#Taking liberal interpretations

[urban-hermitism]

cw: mentions of blood and death below the cut, very mild 3.2 spoilers

i can't imagine the way dan heng's heart must have dropped after mem told him about the trial.

it was bad enough, having to drag the trailblazer's body from the crushed train car, them bleeding profusely, barely breathing. they stopped breathing at some point even. and then he's pushing through the black that's probably curling at the edges of his vision, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. its been mere minutes since they started out on this new journey and everything has gone to shit. they have no way of contacting the express and here they are with the trailblazer possibly... he grits his teeth and presses on until he can't anymore. he blacks out.

and then he wakes up and there the trailblazer is standing over him, still covered in blood, but it's... dry. their eyes widen and they stumble back, but then they're helping him up, and their skin feels nothing like the clammy chill that he learnt accompanied their bloodloss. and maybe, he thinks, things are okay, even if the blood that soaks them says otherwise.

and things really do seem okay. they meet the chrysos heirs and the trailblazer forges ahead with their characteristic irreverence, and everything is right in the world. or at least as right as it can get when you're exploring an unexplored world, and employing anthropological methods while also trying to save said world. nothing is ever boring when the trailblazer is involved.

so things go swimmingly, though dan heng has to get used to the fact that there's no cold water around. (one day the bath in their room does turn cold and dan heng sinks into it in relief. he doesn't see how the trailblazer looks at him fondly, infinitely pleased that their scheming worked.) he fights and asks questions and records and fights some more. he hates the amount of time the trailblazer spend out of his sight, going to places he doesn't know anything about, sighing in relief each time they come back intact.

though when agalea suggests that the trailblazer should become the vessel for oronyx's coreflame, he worries.

it's one thing for people of the world to do dangerous, esoteric things. it's another to get an outlander to do things specific to the world. it's a disruption of the ecosystem, an unknown in many aspects. it cannot go well.

but it's the best option, and none of the heirs seem particularly worried. the trailblazer is as determined as ever, though the way they pace their room before sleeping, and later the anxiety in their eyes as they enter the vortex of genesis betrays the worry they feel about the ordeal.

when the trailblazer turns back, dan heng's brow furrows as they tell them to wait for their return. they open their mouth to say something else, but close it, seemingly thinking better of their words. dan heng wonders, wanting to hear it.

time passes and dan heng worries, and then...

and then a flash of light and the trailblazer appears, collapsing on the floor (is it a floor? can you call a swirling void of water the floor?) unconscious, mem hovering above worriedly. mem scrabbles something out so hastily that dan heng isn't sure he's hearing right, but all the same he scoops the trailblazer up in his arms and rushes back to their room so that they can rest safely.

and dan heng waits. waits for mem to finish explaining what the hell went down in the trial. waits for the trailblazer to wake again and stop looking so dead.

dead...

fuck.

[tsscat]

I think a fallacy that inherently underlies the “Anarchism vs. Marxism-Leninism” debate is anarchism is a much broader tent of ideologies than ML imo. Idt this means all debate is worthless but I wonder how much of the “vagueness” MLs criticize anarchists of is a result of them equating for example, Council Communism and anti-civ anarchism which have drastically different ideologies.

[butchladymaria]

Immortality, Motherhood, and Pain: A Closer Look at Annalise and the Doll

Finally revisiting this from ages ago, because the parallels between these two are just SO fascinating. Content warnings for discussions of misogyny, genocide, abuse, and pregnancy/childbirth.

This analysis will cover the parallels between Miss Doll and Queen Annalise through the lenses of the misery of immortality, the trauma of marginalization, and the liberation they find in motherhood. Both the Doll and Annalise are undying, both coded as mother figures, both marked by death, and both very, very alone.

Miss doll and Annalise are the only characters in the whole game who are undying. You can kill them, but not meaningfully - not in any way that matters - and they seem to know it. Neither will try to stop you, nor will they fight back, should you choose to attack them. They will come back, and your violent betrayal will have seemingly meant nothing to them. They both are very aware they will outlast whatever violence you may inflict upon them. It's evidenced in their dialogue:

If you attack, Annalise says:

“Enough. If only Our life was so easily forfeit… Grieve not, for Us.” “How sad this is. If only Our life was so easily forfeit…”

If you attack Miss Doll, she used to say:

“I must have displeased you. Go on, shut me down… Even so, this vessel will remain in your service… So have no fear."

I think this point of comparison highlights just how deeply they've both been desensitized to violence and abuse. They do not beg for mercy, they do not put up a struggle - they only remark on it with distant chagrin. They both seem keenly aware that their flesh need not be in one piece to fulfill its purpose.

But where Miss Doll was made to embody the Victorian patriarchal ideal of womanhood, Annalise wields womanhood as her last weapon against the dehumanization of the church’s genocide through her queendom. Upon being resurrected the next time you return to the dream, Miss Doll will act as though nothing had happened at all. However, if you bring her flesh to the Altar of Despair, Annalise will call you an arrant fool, and remind you that “Vileblood or no, forget not; We are thy Queen”. Miss Doll kneels to serve the hunter, while the hunter must kneel to serve Annalise. Miss Doll has been conditioned to passively accept dehumanization and submission, yet Annalise demands respect through your submission even in her dehumanized state. Miss Doll is subjugated by the trappings of womanhood, while Annalise is lifted from subjugation by her womanhood, in some ways.

I find this fascinating, however, because while Miss Doll appears in every way as a pure, demure Victorian woman was meant to, they are also dehumanized through the denial of gender. To Gerhman, their creator, they are nothing more than another tool of the workshop. An object. Even the Doll themself uses neutral "I" pronouns to refer to themself in the original translation. I think it is pertinent to note that the only canonical reference to Miss Doll as a "woman" comes from Eileen. In the original Japanese text, she refers to the Doll with a term of endearment reserved for young girls. Miss Doll's appearance is the historical ideal of the subjugated woman - yet when Eileen confers upon her the status of "woman", she does so in an endearing and humanizing way. Therefore, for both Miss Doll and Queen Annalise, the status of womanhood is a rebuttal of their own dehumanizing subjugation: Annalise as "queen", and Miss Doll as "daughter".

Both characters are arguably seeking/find liberation through motherhood. Miss Doll gets "Childhood's Beginning": their creator and animator have both been put down, the hunt is finally over and they are no longer bound to serve its participants, nor must they watch their beheadings. They cradle the newly ascended hunter. It is a highly atypical “motherhood”. It exists in the performance of the role rather than the biology of childbirth. In the same way, the Doll possesses a highly atypical “womanhood” which exists in performance alone, rather than in biology or even identity — but nonetheless, it is real, and it is hers. I, perhaps too optimistically, choose read it as humanizing for them; because unlike their “womanhood”, Miss Doll is allowed to choose this for themself rather than having it imposed upon them.

In the same vein, Annalise seeks to birth a child of blood for a similar but perhaps more somber reason. She wants a child because she wants an heir — which is to say, because it is the only way she may once again have kin. Because it is the only way she may fulfill her duty as Queen. She witnessed everyone she ever knew or loved — surely her own family included — slaughtered before her eyes. Annalise seems to seek motherhood in order to be a homemaker - in the most literal sense possible. She wants to rebuild the community, the home, which was so brutally torn away from her. She wishes to restore honor to Cainhurst. For Annalise, having a child is an open act of rebellion against the genocidal eugenics-frenzied bloodthirst of the Church. I can't help but wonder if part of the reason Alfred is so hellbet on destroying her, why the Executioners imprisoned her the way they did, was to strip her of bodily autonomy so she couldn’t “reproduce”. Her desire for a child is her way of seeking liberation for her and her people.

In this sense, taking up the role of a mother, of "women's work", is what confers the agency upon both Annalise and Miss Doll which had been otherwise stripped from them. Annalise's by the genocidal eugenics of the Church, and Miss Doll by the pact of servitude she was seemingly born into.

[mithliya]

Still confused how being raised in a religious background causes 'lesbians' to sleep with moids outside of marriage... Nobody at my church was promoting premarital sex and fornication.

I'll wait for the 'lesbians' to explain that logic.

how does being told repeatedly that being same-sex attracted will cause u to burn in hell for eternity make someone do whatever it takes to try to “fix” their same-sex attraction? idk seems blatantly obvious to me

[britneyshakespeare]

Omg. That same website has a follow-up article about the backlash to the premise (x)

This is a lot to be inaccurate about in one paragraph, but this is why so much of TV/movie reporting is so far from real journalism. Any level of familiarity with the source would not tell you that Basil and Dorian were "romantic main characters" (implying they were an actual couple rather than having an unconsummated attraction, particularly on Basil's side), nor does the character of Dorian Gray go to jail. Oscar Wilde went to jail. Jesus Christ this is worse than YouTube "video essays" that just read the first paragraph of Wikipedia articles.

Guys, Netflix is going to make a modern day adaptation of Dorian Gray and they're making Basil and Dorian brothers

[searchingforserendipity25]

it's a good thing conclave didn't waste any time on making the stories about catholic orders and their in-fighting. and probably i shouldn't either because i am not informed enough about it to go on at length. pls take all of this w a grain of salt.

but i know in my heart of hearts that aldo bellini is a progressive liberal jesuit, the holy father's specialest most progressive liberal italian-american jesuit.

look at him. look at his glasses. those are the glasses of a man who did his dissertation on reinterpreting loyola through a contemporary reformist lens. academic wunderkid. has sooo much beef w the editors of american jesuit weekly. possibly the events of conclave are occurring in a better more beautiful world where aldo bellini is the editor of american jesuit weekly.

the late holy father for sure was a progressive jesuit also. vr pope francis coded. and low-key set him up as a successor. for a while, that seemed nearly a sure thing in some circles.

but there is the fact. well. the fact that everyone is tired, done and tired of jesuits, progressive or otherwise.

this among other factors meant he couldn't consider him the best option, besides whatever character judgement and uncanny machievallien prediction he came up with.

adeyemi has that benedictine swag which makes his potential election particularly seem like a breath of fresh air + reliable + lots of influence. tremblay is giving dominican drip and dominican corruption. and dominican flop. his nespresso machine? it's giving dominican also.

tedesco has to be an italian-founded order member. most hypocrital salesian of all times maybe?? this is unrelated to the fact that i was nearly enrolled in a salesian primary school and the weirdly panopticon-ish playground didn't pass the vibe check. and also because: consider tedesco rising in the ranks of an order created to help migrant workers...someone kick him in the head for me pls.

who even knows about benítez. i want to say franciscan but that might be just too on the nose. cistercian?? honestly it would work well if he is also without affiliation.

this lens does make lawrence's homily being interpreted as a campaign speech more understandable (and particularly funny).

because, as far as anyone can tell, he's fully running as an independent candidate. zero platform besides - if i fuck up i'll apologize and do better and be held accountable, which is more than any of you probably would.

and because he stands alone, he can be held accountable. he can belong to all, and not one faction only. as far as anyone can tell, he's burning bridges with bellini and rocking the status quo.

he is speaking to/from a place of frustration with institutional inertia and factionalism, he is using his position as dean to bravely promote a platform for internal change in the curia, he is offering doubt as an alternative to certainty, he is pulling an absolute wildcard move.

pity he didn't mean it.

pity the the only order lawrence is interested in joining is the most hardcore discalced carmelite experience possible.

you know how some people look into luxurious real estate listings like it's porn? that's lawrence w tiny monasteries. the sort of minuscule organization with not enough people for management to be necessary. too small for politics. as close to erasure as you can get in this world: no need to be useful.

serving god by existing only to meditate on him. a narrow slant of a life, at that. barely taking up space, barely casting a shadow.

his favorite is a decrepit wreck of a place in the middle of southern spain, nowhere. no wifi no speaking aloud no possessions. no shoes no food. no nothing, only prayer. and a big big sky overhead.

maybe that will fix his issues with reaching god. if that doesn't work he'll probably just wander into the tabernas desert and become an hermit. works for some people, supposedly; plenty of order founders seem to believe so, anyway.

