#Which is to say NOTHING of the gender of it all

[dukeofankh]

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[liberalsarecool]

From Professor Christopher Robichaud, Senior Lecturer in Ethics and Public Policy, Harvard:

“I'll say this, and then I likely won't be saying much more on here for quite some time, to the relief of some, I'm sure. But my farewell warning is this.

Everyone in the days and weeks ahead will use this loss as an opportunity to seek validation for their own hobby horse complaint. Harris lost because she campaigned with Liz Cheney. Harris lost because she didn't embrace Gaza. Harris lost because she didn't choose Shapiro. Harris lost because she wasn't progressive enough (possibly my favorite one).

Take a good, hard look at the map, my friends. Trump has won the popular vote. Trump ran the table. Explaining that with your hobby horse issue isn't going to cut it, tempting and consoling as it may be. The problem isn't the electoral college. The problem isn't that we didn't have a full primary. The problem isn't Harris. The problem isn't that Dems didn't have the right message. The problem isn't even inflation or the border.

The problem is so much worse than any of those things. Those are all technical problems, with straightforward expertise fixes. If only it were so! No, our problem is not technical. It's very much adaptive. A party that embraced the Big Lie, supported an insurrection, and has been selling conspiracy-addled madness for years, [which] was widely and enthusiastically embraced. Voter turnout was profound! People didn't sit this out.

Simply put, the problem--as some of you have rightly posted--is cultural. America, culturally, has completely abandoned a politics of decency and respect and has embraced instead a politics of resentment, revenge, false nostalgia, and bullying. And if you look at the demographics, you also won't be able to comfort yourself that it's just a white thing, or a working class thing, or an education thing. It's multi-class, multi-gender, multi-educational, and multi-racial. That's what winning the popular vote means. That's what running the table amounts to.

A culture that has descended to this level of debasement is not easily fixed. In fact it may not ever be fixed. The timeline for changing something like this is decades--at best--not two-to-four year election cycles. You can extend that in this case, because with the GOP likely controlling all branches of federal government and the courts, they will ensure that mechanisms are in place to keep them in power long after their popularity has waned. You can count on that.

The GOP evolved into a party of rage, lies, and revenge--and it correctly diagnosed that there was and is a large appetite for that. That's what the country wants. At least enough of the country wants it to ensure broad appeal and widespread electoral success. The old GOP will never return, and the Dems have nothing to say to American culture at the moment. Nothing. They've been speaking to a country that's gone, like dust in the wind.

And that's my final thought, which my posts last night alluded to. The America I knew and loved is gone. This new America--nah, I won't even bother. I will say that cultural change is less likely to occur in politics or in the academy. You're not going to get people to see how vulgar they've become through a clever argument or a nice campaign speech, that's for sure.

This would be time for the arts, broadly understood, to step in. The arts can change hearts and minds. Too bad the arts have been systematically dismantled in education in this country, and on the other end, the tech industry's assault on the arts through AI is sure to hollow out any good-faith efforts that might emerge.

And for the rest of the world, America's rightward lurch is, I'm afraid, bad news for you too. I know you know this. Because it's not isolated, is it? It's just at the moment the most prominent example of a burgeoning trend. And this will embolden others in other countries, to be sure. We need not speculate what happens when countries become mired in lies, embrace resentment, and savor bullying. We know exactly what happens. Bloody conflict and global destabilization.

The first quarter of the 21st century will, therefore, in hindsight, be viewed as the seed-planting stage for the absolute shit show that's about to unfold globally over the next two and a half decades. Count on it.

Adopt whatever coping and endurance strategies you have available. You're going to need it.

I think that's all I've left to say.”

The least evolved. The most paternalistic.

The bully. The liar. The most resentful.

This is the reality we are in. FOX and Republicans have been repeating the script for decades.

The Dark Ages are conservative aspirations.

The abdication of values/principles is complete.

'Good faith' no longer exists on the Right. The more reprehensible the action/person, the bigger the addiction. Trump proves this.

Anti-paternalism, anti-fascism and anti-bullying are my paths forward. Join me.

[ashasdiary]

Pumpkin

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Husband!nanami (later father!Nanami) being super domestic during your pregnancy, birth, and arrival of your baby. 

CW: a smidge 🤏🏻 of angst but mainly FLUFF, pet names, established relationship, pregnancy, birth, babies  WC: 1.9k A/N: this is a sequel to Vitamins but can be read as a standalone if the smut in Vitamins is not your jam. Enjoy this fluffy goodness 🥹

Ever since those two tests had very loudly informed you of your pregnancy, Nanami had not let you lift a single finger to do anything. Not that he had even before your pregnancy — your husband’s love language was acts of service — but now? He was very hyperactive in taking care of you. 

“Honey, did you note down the appointment time in the calendar?”

“Honey, did you take your folic acid?”

“Honey, you’ve been on your feet too much today. You need to rest.”

“Honey, do you want me to give you a massage?”

“Kento,” you sigh, “I’m fine, really. It’s still early stages.”

“And you have to be careful during the early stages,” he notes. 

“I know. But you’re also treating me like I’m china and…it’s just…a bit too much,” you say. You didn’t want to tell him this, because you knew he meant well, but you also had to communicate your feelings to him. You were worried he’d be upset when you did, but he looks at you apologetically, seemingly taking it in his stride. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to make you feel…suffocated. I was worried I was being too overbearing, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I want to do as much as I can for you. And the baby,” he explains in one breath. Your eyes soften and you step into his embrace, hugging him tightly, burying your face into his neck. 

“I do. I’ve always known that. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but I would also like to do things myself sometimes.”

“I understand. I’ll be more mindful, my love,” he rubs his hand up and down your back. 

“Thank you, Ken. I love you,” you kiss his cheek and he turns his face to capture your lips with his in a chaste kiss. 

Every week, you’d made it tradition to take a side profile picture of the bump along with the fruit that the baby was the size of. This was Nanami’s idea, of course, and he made it creative and fun. Seeing him be so excited for the arrival of your child made your heart swell with joy. 

He’d very proudly started to create a scrapbook of all the happenings during your pregnancy which he was eager to show your child when they got older. 

Interestingly, Nanami did not want to do a gender reveal when the ultrasound technician offered to write it down at one of the scans. And you couldn’t fault his logic when he later explained, “It’s silly. It’s a social construct. We’ll find out when they’re born, and regardless, even then it won’t matter. We’ll still love them the same.”

Every craving, every need, he provided. Including the need to jump his bones in the second trimester. Damn, did he keep up with you. You knew it was because he found the cute little swell of your belly so incredibly sexy — he’d voiced it on numerous occasions — knowing he’d done that, nothing made him more unhinged. 

Ever the doting husband and expectant father, he’d started reading up more about babies and often tell you facts you’d have never known. “Did you know that your heart grows bigger during pregnancy?” He informs you while you’re laid back on the couch, on opposite ends, 5 months in. 

“I…did not know that,” you blink, surprised. 

“Yep. It’s to help the heart pump more blood to the baby. Babies can also cry in the womb.”

“Oh no,” you pout, “I don’t want baby to cry.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, hon, they’ve been quite gentle so far. You can sing to them, they’ll hear it by now. And talking to them in another language is also beneficial,” he notes and you let out a soft laugh at how he’s rattling off these fun facts. 

“Your brain truly amazes me sometimes, Ken, it’s like a sponge,” you prop your arm up and rest your chin on your hand. 

“So’s the baby’s right now. We should get a Duolingo subscription and get them started on another language already,” he jokes and you let out a hearty laugh, which earns you a little kick in protest from your baby. 

“Well, your child just said no to that,” you giggle. 

His mouth falls open and he scoots over and lies between your legs, coming face to face with your bump. “Listen here, you little squirt, you will learn another language whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, daddy’s setting rules,” you whisper. 

“And in addition to that language, which you will be fluent in, you’ll also learn jujutsu,” Kento tells your bump definitively. You laugh at how he’s instructing the baby firmly one minute and then lovingly pressing kisses to your skin the next. 

He relaxes against you, and you decide to tell him a fact you’d found out recently. “Did you know that eggs can pick and choose whether the sperm gets to fertilise it? For a while, I thought it was just a race of the best sperm to get to the egg. But the egg can reject it if it wants to. Isn’t that fascinating?”

He raises an eyebrow in slight surprise and amusement at this newfound knowledge. He wasn’t aware of that little detail either, but he finds it very intriguing. “That’s pretty impressive. I had no idea that they had such power over which sperm gets to fertilise them. Who knew eggs were such shrewd gatekeepers?”

