#actually fucking treated each other like. human beings????
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Probably very few could say why they are loveless. We understand where, like...5% maybe of human identity and behavior comes from. When so much of it is learned and taught, there's just so many undefinable and unknowable variables. I don't know why I am the way I am any more than you probably do. I can pick apart bits and pieces, but I can't tell you what lead to most of me turning into me.
I can tell you why I chose to identify with loveless: because love has always been a foreign and uncomfortable concept to me. When I was younger, it was meaningless. It was a phrase my mother said to me because that's what moms are supposed to say, and my mother was great at playing this role society has assigned her. Learning to say 'I love you' to my mom was like learning to say my name. It's just something I needed to know, I guess.
Then I started getting a bit older and more people, like friends, started using it, and I never got that. What did they mean? How could they know they loved me? What even was love? Love was a word I was taught, but I had no idea what the actual concept was supposed to be. I guessed I loved my family because they were my family, and I lived with them, and that's what you were supposed to do. But taking such a heavy, serious word and applying it to friends? Seemed like too much responsibility. What if I was wrong and I didn't love them? What did being loved by them entail from me?
So I never really said "love" outside of a familial context, where I only really said it because that's what was expected of me. I never understood love or connected with it. The idea of people loving me didn't feel good. It felt scary and overwhelming and confusing. In media, love always seemed to be constrained to parents/children and people who loved each other romantically/sexually. I didn't experience sexual attraction, so I didn't think I could love anyone.
Then I discovered asexuality and the split attraction model, and romanticism opened up as a possibility for me, and I eventually got into a relationship.
I thought I loved him. I really did. I thought giving him all of myself, folding myself into these impossible knots and cutting away all the pieces of me he didn't like (which seemed to be all of them) was love. I thought completely changing myself to be smaller and submissive was love. But it turns out he was abusive and incapable of loving me. He manipulated my feelings. That wasn't love. It was a fucking trauma bond.
Then I found loveless. What a relief. Another discovery that I'm not broken: I'm just different. It doesn't make sense to me because I don't feel that way. I don't have to love to care about people or treat them with respect or work to make the world a nicer and safer place. I don't have to love to be the person I want to be.
Being loveless means respecting my own feelings and living authentically, not trying to fit a mold that was never made for me.
Can loveless aro/aces explain to me why/how they are loveless? Not that I don't think y'all are real, I just want to understand further.
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one of the most important aspects to be learnt of being a political thinker online, a passive or active viewer of sociopolitical discourses and marginalization, is that just because you find someone to be “wrong” on a subject, have a bad take on a words definition or have shitty political/strategic takes, or just be fucking annoying to you personally, doesn’t make them stop being from the same marginalized group or group-of-groups as yourself. tragically sometimes a comrade-in-arms also just fucking sucks without it being a cishetero bourgeois psyop or a more-particularly-advantaged-yet-still-marginalized-group punching down. like there can be “self-hating” people from demographics actively trying to oppress said demographics but 9 times out of 10 Kaleb from My Discourses isn’t a Dennis Prager rubbing elbows with literal nazis he’s just that dipshit who thinks Judaism as a social category necessitates matrilineal affiliation (even though the people that actively hate Judaism as a social category don’t conceive of it as such). For example I mean.
this should really go without saying but good fucking god my own time in the ‘strangers with a word or two in common trying to kill each other online’ trenches neeeeded
#yes this is about queer community discourse#(most) about anyway i mean. i literally talked about a judaism thing in the post lol#realizing this has felt like a gigantic fucking burden got lifted off my shoulders. like oh yeah sometimes you can just dislike a line#of rhetoric without it being a fucking calamity that invalidates other peoples places in the broader ‘community’.#the fact i can care IS important to some extent but what still matters more is that The -Archs rarely if ever actually care that much#regaurdless of what a sapphic calls themselves they’d still be lit on fire by the deathsquads for degeneracy as much as the rest of us#just because some dipshit thats personally loathsome on an individual scale takes any criticism of the use of ‘queer’ as a personal attack#doesn’t remove the fact that theyre still just as fucking fallible as the rest of us#like this doesn’t remove how i feel about these subjects. some labels are fucking redundant and shitty and yes-actually-invalidating of#other peoples definitions (most importantly MINE hahaa!) but jesus h fucking christ i haven’t seen a ‘bad actor’ on these subjects in years.#it was only ever the discorse itself really that alerted and enabled people to get noteworthily bad about. like#anything. even setting aside vaguing bi lesbian as a label (sorry) EVERY FUCKING DISCOURSE THAT ISN’T ‘hey this person doxxed someone’ or#or ‘hey these are closed fucking religious practices/stereotypes/slurs’ has been like that!!!#ace discourse was a fucking hellscape and i genuinely just don’t think the problems would have happened there on either side if people#actually fucking treated each other like. human beings????#some of THAT came down to trying to compare opressive forces against even the other acronymal identities is a politically disturbing underta#aking in its own right. we can barely talk fucking humanely about the intersections of transphobia abd homophobia throw amatonormativity on#the mix and expecting 2015 tumblr to be civil is like hand ak-47s to middle schoolers. urk.#so basically i’m the smartest and bestest because i can acknowledge and respect my own biases while still recognizing them AS biases and#try to always keep the broader political climate in mind when considering topics that are ‘hot button’ to myself uwu#i’m basically just like noah from the bible i’m so virtuous i’m going to start a big zoo in a boat now
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I hate you sanitized batfamily. I hate you clean cut dynamics and quickly resolved conflict through honest and open communication. I hate you erasure of tragedy and complexity and toxicity.