[parkjayssi]

✦ PAC : TWISTED FANTASIES

what does ur future partner think about you at night? 18+

!MINORS PLEASE DNI

like & rb are appreciated

i'm a beginner in tarot so please take everything with a grain of salt

do not copy or steal my work

🖤 | pile one!

okay, pile one, seems like your fs has a thing for power imbalance when it comes to sex. they imagine you completely submitting to their will and doing it raw and wild. they'd make sure to have a safe word but definitely wants to make sure that you are a stuttering mess or they won't be satisfied because they feel like they haven't even gave you their best. they also imagine indulging you with a nice meal at restaurant or just spending some money on you before doing it. pampering you a lot is something they want to do to make this experience so much more indulging.

they seem to have a strong masculine presence, pile one, because the idea of trapping you under them and making you submit seems to be a repeating pattern here. they also seem to have a corruption kink, this isn't necessarily taking your virginity but introducing you to some new things that could elevate it. bondage is evident, blindfolds and handcuffs or ropes. as I said, definitely wants to make you feel helpless. their only goal is to make you feel the most pleasure as possible and so they'd do everything to enhance the experience, even if it's just a fantasy in their pretty little head (・ω<)

🖤 | pile two!

goddamn, pile 2, your fs really put you on a pedestal for their fantasies. they see you as this untouchable god/goddess and they feel blessed to even look at you. they think that even imagining how they treat you in bed is a sin but they still dare to imagine that doing it with you might alleviate those sins, even if it's just a bit. they really think that only you can liberate them from their dirty thoughts that they should've never had in first place. they are really attentive to your needs too, pile 2. they make sure to be gentle and not hurt you in any way.

this pile is really just soft and sweet, caring sex. they also imagine that having sex with you is a scared experience, wanting to intertwine not only your bodies but your souls as one. they also imagine you voicing your needs as they are also open to anything you'd want to do. they probably seem to be a gentle dom/sub. really precious people, pile 2 <333

🖤 | pile three!

ooh, pile 3, your fs has a really interesting fantasy. they imagine exploring new boundaries with you that they previously placed on themselves. probably trying something new that they were scared to or just did not seem interested before you entered their life. they seem to be quite assertive with what they like or dislike so this is very different from the usual self that they are.

they have this fantasy of trying positions that let you be on top and just admiring you while they sit back and relax. they want to give you this illusion of you being in control and just let you have your way for some time and then they switch up to assert themselves since, as i said, they are quite assertive, both in real life and in bed. there's also another interpretation for some of you out there, that they have this fantasy of having sex to make up, basically angry sex to let both of your frustrations out. also pile 3, if you get attracted to pile 1, there might be extra messages for you

extra : this pile gives gojo satoru from jjk vibes so ifykyk

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The falling | joel miller x f!reader, 5k

Summary: It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything. You're falling. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone. Or you catch Joel cheating on you. The world comes crushing down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST. That's it. Ok, bye. But seriously, angst, a whole lot of angst, alternated POVs, husband!joel, wife!reader, cheater!joel, married couple, Joel fucks another f!person, reference to sexual activity but nothing too detailed, as I said before-ANGST, excessive use of the word fuck, Joel is kind of a dick on this one, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Let me know how you feel about this lost little puppy, I know he sounds arrogant and awful, maybe I can rectify that, on a second part. If you're interested in a closure for these two, hit me in the comments! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything.

Everything dear and loved and cherished and so close to your heart. Your heart itself.

You still can’t decide if it’s liberating or torturing, to have that exact moment burned in your thoughts like a Polaroid.

But the pain is real. The pain is excruciating. It spreads like vines through your whole body, starting from the pit of your stomach in the form of a bile you try to hold back, moving to your heart’s agonizing clench, licking to the ends of your numb limbs which remain obstinately immobile. It feels almost like floating, but not exactly.

You’re falling; you’re still falling as if there’s no luxurious, expensive floor underneath your feet, holding you surprisingly still up. You wait for the landing, the crush, unmoving, unblinking, not quite breathing. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone.

Your designer’s tote bag, another unnecessarily extravagant gift from your husband, drops from your hands to the floor with a loud thud.

Joel’s thrusts stop immediately and he turns his head to look behind him, while he’s on his knees, balls deep in a female body on all fours. His eyes shut tightly in something you’re not sure how to interpret, dropping his head between his shoulder blades and his palms squeeze the hips of the female body he's holding, until his fingertips go white.

And you’re just standing there, on the threshold of your bedroom, taking in the scene. It’s weird how the mind works under stressful situations. Is the absurdity of the reality that keeps you calm? Is it your brain’s reaction to protect you from collapsing? Are you shutting down right now?

You feel your eyes unable to move around and at the same time you see clearer than ever, as if you’re looking through a wide-angle lens.

You notice all of the stripped clothes, which they don’t seem hastily taken off, the way they pool on various surfaces of the room; they took their time undressing each other.

You notice the crystal tumbler of a half finished liquid, Joel’s whiskey, on his side of the nightstand; they took their time having fun.

You notice the absence of a condom on Joel’s cock as he removes himself from the female hole he was buried deep, all splayed out for him and now you; they took their time before, it seems, there is an intimacy there. This is not a stranger, this is not a first time.

Joel is calm, collected even, as he stands to his full height, grabbing his pants from the floor next to the king sized bed and putting them on. Calculated, steady movements, he looks like he’s trying to stay in control of the situation, diminish it to something else. You pray he doesn’t go down that path.

You look behind him, the female body’s gathering itself into a ball, sitting on your bed now, hands hugging it’s knees, trying to protect its nudity. Your eyes roam her form until they settle on her face. Oh, you know her. She looks -hm, there’s a mosaic of emotions behind her eyes, which are surprisingly bold to look back at you. You see shock, you see fear, you see.. satisfaction?

“Darlin’” Joel’s approaching you, crossing the ridiculously big room, with a steady pace.

His chest is heaving from the effort to regulate his breathing, he’s sweaty, his muscles all bulged from the interrupted fucking, his curls -your curls, fuck, that hurts- damp. He’s so handsome in all his disheveled form. He looks like your Joel.

Imaginary flashes of her fingertips combing through his hair are passing through your mind and you feel your esophagus contracting, a sense of a burning hot liquid moving up to your mouth. You swallow it down.

He reaches to touch your arm, don’t you dare, is all you mutter lowly, still without moving a muscle as if you do, the world will come crushing down. It already did, didn’t you get the memo? Your voice feels foreign to your ears, your tongue feels rough like sandpaper. He obeys.

When does this falling end?

“Baby-”, he tries again, while he steps forward, a condescending tone to his voice, like he’s addressing a toddler.

“Don’t-”, you roll your eyes in your head, god, he smells so good, even with the sweat someone else poured out of his skin, he smells so fucking good. He smells like your Joel. “Don’t come any closer.”

“This-” he exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as if it’s an unnecessary effort to explain, as if you should understand; of all people, you should know, “this doesn’t mean anything-” his hand gesturing between him and the female body, “she doesn’t mean anything.” You should understand, baby, you should know.

And for the first time her eyes leave yours and land on the face of the deceiver. If this wasn’t happening to you right now, you would take pity on her pained expression. You almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Does she know that?” you ask him, your eyes never leaving her tangled form on your bed.

Joel snaps his head to her direction, narrowing his eyes in warning, “Yes, she does.”, his voice comes out strict and final, signaling there’s no room for doubt. He doesn’t sound like your Joel.

“I need you to leave.”, you breathe barely audible, your eyes still on her face; now she doesn’t know where to look, the rug pulled out from under her feet from the man she had inside her minutes ago.

His gaze is cold and indifferent, as if everything is her fault, looking still in her direction. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, the empathetic part of your brain feels for her.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out, what are you waiting for?” he snaps at her.

“Not her, you.” you whisper, it’s impossible to speak louder, all of your energy powers your two standing feet.

He turns to look at you, shocked, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“Wh- what are you talking about, sweetheart?” he tries to reason with you, “We need to talk, to-”

“Joel-”, you try again and thank god he’s interrupting you, you don’t have the strength to negotiate right now. Let the dice roll. It’s all fucked, anyway.

“This is my home; I’m not leaving.” he simply states, shaking his head from side to side, staring at you expectantly.

“You’re right. This is your house.” you acknowledge, coming to a painful realization. “Everything is yours; you own everything, don’t you?”, you smile sadly, crouching down to collect you bag.

You turn on your heels and leave the residence formerly known and felt as home, behind you.

Alarm system disabled.

Joe’s hairs are rising on the nape of his neck, when he checks the alarm app notification on his phone, thinking you came back home.

It’s been an awful month without you, without being able to contact you. He knew where you were of course, he could not for the life of him leave that information escape him, but he didn’t pressure you with an unexpected visit, he knew better.

It’s been a month. That’s plenty of time. You took your time and now you’re ready to talk. You have to be, this can’t be the end of this relationship, this marriage.

He presses your number and hits call. Fuck, he’s still blocked. Maybe you forgot to unblock him, it’s ok, it doesn’t mean anything.

He checks the house’s cameras. Shit. That’s not you. What is she doing there? What the fuck is going on? Alright, he’s going back to the house.

He stands on his feet, right in the middle of a meeting with the board and just leaves them. There’s a distant muttering of where does he think he goes, what happened, what’s gotten into him, this is important for the upcoming deal, but he pays no mind to them.

He needs to talk to you.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got everything you need,” Maria facetimes you, showing around your closet via her camera. “I’m loading the suitcase to the car and I’m out of here.”

“Thank you Mar-”

“MARIA?” Joel’s voice travels through the space from the ground floor, up.

“Shit, shit, shit, what am I gonna do?” Maria whispers to you turning the call to voice only.

“Just take the suitcase and leave, it’s ok, I only got personal stuff if that’s what he’s worried about. Let him check if it comes to that.”, you try to calm her down.

“Ok, ok-” Maria grabs the handle of the suitcase and moves to leave the walk-in closet.

“Hey.” Joel comes through the door to the bedroom taking in the scene. He hasn’t set foot in this room for nearly a month now.

“Hey.” Maria sounds pissed on the line.

“What are you doing here? Where's Tommy?”, Joel’s face frowns in question. “Tommy's not my keeper, his my partner. My husband, not that you would know what that means, apparently.” Maria just shrugs and moves to pass him by.

“What are you doing, what’s going on here?” he insists, blocking her way.

“I’m just collecting som-”

“How is she? Is she ok?” his voice softening when he asks about you.

“Oh, please, Joel, how is she? Really?” Maria scoffs at him. “She doesn’t want to see you, Joel or hear from you, that’s how she is.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thank you.” he mocks back. “Is she on the phone, can I just talk to her?” he extends his arm to reach for the phone. “Over my dead and cold body.” Maria says, pressing the phone on her chest.