“Right? But my egg was a terrible gatekeeper. Probably a combination of that and your sperm just being overachievers.”

He laughs heartily at your comment, the image of his overly ambitious sperm and your easy-going egg combining to form your miracle is quite the amusing picture. 

“Well, I do have some pretty strong swimmers, I can’t deny that. And your egg must have had a weak moment, letting my little overachievers through. But I'm glad it did,” he smiles warmly at you, his hand gently rubbing your leg. 

There were moments where you couldn’t wait to meet the little one, but you also found yourself getting emotional a few times that it wouldn’t just be you and him anymore. When he notices your glassy eyes one day while you’re eating breakfast, he frowns and takes your hand in his. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The dam suddenly bursts — darned pregnancy hormones — and you start to bawl, managing to say between breaths, “It’s— not— going to— be just— you and me any— anymore…”

He has to stop himself from laughing at your sudden realisation and he circles around the dining table, embracing you. 

“And I know how stupid I sound right now, because I wanted this, and still do, but I’m— I’m just…scared,” you cry, inhaling shaky breaths. “What if I’m not a good mother? What if parenthood is the complete opposite of what I envision it to be?” You ramble.  

He rubs your back gently and comforts you, kissing the crown of your head as you rest it on his chest. “I know, honey. You don’t sound stupid. It’s natural to feel nervous. Parenthood is a new venture for both of us but it won’t be vastly different to what we think it’ll be. And you’ll be a fantastic mother. I’ll be by your side every step of the way, you’ll never be alone. We’re doing this together. We’ll make mistakes together. Clean up messes together. Strive together. It’ll be alright.”

His words of reassurance bring you a sense of calm and you feel the warmth of comfort spread through you slowly, easing your anxieties. 

He reassured you every time you felt any sense of worry or sadness, provided the love that you needed and more, and was a real anchor to harbouring your emotions. 

Week 40 arrived before you knew it. With a bright and large orange pumpkin in hand, you took what you hoped would be the last picture for the scrapbook. You both subsequently started referring to the baby as “pumpkin” that week. Every day that week, he had tried to coax them out with sweet words. 

“Are you gonna come out today, pumpkin? Today’s a good day to join us, I think. The weather’s nice out. You should come see it,” he whispered to your bump in the morning before you were awake. 

When your baby decided that they were ready to come out, Nanami was there, holding your hand the entire time, not once letting go. You were quite afraid of this final hurdle but with Nanami by your side, you knew you’d be okay. 

It was a long and tiring 14 hours, exhaustion was settled into your bones, but when you finally, finally give the final push and the baby is out, you cry. From the relief of birth being over, from the new chapter that had just opened, from having sight of the baby that you and Nanami had made. 

Nanami kisses your head, eyes glassy as he whispers praises of how well you did, that it’s over and that he’s so proud of you. 

The midwife places pumpkin onto your chest for some skin to skin, placing a blanket on top, the little thing curled up and looking disapproving of being pushed out of the coziness of your womb. 

Nanami chuckles softly as he peers over and the baby’s rosy lips tremble before they take their first breath and start to cry quietly. You sniffle as you wipe your own tears and look at your husband and he kisses your forehead. 

You hush the baby gently, speaking softly, “You’re here, pumpkin…here with us. I’ve got you.” 

After they cut the umbilical cord, the afterbirth comes out, and the midwives take the baby to bathe, clothe, take measurements, and bundle them up. 

“How do you feel?” Kento asks, holding your hand still as you stand up, ready to take a shower. 

“I feel a little empty inside, it also hurts. Not looking forward to peeing,” you sigh and he caresses your back gently. 

“You’ll get better with time, honey,” he guides you to the shower room.

There, he tends to all of your needs, helping you wash up, then dry off, and put your clothes on. You could almost cry from his attentiveness.

You hug him and squeeze gently, gazing up at him gratefully and lovingly. “What did I do to deserve you?” You whisper. 

He smiles sweetly, caressing your cheek and giving you a chaste peck. “You can’t say that after you just pushed our baby out,” he chuckles. You laugh softly and you hold each other for a moment longer, before you both go back into the room.

There, the midwives wheel the bassinet over to you, where pumpkin is awake and looking for something to come into focus. 

“She’s very healthy, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami.”

“She?” You repeat, feeling your heart flutter. A sweet little girl. 

Nanami smiles to himself, he’s elated. He has a daughter. “Sweetheart, come on, look at her lips, they’re totally yours.”

You give him a small smile, eyes filling with happy tears as you both fawn over your daughter. It was a little early to tell, but you hope she has his eyes. She had a bunch of blonde hair, too.

“Hold her, Ken,” you whisper and he obliges, gently picking her up and angling his arms perfectly to fit his little angel against him. 

He’s quiet for a minute, just soaking up the feeling of having his daughter in his arms, the warmth of her, her existence setting in. 

“Now, about those language lessons that you refused to do…” he speaks to her in a gentle tone, and your lips curl into a bigger smile at his jokes, “I don’t want to hear another word from you, little miss. Any objections?”

He’s quiet for a beat and the baby just pouts as she looks up at her father, which you laugh softly at. “Good choice. Maybe start to brush up on some Malay, sweet pea, your mama and I will be taking you to Malaysia one day soon,” he promises to her you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the thought.

The three of you, your little family, in your shared happy place. Something out of a dream, but soon would be reality.

You couldn’t wait.

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved. Divider by cafekitsune

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[ollimus-prime]

sorry if it’s a little complicated, but maybe Megatron meeting Y/N again after so long, since having known them as D-16?

One Last Choice

A/N, not important: I don't think I got his personality right my b. If y'all have any tips or could point me towards some, I'd be forever thankful. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Major Character Death(Reader)

Words: 1750

Summary: A final meeting with an old friend.

You’ve been captured. At least, you think you have. Unfriendly servos were wrapped around your shoulders and hauling you across the floor with a fury you hadn’t seen in years. Although, that’s about the most you could gather from the situation. Your systems were completely out of whack. Up was down and down was up. Nothing made sense anymore. You could feel your arms bound behind your back, restricting your movement and disorienting you further. 

The only thing you could be sure of now was the pain. It radiated through your frame like the energon flowing in your lines. Your HUD was flooded with warnings, the never-ending assault of painful information suffocating you and swallowing you whole. You could barely hear, could barely see. Everything was coated in a thick static that had taken over your world. Muffled voices sounded above you as you were dragged to whatever pit you would be left to go offline. 

You try to count the steps for a moment, willing your aching processor to sputter back to life and erase the static from your every thought. It consumed you, drove out your very will and forced you to accept defeat. What were you even fighting for at this point? Your friends? Freedom?

The war had been going on for so long at this point, you weren’t sure you remembered. Optimus Prime—though you’ve never gotten used to calling him that—had tried so hard to keep everyone’s spirit alive. To keep the hope of winning strong.

You weren’t sure you’d say he’d failed, but you definitely weren’t hopeful now. No one was, not if they weren’t insane or a liar.

The impact of your face onto the ground surprised you more than you wanted to or were willing to admit. Pain floods your systems again, your vision going completely black for an awful moment. You hated to consider the option something as stupid as being dropped took you offline. You weren’t weak. You’ve proved it in the mines, on the battlefield, yet this little extra shove seemed to blow your circuits more than you liked.

The voices sound above you, muffled arguing hinting at the nature of your predicament. You grimace, letting your face fall fully against the ground. They were probably debating which one of them got to end you.

When rough hands grab at your helm, you try to fight back. Every movement felt like it’d kill you, sparks from your own fried circuitry burned your face. Then, with a painful tug at something lodged in your helm, the static lifted. You take a harsh vent as your mind clears. You felt alive again, no longer stuck in the hell that was your own mind.

You dare to lift your helm, hoping to face your captors and get in some insults before they blow your processor over the wall. Instead of the grunts you were expecting, you face the dark pedes of the mech that started it all.

“Leave us,” he orders, causing whatever soldiers who grabbed you to quickly flee the room. You wait a second, still stuck on your front with your neck painfully bent to be able to face his pedes. It would be humiliating if you were able to think properly. 

The silence stretches between you until it becomes so heavy you feel you can’t properly vent. The fans under your plating sputter and pop with each second you’re stuck on your stomach, the weight of your own frame causing you to slowly overheat. Megatron lets the silence permeate the room for a few more moments before he takes another step towards you.