insane ramblings below ⬇️⬇️
#I LIKE THE MESS#they can get along and have their little weekly get togethers and sleep in each others beds and comfort each other and such but its RARE#only some of them are super affectionate w each other and only some of them are open emotionally so that when they are actually getting#along it means more#no household run by bruce fucking wayne is going to be healthy even a little bit#more often than not batfamily affection looks like patching up wounds or covering case file reports or making an excuse to join someone on#their patrol#most of it is indirect bcs none of these mfs know how to express or feel feelings in a way that doesnt involve explosions#THYEV HURT EACH OTHER IN THE PAST AND THATS WHAT MAKES IT FUN!!!!!!#i prefer stephs character with her being treated like shit by even bats that i am a huge fan of bcs it adds layers to their characters#not only does it make them more human but it makes stephs later triumph as batgirl/spoiler all the more meaningful#no more clean pure sanitized found family please#its like that one post where its like the bats have more incommon w a traditional 'blood related' family in the sense that they arent#together by choice or common interest but because of batman and the mission#i like it more when they find love snd understanding of each other within that dynamic#thought bubbles#the haunted house#batfam#batfamily#dc comics
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god the idea of a version of spn where uriel survives until the end is fascinating to me actually. i feel like part of the problem with castiel's character is that he's so disconnected, you'll get an angel a season there to work as castiel's parallel and then they're killed off and never brought up again. but uriel? the first one we see him with? who is so diametrically opposed to castiel in s4?
if he makes it to s5, does he team up with lucifer? he'd be the only angel that we know of who does. Abandon All Hope, but it's not castiel meeting a stranger, but Castiel also meeting with someone he considered a friend, who he would still consider a brother, and still having to tell him no. and Uriel throws his lot in with Lucifer, and that means he has to spend more time with demons? is there any part of him that looks at them and realizes that everyone on both sides is serving a god that doesn't want to look at them.
s6!! Lucifer lost!!! and that makes Uriel a traitor to Heaven so he can't go to Raphael, no matter how their goals may almost align (in the opening of the Cage, less so in who they're opening it for) and he can't go to Castiel! too much bad blood! too much betrayal! Where do you go during a civil war when both sides would prefer you dead?
Look, I don't know where this is going, but what I'm saying is, wouldn't it have been interesting to see Castiel and Uriel evolve as characters alongside each other. We know Castiel before Heaven gets blown to bits and falls, and that's why seeing the effects on him hurt so bad, the way he just loses more and more of what he tried to once save, uncovers more and more of how Heaven has been hurting angels. Just one other angel to react to that in a similar way but with a completely different viewpoint would have made it even more effective, and Uriel is perfect for that.
(I mean, in my mind, this ends as I always wish the whole heaven and angels arc in spn had, where those left over finally come together, look at the ruins that have been brought about, and take what they have been forced to learn to work together and build something better. rather than. you know. handing the reins to a three year old.)
#spn#supernatural#uriel spn#castiel spn#im not going to pretend uriel isnt an asshole. he is. have you considered this could be a good trait#spn but castiel has one 'friend' who looks at how he's being treated and goes. fuck this actually.#(they are not really friends. not anymore. but they are also two of the last angels. so who else do they have)#if we have to sit through multiple seasons of sam & dean going... yeah but. things that aren't human aren't worth protecting.#then it seems fitting to have a constant character to go 'actually everything that isn't human is fine. you all fucking suck.'#neither of them are right! big plot twist! spn but actually everyone deserves to live lmao#but actually have them fucking confront these things with each other.#with castiel at the center. just trying to mediate this. mostly failing.#NO WAIT IM THINKING ABOUT HUMAN!CAS ARC#BUT INSTEAD OF THAT RANDOM ANGEL GETTING CALLED BY CAS' SUICIDAL THOUGHTS#ITS URIEL. URIEL 'i'll kill her gentle' about anna being human SPN. LIKE. FUCK! THAT'S COMPELLING!#sorry im rambling about him he is so fun. he's a cunt. more characters should be and then not be punished by the writers.
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--// Imagining Najma saying "I don't date humans anymore." gives me real "I'm done with men 💅" energy. ))
#ooc#having a bad mornafternoon need to imagine naj doing something silly#naj like: I am done with humans 💅#set: You have scheduled lunch with Dr. Janssens and you don't even eat#They're done with humans because humans treat them like a curiosity a commodity a care unit a lesser person etc.#being around a pair of omnics and interacting heavily with other omnics for the first time is making them develop standards#sadly they are still care-oriented and will perform their function but they aren't made to look after omnics while Set is#so they have to heavily get used to being the one receiving care and puzzle out how to reciprocate it they've decided to do so by...#letting set fucking rest#they just mutually check on each other from time to time after a while in Talon#set is more used to being checked on by others and they have experience with care units needing to adjust to people looking after them#so set is really quite patient about it all#about najma#about setesh#they actually link with Set sometimes allowing set to better know when they're in distress or having other problems
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Doomsday // Конец Света (2022)
Varvara 'Varya' Bazhenova & Azazello 'Azik' Mitrohin
- Why didn't you tell me about all of this?