His eyes are raging storms, his nostrils flaring with quiet rage. He takes a deep breath “Can you please ask her if I can talk to her, just for five minutes?”

“Why don’t you call her, Joel?” Maria taunts him, emphasizing the pronunciation of his name.

Joel just stares back at her, unfazed. Maria doesn’t move a muscle, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. Well, she did move one muscle.

Joel sighs exasperatedly “She blocked my number.”

“I wonder why that is.” Maria twists the knife, “I guess you have your answer, then.”

“Christ-” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “just- just ask her, please.”

Maria lifts the phone to her ear, rolling her eyes in frustration in the process. “Hey, Joel’s here, he’s ask-”

“Yeah, I heard everything.” you interrupt her, “No, I don’t want to talk to him.” Maria is shaking her head negatively at him as you talk, to pass the message.

Joel’s face goes cold and emotionless. “Well, tell her if she wants her belongings, she needs to come and get them herself.”

It’s been five weeks now and you can’t keep living in your best friend’s and sister in law's clothes. You’re gonna have to go and grab your stuff yourself.

Because it wasn’t enough what you’ve been through, what you’ve heard until you reached that goddamned bedroom door, what you’ve witnessed when you’ve entered, now he’s making you go back there to humiliate you. As you’re checking your calendar for your work schedule to decide on a suitable day, it hits you. You have Joel’s calendar on your phone, too. You always do, it was the only way to have some time together between his visits to work sites and board meetings and bussiness trips and fucking-behind-your-back, apparently.

And then you remember that day where you both stole some time off and decided to spend it cuddling with each other on the couch, talking nonsense and laughing at silly things and hugging and kissing and fucking all night long.

A brainstorm of thoughts run through your head instantly. How could he do that to you? He looked so happy in your arms. Maybe he was right, maybe it was nothing, maybe you should understand, you of all people, you should know. Do you need to do an STD test? How careless could he be? Where there others? Did he ever love you? Do you want to know?

Does it really matter?

You focus again on that day. He’d told you about a big deal coming up, one of the biggest in his career, if not the biggest so far and how important it was to the future of the company.

You searched frantically through his calendar until you found the date of the final meeting, the date where they’d seal the deal. Because there is no way they weren’t. If Joel wanted it so badly, he’d find a way to make it happen.

And you knew your husband, ironic as is sounds now. He was focused to a fault. He wouldn’t even check his phone that day. He’d done it every time since you were together. History indicated that he probably had other reasons, too, for not checking his phone in a timely manner, but you wouldn’t dwell on that. Not right now. Because now you had your chance.

That date was your chance.

Alarm disabled.

Joel’s phone is vibrating momentarily, not that he noticed, it was silent and tacked away in his jacket pocket, the jacket itself hanging on the back of his chair.

Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, he’s chanting in his mind, under all this calm and confident demeanor, he’s sweating inside.

This is it, this is it, this is it, he repeats like a mantra, watching his opposite CEO, Leo Marks, playing with the pen between his fingers. He’s inspecting the contract again and he’s so close, so close to what he wanted. The room is silent, the long table full of seated lawyers and consultants from both sides, holding their breaths in charged expectation.

Joel knows that Marks is going to sign. He knows it. He worked for it. He convinced him, he made his vision clear as day and he lured him in. This is it. He got this.

Then your face appears in his mind. No, not today, he can’t do this today. You will have to wait. Like you always have. Joel shakes his head slightly, as if to remove you from his thoughts. His fingers get itchy, he wishes he could just check on you. Yes, he just want to check on you.

Are you alright? Are you thinking about him? Do you miss him like he does? Do you stay wide awake at night replaying the same scene over and over until you feel physically ill? Do you know that he thinks about you? Did he show you at all that night? Maybe he should have appeared at your friend’s door out of the blue. Maybe you think he doesn’t care. All he was trying to do was give you space. Respect your boundaries. Let you work everything out.

Fuck.

He reaches for his phone. He doesn’t know why. He knows his number is still blocked. He checks every night, when he's too exhausted from the lack of sleep and prays he could listen to your voice, or the soft sound of your breath when you slept next to him. But he fishes it out of his jacket pocket, anyway and then he sees it.

38 minutes ago.

Alarm disabled.

Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled, the only thought repeated in his head. He immediately searches the cameras for you but no movement is recorded right now. Maybe you already left. His heart rate spikes, his temples feel the pressure of his blood pumping violently in his veins. Cold sweat pours out of his body.

He’s squeezing his eyes shut, mentally counting all the places without cameras inside the house. What if you are still in there and he just can’t see you?

Fuck.

Mark’s voice extract him from his thoughts, “Mr. Miller, everything looks in order as we agreed.”

Joel snaps his eyes back to him, slightly irritated, “Of course it does, your legal team already did a thorough check all these months to get us here today.”

“Yes, yes,” Marks laughs entertained, “I just wanted to look it over one more time, I mean, we really are going to…”

What if you’re still there? What if this is his chance? He could always try to reach you after the deal, convince you to hear him out. Yeah, he can do that. He doesn’t need to chase you down. He can wait a little bit longer, can’t he? He can have it all, right? He was the man that had it all.

A mail pops up on his phone, a compliment note from the management of one of both your favorite hotels in Europe, thanking you for choosing their establishments for your stay, once again. Shit. You’re fleeing the fucking country? Are you fucking serious?

“..Mr. Miller?” Marks insists.

“Hm?” his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

“I said, before we sign, I need you to walk me through it one more time.” he demands like a little child asking for its favorite bedtime story. “I mean, this is the project of my dreams. I need your reassurance that this is as important for you as it is for us, that it’ll be your only focus for the foreseeable future.” he looks at Joel expectantly.

His only focus.

For the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

“HONEY!”. Your blood runs cold in your veins to the sound of his baritone voice. Your hand freezes over the shelf with the t-shirts, not making a sound. You didn’t take that long, why is he here? Why isn’t he in his meeting?

Joel enters the bedroom but you’re not there. Fuck, you hear the curse running softly from his lips. You don’t move, you don’t blink, you don’t breathe.

He moves to leave and check elsewhere but then he stops. You hear soft steps and you see the door of the walk-in closet opening. His wide form blocks the light from the outside, his broad shoulders almost taking up all the space of the frame.

He looks disheveled, his baby blue shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, his hair a mess, like he kept combing his fingers through them. You don’t dare meet his eyes though. You keep your gaze as far as his chin goes, concentrating on the bare patch there. His sole presence electrifies you like he’s already touched you. Your whole body feels on fire and frozen simultaneously. God, you missed him.

“I was calling for you.”, he breathes out and you can feel his fear pulsing through his body. He’s scared you’re gonna run. That’s why he doesn’t leave his spot, blocking the door.

“I know.”

“Were you hiding from me?” his brows are furrowed in a seemingly pained expression from what your peripheral vision could help you understand.

“No, I just chose not to answer you.”, you lower your head, looking at your feet.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” you say hastily, but he’s waiting for a real answer. You breathe deeply, “It- it felt too domestic, you calling for me, me answering back, like how we were before.” He nods, biting his bottom lip. “What are you doing here, Joel?”

“In our house?” the edges of his lips are slightly turned up, his head tilting to one side.

“No, this is your house as you said yourself.”

“Darlin’, you know I didn’t mean it like that..” he sighs in regret, his head deepening in his shoulder blades in an effort to attract your gaze upwards.

“But you’re right.”

“I built it for you.” his voice soft, like it’s a secret meant to stay that way.

“Hm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his brows raise in genuine surprise.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me.”

“You first.”

He looks perplexed, he forgot your question.

“What are you doing here, right now, Joel?”

“I got the alarm notification and.. it was the only way I could talk to you, honey..”

“But- your meeting-”

He searches your eyes, although you refuse to look at him, analysing your confused expression and it hits him. He smiles in understanding, nodding his head. “So, you chose today on purpose..”

You don’t respond, you keep looking everywhere but his eyes.

He laughs through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t drop everything to come and see you?”

“I really did.”

He gasps in disbelief, almost offended.

“Baby, look at me, please; look at me..” he pleads with you softly. You close your eyes as if in fear you would obey, your chin trembling from the effort to remain calm.

“Baby, look at me. I want you to look at me, now.” he presses in a more authoritative way. He thought he could order you around? Break you?

“No.” you shake your head.

Joel calls you by your name but before he has a chance to spit another soft command-

“I SAID NO!” you open your eyes, targeting them to his chest, tears spilling uncontrollably now. You can see from your periphery the look of shock on his face, because you’ve never yelled before. Ever.

“Why, sweetheart?”, he retreats back to his soft side.

“Because that’s exactly what you want. And you can’t always get what you want, Joel, not anymore.” You can’t hold back your tongue now.

“Jesus Christ,” you grit through your teeth, “what do you want from me, hm?” your eyes keep dancing around his face but never on his eyes. He looks dumbfounded, his lips part slightly but you don’t wait for an answer. “What else do you want? Is this some kind of ego thing? You expected me to shout and break things and hit you and tell you to leave her and come back to me? Because your ego is safe, Joel, if that’s what you worry about. I didn’t leave you, you did that first when you went behind my back. So, you walked out on me and not the other way around. Happy? Ready to go on with your life?” You’re grabbing the shelf where your hand previously rested so hard, trying to steady yourself.

For the first time Joel is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t find the words to defend himself, to convince you about his feelings, to soothe you at the very least. He begins to have a glimpse of how he appears in your eyes right now. How much damage he’s done, even before that night. How much ground he’s lost over time.

“Darlin', I just wa-” he begins softly, almost like walking on eggshells, but your body visibly tenses, you jaw shuts tight, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Stop, just stop! Stop saying what you want! Stop making this about you! Don’t you see? You keep asking me for what you want! Have you stopped for a second, just a second, to think what I want? What I need? I don’t- I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“I-” he closes his eyes in distress, “I love you.” His last retreat. He’s trying anything that could help him. He doesn’t get it. He can’t. He’s not capable. But he used to be. He was the most empathetic person you knew. What the fuck happened?

Your eyes snap though the open closet door at his admision and on to the perfectly made bed.

His gaze follows yours behind his back and shakes his head once more in regret.

“It really didn’t mean-”

“Joel-” you warn him, “have some self respect and don’t say what I think you’re about to say. At least have the guts to admit exactly what you did, I’d appreciate it more.”

He exhales heavily, you’re not giving him an opening to fix this. You’re hanging onto every word he mutters. Not a single one of them is left unparsed and he's not used to that. He knows that if he does not control his anger right now, it's game over.

Heavy silence is hanging between you, each one lost on their thoughts.

“Do you know when you really lost me, Joel?”, you ask him eventually.

Half an hour ago he would swear he had all the answers, but now? Now he sees he’s in the deep, so he stays quiet, searching your eyes that still won't reach his, for answers.

“You lost me when you humiliated her in front of me.”

His face goes white, shocked, he can’t believe his ears. His mouth opens and closes but he makes no sound, how on earth does he respond to that?

“You still don’t get it, do you?”, you pinch the bridge of your nose exasperatedly. “You valued her enough to endanger our wedding, you valued her enough to bring her to our own house, to our bed, Joel; you valued her enough to fuck her raw, to let her know that you were unhappy with me, before I had a chance to realize it myself-”, Joel interrupts you almost panicked “I’m not un-” and for the first time your eyes pierce his in such an anguish that the words die in his throat. “-and then you just diminished her like she was nothing, just to prove a point to me. While she was naked, vulnerable on our bed. And trust me, this is not me defending her, she is as responsible for this as you, but you’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.”