Your designation rolls off his tongue so much easier than you expected it to. There was no bite to his words, no underlying bitterness or anger. You shift on the ground where you’re left, ignoring the sparks shooting from your injured shoulder plate. You stare at the monster before you, the mech you once proudly called a friend. 

His plating looked just as weary as your own, his optics dimmed and lacking anything but hatred and contempt. There was pain in his stance, a pain you felt deeply mirrored within your own frame. It was hard to see him like this, to see him as the one who killed Orion and caused him to become the Primus-chosen leader instead. You search his facial plating for any sign of the friend you once knew, the hot-tempered but easy-going miner who just wanted to get through the day with his friends.

It hurts to admit you can’t find him.

“Well,” he prompts, taking a small step towards you. The dark red of his optics burn starkly against his chrome plating, the room’s poor lighting not helping the menacing look. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m stuck,” you gripe, letting your forehelm touch the floor once more. You weren’t really stuck. Not truly. You weren’t being held down, and if you could gather the will power, you’d definitely be able to face him on your knees. The problem with that, however, is that you have no desire to make the effort. Whether you stood, knelt, or laid in front of him, the outcome would be the same. There was no part of you that expected to make it out of here with your helm attached to your shoulders.

“Really now,” Megatron chides, his pedes thudding against the ground as he circles you like a helpless animal. Every step makes your helm ache, the vibrations shaking your entire frame. “I always thought you were stronger than that. I’ve heard stories of your retaliation against my troops while you fight against our freedom.”

Megatron stops somewhere to the left of you, the tension growing thicker. You bristle slightly, sighing. His engine revs in anger as he regards you, examining your broken frame tossed upon his floor. “You betrayed me. You’ve betrayed Cybertron. You stood against me and chose to maintain Sentinel’s Primacy-”

“Sentinel’s dead,” you cut him off, irritated at his growing anger. “You fixed that problem. Let it go.”

“Let it go?!” He roars, grabbing the back of your frame and heaving you up. You grimace at the new pains shooting through your spinal struts, trying desperately to find leverage on the ground. “We toiled away in the mines our entire function because of him! He desecrated our bodies before we were even online! And yet you still turn to his beliefs and follow in the Primacy’s footsteps!”

Megatron stares into your face with white-hot fury, his teeth grinding against each other as he waits for you to respond. You can’t respond for a while, unsure what to say or what to do. You hesitate for too long, Megatron’s scowl growing as he throws you back onto the ground. You wheeze at the impact, optics flickering as you try to recalibrate your senses.

“You’re right,” you manage out, coughing up energon and spitting it out onto the floor. You grimace at the rancid taste, trying to clean your tongue on the roof of your mouth. He was right, in the important ways. Sentinel needed to be rid of. Sentinel’s rules needed to be changed. But that had happened, before the war between Megatron and Optimus really started. Megatron got rid of Sentinel, and Optimus got rid of his system. The only problem now was the hatred that had sprouted in the very sparks of the cybertronians.

“Excuse me?” Megatron laughs, walking closer to your limp frame. “Did my audials get miswired? Is the great major of the Autobot army agreeing with me?”

He kicks your arm, trying to get you to meet his optics. You stubbornly refuse, keeping them trained on the ceiling. “I’d never expected to see the day.”

You scoff at his words, leaning your helm back against the cool metal of the floor. “More ‘bots do than you’d expect. Your problem is how you went about it.”

“Right. Because getting the job done is such an issue.”

Megatron fumes above you, pacing next to your side again. You ignore him for the most part, beating down old feelings of warmth and safety he used to bring. He was a different bot now, and so were you. Nothing between you was there, made obvious by his clear disregard for you. You were a means to an end now, nothing but a tool to be used to further hurt Optimus and his fight for the wrong freedom.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Megatron starts again, scowling down at your hapless form. You don’t bother to respond before he starts again, his anger rising and voice growing heavier. He continues to pace, stomping around your head like it would fix all of his problems. “You say you agree with me on the fundamentals, yet you still side with the Prime. You side with the system that ground us down until we were broken and then still demanded more. Sentinel was a traitor and a liar who betrayed our kind. And you still follow his lead.”

“I follow Optimus’s lead, actually.”

The glare that comment earned you could have burnt straight through your frame, his face scrunched up and filled with more hostility than a single bot should be able to possess. His eyes glowed brighter in the dark, his face now leering over your own.

“Do not say that traitor’s name in front of me. He is the same as Sentinel. They’re all the same. True freedom won’t be accomplished until they and every single bot that dares share their ideals are dead.”

The sound of his cannon extending surprises you at first, the warm glow of death casting over your frame. You couldn’t find yourself to be scared as you stare down the barrel of the cannon. It was there, somewhere, but not enough to make you tremble nor react in any significant way. You knew this would happen eventually. Whether now or later down the line, you’d die in this petty war.

“Any last words, Autobot?” He snarls. You stare at him for a second before letting your helm fall back, refusing to show fear.

“Good-bye, D-16.”

He doesn’t wait long for you to speak before you can feel the blast burning through your chest, consuming your spark and your entire being with it. The aching pain from your frame halts, letting you be surrounded in a cold unfeeling. Your optics sputter for a moment more before shutting, letting you fall into the arms of Cybertron itself.

[thealogie]

Here with the news from the government polling data fronts. So on yougov.co.uk where they for some reason are polling Brits to know their favourite actors and stuff Tennant used to be one of the kings (remember that? you had an anon about that and that's how I learned about it). I'm saying used to because when I had a look into his data for the previous quarter, after his terf tory debacle, he went down HARD. Like, 10 points in popularity, down in the 100s I think. I thought well, so I guess his shy activism does have consequences after all. No more David Tennant the people's princess of the Isles, trans support was the one thing brits could not abide. They forgave him for Inside Man, they never even blinked at Nativity, Camping was nothing to them, and this - this shall finally break 20 years worth of camel's back.

OK, I remembered about it today, realized they've got the new quarter data ready there and went to check how far mah boy plummeted since the last time. Because since then J. Rowling, Laurence Fox and other fine people happened to him, so the show MUST be going on, isn't it? WRONG. Tennant is back to the top, #11 among the most popular actors in the world and #3 among the British ones (just a bit behind Anthony Hopkins and Judi Dench). His 10 points are back with a vengeance. No one remembers anything apparently.

The even funnier thing is that I checked the gender data on his page, and he did get a massive downturn last quarter, but with MEN. Women didn't even notice his "women-hating ideology", which was the talk of the town at the time. It's men who made this plummet happen, their approval is 14 % lower than women's. They haven't really forgiven him now either, though there is a slight upturn.

Damn dude. We have more granular polling data on David Tennant’s popularity in the UK than we do on general election voters in Pennsylvania.

(I do love that they saw him in Rivals and promptly forgave the Woke)

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1650

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnmixedbingo -Hiding an Injury @anyfandomgoesbingo -Childhood Best Friends

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Series Masterlist

PART X

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

****

Bobby is jerked out of his troubled sleep by a truck engine rumbling to life. Moving the window, he sees the taillights as John's GMC crunches over the gravel driveway toward the gate. Cursing obscenities in multiple languages, he rushes downstairs and pivots toward the front door when a voice calls out, "Denver Pyle aware you stole his underwear?"

Doubling back, he finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a smirk, drinking coffee. "Don't think you're too big to be taken to the woodshed, boy." Bobby chastised with as much dignity as he could muster in his red flannel long johns, walking to the stove to pour himself a cup from the old blue enamel pot. Ignoring the other man's continued smirk sat down across from him. "Good to see your eyes back to normal. Ready to tell me what that was about last night?"

That sobered Dean up.

He inquired how much Bobby knew about everything, and the Beta was honest about what he'd been told and felt that familiar pang of resentment toward John, watching Dean retreat into himself, knowing self-recrimination was nothing new for him.

"Seeing it's too early to get breakfast from Micky D's, I'm guessing John's found somewhere else to be." The young Alpha shrugged, saying it is what it is, and fiddled with his mug. "Anyway, I gotta keep my nose clean so Sammy doesn't end up in CYF custody. And seeing how you're my warden, that's the parole officer we're supposed to meet today." Dean slid a piece of paper over with his parole officer's info. "Is there anything else I should know before seeing them?" Dean shook his head negatively. Bobby braced himself, knowing the next thing coming out of his mouth would raise the Alpha's hackles.