- Because you fell for a demon. For the beautiful and magnificent one!
- Are you dumb? I fell for someone who talked to me when nobody else gave a shit and who looked at me differently!
- And you don't care for who I am?
- And you left me because of this?
- I didn't. I just... panicked. I felt awful, scared, anxious and...
- It's completely normal. You're human now, remember?
#I don't understand how but it seems like creators INTENTIONALLY made them a queer couple with Azik being coded as enby/trans and also ace#they also directly specified that Varya is an intersectional feminist and I was so glad to hear that#and I suspect that one of the reasons they specified it was for her relationship with Azik to work#exactly because of queer implications#AND I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING. this shit was actually depicted there!#there. in a russian tv-series about about Satan coming to Moscow to create the Apocalypse.#this shit is crazy! but so fucking nice!#and it's kinda funny how queer implications don't go away even after Azik is turned human#although it was made under very unfortunate circumstances but him losing his demon status is treated like gender assignment surgery#that he has a lot of complexes and emotions about and that's the reason why Varya saying that it's okay to feel this way is damn important#listen. I know all of this because here we constantly use supernatural elements to talk about stuff we're not allowed to talk about.#and this series is FUCKING FULL of things we're not allowed to talk about.#Azik and Varya and their relationship are just a VERY small part of what this series actually has to offer.#(also: once again we make a couple that looks straight from the outside but is actually queer on the inside assdfgh)#off topic: I'm kinda sad that they cut their first kiss scene. it was meant to show how sincere and vulnerable they're around each other#😭😭😭 why can't we have nice things?!?!?!#anyway... Vladimir Kanuhin and Ekaterina Novokreshenova did an excellent job with their characters! ♥️💙#doomsday (2022)#конец света (2022)
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#meow meow meow i have a rant to spill and then hopefully i can get back to work#i don't even really know how to start bc im trying g to keep it vague but if you spend even a second of time with me in real like you will#know exactly what i am talking about lmao#i just don't understand how it is physocaply possible for one person to be so misunderstood#like how the fuck do i know this much about a person I've met twice?#im actually losing my marbles#does no one pay attention? does no one care?#i should not be so surprised that these people are treated as objects and characters despite being literal real life humans#however#i fear that my faith in humanity is dwindling like a lot#i don't know how i managed to do this but like seriously for realizing don't think i can do fandom anymore#like at this point these are just real life people to me#and seeing harmless tags like weird video and posts critiquing every little thing#like what someone is wearing and how a surprise isn't surprising hard enough#like is nothing good enough for you? does everything in the whole world have to cater to your specific tastes exactly otherwise its no good?#what ever happened to art for arts sake?#about making each other laugh and cry because its a primal instinct?#about letting our souls connect through the mortifying ordeal of being known and seen?#anyway#im feeling better now but damn
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i wish i wasnt so scared of everything
#i wanna protest and shit but im a pussy and scared of getting in trouble#and i have no way of actually going to one and i dont even know where there is one#i wanna make a fucking difference in the world but how do i even do that#i can barely order my own food how tf am i going to fix the world#and i know that there are others who want to fight for the same things i do so im not alone#but i cant help but feel alone when the only people who feel this strongly about wanting to change the world seem to only exist in history#i know that there are people out there who feel the same way as me but they all seem to have that military mindset#yk thinking of people not as individuals but as an amalgamation of humans#to really make a difference you have to challenge everything they dont want you to challenge#if you see all people as a whole you see the same thing rich fucks do but if you see people as individuals with lives you are challenging it#we arent just disposable like rich white men think we are#we have to treat each other like real human beings and not as part of a statistic#humans werent meant to have this big of a society because at the end of the day we are mammals#you dont see wolves being in packs of millions you dont see any animal doing that and we are all just animals#so if we want to make this big fucking society work everybody has to have the same ammount of power#but with greedy fucks cant let that happen or else theyre just another brick in the wall#anyways im done rambling#i hope you guys understand at least a bit of this is you cared to read
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There really is no better example of the racism of low expectations when certain far leftists criticise condemnation of the fucking Taliban as “peak white liberal feminism.” Women and girls in Afghanistan are being systematically removed from public life, denied the right to education, freedom of movement, of dress, even the right to speak in public or to each other. Animals have more rights than women under the Taliban.
And then you have these arseholes saying it’s imposing Western cultural mores on non Western societies to care about the welfare of these women, as if Afghan men couldn’t possibly be expected to know how to treat women like fucking human beings and they have the audacity to hold themselves up as “anti racist.” You’ve clearly shown what an incredibly low opinion you actually have of non white and non Western cultures if you think the situation in Afghanistan is remotely normal or indicative.
It’s absolutely putrid.
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DC X DP - Mirrors
Did Danny want to live in Gotham? No, of course not. Did he have a choice? Nope. When does he ever?
Now, he may be technically homeless, but he's also technically dead, so human laws technically don't apply to him. So, naturally, he pics out an empty mansion so big even if the owners were to come home, the chances they'd run into each other would be really low, and settles in.
This 'mansion' happens to be Drake Manor. Look, Danny lived in nowhere Illinois and kinda had his hands full dealing with ghosts, a double life, bullies, and being actively hunted. He doesn’t know much about celebrities. If you tell him the name of someone super famous, it might sound vaguely familiar, but that's about it. What he knew was superheroes and vigilantes (some of them, okay, give him a break). That's about it.