Now he’s the one averting his eyes from you, looking down on his overpriced shoes, his demeanor defeated, this is not the Joel you know anymore.

“And what was the point, Joel? Hm? What? That she means nothing? Then why were you with her? Why did you choose her? Why did you spend your precious time on nothing, while I had to make an appointment to see you? That’s what you did with me, too? I mean nothing, too? Just a warm hole to fuck when convenient?” he snaps his head back to you, shaking it in denial frantically, his eyes blown wide and red from all the emotional stress you push onto him.

“But I guess I got my answer about a month ago, hm?” It’s one of those moments that epiphanies hit you as you speak uncontrollably, you just can’t stop your mind from running wild, your mouth from spilling bile, your heart from pounding so hard in your chest, your ears start to ring, your grasp on the shelf tightening even more for balance.

“And that tells me a lot about who you really are. It’s not just about the fucking, Joel, Jesus-, -for the brilliant man I know you to be, you’re stumbling through your blindest moment.”, you shake your head in disappointment, tears still running freely down your face, licking your jawline and falling like a waterfall to the carpeted floor. You feel so done, you find it pointless to explain any further.

“I- I don’t know you, Joel, I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did,” you conclude, “maybe you’re right,” you slowly nod to yourself, “and everything is my fault after all.” you whisper, not sure if you want him to hear that part.

He did. “I never said that it was your fault, baby. When did I ever say that?” his face is contorted in pain, “None of this is your fault, none of it, you hear me?” he wants so desperately to cross the fucking room and hold you tight, crush all your pain and insecurities and self hatred under an asphyxiating hug. He also knows that he won't make even two steps before you flee, or step back from him and he can’t for the life of him witness that. Because that’s how much he needs you. He prefers you standing there, where he can see you, where he can have you, even if you wither and die under the enormous trauma he’s putting you through.

“So stupid.. I was- I am so stupid..” you’re repeating to yourself almost deliriously, rubbing your fingers on your forehead.

“This isn’t you, sweetheart, you don’t talk like that, don’t- don’t do that to yourself.” Joel tries to bring you back.

“But this is you, isn’t it, Joel? The real you?” you bite back. “This isn’t me, really? How do you like the new me, Joel? Do you take pride on your creation?” you laugh bitterly at him. “Yeah, how you’d always call me? Polite little thing? Sweetheart?” you’re infuriated now, a rise fighting to explode through you. “How does it feel, Joel? To know you’re responsible for changing someone to their core? To know you had that much power over them?”

Joel’s shaking his head once again in desperation, hot tears spilling from his eyes, god, had he ever cried before? this is not a battle he can win, he sees that now. The damage is too great. What on earth was he thinking?

“Please, please honey, can we just take a breather, sit down and talk about everything?” he pleads with you, a last thread of hope shinning in his red rimmed eyes.

“Take a breather..” you mutter through your teeth, “you mean the breather you took while you were fucking someone else instead of talking to me?”, Joel shuts his eyes in defeat, there’s nothing he can say anymore. “I think you got it backwards, Joel.”

You take a steadying breath and command your legs internally to hold on a little while longer and move forward; clothes, suitcase, life left behind.

“Don’t contact me again, unless is via your legal team.” is the last bullet that hits Joel’s chest, right through his broken heart.

| next

[eesirachs]

do you take any interest in liberation theology? if so, do you recommend any books/papers about it?

my recs—alves theology of human hope, yountae beyond man, keller political theology, moltmann theology of hope, rivera poetics of the flesh, rivera-pagán god the liberator, rose theology of failure, sobrino christology at the crossroads or christ the liberator, spivak can the subaltern speak, ateek justice and only justice, boff ecclesiogenesis, freire pedagogy of the oppressed, tonstad god and difference (esp chapter on abortive ecclesiology), segundo liberation of theology, thurman jesus and the disinherited, liew and segovia colonialism and the bible, menéndez-antuña bridging the interpretive abyss, tinker spirit and resistance. the rest i'm sure you know—cone, williams, gutiérrez

[avelera]

I actually really love Mel/Jayce/Viktor as well as Jayce//Viktor and I actually think the show has a couple scenes that lend to a poly interpretation of the three of them (Mel and Jayce both literally handling Viktor’s crutch between them while talking about how much they care for him, hello?? The subtext writes itself) but I found myself staying focused on just Jayce/Viktor at first because it’s a bit simpler to write and because as much as I LOVE the implied moments of their intellectual, ambiguously romantic threesome, I’d need more of Mel and Viktor interacting to really close the loop for shipping it in my mind. As it is, it feels a bit more “This is Mel’s boyfriend, Jayce, and Jayce’s boyfriend Viktor” that Mel still cares about and respects mostly from afar.

I also think that Viktor and Jayce kind of left their relationship at “we’re partners in every sense of the word, why define it further?” And that definition maybe included romantic and sexual moments (at least for fic writer purposes lol) but the fear of losing the amazing working relationship they had, which is so rare in the academic world, kept them from seriously “defining” it as anything official on the person front, which allowed Jayce to take up with Mel without it being “cheating”.

Throw into that the rapid advancement of Viktor’s illness and I can easily see a scenario where Viktor didn’t force the issue and indeed, was happy to see that Jayce had someone else who loved him in his life, knowing he didn’t have much time left and it would take a miracle to save his own life. Basically, I don’t see Viktor as jealous of Mel as a person, even if he was wary / resigned towards Jayce’s political career and would have rather have had him in the lab more often.

There was a happy medium there, I think, where Jayce was happily balanced between the two of them without jealousy from either that the accelerating events of S1 basically prohibited as the crises began to unfold, forcing Jayce into the conflict with Zaun, and Zaun had always been a point of miscommunication and later tension between Viktor and Jayce. An inevitable one I think, since Jayce couldn’t possibly know what it was like to grow up there, and in the course of their work it probably only rarely came up and so wasn’t daily addressed until the crisis made it an ugly conflict between them.

Anyway, I’m mostly just rambling as I think my way through how I write Jayce and Viktor in the fic I’m finishing up. But mostly I wanted to make the point that I see Jayce’s relationship with Mel as real and important and not “getting in the way” of his relationship with Viktor indeed, Viktor and Mel at least seem mature enough to navigate a poly relationship and Jayce has a lot of love to give (he loves SO MUCH guys I’m emotional about it, he’s just a good kid who ended up in a shitty complex situation that went way over his head. Bro didn’t even know if his school OFFERED military history, he was such an easy target and this is why STEM kids need an introduction to liberal arts I swear).

I don’t think S2 is headed towards any sort of unambiguous happy ending for the three of them but there’s definitely a happy AU in my heart where the three of them make it work and are better together than just two out of the pair.

[thedansemacabres]

On Helpol tumblr there has been some discourse on the worship of Ares and it is completely justified for a personal practice why someone would not honour him. However, though, I would enjoy to bring up points from history on a reconstruction angle on why to worship Ares. I appreciate the critical examination into who and what we worship—we should be more critical of stately portrayals of the divine and understand ancient politics less we reconstruct something wretched. These points are sourced from Cults and sanctuaries of Ares and Enyalios: A survey of the literary, epigraphic, and archaeological evidence by Matthew Paul Gonzales.

It is deeply historically attested, for anyone thinking that it was not. The anti-Ares classical sentiment can be traced back to WWII for reasons that do not need explaining. The emphasis on his pathetic myths also partially stem from this.

Ares was and is deeply concerned with justice and Dike is described as his lead. He is shown as the blood vengeance in particular, which still does have modern importance—many of us endorse the guillotine. This could inspire modern worshippers to take to action for causes to support good, justice, and love in their communities. Love and war, mayhaps?

He is also connected to peace and restraining violence alongside war-like desires. This is depicted in the homeric hymnal.

Ares is also close to defending land, especially that of floral and agricultural bounty: he is often positioned with fertility goddesses, such as Aphrodite, Despoina, and Cybele.

He is a vengeful protector, when people are wronged or land is stolen and waged against. Athens used this for defending their land—chaining Ares to the land meanings bringing in his power to serve you and your land’s interests. I do not endorse the usage of this to support oppressive regimes, but it could be adapted in a more liberation focused fashion.

Through Ares, some facets of prosperity is given, and I do not take it as a coincidence he is paired with Athena, who directs while Ares rushes.

Worship is also used to avoid conditions; Apollon to keep the plague away, Ares to keep war and strife away, such as his homeric hymn entails.

Courage is also stated to be a condition he gifts.

Lastly, I find it of vast importance to establish modern ideas of gods that are honest to the historical record and finds fluidity in them. Gods can change and they can be discussed with. Perhaps this is my Roman pagan influences, but we can influence and argue with the gods on points we believe in—for justice and ultimate good, as Zeus does mandate divine justice. We can show Ares, more than he already knows and has, the importance of supporting the revolutionary, and we can invoke his power in fighting for the sovereignty of nature. I am also personally fond of the feminist interpretations of him, and while not likely accurate to history, we should be adapting and developing with the gods in the modern period. Ares as a symbol of violently defending women against patriarchy is ripe for expression and movement, though not without due issues.

We should be striving towards ultimate good and Ares’ power in the modern era, with a modern lens, can continue to give weight to this pursuit. If he can encourage us and take a stand against the machismo ideas of “spartan” ideals that dudebros often have, we can make beneficial cultural changes. The gods do not just belong to history, they are history, and Historia is here to inspire and defeat us at every turn. 

I will say my dea Bellona is more of the historical revolution divinity that people want. She has a lot more of the epigraphic record to support this, but nonetheless, there are many reasons to honour Ares outside of war. Especially in his connections to nature and fertility, which strikes my heart happily as a sustainable agriculturalist. If it is Ares that can motivate more Hellenic pagans to embrace liberation and revolutionary ideas, that is something to preserve.

And regardless, if I can worship Ker without expecting much benefit, we can easily worship a god that is not literal murder. 

[bforblitz]

do the pro-imperialist aspects of tes generally come from oblivion? i've only played morrowind where theyre an antagonistic colonizing force, and skyrim where they're an incompetent bureaucracy, so i was surprised to see your "pro imperialist" take in that one post😭 totally agree about the racism though

okay not to go on full autism mode but. this is highkey my special interest so this is going to be a long post. this does get kind of serious, so i want to preface that this is all just fiction, but it's important to analyze how writers' internal biases can affect the worlds they build. and like I don’t think the Bethesda writers are like “graaa!!! kill all minorities!!” in a way that’s different from the average liberal American imperialist brainrot.

TL;DR tes is pro-imperialist because the empire is constantly portrayed as either good or not as bad as the other options + characterizes racial minorities in a super "they deserve to get colonized" way.

Pretty much every tes game has aspects of pro-imperialism (the only exception I can think of is Redguard). Oblivion is 100% the most pro-imperialist, but Skyrim and Morrowind are steeped in pro-imperialist rhetoric as well, it’s just a little more subtle than “DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS: THE VIDEO GAME”.