"Couldn't help noticing number girl shivering in those hand-me-downs last night, and Sam needs some warmer clothes for school; going to get damn cold before too much longer." Deans features shifted, "Bobby, it's my responsibility to provide. I'll get what they need after I find a job."

"Looks like John forgot a few details. Part of the agreement is you'll work for me, too. But if that's how you want to do things, I've got no problem docking your paycheck in reimbursement." After rinsing his mug, the older hunter crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and decided to bring up what he saw last night.

"Considering we have an Omega in the house, I want to get a few things straight,. You boys have always been close, and don’t care if you still share a room, but don't take me for stupid." A flash of oh crap crosses Dean's features. "And I want to be clear: she's your property. It'll be your decision how to handle situations when they arise. Where Sam is concerned, there'd better not be any fighting over her 'cause I'm not getting in the middle of you two. And give me a heads up before you go into a rut 'cause that's another thing I'm not going to deal with either."

After getting a yes sir, Bobby heads back upstairs to get dressed when he runs into Sam, who asks why he is dressed like Uncle Jessie makes the Beta grumble; this is gonna be a long six months.

Bobby once again wonders where god got their twisted sense of humor.

The building Dean's parole officer directed them to look like a country feed store from the outside. Inside, that was a different story.

Bobby had learned a few things about people's kinks over the years, but this place shocked the seasoned hunter when a bubbly voice that didn't match the decor called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I help you with today?"

Bobby watches Dean lean against the glass counter, showcasing a variety of erotic toys, turns on the charm he's mastered at a young age, turning the female Beta into goo while explaining he needs the necessities for his recently acquired Omega.

The shop assistant leaned towards him, putting her ample bosom on display. "We carry all the approved items from the O divisions. But if you're interested in something more adventurous, we have a certified craftsman who does custom designs." Bobby slaps the list they'd compiled on the counter, "We just need this stuff."

The assistant does a quick read and, within minutes, has almost everything sitting on the counter. "Most of our customers prefer to custom order outfits for their O. Let me show you what we have in store; see if any strikes your fancy."

Exaggeratedly swaying her hips, she heads toward the clothes section, where Bobby picks up a shirt and says, "This stuff makes the lingerie I gave my wife look conservative." Dean nodded toward him and inquired. "Do you have anything not so revealing for an O about his height?" The assistant looked confused. "Are you kidding?" Dean shook his head, and her attitude changed. "If this is some prank, you can leave, or I'm calling the cops."

Bobby intervenes, and Dean can hear the testy assistant's insolent remark and Bobby's very Bobby response as he walks out of the store. Unlocking the Impala, Dean opens the rear door and helps the Omega out. As they enter the store, the manager is now arguing with Bobby. "O's are not that big; it's a biological impossibility!" Bobby replies, "Oh yeah," and peers around them, "Tell that to her!"

Dean sat a bowl of spaghetti covered in meat sauce and salad he'd made to appease Sam in the middle of the table, then went to pull the cheesy garlic bread from the broiler. "Damn, that smells good," Bobby said coming from the library with Sam in tow, and sat in their usual spots at the kitchen table.

Reaching for a piece of bread, Bobby asked, "Isn't your girl hungry?" Sam's eyes cut to his brother, waiting to see how he'd answer, and watched Bobby's narrow at Dean's casual response, knowing he was concealing something.

"She won't touch the stuff Dad bought, so Dean's been sneaking her food, but the only thing she'll take is broth." Sam yelped and kicked his brother back. "This true, boy?" Dean affirmed that he had, and Bobby wiped his mouth. "Show me the stuff John got."

Retrieving a bag resembling dry dog food Bobby opened it frowning, "This isn't fit to feed a hog, let alone a person! Why'd he get this crap?"

"It's on the list of approved nourishment."

Bobby sighed, "As long as you're in my house, we all will eat like other families."

Completing more paperwork made Dean gnaw on the end of the pen because the bureaucracy involved in owning an Omega annoyed the Alpha after spending most of his life trying to stay off the government radar. A cough drew his attention, and he saw the Omega shivering where she knelt on the tiled floor.

"Fuck this," Dean growled, tossing the clipboard aside, got up, and getting her up off the floor, removed his jacket and wrapped it around her before helping her sit in the chair next to his.

Returning the clipboard, Dean drew the receptionist's ire and let them know he doesn't give a shit about their rules before sitting down, glaring. He continued until they were called and slowly made their way to an examination room at the far end of the clinic, where the doctor Bobby knew was already waiting.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Stevenson. Could you please have her remove the coat and sit on the table? I've looked over the other clinic's paperwork. Are there any other issues you're concerned about?" Dean tells them about her not eating and the constant pain she seems to be in, even with the substantial pain reliever being given. "Let me do another examination, see if something got missed."

The doctor asks the O to indicate pain on a scale of one to ten, starting at her feet and working up her body. They are pleased that most reactions are under five until they touch her neck, and she throws herself off the table. "Believe we found the source," the doctor comments. They ask Dean to remove the collar, and he admits not knowing how it made them frown.

Dean helps the trembling O back up as the doctor pulls out a penlight and shines it over the collar, finding hidden stitching and their expression changes.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen one of these since my residency. I'll find something to cut the leather while you hold her." Dean drew the O flush against him and gently guided her face into his neck, releasing calming pheromones to relax her.

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original high collars were redesigned for autoerotic asphyxiation. Their voice fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

Part XI

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[raezlove]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

I finished it after 90 hours over the last week. I did all quests and side content available to me and was pretty thorough with notes and momentos. I was hooked from the start, definitely saw why the writing got criticized during the middle, and then was continually surprised by the end sequence.

For me this was a solid 7/10 game if looking at it from a linear story game rather than a branching rpg.

Thoughts below. Some spoilers.

Starting with some general categories then moving on to larger issues I had.

I’d say the majority of the voice actor performances were really good. There were moments throughout where they weren’t great but that was combined from the very cringe/generic writing. But when the characters needed the emotion for a moving scene, I felt it. Even characters I, at the time didn’t care for or were biased against, the voice actor’s performance made me hurt for them.

Companion cast had some gems as well as some underwhelming members. For me I was taken by Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, and Davrin as characters. They still weren’t spared from poor lines throughout though. Bellara came around for me by the end as I had initially been biased hearing she was incredibly annoying but I also didn’t have her in my party very often for gameplay reasons. Taash and Harding I also rarely took out for gameplay reasons nor did they pull me in as companion characters.

Companion arc quest lines I enjoyed them all well enough but I liked Davrin and Harding’s the best for world and lore building,though I admit the actual quests for Harding felt lacking to me. The map locations also didn’t feel utilized as they were only ever seen those couple times. Bellara’s quest was also interesting for lore but other than the ending, which was not unexpected, felt mundane to me. Lucanis’s and Emmrich’s were decent arcs though they didn’t feel like anything groundbreaking, it just helped that I had already found their characters compelling. Neve’s was very underwhelming to me which was disappointing because I initially was quite intrigued by Neve. Taash’s was done as well as they could’ve with the direction they decided paired with their safe writing. I mean no disrespect for them wanting to include a gender queer story but something about this didn’t land. I saw someone else say it but the modern lingo in this fantasy setting made it seem out of place just for the sake of it. I don’t know how they could’ve implemented that aspect of Taash better but their writing and performance came across too stiff at times. ((This is not an issue of including lgbt characters, rather how they are written and if they are pushed to be defined solely by that one sole aspect of their identity))

Art design and world direction was never an issue for me even from the trailers (except for that first one where I thought I was watching a live service mobile trailer). I don’t mind brighter exaggerated designs or flashy colors. Nothing stood out but nothing was bad either, it was just an average design to me. As mentioned above though there were specific locations I felt were underutilized and sometimes felt included just to make the map seem bigger. I liked the character designs but outfit choices were definitely not my favorite and I wished they had an all black outfit for Rook but that’s just an irrelevant personal wish.

The callbacks to Inquisition were something I was incredibly curious to how they would handle and was looking forward to. For transparency, my original Inquisitor romanced Solas and refused to give up on him so I was holding out for my Solavellan heart to be fixed or at least something that dulled the ache. The Inquisitor appearances were about what I expected. Lavellan shows up a couple times, sends some letters, then shows up for the finale. I did get my Solavellan ending and while selfishly I wish it could’ve been more, I think it was adequate (though that kiss animation left something to be desired). It felt like an appropriate end for my Lavellan who was so sad and beaten down for so long after losing someone she loved with her entire being and after having the weight of so many people looking to her for guidance for the last decade when she never asked for the responsibility in the first place. She finally got to save her person and leave the world’s problems to someone else. As for Dorian, I’m not sure if he shows up/is mentioned more if you saved Minrathos but his appearances kind of felt unnecessary. I loved him in Inquisition but he didn’t feel properly utilized in the Minrathos story lines I saw. He could’ve just been a name in letters and he would’ve had the same impact.