So the name Drake in connection with Gotham didn't ring any alarm bells. He did some surface level research: the Drakes are dead, survived by their only child, Timothy Drake-Wayne, who now owns their house but was adopted by some other super rich guy called Bruce Wayne and doesn't live in it, leaving it empty for the foreseeable future.
It was the perfect place!
Danny didn't explore much, partly because he didn't care to and partly because he was too tired to from healing. He cleaned up after himself, used only his bedroom (chosen for being tucked way back and out of the way), the attached bathroom, and the theatre occasionally as a treat. He lived off of the provisions packed for him, ectoplasm and water from the sink.
Cut to, few weeks in.
Danny's got a new routine, he's taken his stitches out, and is still super fucked up, but a lot better than when he arrived. He hasn't been outside since he arrived, but ghosts don't need Vitamin D anyway. Is he slightly depressed? Maybe. But he's also dead, so, bigger priorities.
Tim is looking through his stuff for something or other, and it occurs to him he probably left it next door. He hasn't been to Drake Manor in months, but he sort of really needs this thing, so he sucks it up and borrows a car because like hell is he walking the several miles from this front door to that one.
He goes to his old bedroom, opens the door, and comes face-to-face with himself.
And Danny doesn't know what he's supposed to do in this situation.
Listen, Danny doesn't always make the best decision in the moment. It's a very normal flaw to have! So he tells who can only be Timothy Drake-Wayne himself when asked, that his name is Timothy Drake, and this is his house, and, actually, who are you and how did you get in?
This causes Tim to assume Danny is himself from another dimension who he accidentally dragged to his dimension by messing with the Time Stream to get Bruce back. Danny continues to accidently fuel this misunderstanding without meaning to.
(This is not helped by the fact that a DNA test doesn't disprove this. Danny's DNA is corrupted, but what Tim does get is identical to himself. This is how Danny finds out he was adopted, and how Tim, much later when misunderstandings are cleared, meets the identical twin brother he never knew he had.)
#dc x dp#dc x dp prompt#tim and danny are twins#neither of them know it#tim thinks danny is himself from a parallel universe#or something along those lines#danny is an idiot#tim is an idiot#but like smart idiots#danny has no idea how the terrible bluff ended up working out but he's glad the cops haven't been called#danny is playing along#tim is a great detective#but clockwork is also a meddling dick#and danny has ridiculous luck#it's either really good or really bad#usually really bad#misunderstandings#danny phantom#danny fenton#dpxdc#tim failing at keeping danny secret from his brothers#bruce being emotionally constipated#probably#i mean that man is not mentally okay
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Thinking about Wade's life and his mental health issues a lot, and I just thought about this. Not only being abused, but his entire brain being made out of cancer, and the fact that oxygen was physically taken from his brain over the course of 2+ days multiple times?
We see him coloring a lot and claim multiple times that he doesn't/ can't read (this is probably a bit, I guarantee he can read), but it had me thinking what if some days were more childish then others as part of his coping mechanisms?
At first, Logans was really confused about why Althea puts up with it until he realizes that it's extremely good for him to just... be taken care of? Praised and given affection for the bare minimum? He thinks it's weird. This wasn't the same man he was fighting with yesterday.
Coming into the living room, he sees Wade sprawled out with crayons and markers all around him with multiple pictures already coloured, his notebook having pages ripped out of it as he kicks his feet and hums.
On the tv, there are cartoons playing. Once in a while, he'll look up at the tv and then go back to coloring. "What are you doing??"
"Hi wolvie. 'm colouring."
"He's behaving, so don't ruin it." Al says. There's pictures by her, and she is holding a box of cereal.
"O..kay??" Sitting down, he's almost too curious to just walk away, picking up puppins so she doesn't ruin his drawings, petting her confusedly.
Sometimes, Al will hold out some cereal in her hand. "Wade." And he will see him shimmy over and take the cereal. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, baby."
As hes scooting back to his color spot he stops and watches the tv for a bit longer then usual.
"...What.. the fuck." Logan says to her and she gives him a brow raise. "What?"
"What is he doing?"
"He's coloring. And I thought I was the blind one."
"No no I mean.. those aren't murder plans. That's puppins."
"Yes? And?"
"And.. what did you do to him?"
"Treated him like a human being. Give it a try once inawhile." She says, and he comes back with more pictures, climbing in between them with no regard for space as he leans into her.
"Oh thank you. What is it?"
"It's you."
"Oh? How sweet. Do I look good?"
"Mhm!"
"Im glad. How about you show our friend here your amazing pictures. And he better be nice!"
So wade turns and now is leaning on logan as he points to a different picture. One of Logan with Puppins on a leash with a sun in the corner and crappy grass, a hearts all over the place.
At first he wants to tell him to get off of him, but seeing the pictures and how excited his eyes were to show him, it hits him and he understands.
".. uhm.. thank you?" But he puts it back in his hand. "Oh- you want me to keep it?"
Wade nods and starts cleaning up his crayons.
Logan turns to whisper to Al "How long does this go on?"
"About 2 hours or so."
"Why?"
"God only knows, but it helps with his nightmares."
"Colouring helps with his nightmares??"
"Its more then that. Hey sweetheart? Why don't you bring your ponys out."
"Theyre horses."