OBLIVION

I don’t think I need to explain too much on why Oblivion is pro-imperialist outside of the concept of “the Emperor is divinely chosen so only he and by extension the Empire can save the world”. The only way to stop the Oblivion Crisis is to relight the Dragon Fires, which only the Emperor can do because of a covenant with Akatosh that says he’ll protect Mundus so long as Alessia’s heirs (aka dragonborns) sit on the throne, and thus the Empire’s claim to dominance is legitimized because they are literally divinely chosen as the protector of Nirn. There’s also how Pelinal is portrayed as a noble hero that the player actually “becomes” when he committed genocide against the Ayleids so extensively that even his allies were disgusted (bit awkward if the player is an elf).

Now I COULD go into how Mankar Camoran’s writings can be interpreted as anti-imperialist, but that’s a huge can of worms that I don’t feel equipped to talk about because there is like. genuinely theological analysis there and I’m a filthy non-believer.

MORROWIND

Morrowind’s pro-imperialism is actually quite interesting. It’s definitely critical of the Empire, painting it as bloated and corrupt, but any attempt at anti-imperialism is stifled by other factors.

The Nerevarine is an imperialist agent. Like not “you work for the Empire”, but ACTIVELY furthering imperialism and making it easier for the Empire to colonize Morrowind. I can expand on this on a different post, but the Empire uses the Nerevarine to politically destabilize Morrowind .

The only reason Morrowind is not a fully incorporated province is because of the Tribunal. Tiber Septim understandably did not want to fight three living gods, so he instead made a deal with Vivec that allowed Morrowind to be semi-autonomous. The current Empire probably also doesn’t want to wrestle with the Tribunal, plus they’ve got Dagoth Ur and Corprus to deal with as well. The Tribunal are also generally seen positively because they’ve done so much to improve the lives of the average Dunmer.

So it’s very, very convenient for them that there’s a local prophecy about an outlander hero (who can be born within the Empire) that is destined to defeat Dagoth Ur and the Tribunal. This is best seen in the Tribunal DLC, in which Helseth (my cringe problematic failson) literally says that now that the Temple is weakened after Almalexia’s disappearance, he can better implement his policies (which are intrinsically in the Empire’s interest). The Empire basically highjacks a sacred prophecy from an indigenous people (the Ashlanders) so they can colonize better.

The Empire is definitely painted as kind of scummy for this, especially since they blackmail you and likely Caius, but only in their methods. Yes, there’s criticism of the Empire, but it’s often coming from people we aren’t supposed to agree with. The idea of the Empire taking over Morrowind is only questioned by locals who are painted as xenophobic bigots and the strangely large amount of tax evaders. Or straight up bio-terrorist cult leader Dagoth Ur. The Empire certainly isn’t perfect, but seeing as how Morrowind is a place of constant strife and danger, they’re the best choice for “stabilizing” the region and making it “safer”.

Going into a more doylist analysis, Morrowind is extremely orientalist. Like by the gods, it is SO orientalist. Let’s start with the fact that Morrowind is explicitly referred to as “the East” while the Empire is “the West”. The Dunmer are analogous to several Asian + MENA cultures, it’s stated by the writers they were inspired by the Japanese and Egyptians. Dunmeri culture is seen as backwards (slavery), violent (solve problems by killing people), mystical (elven magic), conniving (bureaucratic corruption and murder plots), and highly xenophobic. Most of the people on the player’s side are either not from Morrowind or sympathetic to the Empire’s cause (whether they know it or not). We’re clearly getting set up for a Western civilization vs. Eastern barbarism dynamic.

This is best seen in the issue of slavery. In-game, the Dunmer view slavery as part of their tradition and culture. The Empire views slavery as a backward and evil institution that must be abolished. Slavery is undoubtedly evil, and the average tes player is probably going to agree with that. At the baseline, the player is already more supportive of the Empire on this issue because their position reflects our irl values. The primary pro-slavery House is Telvanni, who are arrogant, “crazy” xenophobes. Telvanni is also extremely anti-Empire, and there are many instances where violence is literally just the only answer to problems. The primary anti-slavery House is Hlaalu, who are hypocritical, conniving opportunists. Hlaalu is pro-Empire, but only for their own economical reasons, so they don’t come out of this looking very good either. The writing on the wall is “this culture is so inherently violent and primitive that those who are against this great civilizing force hate us because of we’re bringing progress and those who are with us are doing so because they have no loyalty and are willing to betray their own kind”. Textbook orientalism.

This isn’t even talking about how in Bloodmoon you literally can found a colony, or how the Dunmer traditionally worship the “demonic” Daedra, or how living in an inhospitable place and being violent partly because of that is literally how people talk about MENA people. There is so much that could be said about how Morrowind is pro-imperialist, but I don’t want to ramble for too long.

SKYRIM

Skyrim is, in my opinion, the writers’ attempt at writing something anti-imperial that just ends up being imperialist because they don’t understand how anti-imperialism works. There is, again, a lot to talk about that I can make a separate post on, but I’ll be going over what I think is the most notable examples.

Let’s start with the Empire. Again, the Empire is NOT painted in a good light. But it is kind of telling that most people agree that they're the better of the two options because at least they aren't ethnonationalists, they're only oppressive imperialists. Kinda racist, but at least not as racist?

In my opinion, the Stormcloaks are more interesting when it comes to analyzing Skyrim as pro-imperialism.

First off, we can’t ignore the fact the Stormcloaks are white. Like THE whitest race in tes, PASTY white. They also have that christianized version of the Viking aesthetic going on (@trickstarbrave has a great post about this). They’re literally called the STORMcloaks. They’re based in Racism, the City. They are literally ethnonationalist white supremacists, and I think it’s kind of fucked up that their ideology is treated as a valid way to rule a country.

Similarly, the main negative of the Stormcloaks is the racism. But that really isn’t a negative for people who like them. At best, it’s something they can downplay (not to call anyone out but I’ve seen fics where the author explicitly says their version of the Stormcloaks is “less racist”). At worst, it’s the reason they like them. The portrayal of racism in Skyrim is also cartoonishly hamfisted and inaccurate. The other negative is them not being able to defend Skyrim against the Thalmor, but I'll go into this later.

It's also important to point out that the Stormcloaks' whole thing is that they want to rule Skyrim independent from the Empire because it's their homeland and they don't want the man to tell them what to do. However, in the lore, the Nords stole Skyrim from the Snow Elves, who they proceeded to genocide and enslave (reminder that Windhelm was built by Snow Elf slaves). This is literally the same dynamic as "the white colonists of the U.S. wanted to rule themselves because it's their land, don't ask about the people that have been living here for thousands of years".

The anti-indigenous rhetoric is RAMPANT in Skyrim, and I don't think I need to explain how imperialism begets it. The Snow Elves are said to be dead and gone, which falls into the trope of indigenous people being in the past and not existing in the present. But more importantly, THEY'RE LITERALLY STILL THERE. The Falmer are painted as mindless beasts, but they clearly have culture. They've domesticated Chaurus, they've built their own homes, they have some type of religious structure. They're people that are understandably scared of outsiders who are invading their home, which is why they attack anyone who wanders too close. Again, painting an indigenous group as "mindless savages with no culture who kill innocent people and steal babies" is like THE trick in the anti-indigenous, racist playbook.

The Reachfolk aren't treated any better either. The Forsworn is a group fighting against the people who stole their land, genocided them, and threw them in a labor camp. They are by all rights in the moral good here, but the writers have tacked on very questionable things. They have demonic, Daedric rituals where they transform their own into evil crones and mindless warriors. They wear little to no clothes to represent their "wild" nature. They're bandits who attack innocents and pillage the "civilized". Truly the ONLY quest in Skyrim that isn't about how much we fucking hate indigenous people is the Forsworn Conspiracy, and even then Madanach compromises his own values in collaboration with the Nords. At the end of the day, the Nords are portrayed as the best option for keeping Skyrim at peace. They are in the right for driving the Reachfolk and Falmer off their land.

We have now reached the point where I say probably my most controversial tes lore opinion: I'm pro-Thalmor but for a very specific meta analysis reason. I promise I do NOT like fascism or racism.

The Thalmor being fascistic ethnonationalist who manipulate 4E politics from the shadows is reflective of the writer’s pro-imperialist views and actively deploys anti-semetic + sinophobic tropes. Stripping things of their weird racist tes context: the Thalmor are a political group that rose up against a colonial power that genocided their race. They came to their peoples’ aid during one of the most horrific tragedy when the colonial power could not, and They are actively supporting other colonized peoples to fight against their oppressors (reminder that the writers felt like it was okay to say the Thalmor were behind the Argonian invasion of Morrowind).

How the Thalmor are portrayed in Skyrim is truly fucking terrible. They want to genocide the humans simply because they think they're better than them. They want to get rid of Talos worship because they simply can't accept that a human could ever ascend to godhood. They want to destroy human culture because it is inferior to their own. They are manipulating the scene, they control the Imperial government, which is ineffective and bending to their whims. They're doing evil against humans and the Empire.

I need to stress that the Altmer are in some parts inspired by East Asian cultures (the old Altmer art is literally holding a katana while wearing a shitty recreation of traditional Japanese wear), particularly the Chinese. In fact, ALL of the non-human races are based on BIPOC cultures. Combined with what I said in the previous paragraph, what does that say?

The minorities DO hate us. The minorities WILL form a coalition to destroy us. The minorities DO control everything and want to eradicate us and our culture. The minorities DO want revenge. They are a faceless hoard, a force of brutal and manipulative power that we know nothing about except for the fact that they hate us. They are lying in wait to strike when we are weak. And if we don't get rid of them first, they will do EXACTLY what we did to them.

THAT is exactly how fascism frames its victims. They are weak, but they are strong. They hate us, so we must hate them. If we win, we will return to our former glory and rule the world as its rightful kings. And if we lose?

They will exterminate us.

Now, giving them the benefit of the doubt, I don't think the people at Bethesda are like. consciously into killing minorities. I think this is just the product of that particular flavor of imperialist, borderline fascistic brainrot that every American has (source: I'm an American and I absolutely unconsciously held similar views, even as a POC). Then again, that’s like basically the same thing.

It's really hard to watch people just NOT understand that writers' conscious and unconscious biases affect their writing. I ultimately torture myself by deeply loving this series, and I don't expect people to like suddenly start hating it because it's problematic in the way 99% of fantasy and sci-fi media is.

so yeah. that's the condensed version of my opinion.

[ashesofdeadempires]

I have always perceived the act of kneeling in the scene where Tav undergoes the transformation into a spawn not merely as an act of submission, but as a kind of oath-taking ceremony. In D&D lore, vampires possess a lawful evil alignment, which is inseparable from strict principles of hierarchy. Astarion calls Tav his consort, emphasizing not only his power and status but also Tav's crucial role in his plans. This also symbolizes their union within the framework of vampiric hierarchy and the new life that will begin after Tav's transformation.

Consort is a title traditionally used to refer to the spouse of a monarch. In the context of a royal family, a consort does not hold the rights of a ruler but serves as an important figure in public and state affairs.

It is particularly noteworthy that it is right after the night of the turning that Astarion first calls Tav his consort, which I personally cannot see as mere coincidence unless he intentionally imbued the event with ritualistic meaning. Such wording is undoubtedly steeped in an aura of regal solemnity, which is especially remarkable for Astarion, given his yearning for grandeur and liberation from his former subordinate position.

When Tav knelt before Astarion, I was reminded of the painting «The Coronation of Napoleon» by the French artist Jacques-Louis David. The painting depicts the moment when Napoleon Bonaparte crowns his wife Josephine during the ceremony held in 1804 at Notre-Dame de Paris. Napoleon stands on an elevated platform in his imperial attire, including a luxurious cloak trimmed with ermine, as he places the crown on Josephine's head himself.