Main Story was a trip. Overall I found it intriguing and compelling, though sometimes it dragged or some missions were boring. I enjoyed Ghilan’nain and Elgar’nan as villains though Ghilan’nain was more interesting with her molding the blight. Elgar’nan was compelling as a direct comparison to Solas with their pride and arrogance. Their dragons were cool though I really wondered how we were supposed to fight Elgar’nan’s dragon after seeing its size. The end solution did make my jaw drop but also made me chuckle after because I can’t imagine how else they would’ve had the player fight that. Again, I’m biased as I loved Solas as a character for all his complexities and flaws so I enjoyed any of his scenes and appearances. I especially enjoyed the story’s direction in terms of regrets and guilt. Prison sequence was a highlight to be sure. I will also say I really wasn’t expecting them to commit to main companion cast consequences at the end considering how safe they had played it to that point.

Gameplay was a welcome improvement to me over Inquisition. I played Inquisition for the first time about 3 years ago as a mage but I played it again in the last year as a rogue. Both times I played on easy difficulty because I found combat such a nuisance. I am biased as I prefer combat systems more in the realm of Witcher 3 and Breath of the Wild so this fit in with that if a bit busier. I played my Rook as a mage and I tended to use the ability wheel rather than the shortcuts because I needed the time to process and think about what I wanted to do, also the fact I kept switching companions and their abilities depending on the situation I couldn’t remember what abilities were mapped to what buttons. Dodge and parry didn’t feel the best, although I admit that could be fully on me (especially parry). For parry it constantly felt like there was a delay in pressing it though it could very well have been made worse depending on which tv my Xbox was connected to. My issue with dodge was the fact that after a double it basically left you halted with no momentum. Again, very possible it’s just a me thing and I need to “get good” but for how much certain encounters were chaotic enough to be constantly dodging it did become annoying especially if you get hit once and then get caught repeatedly. On normal difficulty as a mage, fights usually felt fair and doable with some more challenging than others depending on wave size or vulnerability paired with specific companions. There was only one fight in a miscellaneous side quest for a haunting that I got too annoyed with and even after trying multiple companion pairings I lowered the difficulty to just get it over with because I couldn’t be bothered. For a random side quest with no real story or likely payoff it didn’t feel worth it.

Now for the largest problem I had with this game: it’s gall to call it an RPG. I don’t expect or need Balder’s Gate level in every RPG game. But this didn’t feel like it even met the level of RPG that Inquisition offered. Whether it was world choices or companion choices very few things felt consequential. For the world, I can only think of 2 or 3 choices that I felt would have any change on the world one of which is literally just a 50/50 of which city is getting destroyed. And of course for the others you never saw or heard and real consequences or reactions aside from initially following the decision. There was nothing that made me second guess myself like deciding to forgive or banish the wardens like in Inquisition, who drinks from the well, the inquisitions fate. And for companion arcs, the choices all felt underwhelming and more a direct effect on gameplay/rewards than any story ramifications. There was never a moment that felt like it mattered to the companion story or their future interactions with me or others. Nothing that felt like it mattered like making Bull choose between his friends and the Qun, encouraging/dissuading Cullen from taking Lyrium, or having a hand in choosing the new Divine. A common thought I had throughout this game was it seemed really hard to get a “so and so disapproves”. There seemed to be more instances in Inquisition where decisions would inevitably be both approved and disapproved by various characters so it was never going to be a case of pleasing everyone. I remember seeing the disapprove notification maybe three times in Veilguard. The critique of the dialogue wheel is also very valid. There is no real choice as all options typically lead to the same outcome just with a different line. You can’t even really be mean or an asshole from what I could tell. Options were sincere, joking/less serious, and stern. None of this I think would’ve mattered as much if it weren’t for the fact this was advertised as a choice based RPG when that just isn’t the case and going in with those expectations is bound for disappointment.

As a last issue it had to do with romance. I liked Lucanis. I like him as a character and I like the voice actor’s delivery. There were lines of his that made me giggle and smile. But the overall writing of the romance and their moments sometimes came across as awkward with the subpar writing. There also wasn’t the same charm I got from Inquisition when at the base. Part of that comes from the lack of actual interactions of being able to talk with your companions in the lighthouse. I hate to keep comparing it but in Inquisition you could still talk to the characters even if they had no new dialogue. In that, you’d have the moments where Solas would call you vhenan or speak Elven or like in my second with Cullen you always had the stealing away for a kiss option. It just felt warmer in a way where in The Veilguard I would get a random one off line when I stood in front of Lucanis and, while some of them were sweet, the lack of player input and interaction caused more disconnect.

So overall as a game I think it’s a good buy assuming you go in with the right framing of what you’re going to be getting. A competent story, some interesting characters, good performance, good gameplay marred by a good helping of juvenile safe writing and lack of choice.

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

By Your Side Feet?

Nanami x GN! Reader

Summary: You're afraid of the dentist and your dutiful boyfriend finds a way to help

Words: 1387

Warnings: None! Just fluff, Nanami being the perfect sweetie he is

A/N: There's no specified gender, pronouns, race etc. The only thing specified is the fear of the dentist and how (I personally) feel about it, that's it! Just something super quick. I got inspired by @teddybeartoji (seriously go chek them out!! I love their fics) Toji dentist fic, made me think about how Nanami would look after you which I hope to remember next time I have to go to the dentist!

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“It’s still bothering you, isn’t it” came Kento’s warm voice. Tinged with concern and almost perceptible disapproval. You, however, were nervously smiling up at him, acting as if you hadn’t just been caught massaging your jaw, “no, no it stopped, don’t worry.” Of course, you both new you were lying, something the two of you agreed to never do with one another and had stuck to over the course of your 2 year relationship. So it would be reasonable for Nanami to be annoyed, angry, betrayed feeling, anything like that. However, you’re seemingly infinitely patient boyfriend, held nothing but worry in his eyes as he peered down at you. Letting out a soft sigh, he sat down beside you on the couch of your shared home, hand coming up to cup your cheek, “You need to go to the dentist my love, before it gets any worse.” The deep frown that settled across your lips as you shrunk away from his kind but determined gaze had Kento feeling bad, he knew you disliked the dentist, even he wasn’t a fan, but he also knew you were in agony. It had been 2 weeks now, chewing food on the other side, making pained expressions and tentatively rubbing at your jaw when you thought he wasn’t looking and worst of all was the way you had teared up as you brushed your teeth.

The nervous shake of your head as you spoke only made him frown more, “It’s fine, Ken, it’ll sort itself out.” “Love, please, the pain isn’t worth it to avoid the dentist, I’ll come with you if that’d help at all?” He coaxed gently, the other hand reaching out and gently curling around your wrist to pull you into him. As his fingers settled against your pulse, he realised your heart was racing, and now he had a matching frown, “You’re that afraid?” Tears were quick to flood your lash line as you ducked your head, a feeling of shame swirling in your gut as you whispered, “Yeah.” Nanami wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he rested his chin atop your head with a soft sigh.

He held you for a little while, waiting until you relaxed completely into him before speaking again, “Can you tell me why? Perhaps I can find some solutions for you, to make it easier.” With a deep sigh of resignation you tugged his hand into your lap, playing with his fingers to as you began to explain, “I never really worry about the pain, it’s never that bad, but the sensation of everything and how loud it all is just makes me so sick and always gives me a headache. Plus you can’t really move or anything, everything happens so fast and I never have a chance to prepare myself and even if you try to get them to stop they don’t always, just saying to hold on a bit longer. Just all of that is so overwhelming and makes me panic. Feels like I’m being tortured and can’t even move to get away. I know it’s stupid, but the fear and panic once it starts is just so all-consuming.” As you spoke, Kento listened intently, free hand gently rubbing along your back.