"Oh im sorry, my mistake. I think logan here wants to play horses."
Logan gives her a look like excuse me? When did I sign up for that? "No.. uhm.. I think im good."
Wade gets this look of sad innocence but goes to get them anyway, beginning to play by himself, brushing them and making them talk to each other quietly. As if he speaks any louder, he would get hit.
Logan groans and is like "Gimme a fucking horse.."
From then on, Logan is quick to understand what's happening and is much nicer to him, starts giving him snacks, buying him actual coloring books, and has pinned his drawings to the fridge each time he's gifted one. His horses name is Buttercup, by the way.
#logan howlett#wade wilson#Althea Anderson#blind al#mary puppins#dogpool#sfw regression#sfw interaction only#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#deadpool#deadpool 3#worst wolverine#is the best wolverine#“He doesn't quite get it but he has the spirit” Caretaker Logan Howlett#colouring book#buttercup the horse
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Humans are Made to be Pets
"I don't fucking believe you." I laughed in response. I mean, how could I not? I've been perfectly fine as an independent for years. I've made plenty of friends (independents, affini, AND florets), but my favorite friend was definitely Her.
Jaz was an oldbloom of some kind. She refused to tell me the actual number, and I wasn't going to press it. But you bet your ass I was going to outright deny it when she says some Bloomer-ass bullshit like, "Humans are made to be pets, Petal~"
She tilted her head, as if surprised. "Did no one tell you, dear?" I frowned.
"What do you mean exactly?"
Jaz hid a chuckle behind some vines. "Flower, I've been around for a while. I've seen thousands of species. Some of them were almost extinct by the time we found them, and some were far more technologically advanced than the Accord ever was. But out of all of them -all of them, darling- I have yet to find a sophont who wouldn't make a perfect silly pet. Why do you think terrans would be any different?"
I sputtered. "No! No, that's ridiculous. Beeple I can understand, to some extent. They evolved alongside you, and your reproduction at least used to co-exist. You both needed each other. Humans are different."
"Oh, in some ways perhaps! Its true that we were able to work with beeple, but there are a few things that, in order for humans to have gotten where they were, were required to happen." She held up three fingers.
"One. Humanity are social creatures. I'm quite sure I don't need to argue this point. Its been an observation many have noticed. But it still matters that, despite your culture's best attempts to sequester everyone into individual homes and away from communities…you all crave that interaction, that exchange. You Look for it." One finger went down.
"Two. Humanity are intelligent creatures. They learned so much, and fought for their place on the top of the food chain. It was truly incredible to learn your histories! Being able to learn from another's mistakes? An important skill to have, and one that allows for rapid growth of a civilization. And also allows for you to be manipulated, controlled, really; a rock cannot hear my arguments, after all. You Listen all too well. " Two fingers were closed, now. Her thumb remained.
"Three. Humanity are hierarchical creatures. Ever since that whole 'survival of the fittest', terrans seem intent on having everything ranked, everything in relation to the things better or worse than it. It's what worked on Terra, and I don't judge you all for using the tools given to you! But it means, at the end of the day…that culturally speaking? Humanity was going to see itself as either above the Compact, or below it, part of it, inside it." She smiled. "And I think it would be fair to say that the Accord winning was not a valid concern. So when something bigger and stronger comes along? You learn to Accept it."
I was frozen. I didn't…I couldn't…I couldn't think. I was a bubbling mixture of terrified and in awe, looking up at her. My knees wobbled as she gently cupped my cheek, sliding her hand down to my chin.
"Sweet thing~ Its alright. I know that this is a lot to learn, that it sounds scary to you. Perhaps you felt yourself on equal terms to an affini. And in many ways, you are right~ I will always treat you with love and respect, just as I would treat any sophont, any floret. But at the end of the day, my dear…" Her eyes drew me in. There were so many of them, all looking at me. Pinning me underneath their careful stare, somehow both alien and familiar, gentle yet controlling, above me and beside me. Watching as I looked, as I listened, as I accepted.
"An affini's task is to care for pets, and your task is to be cared for~"
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you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!
you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.
but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.
so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.
part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.
any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.
(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)
good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.
so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)
you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.
okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.
oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.
#spilled ink#writeblr#warm up#the reason i tag warm up on so much is bc often i write them between me doing other things so im mostly telling myself to come back and edi#bc i rarely have time to check for typos lol#this is partially about compulsory heterosexuality btw#and why it took me so long to realize im a lesbian#i just assumed sex wasn't really supposed to be that good#been reading feminist lit and u can always tell
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like genuinely if you're into forcefem and you were AMAB you should actually shut the fuck up whenever a trans person AFAB politely asks you to consider tagging it or has a broadly similar kink
like yo people are forced to be girls in real life and it's deeply painful trauma have you considered that? is that a thing you've registered? that the idea is more than just a cool thing you wish happened to you? I would be fully supportive of the same deference being given by people who are into forcemasc if we must adopt this framework in order to act like human beings to each other but miraculously they aren't fucking weird about other trans people in the first place and I think it'd be great if maybe that could just be the path forward instead
like do you think I WANT to exist in a world where we treat those kinks like that? of course not! no one would! I would personally love if we could all just go back to pretending like forcefem and forcemasc are wacky fun imaginary concepts that everyone can play with instead of acting like "gentrification of a fetish" is what we need to be concerned about going into 2025
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Genshin Characters Apologizing After a Bad Fight
Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli x Gn!reader
Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/hurt comfort?
