret your decision, Miguel. Just know that I will be alongside my daughter when she decides to tell us.” Your father took in one last puff and let it out. Miguel and Joseph gazed at the smoke one last time until it disappeared into the clear, blue sky over the beautiful atmosphere.

Joseph's cigar remained in its ashtray, the soft red of it fading with each passing moment. Both men took in the peacefulness of the atmosphere with sombre spirits.

Moments after you freshened up, you headed to your husband. “We should head out in a bit.” You said, then placed your head on his shoulder and laid your hand on his chest. He noticed how drained you felt. He sensed the irregularity in your hormones. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you wrapped yours around his. You made your decision at that moment.

“Cariño, I am so sorry. I'll be better. I'll never hurt you again.” He whispered in your ear, his soft tone and the warmness of his breath in your ear making you melt in his arms as you tightened your hold on him.

“We will see each other once more.” Mary stated, across both of you with her husband. She hugged you, then Miguel. Her hands held the sides of both your shoulders and shook them. “Drive safe, alright?” Joseph said, then hugged you and shook Miguel's hand. “Yes, sir. We'll be alright.” Miguel responded and shook the keys with a grin.

“We hope to hear some good news soon.” Your mother commented, smiling as she directly looked at you. “We will soon, won't we, Miguel?” Joseph said, looking at Miguel with a grin. “Hopefully.” Miguel responded and straightened himself. You could tell that something happened between them. “Don’t worry, you will soon.” You responded with a smile and left hand in hand with your beloved.

The strawberry air freshener, coffee, Miguel's spicy cologne, and your sweet perfume lingered in the air of your home when you both stepped in. The cosiness hugged your form, and you took it all in, craving the warmth you desperately needed in the last two days.

“Miel, it feels good to be back, doesn't it?” Miguel placed your luggage on the side and hugged your waist, savouring the comfort of the air before him. You squeezed into his warmth, cherishing it as a longing emotion overcame you. You turned to face him, and before anything could pour from his plump lips, you locked them with your own.

He lifted you, soft lips still entangled, his stamina much greater than your own, to the wall, willing to do all the work as you squirmed in eagerness across him. “Let me help you.” You said, in between gasps, need flaring all over your body as he kissed your neck, nearing your collarbone as kisses and tiny licks trailed towards it.

You could feel the slight sting of a canine; the sensation became foreign as it had been a long time since you embraced in hazy lust. Your body missed it—the curl of your back as you felt it draw a messy line down your collarbone.

“Mikey, please-” You drew out a sharp breath, your eyes hinting towards the stairs that led up to your bedroom, then shut tight when he pressed his hips closer to your own, evidently just as excited as you were. He lifted you in a hug, and your legs immediately clung on to his waist as he tightly held on to you, almost as though you'd disappear right there and then.

“Mi Vida, I promise I will never hurt you again. Te quiero tanto. Te quiero, te necesito tanto, Mi Vida, Mi Todo. Por favor, por favor, déjame tenerte.”

[“I love you so much. I love you, I need you so much, My Life, My All. Please, please let me have you.”] 

“You can have me, Mikey. Please.” You dragged on, clinging more to him as want consumed your forms.

The sensual fog filled the house as carnal desire mixed between your bodies late into the night. You finalised your decision as sweat stuck to your body, your gaze on Miguel as he slept soundly. You hadn't seen him like this in such a long time. Your fingers moved to separate a stray lock that stuck to his cheekbone. Pain struck your heart when you thought about how Dana must have seen him this intimately. You wouldn't blame her if she did the same thing you had just done. You just hated that she got to.

The never-ending bustle of Nueva York in the distance was all you drifted off to sleep once more with. You had a fleeting thought of what went on in his mind when he watched you drift off to sleep first. You knew he must have loved it; he must have gazed at you with the same adoration during your first moments together. You missed it all.

“I want a divorce, Miguel.” You calmly let out, scrambled eggs on your plate and his as you ate breakfast with one another, spirits low. He sighed, an indication that he expected this, then looked at you, searching for a sign that you would consider any plea that fell from his lips. He didn't find any. “I’m sorry, Mi Amor.” He apologised, then drank coffee. The cup was placed on the counter a bit loudly for comfort. He looked towards you in apology. You nodded, then turned to eat.

“I know.” You responded, looking out the window at the eggs that softly lay on the nest on top of the tree next to the household, wondering if, by leaving him, you'd unlock the path towards that. The mother bird’s eyes lingered on her eggs for a moment. Maybe it was in adoration.

You let out a hum, making Miguel shift his low eyes towards your own in questioning, and you shook your head, then turned back to your plate.