“First of all, it’s not stupid. Secondly, I had no idea it felt that way for you, for me its just, uncomfortable, but for you it sounds awful love, I’m so sorry.” He pressed a sot kiss to your temple, hoping to bring a bit more comfort. “I can come with you and we can ask about booking a longer appointment that way they can take their time. I can make sure they stop if you need a break and we can ask them to talk you through things so it’s not so fast. How does that sound?” Chewing nervously on your lip as you contemplated if that would actually help or not, eyes flickering up to meet his and relaxing a little again, “That could help.”

You’d spent the next hour talking about ways to make the whole thing easier on you, with the goal to make it tolerable more so than to fix it all. After that, Nanami had made an appointment for the following day and taking the day off work so that he could be with you the whole time as well as look after you afterwards. Despite all the preparation and talking, you were now sat in the dentist office, leg bouncing as you picked at your nails, mind reeling as the panicky feeling slowly climbed. Kento had signed you in and had just sat down beside you, hand coming to pry yours apart and interlock your fingers. “Breathe for me dear, deep breath in and hold, then out slowly, ready?” and he did as he asked of you, encouraging you to copy which you did. Between his calm hazel eyes and large warm hand encompassing yours, you felt that panic begin to subside, easing into a more manageable bubble of anxiety instead. That was until your name was called and it all came rushing back in an instant.

Nanami held your hand as you walked into the room, only letting go once you’d settled into the waiting dentists chair. He checked with the dentist before moving a chair over to sit by your feet, hand coming to rest on your ankle as a physical reminder he was there. The appointment took a long time, however every time you started to get jittery, Kento’s hands were massaging along your ankles and calves, the occasional softly spoken “You’re doing so well love” a reminder you weren’t alone. A reminder you weren’t trapped, that you could make it through. When you motioned for breaks the dentist listened after the first time where he had hesitated and was met with the clearing of Nanami’s throat and cold, stern look. The image would stay with you forever of you’re doting boyfriend, staring down your dentist and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips in response.

The second you were out of the chair, Nanami was pulling you in to his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “You did great, I’m so proud of you love, I love you.” And if the dentist and assistant were looking at you both funny, neither of you cared enough to notice, no, instead you were tucking yourself into him with a muffled “thankyou, I love you so much Kento, thankyou.” You walked back out, hand in hand, to pay for the appointment before leaving and climbing into the car. “Now, as promised, lets get that drink you love so much. We’ll order your favorite for dinner rather than lunch seeing as you’ll be numb for a little while” He mused, ruffling your hair as he pulled out of the clinic parking lot. “Hey, Ken, thankyou, really. You didn’t make me feel silly or childish, it sucked but it wasn’t as bad as it usually is so, thankyou.” He smiled, eyes flickering over to you before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers as he brought them up to kiss the back of your hand. “Of course, I love you, I’ll never treat your fears as silly or childish. I’m just glad I helped even a little bit.”

The rest of the day was spent doing things you loved while Kento babied you. Curled up in Kento’s arms on the couch with a comfort movie playing was a great way to spend your afternoon, it certainly helped the memory of the dentist fade quickly. So, as you curled up together in bed for the night, face peppered in kisses from Kento that had you giggling, you couldn’t help but feel nothing but love. Love for Kento Nanami, a man who would drop everything to make you feel better, who never once would belittle your fears, who thought you were simply the most beautiful human being ever and truly felt happy just to be in your presence. The love held for one another truly shone in times like this, where he knew everything that made you happy and comfy and where you felt safe and stronger with him by your side, or in this case, your feet.

[mythologicalmormon]

In light of recent events and my brother having a talk in sacrament tomorrow, I was reminded of a talk that I gave last year that focused on diversity and I thought y’all might appreciate it.

There is a story Jesus told about a Jewish man who was severely injured and left on the side of a road. Various travelers saw him and ignored him, including a Jewish priest. Although the injured man was of the same creed as the priest, the priest continued on his way with no regard for his fellow man. Eventually, a Samaritan man walked by. Now, Samaritans and Jews detested one another. The Samaritan’s preexisting bias would dictate that he, upon seeing the man was a Jew, ignore him as the previous travelers had. However, the Samaritan saw the man suffering and decided to help him no matter their personal and cultural differences. The Samaritan did what the other travelers chose not to and demonstrated true caring for one’s neighbors without regard for bias. The parable of the good Samaritan provides a valuable example for us. Would you take time out of your day to help someone in need, even if they belonged to a group of people whom you dislike or disapprove of? Are you willing to sacrifice your prejudice in an effort to help people belong in the church?

Our Heavenly Father loves diversity. When he created the earth, He did not make everything uniform and identical. He made millions of distinctive and unique species, plants, and other incredible creations. From seahorses to raccoons to peregrine falcons, the creatures on this earth are each special. The same goes for people. The assorted characteristics that differentiate us also make us human. Some of us are short, some of us are gay, some like reading, and others can wiggle their ears. God doesn’t love us in spite of our diversity, but because of it. He loves diversity. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made each one of us one-of-a-kind. He wants all of us to belong and to appreciate that which makes us special, just as He does.

Even within the church there is exceptional diversity. In the talk that I am referencing, The Doctrine of Belonging, Elder D. Todd Christofferson says quote “As the long prophesied latter-day gathering of the Lord’s covenant people gains momentum, the Church will truly be composed of members from every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.” When the church was restored, the first members were all white and of European heritage. But diversity is the natural result of having a widespread group, and as the church became more vast, so did the diversity within it. There are millions of members in this church that are of varying colors, backgrounds, genders, and sexualities. There are members who speak languages from the obscure to the well-known. There are members who have medical and mental health problems and members who speak with a stutter or a lisp. Our differences don’t make us less of God’s children, but some among us will belittle and alienate members who are unlike them. God invites all of his children and all of their diversity to partake in his covenants and return to him. We should follow in His example by loving diversity and striving to make everyone know that they belong in our Savior’s church.

Helping people feel and know that they belong in the church requires everyone to let go of their preconceived notions, judgments, and biases. Each and every one of us has prejudices. We discriminate based on serious things such aswhether or not a person has gone to prison or who someone voted for in an election, and we discriminate based on simple things like what music someone listens to or what type of clothes someone wears. Prejudice is often nothing more than a sweeping generalization that misrepresents a group of people. Within church culture, prejudice is unfortunately common and it is counterproductive to helping people feel like they belong in the kingdom of God. The general handbook for the church states, “Prejudice is not consistent with the revealed word of God. Favor or disfavor with God depends on devotion to Him and His commandments, not on the color of a person’s skin or other attributes. The Church calls on all people to abandon attitudes and actions of prejudice toward any group or individual.” When we are prejudiced against a person, we have a mental block that prevents us from helping that child of God feel like they belong. Prejudice gives way to unjustified judgment, which in turn can lead to members of the church feeling out of place in the one setting where they should feel completely at ease.

Everyone in this room, including myself, judges people. We judge people for how they dress when they attend church, how many children they have, how short or long their hair is, or how eloquently they speak, among other things. We may keep our judgment to ourselves, speak it behind someone’s back, or even tell it to their face. Elder Christofferson remarked on this, saying, quote “We may unwittingly impose expectations on others – or even ourselves – that are not the Lord’s expectations. We may communicate in subtle ways that the worth of a soul is based on certain achievements or callings”. In what subtle – or not so subtle- ways do you convey your judgments? When someone who does something you disapprove of walks into a room do you turn your body away from them and avoid including them?

As often as we may cast judgment upon others, it is not our place to do so. Judging our brothers and sisters both within these walls and outside them only splits the kingdom of God. We all sin and we all sin differently. There is a saying: Don’t judge others because they choose to sin differently than you do. Who are we to judge the sins of others? Just because we have opinions on proper etiquette, behavior, and beliefs it doesn’t mean that it is our place to enforce them. They remain opinions only. We will not always know all the details about a situation. We don’t know the circumstances surrounding why a couple has no children. We don’t know if the brother who doesn’t make eye contact has autism or another disorder that makes eye contact difficult. We don’t know what may have happened behind closed doors before a divorce. We don’t know if the sister who uses her phone during class needs to use it to be able to focus. Judging our neighbors can, and frequently does, drive our beloved brothers and sisters away from the church, whereas loving our neighbors as Jesus loves us will help them to know that they belong here with us.

Elder Christofferson also stated, quote, “It is a sad irony when someone, feeling he or she doesn’t meet the ideal in all aspects of life, concludes that he or she doesn’t belong in the very organization designed by God to help us progress toward the ideal”. Perfection does not happen in this life, and yet in church culture we often make it seem as if perfection is a prerequisite for salvation.Such an unreasonable expectation creates an unnecessary divide in the church. We do not have to do certain things to belong in this church. Every single person on this earth belongs in Heavenly Father’s kingdom, no matter their past sins, current situations, and future mistakes.