Warnings: Curse words, probably not the healthiest coping mechanisms/apologies
Diluc
His apology comes out strained, as if the words are clinging to the back of his throat
His fists are clenched tight by his side. He prepares himself for you to yell, to scream at him
But you don’t even turn around to look at him
Diluc always saw you as his rock, his lighthouse in the stormy night, the one who keeps him steady as his duties of both vineyard owner and vigilante shake him back and forth like a ragdoll
But right now, it hits him for the first time how small your back is, how human you look
Has he been taking you for granted all this time?
When you don’t respond to his apology, he calls your name, and you finally turn around
His eyes widen when he sees the tears streaming down your face
His heart absolutely breaks. How could he have made you, his love, his everything, hurt this much?
Before either of you says anything, Diluc flies towards you, cradling your head gently in his arms, as if any slight pressure would cause you to break and shatter like glass
“How pathetic of me to make you cry. I’m so sorry.”
Childe
His heart could rival the weight of the world right now
Childe isn’t used to disappointing others. No, he’s always been the golden boy, the prodigy, the one who sets the bar and breaks it at the same time
So how come you are sitting with your back to him, refusing to say a word?
And why can’t he find it in himself to say something, anything, to make this better?
He is petty person, someone willing to drown an entire city rather than admit defeat. Any word of apology is almost impossible to force out of him.
Instead, he drops a book in front of you. It flips to a random page, and you can see the photos and names of people listed on it
Not unlike a cat bringing their owner a mouse, this was Childe’s form of an apology, even without the actual words being uttered.
“Choose any person from this book. I’ll bring you their head.”
Kaeya
His fingers are restless, constantly scratching the back of his hand or twisting each other
His jaw is clenched, shoulders slumped forwards as he refuses to look you in the eye
“I…I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
You knew that Kaeya had a hard time with apologizing—not because he was arrogant and thought he could do no wrong, but the emotional and physical toll it took on him was great
He often finds himself caught in a dilemma
On one hand, he has a difficult time admitting he is wrong as it forces him into a vulnerable position. To be wrong is shameful, an embarrassment.
On the other hand, he knows he fucked up. And he knows there are only a very few amount of fuck ups people let slide before they get fed up and leave.
And having you leave is not something he can afford
Kaeya’s seen this before. Faced again and again with abandonment, he knows a simple “I’m sorry” is not enough to make most people stay
But it is all he can offer
He prepares himself for the worst, but he was not prepared for the way you gently lifted his chin with your hands, a soft kiss melting away his fears
Zhongli
When you slam the door to your room, Zhongli doesn’t try to stop you
He doesn’t knock on your door, nor does he try to coax you out
He knows your type of anger—it’s like fire, and feeding premature apologies or sweet nothings would only fan the flames
So he sits outside your door until you’re ready to come out
Slips you snacks and books from under your door, in case you get hungry or bored in your anger
When you see the treats and novels slowly appear from under the door, you’re still fuming, but it’s difficult to be furious knowing your thoughtful lover is on the other side, not pushing you to calm down but trying to make you comfortable as you sit with your anger.
When you finally calm down enough to unlock the door and step outside, Zhongli is waiting
There is not a trace of annoyance on his face, but you can tell he relaxes a little from relief that you are willing to come speak with him again
Takes your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze as he apologizes for his behaviour earlier.
“Please accept my apology, my love. I never meant to hurt you.”
#my writing#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin headcanons#genshin angst#genshin hurt/comfort#Diluc#Childe#Kaeya#Zhongli#diluc x reader#childe x reader#kaeya x reader#zhongli x reader
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Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 3
Summary:
Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.
Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.
Warnings:
Stabbing, Azriel unalives somebody that really had it coming, Death by being put on fire
(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)
*If you keep glaring at Keir like that we are never getting anywhere,* Rhys said into his mind, some amusement bleeding into his voice.
*I think he’s trying to waste your time on purpose,* Azriel responded with a scowl.
The shadows hadn’t picked up anything out of the usual…but that didn’t mean anything…even Keir could manage to hide something if he really wanted to…and he did want to, Azriel thought.
He wasn’t sure yet what…but there was something. There must be something.
This meeting was utterly useless, was slowly turning into needless sniping at each other and Azriel didn’t like it…it felt like Keir was just trying to keep them in place for longer.
The question was just for what?
It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up like a cat…the feeling that something…something was…not quite right, that he couldn't put his finger on…
He hated that feeling. Azriel much preferred it, when he got all the facts… when he could make plans and plans for his plans…
But he couldn’t…and he was still stuck with being in the Hewn City and not in Velaris.
*Cassian is thinking the same,* Rhys responded with a sigh. *We’ll give it another hour. Don’t worry, we'll be back in Velaris soon enough,* he teased Azriel lightly. Rhys must have caught one of his thoughts. *Give Feyre some time and then you can go get your girl.*
An easy promise given.
*Not my girl,* Azriel gave back immediately. *Not yet. Not…* Not until she wanted to be. Not until she knew the truth and…
*She won’t turn you down, Az,* Rhys said quietly, sussing out what was really bothering him immediately.
But what if she did? Eira had every reason in the book to turn him down. Starting with his ill-thought-out pursuit of her actual twin sister to the simple fact of who he was…
She had every reason to tell him to fuck off to the continent because she never wanted to see him again. Granted, he highly doubted she would do that…he had never heard as much as a curse word out of her mouth.