I’m done!!! Yessssss!!! I don't know whether to continue with this or not. If I do, it'll take a bit to get chapters. This took a bit out of my lifespan but I’m so happy that I wrote this! ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

[cactusboil]

Rice’s effectiveness as a HL (and how fkn lazy and useless he is)

The Night Court is one of the largest and toughest (I suppose??) territories to deal with in Prythian. So doesn’t it make sense that it would obviously handled by the “strongest” HL existing in Prythian? Of course it does. And not to mention his oh so powerful IC always backing him up.

A little timeline thing:

The fae vs human war happened 500 hundred years prior to the events of acotar. It is said that the previous spring HL (tamlin’s dad) was killed by the end of the war, so we can assume that rice was around his 20s-30s when he took over as HL of NC. I’m gonna skip approximately 100 years including the time he wasn’t HL and was utm. So that’s 400 hundred years of being a HL.

And what has he done? WHAT HAS HE DONE FOR NC? Nothing. Don’t bring up the “change takes time, oh he banned wing clipping in some of the camps🤡” bs. If he can break Keir’s bones infornt of an entire audience made up of Hewn city ppl for simply bad mouthing Feyre and Cassian, a general of his army can clear out an entire village of Illyrians in retribution to his mother’s death, then I’m pretty sure that he along with his clique of the strongest ppl to ever exist can do so much more. He can barely hold up a wing clipping ban.

Making the Illyrian women train means nothing really, if they don’t have proper health care and safe homes to go back to. It means nothing when some Illyrian women don’t want to be fighters and just want to be able to live freely. Oh and what about the Hewn city women? Morrigan herself has said how her cousins are suffering yet no one does anything for them.

His double standards with Velaris vs Illyria and Hewn City is glaringly obvious. He goes around tryna be macho with other HLs but is a pussy when it comes to his own court.

400 hundred years is a lot of time. It is more than enough time for someone that is actually interested in helping their ppl and motivated to bring a good change to their court. But it is too little time for someone like rice, someone that has prejudice against his own ppl, that is lazy and truly doesn’t have any intention of helping anyone tbh.

[kiwisa]

The Winner Takes It All ✷ cl16

✷ FIRST INTERLUDE OF THE TAMING OF THE HEARTBREAKER

━━━━━  NEXT !

in which... another name is added to Y/N's infamous list !

IN THE GILDED WORLD OF HOLLYWOOD, two events have become so common that no one bats an eye at the sight of them anymore: seeing Y/N L/N win an Oscar and leave with the current heartthrob.

Last night was no exception, ticking all the boxes in this new industry's ritual. While the West Side Story actress did indeed bring home the Best Actress Oscar (again), her real award of the night was the charming Timothée Chalamet, present to support the ten nominations for Dune. The two actors were seen very close during and after the Vanity Fair after-party, eventually both slipping away in the same SUV.

This is nothing new for the actress. Wherever she goes, it is impossible to feel indifferent about Y/N L/N. She knows it. So does everybody. Her ever-growing list of conquests is always the talk of the industry. No one even bother to count the names anymore: it would take hours.

Between Chalamet at the Oscars, François Civil and Pierre Niney at the French Césars or Harry Styles at the Grammys, Y/N L/N seems determined to single-handedly revive old Hollywood, between conquests, scandals, and chaos!

✷ SEE ALSO ON LOVE CLUB... !

Is Y/N L/N the inspiration behind Harry Style's Woman?

Between existing for her art or for her body, Y/N L/N seems to have made her choice

L/N's French idyll with François Civil cut short

The one now known as "The Heartbreaker"⏤a politically correct version of "whore," still favoured by many internet users⏤has been causing daily havoc everywhere, be it in newspapers or on social media, because of her behaviour, deemed "unladylike."

She responded to these criticisms on Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show a few months ago:

"If I were a man, nobody would say anything. I'm a whore and, yet, when a man does the same thing, he's a player. This has double-standard written all over it. People just hate to see women do what they want with their bodies."

Regardless of the hate she receives on a daily basis, L/N doesn't seem ready to settle down soon. But will she ever be?

We are all left wondering who will succeed in⏤to quote Shakespeare⏤taming The Heartbreaker.

FILED UNDER #Y/NL/N #TIMOTHÉECHALAMET #ACTORS #OSCARS #DATING

Sort by Best ↓

Anonymous 2 hours ago

She didn't deserve Best Actress. I mean... Jessica Chastain was right there. Once again, it shows us just how rigged the Oscars are! Go fuck your boy-toy and let the real actors act.

Anonymous 1 hour ago

She's an incredibly good actress. What a shame she is so crass.

Anonymous 1 hour ago

You go, girl! She's living her best life, as she should. If she doesn't want to settle down now, then she doesn't have to. Men should just shut up.

Anonymous 3 hours ago

No one will ever want something serious with her. Women like L/N are only meant to be fucked.

Load more comments

✷ ━━━━ Subscribe to the Love Club's Newsletter !