There are things that people believe are “required” to be a worthy disciple. Regarding the passing of the sacrament, some hold the belief that every young man must be clean shaven, devoid of jewlery, have short hair, and wear a white shirt and tie. The Lord, however has made it a simple act of reverence and service, with the only requirement being that, “Those who administer the sacrament should be well groomed and clean. They should not wear clothing or jewelry that might detract from the worship and covenant making that are the purpose of the sacrament.” This is an example of a church culture misconception and is only one of many others which are geared towards being perfect in this life. Every worthy and able young man has been asked to prepare for and serve a mission. However, serving a mission is not a requirement to hold the priesthood and to serve the Lord throughout their lives. We have been given free agency, and it is not our place to judge when an individual chooses not to serve a mission or when a missionary returns home early. Some members cannot fathom saying no to a calling even if they know that their personal circumstances would clearly be incompatible with the calling at that time. How are our sisters and brothers within the church supposed to know that they belong when we make them feel like they have to be this picture-perfect human being?

If we want to gather Israel, we cannot only minister to those whom we feel comfortable with. Our baptismal covenants did not say to “Bear our friends’ burdens and only our friends' burdens; mourn with only those whom we feel comfortable with; comfort only those whom we like.” They said to, “bear other’s burdens, that they may be light, mourn with those that mourn; and comfort those in need of comfort.” The language in our baptismal covenants does not exclude any of God’s children, so why do we?

When you see someone who doesn’t seem to be included, make a point to talk to them. If a brother or sister stops attending church, reach out to them. Show those around you that they belong, even if it means that you have to step out of your comfort zone. Don’t be afraid to be a voice for others when there’s an untoward joke or when someone is being talked about behind their back. Love those in need of love, even those nobody spares a glance for. Be like our Savior in all that you do, and you will show those around you how much they belong.

[holden-norgorov]

I think that's not exactly it, but you are moving closer to the point than most fans.

The anti-Xanderness comes from the double standard that somehow is fine for Buffy to aspire to a traditionally feminine ideal, but it's a problem for Xander to aspire to a traditionally masculine ideal. Both characters are mirrors to each other when it comes to the show's mission to play and deconstruct gender expectations, especially in the first seasons; but while Buffy gets always pitied by fans because of her inability to conform to a femininity she desperately wants to cling to (hell, I even see this referenced to as a greater character strength for Buffy, capable of setting her apart from other more conventional "I'm not like other girls" heorine types in fiction), Xander gets intensely villified because he longs to conform to traditional masculinity (which makes complete sense given his violent father, alcoholic family members and his own history of bullying).

Xander is hated for the same reason why Riley is hated: because both find some value in traditional masculinity and to some extent seek it or respect it, and that's unacceptable in today's day and age. That's, really, what all the criticism I have ever seen of them ultimately boils down to.

So here I am, almost thirty years since the show began, reading countless people's opinions about how "Cordelia deserved better than Xander" even though she had been his bully for years, and he had been her victim, and about how "Anya deserved better than Xander" even though she had been killing men for a thousand years, often in ways that were egregious and uncalled for, and about how Xander instead "deserves nothing" despite being the only reason Buffy survives Prophecy Girl at all, despite being willing to sacrifice himself to save Willow as early as in Inca Mummy Girl, despite being willing to be bombed out of existence to save everyone and not even feeling the need to say it in The Zeppo, despite refusing to sacrifice either Willow or Anya in Triangle and despite saving the entire world in Grave.

I once responded to someone who had shared a GIF on X of the famous sexy dance between Buffy and Xander in When She Was Bad with the caption "he wasn't worthy of a dance from her" and " he wasn't worth to even look in her direction". So I chimed in and pointed out how Xander was the only reason Buffy was even alive in that moment. Their response? "Who cares."

i feel like buffy and xander are both struggling with gender but like, from different angles?

buffy wants to be a typical girl, with the hair and the dates and the boys and the dresses. that's the life she wants, but instead she's the strong one, the protector, the fists. she's the one having to make the tough calls, she's the one who can't commit and can't say i love you, two traits that are typically given to male characters.

she struggles against this the whole series, the forced masculinisation of herself that comes with being a slayer.

meanwhile xander is the more feminine-coded one of the group- he's the damsel in distress, the one who needs protecting and saving, he's the heart. he's the one who goes to buffy and talks to her about her relationship with riley, something that could have easily come from willow but xander noticed and had the talk.

xander's the one staying at home and cleaning while buffy is out saving the world. he's struggling with what it means to be a man in the late 90s and early 00s, especially coz he doesn't have the role models he wants or needs- not his father and not even really Giles to an extent, since Giles is the one watching and not acting, but that's not the kind of man xander wants to be.

maybe this is where a lot of the anti-xander-ness comes from in a modern re-watching of buffy. coz it's more acceptable for a woman to struggle with the pros and cons of womanhood than it is for a man to struggle with being perceived as weak or girly. (and i'm saying woman and man here but for most of the series these characters were teenagers).

[louisinart]

rewatching ofmd s1 and I'm absolutely blown away by how much Jim comes into themselves by the end of season two. Knowing the character they become its really stunning to see how disengaged and cynical they are at the start of it all.

Their motivations are almost entirely reactive, to escape Spanish jackie and then to live out their nanas dream of justice. The while time they are in survival mode, moving quickly and efficiently and quietly. Ultimately, moving how they were trained to and nothing else. Because it works! It works so well that I didn't consider something might be missing.

But in season two they're made to be messy, loud. They are stuck on Ed's Breakdown Ship and so have to act differently than they ever have. Not just because they are yelling and screaming and covered in blood cutting a guys leg off, either. They're connecting and caring and critiquing and supporting, they're emotionally engaged in a real way that they very much weren't in season 1. Every day on Ed's ship is horrible, but at least they're present for it. Every day pushes them to be in survival mode but they refuse. They tell fang a story, they kiss Archie back. When Ed says "kill or die" they say "no."

And then, after all that, when they finally get to rest again? Yeah, it's a rough transition, but once they get through it they're absolutely fucking teeming with life. They're painting on a mustache, they're creating conspiracies, they're crossing boundaries to get olus girlfriend back. When the dust settles Jim is inhabiting themselves in a way we haven't seen in the show previously. There is a richness to their character that feels incredibly natural and earned, to the point that I didn't even notice it until I went back to season one and realized how lost they were.

Its pretty obvious that this show is about Ed and stedes collective mid life crisis, but it wasn't until now that I realized its also Jim's coming of age

[guidingthulite]

guys if the next n25 event is kanade5 and kanade helps mizuki in a way no one else could because kanade is what brought n25 together in the first place and gives mizuki strength to face her fears can you all go "alma you're so smart" and "alma we love you and your infinite wisdom" and "alma i'm going to draw kanamizu for you"

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[soo-won]

Hi!! I’ve been following your tumblr and Twitter for a while now and I love all your akayona analyses. ❤️ I remember your rambles about headcanoning Suwon as transmasc/transfem? Could I hear more abt that? It’s rlly cool cause I feel he’s portrayed in an incredibly gender neutral light, in comparison to many other male leads :)

Thank you so much for wonderful ask! I'm glad you like my analysis :') Idk who you are but thank you for the support!!

And yeah! I headcanon Suwon as non-binary and there is a lot to unpack about his gender imo...I very much believe akayona has a lot to say about gender especially through Yona and Suwon's characters, and in that Suwon being a man and Yona being a woman is thematically important. But the way the story presents this theme in Suwon's character in his struggle (or lack of) with balancing between "masculinity" and "feminity" can make him easily readable as trans. Transfem or transmasc and every nuance in between.

I've also been headcanoning him as non-binary from before the manga truly explored these aspects only because I'm non-binary and I related to him too so it's not that deep. But as you said he is portrayed more gender neutrally than most male characters of the cast from the beginning and I think it's worth exploring. Whether he's gender non confirming in universe is interesting to discuss too, because you have other characters like Joon-gi for example, but he's at least not really traditionally masculine from our standards when you first see him.