She had been raised as the daughter of a wealthy merchant, and clearly, that’s how she carried herself, even after everything had happened.
At least she had clung to that bit of her human life.
*She has every reason to,* Azriel disagreed quietly. Every reason to turn him down. Regardless of what he wished for…every reason not to be interested.
What if she wanted to cling to even more of her human life? If the wings that he sprouted from his back were a step too far for her…if the scars that marred his hands were…
Or what if she simply didn’t want him? That would be a valid choice too and he would accept that.
Of course, he would.
He never wanted to force her into anything that she didn’t want.
So what if she hated him?
*She won't and she doesn't,* Rhys disagreed sharply. *Azriel, Mor was right,” his brother told him pointedly. “Eira has been having a crush on you for years. She’ll probably be ecstatic and immediately start planning your wedding…Maybe Elain can lend her all her wedding binders,” Rhys teased him.
He bit back a smile at that. Maybe…maybe… He wished for that. He wished that would be…
Whatever she wanted. She wanted a big wedding? He would suffer through that, just for the chance of seeing her happy. Just for her smiling at him…not as painfully polite as she had been last evening but bright and happy and unbridled…He wanted to see that.
He wanted to see all of that.
But he pushed that thought away.
*I am intrigued and terrified by what is actually in these binders,* Azriel admitted drily. *Even you didn’t have that many when you were planning Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony.*
*Helion is overcompensating,* Rhys quipped, though they both knew that it probably was the truth.
After everything had gone down in Autumn, ending with a dead Beron, High Lord Eris and Lucien Vanserra officially becoming Lucien Spell-Cleaver…well.
*I owe you an apology,* Rhys said at that moment, and Azriel stared at his brother, who was listening to Keir with a bored expression on his face. *I did only want…the best for you that solstice but how I went around it…that wasn’t particularly nice to you.*
*Actually I owe you my gratitude,* Azriel said drily. *I didn’t want to hear it then…but I was…I wasn’t in love with Elain. I was…infatuated,* he admitted. *I was jealous of you and Cassian and that…that clouded my judgement. It could have ended very badly if you didn’t intervene.*
Very badly. A Blood Duel would have been their smallest problem then.
*It could have,* Rhys agreed. *That’s why I interfered in the first place…But I still hurt you in that moment, and I wish I hadn’t.*
*If I keep behaving like an idiot you have my full permission to call me out on it,* Azriel gave back with a sigh.
*Then stop thinking like you don’t deserve her,* Rhys said with a mental eye roll.
*Sure, I’ll stop once you stop thinking the same about Feyre,* he shot back. Rhys would have retorted, but he was beaten to it.
The shadows came suddenly, in a frenzy whispering in his ear, voices hurried and panicking: Master, Master you need to come NOW!
*What’s wrong?* Rhys demanded, just as that dormant bond in his chest was flooded with pure, undiluted terror.
The Princeling and our Mate!
*Eira and Nyx,* he choked out. The shadows already grasped him, before Rhys’ mental order could fully reach him.
*GO!*
They dragged him out of Hewn City, into Velaris.
The ground he hit was scorched.
That was the first thing he realised.
Magic crackled in the air, thick and furious, untrained and uncontrolled…that was the second.
Nyx had one specific playground he loved…one where Azriel knew members of their family often brought him to…with swings that he adored…
It was a place of happiness…of children laughing…of Velaris at its best…
Now…now it was a scorched wasteland.
The swings? Gone. The smell of burning human flesh in the air, making his stomach twist, eyes tracking over the carnage.
At least two dead…difficult to say because their bodies were burned…beyond recognition.
One more dead…mouth open in a silent scream… One…one male held by his shadows, bearing him down onto the ground…and then, right in the middle of that carnage… in a heap on the ground…
The high-pitched crying of Nyx reached his ears, covered by the unmoving body of Eira.
Azriel had thought that panic had been burned out of him centuries ago. He was taught something better that morning. Because it was panic that flooded his veins. Panic and Terror and…a thousand other things.
*I need Mor! And Madja!* he snapped along the mental connection to Rhys, already hurling for both of them…sliding onto his knees as he so very carefully touched Eira’s body, feeling the delicate bones underneath his fingertips, a near unseen tremble, the smell of acrid blood clinging to her, layering over her scent.
She had always smelled like snowdrops to him. Snowdrops and almonds and a crackling hearth.
Now the blood…the blood…He turned her around, getting no reaction, finding Nyx safe and sound tucked underneath her, crying, his little face red and splotchy as he sobbed.
*AZRIEL!?* Rhys demanded.
*Nyx is fine. Not a scratch.*
All he managed…as he finally saw the scarlet red dripping down onto Nyx…smeared all over him…and then he saw the handle of that dagger protruding from Eira’s limp form.
Blood. Her blood.
“Ra! Ra! Ra!” Nyx gargled, just as he finally managed to slap a patch of his killing power around that knife, keeping it steady. He didn’t pull it out, knowing that that could kill her…even when the blood that oozed out around it was starkly black in places…and he could smell the scent of…something burning in the back of his throat.
Poison. That knife had been poisoned.
A curse left his mouth at that.
That wasn't good. That was everything but good.
*Eira?* Rhys demanded at that moment.