Meanwhile, in the developer's note to the animation tag for this scene in the game, it says: «Tav kneels before Astarion. Astarion stands proud before the Player. He is powerful. He is free.»

I have no doubt that Astarion was indeed imbuing this moment with a special ritualistic meaning. He wants Tav to acknowledge his supremacy by kneeling before him, as if it were an oath-taking ceremony. This is not just an act of dominance but a kind of ritual with profound cultural and historical undertones.

Undoubtedly, this scene is filled with clear eroticism, which perfectly aligns with Astarion's love for decadence and theatrics. I find this quite amusing, and I'm sure Astarion also enjoyed playing with this subtext, giving the moment a particular sexual tension and sharpness. All of this comes together in a quirky pattern, creating an exceptionally rich scene where cultural and erotic motifs intertwine.

Kneeling is a gesture that carries a variety of meanings depending on the cultural, historical, and social context. It is commonly associated with expressions of respect, submission, devotion, or acknowledgment. In a religious context, kneeling symbolizes reverence before a higher power, humility, or repentance. For example, in Christianity, people kneel before an altar or during prayer. In some religions, the gesture signifies a plea for help, mercy, or forgiveness. In a monarchical context, kneeling has been used as part of rituals such as knighting ceremonies or being admitted into the circle of royal privileges. In the feudal context of the Middle Ages, vassals knelt before their liege lord as a symbol of loyalty and submission. This act was often accompanied by kissing the hand or a symbol of authority (such as a sword or crown). In a romantic context, kneeling is a gesture symbolizing a marriage proposal, as well as an expression of respect, admiration, and love.

For myself, I highlight the following:

Acknowledgment of sovereignty — kneeling before a monarch symbolizes submission to the authority of the crown and recognition of its legitimacy.

Acceptance into the circle of royal privileges — in this context, the act can be interpreted as a ritual of initiation, where kneeling marks entry into an exclusive circle, granting access to the advantages and status associated with monarchy.

Astarion perceives himself and Tav as something superior to all other beings, stemming from the fact that Tav becomes a vampire. He believes that the transformation of Tav into a vampire grants them the opportunity to become "something more," elevating them to a new level. This transformation not only makes Tav a vampire but also symbolizes their entry into a special, elite category of beings who possess power and authority beyond the reach of ordinary mortals or other creatures. For Astarion, as a vampire, this means that Tav can now share in his greatness.

Astarion: You are stronger now. Better. You will thank me one day, I am sure. Astarion: You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve.

An expression of respect and devotion — such a gesture underscores reverence for the monarch as a divine or political symbol.

Kneeling as an act of humiliation:

In Astarion's thoughts, one can discern that he views Tav’s decision to stay with him and become his spawn as something indicative of degradation, perhaps even moral decline.

When Tav agrees to become Astarion’s spawn, it can be interpreted as a conscious act of self-sacrifice, where they relinquish equality in the relationship and willingly submit to him. This step symbolizes the rejection of personal autonomy and the acceptance of absolute dependence. Tav entrusts their life entirely into his hands. Astarion: You have given me everything. Thank you.

Astarion likely perceives such a decision as a form of "degradation," believing that a normal person, from his perspective, would not make such a choice. He tries to understand why Tav would do this and concludes that Tav derives a certain satisfaction from such a dynamic, perhaps even having an inclination toward it. Narrator: But perhaps you wish to degrade yourself. And he knows it.

This explains his surprise when Tav, contrary to his expectations, asks for tenderness. It’s simply not what he anticipates. His reaction reveals confusion and forces him to reassess Tav’s motives, as such a request goes beyond the scenario he had envisioned.

Astarion: So, tell me what you desire. What can I do for my dearest pet? Player: I want you. I want your body. Astarion: You've earned it. But don't you want more - don't you want eternity? One more bite is all it would take. As for Welch's remark that Astarion "won’t respect you," this narrative only applies to the phrase "I want your body," which itself is not required in the game. This line adds an interpretative layer but is not central to all the possible interactions between Tav and Ascended Astarion.

Baudelaire Welch: He's literally looking down on you because you are someone in that situation who believes you deserve sex as a reward. He will give it to you, but he won't respect you.

In essence, the entire narrative about the sexualization parallels the scene with Araj in Act 2, where the player asks for sex as a reward for defending Astarion before Araj or helping with Yurgir's murder. And although Welch desperately tried to impose this motif in the Ascended route, limiting roleplay, it is not the only one, and far from the most obvious. There are other reasons to help Astarion with the ritual, and even he is aware of them:

Astarion: Of course I understand love. All too well. The gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. A hunger crueller than bloodlust.

Many also overlook that Tav's consent to become his spawn is seen by Astarion as an expression of exceptional trust and devotion. His gratitude the following morning confirms this: he sincerely expresses appreciation for the trust shown in the very first phrase he addresses to Tav. Astarion: You are so beautiful... And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Moreover, trust becomes the leitmotif of his dialogues afterwards, especially when their relationship with Tav is questioned or criticized by their companions. Each time, he emphasizes that their relationship is built on this foundation:

Karlach: You know, Astarion, I'm not sure I can trust you anymore. You're… different. A bit scary, to be honest. Astarion: I have one person who trusts me completely. That's enough for me. Lae'zel: You have shared your new power with your lover, Astarion. I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted. Astarion: Quite the opposite - I need someone I can trust. And now I know they'll never betray me.

Unfortunately, in the kiss scenes of Patch 6, the original context was lost, and the focus shifted to themes of fear and humiliation that were not present in the original dynamic with Ascended Astarion. Considering that the kiss scenes were based on the scene of Tav’s transformation into a spawn, which is almost obvious, their emotional tone was distorted. For example, initially, Tav knelt entirely of their own free will, which emphasized the intentional and voluntary nature of their decision. In the kiss scenes, on the contrary, Tav is shown kneeling out of fear, the source of which remains unclear. Throughout the game, it is never shown what consequences Tav could fear for refusing to do so. In the transformation scene, Tav can refuse and not face any frightening consequences.

It also seems illogical when Tav is frightened when Astarion grabs them by the throat. This contradicts the transformation scene, where Tav themself initiated it, asking Astarion to hurt them and even tilting their head back, exposing their neck.

Astarion: It will only hurt a bit, the pleasure will be far greater than the pain. Player: Oh, come on. Let it hurt.

In the kiss scenes, however, this dynamic, based on mutual consent, was changed to an act of violence. This further exacerbates the inconsistency, especially considering that in the original script of this scene, it was noted that both Tav and Astarion derive pleasure from what is happening.

In dialogues, Ascended Astarion also demonstrated a willingness to be tender with Tav when Tav expressed it through words. He was not solely focused on rough dominance, as was attempted to be imposed in Patch 6. This change is likely an attempt by Larian to please the audience who, without going through the Ascended route and without understanding its nuances, actively promotes the narrative of the collective majority about the cycle of abuse.

Yes, the facial expressions in the kiss animations were changed due to fan requests for the Ascended route, but the aftertaste and consequences of these changes remain.

Some players still argue that facial expressions in role-playing games should be imposed "for the sake of the great narrative," while others use game conventions, such as cyclicality of animations, to demand the return of scared expressions. However, bringing back this dynamic would undermine the story and the character that fans of Ascended Astarion have known and loved for six months after the game's release.

In my opinion, to expand the role-playing experience, it would be much more useful not to return the scared expressions as an option, but to add the possibility for the lord to use more standard kisses, similar to those in Patch 5.

It is unclear why many are convinced that the vampire lord is incapable of tender kisses with Tav when his love scene demonstrated just this tenderness, and the moment with the kiss on the hand is one of the most refined and delicate romantic episodes. In particular, the kiss on the hand, which happens after the "be gentle" option is chosen, not only emphasizes Astarion's attention to Tav's desires and his willingness to listen, but also contradicts the notion of his exclusively dominant and cold nature.

If Astarion is capable of expressing such tenderness in intimacy, why is it excluded that the same softness could be maintained in his kisses?

The kiss in Patch 6 would only make sense if, upon choosing the "be gentle… if you can" option, Astarion ignored Tav's request, and his actions were no different from those in the "let it hurt" option.

I would also like to draw attention to the sharp contrast in Tav's facial expressions in the bite scenes, written by different writers. In Act 1, when Astarion was written only by Stephen Rooney, Tav's facial expression shows ecstasy, and this same expression is repeated in the lord's love scene, which, according to Welch, they did not write.

However, in the transformation scene, which, as Welch confirms, was written with their involvement, Tav's facial expression is noticeably different.

It’s not fear, like in the kisses from Patch 6, but the expression conveys a "problematic/kinky" mood — a term that Welch themselves used to describe this scene. This looks particularly strange in the dialogue where Tav explicitly asks to be hurt:

Astarion: Shall we have one last night together before you join me in immortality? One for the road, so to speak. Player: We shall not. I just need you to bite me. Astarion: Impatient are we? Well who am I to deny you?

This suggests that Welch’s views on "kinks" are at least debatable, and this influences how they are portrayed in the game. For example, Welch sees the transformation into a spawn as an "irreversible sex-pact/kink/form of gratification," but Tav's reaction in this scene is somewhat more uneasy than in previous episodes involving similar actions.

Both scenes are consensual, but they have a different tone simply because one of the writers condemned the player for "kinks," while the other did not.

In the cinematic context for the transformation scene, the following was stated: "You are naked and vulnerable before him." This feeling, it seems to me, is what the animators tried to convey and embody, capturing the intimacy of the moment. However, with the release of Patch 6, this message became distorted, turning into something entirely different — crude and devoid of the original subtle undertones.

In this context, I believe that the kisses from Patch 7 appear much more consistent compared to the facial expressions in Patch 6.

Especially when considering the following points:

Astarion grabs Tav by the neck solely at the player's initiative, and the dialogue clearly implies that Tav wants this.

Tav has previously reacted with obvious pleasure to similar actions by Astarion in other scenes.

I genuinely do not understand why Baudelaire Welch's contribution should be considered more significant, given that they joined the project during the later stages of the game's development. Especially when you consider that the character was originally created by another writer, who laid the foundation for his personality, story, and key traits. Prioritizing late additions that distort the original concept seems unfair and disrespectful to Astarion's creator and his vision.

At this point, I would like there to be an option in the game to kiss Astarion's hand. A hand kiss is also a symbolic gesture that conveys respect, devotion, submission, and acknowledgment of power or authority. I find this incredibly romantic, and I truly miss it. It would further emphasize the symbolism of this route.

[transfaguette]

I'm done replying on that post cuz I have said what I needed to say but. this is so condescending. Some people interpreting my post in the worst light isn't my problem. You have already painted me the aggressor because I talked about aspects of feminism you personally are not familiar with! the "main focus" of feminism is liberation and justice from the patriarchy, and that comes in many different forms. seeing a minority, both within society and within the movement as in danger of taking up all the air from the room is, I think, a problem you need to examine within yourself.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

this isn’t exactly a question, but has twisted wonderland ever expanded on gender norms before? I know in sunset savanna women seem to be highly respected, but it seems like that is a behavior unique to sunset savanna. It seems like gender discrimination might be uncommon in briar valley because Mallenoa was so respected by her subjects, but Sebek, silver, and grim were surprised to find out she was so self sufficient and powerful when they met her in Lilia’s dream (this is more my interpretation tho) . in the endless night event, silver tells a story about a warrior who taught for her country, which is a reference to mulan i think, and the person he is telling the story to is very surprised that the strong warrior is a girl. I think silver told that story to Leona but I don’t remember. I’ve heard that royal sword academy is a school boys and girls can both attend, but night raven college is one of the most prestigious magic schools out there, so it being boys only makes me wonder if gender is a part of magic politics, although we have been shown female characters who have high educations and magical abilities such as Mrs . Rosehearts

No, not really? It’s explicitly mentioned and touched upon in extended conversations maybe a total of… 3ish times. Of those instances, most are referring to the Sunset Savanna.