(Long post under the cut)

But as much as it doesn't have to be that deep, I'm also convinced it actually is and that's why I'm entering character analysis territory here, so please stay with me ahah. When I think about Suwon's gender, I just can't not think about his parents and what they represent to him and how that ties to his overall character arc. Yuhon and Yonhi are pretty much the "ideal" symbols of traditional masculinity and feminity we have in the story in their gender roles and the values associated with them. Suwon is one of the rare character we have a glimpse of both parents that lived long enough for him to remember and be impacted by both. This sounds silly but basically Suwon's gender is like,, if a man and a woman had a baby to me fnbkjhbgkjhbgh.

In universe, Yuhon represents strength, courage and reason. He is the traditional and ideal male. He is bold, brash, dominant. He is the parent Suwon deeply admires and longed to be like, and that he then took upon himself to replace after his passing. He's the figure everyone in Kouka remembers positively as a competent and strong leader. He's the parent that taught Suwon to see people as pieces on a chessboard and to always be pragmatic, to make the most effective and straightforward decisions. Suwon inherented some of these traits himself, but the entire struggle of his character is that he isn't and cannot exactly be his father, that he can't follow in his father's footsteps (or what he thinks they are) as much as he and the people around him would like. This ideal masculinity represented by Yuhon is not something Suwon is able to achieve and that we should wish for. The other side of the coin is dominance and violence, it's stealing the agency of others with no regard to their person, it's causing a chain of pain and more violence. Suwon, ultimately, cannot and shouldn't respond to all these expectations. They're not him. Because he is also Yonhi's son, which he tried to cover as much as he can as a King.

Because in contrast, Yonhi represents the "ideal femininity" that is passive, sentimental and kind. Her assigned role was only to serve Yuhon and Suwon, and had no power for much else. In appearance, she's the ideal wife and mother. She is conventionally very feminine, we see her with different garments, accessories and haircut in every scene, hinting that it's something she likes (especially when you compare with Kashi)... She's kept in the dark about Yuhon's secrets and all he does when he leaves the castle and fights on the battlefield. She has no agency. She is the parent forgotten by all, never mentioned even by Suwon, who died with nothing to her name. She is the parent that didn't want Suwon to kill Il but to think about Yona, she is the one who taught him about kindness. (i also mentionned yuhon and yonhi's respective legacy here)

And the irony is, physically Suwon is almost a copy of his mother. At first glance, Suwon is in general much more like her than he is like Yuhon. Suwon is pretty and cute, and is assumed to be weak, passive, and lacking in general as a warrior. Suwon, who wishes he was like his father, looks "nothing" like him and actually looks like his very feminine mother. And the thing is, what makes him so gender ambiguous is that he actually embraces that. Suwon uses his appearance and plays with the perception others have of him so they underestimate him (Geuntae, Soojin, Li Hazara,...) he has a very similar haircut as his mother, is interested in swordfight, tactics, but he's also into flowers, tea and sweets, he wore clothes with flower and butterflies patterns before his coronation (which is not supposed to be only a women thing of course but in universe I don't have any other example of male characters having those so I take it into account), he interacts with other female characters like a peer that share the same interests, too. He is first perceived the same way as Il and the opposite of his father or warriors like Geuntae, Mundok or Hak. He isn't like Il or Yonhi though, and that's what makes him not entirely feminine either, he actually proves himself as a man to these people after all.

But even as a child, Suwon took up the role of a mother for Yona like it was the most natural thing in the world. And in a similar fashion he also took up the role of Yuhon to "take care" and "protect" his mother, and to lead Kouka. Suwon is able to navigate both feminine and masculine roles depending on what is the most fitting to the situation at hand, and he achieves that with little struggle. This is probably the point that makes him so gender fluid? He's fine with both, it feels natural to him, this is what differentiates him from his parents' image shackled by very stereotypical gender norms. It's definitely what makes him so unique and himself. Suwon is always described as having equal interests and curiosity for everything and everyone, and it plays a part in this as well. In a world where interests are gender divided, where women are encouraged to have interest in love, fashion, luxuries and where the men are rather into sword training or studies, Suwon who can jump from one to the other with ease, like gender doesn't matter feels especially liberating.

But Suwon is actually still shackled and not immune to patriarchy and it all ties to the meaning behind the position of a King. Suwon loved his mother, and he sincerely loved Yona before the coup just like she was for being cute and kind and bringing him warmth. "Feminity" isn't a sin or bad to Suwon, he even values it. However, for him and many others in universe, all these things are unfitting for a King, like...he likes it, but he thinks he doesn't need it for his goal. Which leads us to King Il.

Suwon values "feminity" and is aware of that part of himself, but rejects it when he has to act as a King. "Masculinity" is about being strong, strong enough to protect, and being "feminine" puts you in a position of weakness and powerlessness. I don't think it's a coincidence that he inherited his illness from his mother either, which literally puts him in a position of vulnerability and weakness that he absolutely hates and tries to cover up. Feminity is fine for women and the roles assigned to them, they are lovely as they are, left behind but where they can keep being kind and sentimental while the strong men go to battle and manage affairs, basically. Kouka is a patriarchal society with all these norms being continuously enforced, and where being King was exclusively a masculine position until recent development. Before Suwon ascended to the throne, Yona was the first heir, yet the position of next ruler after her father wasn't to be given to her, but whoever would be her future husband. Yona would have been only a Queen, not one with particular ruling power, but in the sense of being the wife of the King, the same way Kashi was.

So then, Il appears as a failure as a King. He's the example and proof to Suwon that "feminity" is not compatible with the position and that he has to differentiate from him in every way. Suwon liked Il for his kindness and believed in him until he killed his father and proved to be uncompetent as a ruler. Il's kindness and reliance on the divine are unreasonable and based on emotionalism for Suwon. His refusal to use any weapon makes him a coward and weak, and waiting for the gods to save them makes him passive...It's what led Kouka to the sad state it was at the beginning of the story.

To Suwon, feelings, kindness, traits associated with feminity as we've seen, make him weak. He doesn't need it. It's what makes him reluctant and risks to deviate him from his goal and duties as a King. He can't afford to feel for Yona or anyone, he has to take the most efficient decisions with no remorse for people's feelings and especially not his. This is why Yona is so important and the lead of Akatsuki no Yona. Yona redefines what we associate with either masculinity and feminity. Strength, kindness, sentimentality, reason...They're all needed, they don't have to, and they shouldn't be divided so strickly and imposed on people based on their gender and roles. (Especially when it's obviously girls and women suffering from it the most). This divide between Yona and Suwon doesn't have to be, Suwon takes time to accept it, to accept Yona to enter his chessboard and value her as an equal and not just because she's kind and cute. And in doing so, it opens the door for him to also accept his own feelings, his own "weaknesses". Feelings and kindness actually hold so much power, they can actually make you stronger, that's what made Yona and Hak so bright to his eyes from the start, even if it took him long to fully realize it.

I feel like I deviated from the initial topic, but it's all important I swear. It doesn't mean Suwon gave up all his old ways either, he still embraces what he learned and admired in his father, not everything was forced upon him and I believe he genuinely connected with his father's vision. But it's about balancing this with the things he was convinced he had to reject and discard all this time.

That said, here are some examples of how it opens the door for transmasculine and transfeminine interpretations of Suwon's character arc, there can be others of course, but those are the ones I naturally came up with thinking about all this:

If you read Suwon's story as a transmasculine experience, it clicks. From how he was "cute as a girl" in his childhood to the experience of feeling like to be a man, to pass as a man, you have to reject everything that is associated with feminity and force yourself to accept masculine values that are just not your real self, to then realize you don't have to do all that to be a man and it's fine to embrace your "feminity" too. (Btw I really encourage you to read the Requiem of the Rose King manga that is explicitely about this topic!)

If you read Suwon's story as the transfeminine experience, it clicks too. Suwon feeling like he has to and being pushed to follow in his father's footstep when that's just not his real self. The way that he represses his self, the metaphor of closed box and how he locks his true self and feelings into them, until it becomes too much and he can't ignore it anymore. That being a man is not for him, and he doesn't have to be.

Of course, you can also read him as a cis man that is more or less gender non-conforming, or in any nuance of non-binarity in between, but in conclusion, that's what makes Suwon so gender to me. (and again, you don't need any of what I wrote in this post to headcanon him however you want)

There is also something to say about how he's "lacking as man" in how he has no romantic or sexual interest in women, if you take into account all the junctions between gender and heteronormativity that I didn't really bring up here. This point always made him really stand out to me, but Suwon's sexuality is such a Topic I didn't want to adventure myself into today ahah.

[one-time-i-jumped-off-a-cliff]