*Stabbed.*
The connection went silent, just as the booming sound of Morrigan winnowing went in beside him.
“Az?”
“She needs Madja. Now,” he bit out. “Take them both.”
Safe. Safe.
He needed her safe. And then he needed…
He leaned down, picking up one limp hand and pressing a kiss against it, her skin clammy and grey…even when he could feel her pulse thrumming underneath the thin skin on the back of her wrist... He breathed in snowdrops and almonds and sweetness...and then let go, because if he didn't...he never would. He would lie right down next to her, waiting for his demise.
He grasped Truthteller without even thinking about it, as he stalked across the ground towards the one sole survivor. The shadows jerked him up, and Azriel grabbed hold of his throat.
“What. Did. You. Do?!” he growled. What had they done to Eira? To his mate?
“I…we…just the Prince…Grab the Prince. No matter the cost,” the male garbled out, the acrid smell of urine hitting his nostrils and only now Azriel took in the black uniform.
Darkbringer.
Court of Nightmares. Keir.
Suddenly… it all made sense. It came together. The secret Keir had been keeping. It was so clear now.
“Who hired you?!” Azriel spat out, wanting a verbal answer before…before...
“The Steward!”
And that’s all he needed to hear, before he drove Truthteller into him, into the exact same place where they had stabbed Eira…not immediately killing him, but seeing his eyes widen, seeing the realisation set in….the pained scream escaping him.
“She’s mine,” Azriel whispered. “Mine. And you hurt her. You hunted her.” Like a game. Like an animal.
She was his. His mate.
And Azriel hadn’t been there to protect her. He hadn’t been there for any of this…
“Lightning,” the male choked, blood bubbling on his lips. *She…killed…lightning.”
He didn't care what the male told him. It didn't matter. None of this mattered.
The only thing that mattered was her.
He watched as the light dimmed in his eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction that he at least had gotten to do this. At least…
*It was Keir,* Rhys said into his mind, his voice deathly quiet. *He…He ordered…*
*He wanted Nyx,* Azriel agreed, pulling Truthteller out of the body, letting the male fall to the ground, wiping the blade on his trousers.
*How many did you kill?* Rhys asked. No judgment. He could have slaughtered three dozen and Rhys wouldn’t have cared at that moment.
*One.*
He could feel Rhys’ surprise. Then: *He said he sent 4.*
*Two were burned beyond recognition,* Azriel explained. *Another is dead, but still recognisable. I do not know how he died. The whole ground is charred. Scorched.*
A second later…Rhys and Cassian appeared, winnowing in from Hewn City. He imagined that Feyre had gone straight to their son. Cassian took one look around at the ground, the carnage…the…
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Mor took Nyx and Eira?” he asked and Azriel forced a nod, feeling for that golden thread bound around his rib…wished he would get something, anything from her…
“She shielded him with her body,” he said nearly tonelessly. “He was smeared in her blood because she shielded him.”
Even stabbed, even feeling like she was going to die…Eira had done everything to shield her nephew. Had used her own body to keep him safe. Had protected him with her life.
Azriel had never doubted that she loved him…but it still…she must not have even hesitated. Just done it.
She was a slip of a girl, with no combat training…and she had faced four of the Court of Nightmare's most elite soldiers and laid down her life if that meant that Nyx would be safe.
He had seen grown Illyrian Warriors that would have tucked tails and run in this situation.
Outnumbered…Outpowered. And still, she had stood her ground.
“What happened here?” Cassian asked as he checked the other recognisable body.
“They must have surprised her,” Rhys said, his voice shaking. “She thought they were safe. We thought they were safe…”
And they hadn’t been. They hadn’t been safe.
At all.
Death had been brought right to their doorstep in Velaris.
“How did he die?” Rhys demanded from Cassian.
“He was struck by lightning,” Cassian responded drily. “I have seen this before…on a cow though. It would also explain the scorched ground. If lightning hits the ground, it makes a pattern like that.”
What?
Lightning?
He looked up to the sky. It was a beautiful summer’s day. Not a trace of a storm…anywhere.
“Do you think it was Nyx?” Cassian asked quietly but Rhys shook his head.
“I have never seen anybody channel lightning,” Rhys answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Never. I…” Neither had Azriel. “He’s too young to channel magic like that.”
But was he? In a situation like that? When he had just tried to protect Eira? and himself? Maybe even at 1-year-old Nyx had recognised what…what would happen if he didn’t protect himself. Maybe it had been pure instinct on his part…Maybe he had seen Eira fall and that had been…
Eira.
He reached for that bond again, feeling it tremble and he hung onto it with all his might, clenching his teeth.
He…
He had failed her, hadn’t he? It should have never come that far. It should have never…It should have never…
Azriel should have been the one taking that knife to the chest, not her.
“Clearly not,” Cassian disagreed with a snort. “He’s your son,” Cassian pointed out drily. “He’s Feyre’s son…who knows what he has inherited from her.”
Rhys stayed rooted in one spot, blinking once.
“Rhys?” Cassian asked immediately.
“Get Nesta,” he ordered Cassian. “We are needed at the River House.” And then after a second that felt like eternity…“It’s not…It’s not looking good.”
And with one sentence…everything crumbled.
#acotar fanfiction#my writing#azriel x oc#azriel x reader#lightning in a bottle#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel x archeron!reader
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