Gender norms and politics are some of those elements of world-building that can come off as really ham-fisted and preachy if the characters stop everything altogether and just start expositing about it. Thankfully, TWST largely doesn’t take that “telling” route and instead “shows” us what they mean through subtle implications.

Now, for the most part I think the gender norms of Twisted Wonderland are similar to the real world, but may be more progressive overall.

For one, Twisted Wonderland has many male characters (both in NRC and beyond it) who openly wear cosmetics. No one ever comments on men wearing makeup or dressing up in a negative light. Sometimes they complain about putting makeup on (ie the effort) or certain fashions they don’t vibe with but never do they say it’s “not manly” for them to put on makeup/perfume/jewelry, care about their clothing, etc. Even the characters we traditionally think of as masculine (Jack, Leona, etc.) wear eyeliner and eyeshadow, jewelry, or try new styles of clothing. Floyd and Ace express interest in fashion. Jamil cares about the quality of textiles and Kalim is willing to buy tons of jewelry for himself (and his classmates!!) if the mood strikes him. Rook regularly compliments people’s looks and Cater has an eye for aesthetics too. Lilia brags that he is “cute” and likes to show off his cuteness to others. There's a whole group of students eager to learn more about makeup techniques from Vil (in his Halloween Dress vignettes). Idia, Jade, and Sebek see a photo of what they believe is Epel in a dress and automatically accept it. And, of course, we cannot forget our queen Vil, who champions the idea of challenging and redefining gender norms. He also shares these ideals with Epel, who has been called out by Vil for having “outdated” gender norms. Given that Vil is such a popular celebrity (5 million followers on Magicam), I get the impression that the sentiments he extols is a popular way of thinking and is the direction that TWST society wants to move toward. (This is assuming that his fans are mainly younger people.) The boys often “dress up” and wear different makeup when visiting new places such as Silk City and and Clock Town, so it appears that a lot of Twisted Wonderland society that we’ve explored leans more liberal when to comes to gender expression.

Another detail I think is important is that many of the Great Seven—in fact, over half of them—are women. This is notable because oftentimes history glosses over the achievements and accomplishments of women in favor of their male peers. The fact that NRC and all of Twisted Wonderland seems to honor them in addition to their male counterparts says something. The G7 women aren’t even the only instance of female figures who shaped history. Azul and Floyd, for example, have brought up the Mermaid Princess on multiple occasions, talking about how her union with a human prince and personal efforts have strengthened the bond between land and sea.

Gendered terms to refer to mages exist, but according to Lilia, “witches” and “wizards” are outdated (they were used during the human/fae war era of ~400 years ago). Currently, most prefer to use the gender neutral terms “mage” or sometimes “sorcerer”.

There does not appear to be gender restrictions in terms of the modern day workforce either. We know of the boys’ family members who are great mages or hold significant power or status. Mrs. Rosehearts is an accomplished medical mage, Mrs. Ashengrotto runs the most popular restaurant in the Coral Sea and his grandmother is a benefactor to those in the neighborhood, Mrs. Shroud is STYX’s Chief Engineer, Meleanor is an integral leader of Briarland’s military forces, Maleficia is queen, etc. Even the women in more mundane roles play vital parts in their communities: Mrs. Clover is a baker alongside her husband, Mrs. Zigvolt assists her husband in his dental clinic, Granny Bucchi supports him as his only relative, Marja travels and helps sell her family’s produce, etc. There are many economic opportunities for women in this world.

Some may point out that NRC is a prestigious all-boys school, so there aren’t opportunities for women in education. The same goes for RSA, which is another prestigious all/ boys school. To that, I say… that’s because NRC is a very limited scope of magic education as a whole. We don’t know how many other schools are out there or if all magic schools are boys only. It’s not impossible to think that there may be girls only or mixed schools out there—but the NRC cast are the ones this game focuses on, so we view things from that perspective. I’d also like to add that we only see male students from other schools because of meta reasons: 1) there are limited game assets, so some details are inaccurately conveyed by the live 2D models, and 2) this is a joseimuke, a game with a predominantly male cast aimed at a target audience of women. It makes sense that there wouldn’t be many live 2D assets for random female mobs.

There isn’t any lore in-game or in other official materials which would imply that women are discriminated against in education or in the workforce. However, Twisted Wonderland at large seems to still perpetuate gender expectations and gendered traits as we understand them irl. There are some instances when the idea of women having traditionally feminine interests are mentioned: (Suitor Suit) Ace complains that his ex only liked romance and animal movies, disliked thrill rides, and preferred cute things and taking Magicam pics; (Birthday Boy) Cater also mentions his mother and older sisters having interests in making sweets and cute things. Additionally, as Anon mentions, in Endless Halloween Night, Silver shares the story of Mulan, who pretended to be a man to save her father from enlisting in the army. He told this tale to Jamil (not Leona!), who reacts with surprise when he learns that this capable warrior is a woman. At the same time, there are “masculine” expectations vaguely alluded to: Deuce states he is the “man” of his household, Epel of course worries about his manliness and sees Savanaclaw, the athletic dorm, as “cool”, etc.

Of course, these gender norms are not pervasive nor are they the same everywhere in Twisted Wonderland. One extreme is demonstrated through Epel, who holds the most regressive beliefs prior to Vil’s influence. This leads me to believe that Harveston is one of these areas that perpetuates these beliefs—and when you think about its population, it makes sense. Epel tells us that his hometown is largely elderly people, who are more likely to hold conservative worldviews compared to young people. The community, being small and located pretty far from nearby urban centers, is also exposed to fewer ideas that differ from what they perceive as their “norm”. These factors will naturally shape its residents and inform how they interact with and perceive others.

I actually think that Briar Valley would also be one of those areas with regressive gender norms for similar in-universe reasons as Harveston. Briar Valley is described to us as a region mainly populated by long-lived fae… meaning they are pretty old and more likely to be conservative. Not only that, but the area is very isolated and fae in general prefer to keep to their own kind. Briar Valley is also said to be opposed to change and new ideas and technology being introduced to their land. All of these factors suggest they would have more old-fashioned ideas about gender, not progressive ones. Meleanor and Maleficia may be widely respected and viewed as capable women, but I do not think it is fair to extrapolate how magically gifted monarchs of the Draconia bloodline are viewed to the governed population. It is more likely that they are the exception, not the rule. This better explains why Sebek and Silver, who are technically subjects of Briar Valley, are surprised to learn of a powerful princess. Their shock, as well as how Lilia describes human princesses as being meek and needing protection, also implies the usual gender norms. Given that humans seem to be the majority race in Twisted Wonderland, it means those gender expectations were predominant at the time.

The Sunset Savanna is the only country we know of at the moment where women are noted to be viewed differently. According to Leona, he “respects women” since the women back in his home country are physically stronger and stronger-willed than men. (This may be a reference to how irl lionesses do most of the hunting.) It’s not uncommon to see women in high-ranking warrior or guard positions because of this. This implies that the gender roles are somewhat reversed here; women are the ones expected to be strong, not men.

Slight tangent here: I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea that “strong” women are somehow better or more deserving of praise than “weak” women. It’s a fallacy that I see perpetuated way too often in media. True feminism does not mean demonizing what is seen as traditionally “feminine”, nor does it mean women can only be independent or strong by acting in traditionally “masculine” ways. Feminism means not judging or holding back women from pursuing whatever it is they want to do, be it a career of their own, homemaking, or anything in between. Women can be strong and admirable no matter what they choose to do with their lives.

Okay, so Twisted Wonderland does operate on gender norms—but that does NOT inherently mean that Twisted Wonderland is a sexist hellscape. Gender discrimination is on a spectrum, and we’ve yet to see any blatantly regressive demands be taken as anything of real merit in TWST. If anything, they get clowned on and told off as much as Sebek is for his anti-human sentiments. And, as I’ve pointed out earlier, Twisted Wonderland on the whole appears to accept and normalizes things that may not be widely accepted irl— namely, men in makeup or in traditionally feminine fashion. There’s also many examples we can look to of regular women in power or jobs across the world of Twisted Wonderland.

We also need to remember that TWST was penned by people who also live in a society of gender norms, so it’s expected for their lived experiences to also bleed into the worlds they create. It doesn’t make them bad people, it just makes them human. They write what they know and also play around with the ideas of different societies—those that skew in both directions (as we see with Harveston vs Sunset Savanna).

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

kiss and cry

summary | you’ve learnt to build your walls sky high in the wake of dick grayson’s abrupt departure from the world of skating. but one decade later, he’s back like nothing ever happened, and you’re back to square one. prompt | language of flowers event: a bouquet of purple hyacinths in blue wrapping paper with a pink ribbon ♡ pairing | dick grayson x gn!reader wc | 3.2k warnings/tags | pairs figure skating, childhood friends to strangers to ???, mutual pining, repressed feelings, angst, swearing, insecurity, no use of y/n, very liberal interpretation of how you’d qualify for the olympics ty @strangergraphics for the divider!

Brian Orser is a liar. 

“Oh c'mon kid, I had no idea. I thought this was a good kind of surprise! You might have a chance at the Olympics this time around!”

You should’ve known something was up when he asked you to stay after practice. The old man is annoyingly close to catching up with you, and if you weren’t wearing skate guards right now, you’d speed walk to the lockers faster. 

“Isn’t this good? You need a new partner, Dick finally decided to call me back, and anyways, I thought you l-”

You don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he’s about to say. “I didn’t. And I don’t anymore.” Neither of you seem convinced, but at least it gets him to shut up. 

What pains you the most is you can’t even be mad at the older man. You can’t cry, or scream, or throw a tantrum like you were 9 again, because at the end of the day, this is the coach you had begged to take you on. The one who has been behind so many legends and basically built your career up from the ground. Had this been any other situation, any other person, besides the Boy Wonder himself, you would probably be on the verge of much happier tears. But you know, just like last time, he won’t be here to stay. And you don’t know how much more heartbreak you can take.

Before you get the chance to talk him out of it, a pair of footsteps joins you. Speak of the fucking devil.

It’s like they had planned some flanked attack, with Brian herding you towards the front of the building and Dick stepping in to cut you off as you’re about to make your grand escape. No idea, your ass. Brian knew you wouldn’t be able to say no if they had you cornered like this.

“Dick!” he exclaims, pushing past you to wrap the black-haired man in bear hug. Normally, you think you’d be hurt by how his face is practically illuminating (he had never greeted you like that before). But you have your own worries to deal with: namely, a heart that is currently trying to claw its way out of your throat and lungs that have forgotten how to inhale air. You think Brian might still be speaking, but if he is, you’ve tossed that all to the side in lieu of studying the man in front of you.