@feminefatal @sad1esgf @bellalilo @goldsainz @motorsp0rt @scooterari @starsanova @g4ns3y @moonyseyelash @ccallistata @cialovessirlewis @ctrlyomomma @questionableppls @leclerc13 @fercedes @charlesswife @iambored24601 @leclercinvegas @fezlvr @ferraribabe @greigreyhiyyih @rqmanoff @kirke-is-my-name @filmflux @dreamycunt69 @briboweee @yu_55 @tinyshadxws

[casurlaub]

Can we please agree that liking a character doesn't mean you have to explain away their every bad call? And that disliking a character doesn't mean you have to overlook their good qualities to have them fit your narrative? No one is just this or that. It's always a range.

The lack of nuance in parts of this fandom annoys me so much. And let's please drop the double standards - finding excuses for every 'bad' thing character A does while demonizing character B.

Dumbledore is no super villain. Yes, he put defeating Voldemort over Harry's (emotional) needs. He isn't some supportive father figure, but he's not responsible for the war nor everyone's decision to join in. 'He raised an army of children' - um no? Because if so, he, the greatest wizard of the age, did a shitty job. In both wizarding wars it was just one group of friends joining the Order, not a huge number of former students. So either super-smart Dumbledore seriously sucked at recruiting, or maybe he didn't try all that hard?

James wasn't some prime example of social justice warrior from the very beginning. Yes, he had - to some extent - a set moral code, he hated the Dark Arts, and he certainly never used dark curses on others. But he found it entertaining to hex students at random. He was a classic bully; he did it because he could and because he found it funny. He enjoyed it. But that doesn't mean he had no good traits - he cared for his friends, befriended Remus (practically an outcast), and later he changed. I can't get over the people who find excuses for Snape's bullying of his students, of literal children when he's an adult, but seem to think James was the worst person to ever exist.

Sirius has a ton of good qualities; I could write an essay about it. But guess what, that doesn't make the prank thing okay (no matter if Remus cared about it). The same goes for the Snape bullying and his condescending (cruel) behavior towards Peter. And his treatment of Kreacher, who was oppressed, not the oppressor. And why do we applaud him for 'forgiving' Remus in PoA for not trying to get him out of Azkaban? What's there to applaud? He was in Azkaban because he thought Remus was the spy, did we forget that? How do we expect Remus to suss out that Sirius thought himself clever enough to outsmart not only Voldemort but also Dumbledore? Sirius isn't on some moral high ground here. He wasn't in Azkaban because of Remus but because of his own arrogance and lapse of judgement.

Remus isn't some impersonated moral code. He isn't 'the sensible one' by default. He makes a ton of shitty, truly awful decisions (roaming Hogsmeade while a werewolf, not telling Dumbledore about the secret passages or Sirius's animagus form in PoA even after Sirius, the alleged mass murderer with an agenda of killing Harry, broke into Harry's dorm, abandoning Tonks...). But he isn't some master manipulator with a hidden agenda either. He was driven by his self-loathing first and foremost. And when did it become worse to be a bystander than to participate in the actual bullying? (I'm not saying it's okay, but how can we find excuses for James and Sirius, but Remus is super evil for doing... nothing? When it's stated that Snape was following him and trying to uncover his secret to get him expelled? Shocking he didn't feel all that sympathetic.) Of course he is passive-aggressive, of course he was selfish/cowardish, I don't know, but he isn't evil? He's usually kind (ffs, he even felt pity for Greyback), and his issues are in the end all rooted in his endless self-loathing. That doesn't excuse it. It doesn't. But it doesn't mean he's acting like he does because he's an inherently bad person. This idea of inherently 'bad' or 'good' people is naive and harmful anyhow. Besides - I feel some standards imposed on him are impossible to meet, when the same people are quick to explain away James's/Sirius's/Snape's flaws. Remus is suffering from massive childhood trauma that he's forced to relive every month, he's stigmatized for it by society his whole life, but he himself is supposed to just 'let it go'? Without therapy or anything? Right...

And even Lily isn't a saint. She's fighting back a smile when James is bullying her (supposedly) best friend?

Snape is no tragic hero whose every wrong is justified because he turned around and sacrificed himself. Of course, he was brave. Of course, he had a shitty childhood. That doesn't give him a free pass. He was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts when he arrived at Hogwarts already, he invented curses like Sectumsempra while at Hogwarts, he sold the 'love of his life' to Voldemort. And even after he 'changed' and overcame his fascist views, he bullied children he was supposed to take care of - as a grown man. Not only Harry, but also Neville, Hermione, Ron, who knows how many others. So, yeah, cool, he protected their lives 'when it counted' - 'when it counted'??? You don't belittle your students, you don't insult them, you don't threaten to poison their pets no matter what happened to you when you were a kid. You're an adult, take responsibility. Easy as that. What happened to you may be an explanation, but not an excuse. And do we really think he didn't strike back at James and Sirius? That it was just James and Sirius and him taking it lying down without doing anything himself? I don't.

It's entirely natural to relate more to one character than another and to feel more sympathetic towards them. But let's move away from this 'all or nothing' way of thinking.

To me, they're all beautiful because they're flawed. It makes them real. I don't want them to be stripped of their flaws, not even my favorite characters.

Don't take Sirius's darkness away, don't turn Remus into the ever gentle voice of reason or the super selfish master manipulator (same goes for Dumbledore) and ffs don't excuse Snape's fascist views and bullying of children.

[lunaechaos]

sometimes i think some people in this fandom believe they own the characters they like, and this turns fandom experience into such a toxic and unhealthy one. caring and worrying about a character is very different than disliking anything it's done to them because it doesn't please you and your idea of their personality and who they should associate with.

this begs the question as well, how much is this about Agatha and how much this is actually about just petty hatred/dislike towards Wanda and canon discourse towards Rio? because, in the dawn of Agatha All Along's release, she's been the least one talked of in comparison to her witch mates in some corners of this fandom.

[author's note: it's just so funny to see some clearly biased complaints about recent events in the mcu and the comics, such as Agatha's deaging in the recent runs of the comics. it's obvious that she's been deaged, and it's very ill-intentioned to bissfully ignore the exact time period that her character was first de-aged and redesigned: after Wandavision and Kathryn's Agatha. i thought this was obvious, but since it evidently isn't, Kathryn's Agatha isn't Hagatha. it makes much more sense to match a character that has always been secondary and related to others, without well-defined appearance, and with the ability to age herself down, to its more popular mcu counterpart. also, why complain about a character that hasn't even been released yet, that we don't know a single official thing about, not being inserted in the comics? when said character is rumoured to be a genderbent version of an already existing character i.e Emerald Warlock? so now everything is bad because a single character that never even existed until a few months ago isn't inserted in everything that pertains Agatha's storyline and Agatha's only? are you even listening to yourselves? how come Agatha allegedly being ever-tied to Wanda is such an awful issue, but suddenly her being tied to Rio isn't? are the double standards in the room with us right now? these are just a few issues and complaints i have, and i feel it's high time they were voiced]

[apologize if there are any spell/grammar mistakes, this was written in the middle of a research lab meeting]

[sgiandubh]

Saint Cillian and the photoshoot

I haven't watched Peaky Blinders and I am not really planning to. By the same token, I am still pondering if losing three hours with Oppenheimer is a brilliant plan or a desperate patch for a long, rainy Sunday afternoon. Hell, I even have no idea if it's still shown anywhere in Athens and have plenty of other things to get myself busy with. So I can't tell you anything about Cillian Murphy's acting abilities - besides the obvious 'he's been around for quite some time now, and not too shabby', I have absolutely no idea.

Two days ago, the UK edition of the GQ magazine proclaimed Murphy 'The Man of the Moment' and celebrated it with a substantial photoshoot you can peruse here: https://www.instagram.com/p/C3S27bfgO1X/?igsh=aGYweGg5bWpkOWo4

Yes, it should totally ring a bell:

Phew...

Or... uhm, this uber cringey...

Now imagine I am the not-so-friendly diplomat in Mars Attacks and I know next to nothing about gender on Planet Earth. Remember (LOL)?

Ahem. As a Martian, I would surely think, based on that photoshoot and with no particular curiosity to double-check, that Cillian Murphy is projecting here, as a wonderfully sarcastic friend (thank you, dearie, always 🙌❤️😘😘) put it in a recent convo, 'a flamboyantly gay, fame whore vibe which is the opposite of everything Cillian is. '

I have no reason to question my wonderfully sarcastic friend's sanity. The man is married since forever to Yvonne McGuinness, a real visual artist with real credentials (uh-oh!), plus he is also a very dedicated father of two teenage boys. Intensely private Murphy never talks about his love life/marital bliss in the scarce interviews he grants. And I bet no cuckoo 'snark corner' exists in his fandom (he has to have one, right?) to question this absolutely legitimate PR strategy.

This also should make absolutely clear to the Disgruntled Tumblrettes and other cheap trolls out there that, once and for all, actors cannot choose their photoshoot outfits or poses. These are, of course, discussed by said actor and his/her PR with the magazine people, the photographer and his team. But ultimately, the overall concept and its implementation are left to the magazine (who ordered and paid for the shoot) and the creative team. Trying to fathom someone's sexual orientation based on an ephemeral image, tailored to fit a particular type of targeted content, is akin to the deepest, most worrying brand of delusional stupidity.

Video killed the radio star, double standard and parochialism killed OL's fandom more surely and effectively than *urv & Paul C's in(s)anity.