You make it a point not to meet his gaze, even as you feel him trying to meet yours. Perhaps it’s pride, perhaps it’s fear, but either way, you know as soon as you look at him, properly look at him, any objectivity will fly out the door.

So you settle for the obvious things. He’s taller, and his face is sharper, no longer rounded by baby fat. Even the spiky haircut you used to tease him for is grown out now. He looks good—but nothing like the boy you have enshrined in your memories. This isn’t the boy who would stay behind to help you practice your jumps. This isn’t the boy who would pack an extra lunch for you in case you forgot yours. This isn’t the boy you cried yourself to sleep over for months, the boy who almost made you quit the one thing you loved most in the world because the thought of skating alone made you want to hurl.

This? Him? It’s just a bitter reminder that figure skating wasn’t the only thing he left behind all those years ago. 

You think you hear the two of them discuss the technical details. Practice schedules, song choices, choreography—it all goes in one ear and out the other. It’s a conversation you have with the older man at the start of every season. An annual promise that that year would be the year you finally earn the recognition you had worked so hard for. 

Technically, everything had been perfect. Technically, you were good. Enough to consistently land a spot at the Grand Prix Final.

But not good enough for a medal. It was never enough. No matter how much training you did, how many extra jumps you crammed into your programs, how many partners you had cycled through. There was no use in denying it: after Dick had left, you hadn’t been the same skater.

It’s pathetic. Your crush had not only abandoned you at 14, but any hopes of even making it to the podium had been crushed then as well. And you hate that 10 years later, you still haven’t moved on. Not enough to say no to his offer. Because like it or not, chemistry is everything in pairs, and there’s nobody like him. There is nobody like Dick Grayson.

It’s silent now. They’re waiting for you. 

You finally look up to meet his gaze. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

—

It’s too easy to fall back into step with Dick. He always greets you with a smile, brings you snacks before practice (homemade ones at that), and carries your bag to your car for you, even though you insist that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. He’s certainly trying, but the more effort he puts in, the more you can’t help but resent him. 

His kindness is all just a means to an end for him. He’s buttering you up so your movements are less goddamn stiff when you’re next to him, so you at least vaguely resemble an evenly matched pair. You know from Brian that he’s only coming back because of a stupid bet he made with his brother. He’s just here to prove he can make it to the Olympics. Your childhood dream, what you’ve decided would be the sign that you’ve made it—to him, it’s just another achievement he can use to inflate his ego. The worst part about it is he’s good enough that he could genuinely make it happen that effortlessly. And once he’s satisfied with that, he’ll waltz out of your life just as quickly as he came in. 

So when he offers you a hand as you step out of the rink, when he happens to have an extra energy drink, when he suggests a “team bonding” dinner, you don’t accept. You’ll let yourself entertain him on the ice for the sake of the skate. But nothing more. 

At the very least, you can admit that your performance aspect has definitely improved since skating alongside Dick. You breeze through Eastern Regionals, then Skate Canada, then Skate America, and in no time at all, you’re at the Grand Prix Final: the one barrier you’ve always hit. 

The short goes even better than you imagined it would. Too good. You’ve seen the posts that the fans have made about the two of you, digging up old skating clips to support their theories about the two of you. There’s a poorly worded interview by Brian that does nothing but fuel the flames, and even some of the commentators have been talking about how good the two of you look together. All signs seem to be telling you that you have nothing to worry about; the two of you are perfect. They don’t understand that that’s exactly what you’re worried about. 

You don’t catch yourself until it’s too late. You’re slowly getting consumed by him—by his soft smiles and whispers of encouragement and stupid, stupid puns. You’re back where you started, feeling weightless as the two of you skate your free program, actually losing yourself to the music. There’s nothing to prove anymore; this isn’t a performance—this is just how it’s always meant to be. It should feel right. But it doesn’t, because you’re terrified that if you let yourself get comfortable in his embrace, you won’t be able to skate like this ever again.

You pop the triple Lutz. Then you go into an Euler and a double toe loop that’s under-rotated too. You don’t understand, your jumps have always been pristine, especially your doubles. You haven’t made a sloppy mistake like this in a while. The last time was when–

Shit, you’re too early into the step sequence, the turn too sharp at the corner. You meet his gaze repentantly, like that will absolve you of your guilt. You don’t know what emotion you’re expecting to find in eyes. Maybe anger? Frustration? That’s certainly how you feel at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not adoration. 

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but there’s no time. Last move. Death spiral. You have to hold hands, and the contact makes your skin burn. You don’t have the heart to look at him again. You’re afraid of what you’re going to find.

Suddenly everything feels too tight: the rink, your chest, the skates around your feet. You have to get out of there. One revolution, two, three, four. You can hold on, it’s almost over. Another four. He pulls you back towards him. It’s your final pose. The two of you are chest to chest. 

You just have to hold this for a second, and then you’re free. You can do it. You can do it. And then he’s leaning in even closer, until his forehead is pressed against yours and your lips hovering over each other. 

You can’t do it anymore and all you can think about is how to get out of there. You don’t even bother to wait for your score; you’ll deal with Brian’s scolding later. But you know if you stay out there any longer, you won’t be able to scrape together what little sanity you still have left. 

You’re leaving. You have to leave.

And as you run back to the lockers, you realize somebody’s been calling out your name.

“Hey, wait! Is everything okay?” Of course, the one person you don’t want to see would follow you. “Why did you leave like that? Did I do something wrong?” His hand hovers over your arm for a moment before he pulls it away and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. He used to do it with practiced ease back when you were kids, when you would joke that he had cooties but let him do so all the same. Now, you’re not sure if you can stand his touch, and from the look on his face, it seems to break his heart.

”Nothing, let’s just forget about this.” You feel like you’re being strangled and it takes all of your energy not to burst into tears at the moment. 

”No,” he says softly. “No, I know you, I know you’re not okay. Please, let’s talk about this.” 

And suddenly, everything’s just too much. He’s acting too nice to you, like he actually cares. Like maybe the fervent glances and lingering touches on the ice mean more to him than just pandering to the judges. But you know he doesn’t, because then he wouldn’t have left.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, you don’t know a single thing about me. So don’t act like you care about me now.”

”I do though!” 

“Bullshit. We’re not anything to each other.” 

His face crumples immediately. He takes a step back. This is the closest he’s ever been to tears.

On a kinder day, you’d take it all back. You’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and he would be disgustingly kind like he always is and you could both forget about this. But you’re tired of dancing around the issue and you think there’s a sick part of you that revels in his pained expression. 

You take a step forward. “You’re just a coworker. This? This act where we pretend like we can stand to be in the same room as each other? This isn’t real. So stop acting like it is. You didn’t care about me when you left. So why the change now? Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to move on? I couldn’t even skate afterwards. I thought my career was over. And I’ve had to fight every single day to prove that—that I’m still a capable skater, that I have a place in this sport.” 

Your voice trembles, and it takes all of your strength to swallow the lump in your throat. “I had to fight to be able to skate without you. To have the courage to stand on the ice alone. So I’m sorry that I’m not willing to welcome you back with open arms, because I know this is just some stupid game to you. You’ll get to the Olympics, because of course you will, and I’ll get to ride on the coattails of that. And that will be the greatest moment of my career, but to you, it’s just another thing on your checklist. Then you’ll go back to whatever you decided is more worthy than m–” You choke on your own words. “Than skating. And I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces again. But frankly speaking, I don’t know if I can do that a second time.”

It’s dead silent, save for your panting. You feel like you just ran a marathon. And Dick? You can’t read him, and that’s what scares you the most.

”Forget it.” The silence is driving you insane, and you just start running your mouth. “Fuck, forget it. I should just be grateful you’re even my partner this season. It’s the only way I’ll make it to the Olympics. I know you’re thinking it, you and Brian—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—that’s why you left, isn’t it? Didn’t want to be tied down to a pathetic fucking loser.”

“I never said th—”

”I can’t blame you. I’d leave me too—“

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!” 

Now you’re both silent. You’ve never heard him raise before. You’ve never seen him this desperate either. He’s shaking as he stands in front of you. “You’re right, I didn’t care about skating. It was always just a hobby to me. But I stayed because of you. Because I was young and stupid and in love and the only way I knew how to show you that was to skate with you. And it killed me when I had to quit, but I just…I saw how much passion you had for skating. Like it was the air you needed to breathe, but I knew I couldn’t dedicate myself to the sport like you could.. And you deserved a partner who would love skating as much as you do.”

You think your brain short circuits after “in love,” and if he says anything else after that, you certainly aren’t processing it. “…You loved me?”

Dick laughs like you’ve just asked if water is a liquid. ”Of course I did. Everybody knew it too. Brian used to tease me about the way I would look at you. And I figured I would finally tell you after I quit, in case it would make things awkward, but then…”

“I blocked you.” You whisper in horror. 

“Yeah, so I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I didn’t realize quitting meant I would lose you too.” 

And suddenly you’re 14 again, watching the boy you’ve had a crush on for over half of your life tell you that he doesn’t want to skate anymore, and you feel so small and so stupid. “Oh god. So all of those years…”

He nods, “I lied about the Olympics thing. Or well, I really did have a bet with Jason, but when Brian told me that you needed a new partner…I came back hoping it would be a chance to make it up to you.”

You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that maybe Dick had genuinely been trying to make amends with you. “So you being nice wasn’t just for show or team-building or whatever?”

“Team-building? God, I don’t think there’s a world where I can love you in any other way.”

The first realization that he had loved you in the past had been enough to nearly give you a heart attack. But to hear love? In the present tense? You think back to how he’s been acting for the past few months. All of the weird incidents that you can’t just explain away by saying that he’s making fun of you or being civil to you as a teammate or just being nice because that’s how he is. 

Because there’s no other explanation for why he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, why he lifts you with a reverence that could rival the likes of Keats and Byron, why he lingers on the ice after every practice, like he’s chasing the last vestiges of your warmth. 

And you have so many words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ways in which you can lay down your heart for him as he has done for you. But both of you know that even this stolen moment is just that: stolen time.

”Shall we go back?” He offers you his hand evenly, but there’s a tremble in his voice that gives him away. Like he’s worried that even after all of this, there was a universe in which you still don’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Your heart is screaming at you to assure him, promise that yes of course, you would accept him. But the words evaporate from your mind before you have a chance to grasp onto them. So you hope that at the very least, your actions can convey a fraction of your feelings. Hand in hand, you make your way back to the rink. No matter what the result is, you think it’ll be alright if you have Dick’s shoulder to cry on after this is all over. 

—

“And with a free score of 129.44 and a final score of 205.57, that puts America’s own duo from Gotham at third place in the Grand Prix Final!” 

Third, the word echoes in your head, taking you a few moments to process. Third, and there were no other American teams on the podium. Sure, it isn’t exactly the most fairytale ending, but it’s better this way—more real. You turn to look at Dick, who you’re sure has the exact same look of astonishment that you do. You remember Brian doing the math before you guys had even made it to the venue. Based on this event and the rest of your results this season, it was clear that the two of you were the uncontested pair in the whole country. 

“You’re going to the Olympics!” Brian whoops, hugging the both of you and jumping for joy in a way you think only he can get away with. You’re grinning so hard your muscles are starting to twitch but honestly you could care less about that. All of the training, all of the sleepless nights had finally paid off, and you felt like you had really, truly made it. And the fact that you did it with Dick makes it all the sweeter to you. 

You got a medal, a boyfriend, and that day, the kiss and cry finally lived up to its name.

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