#and to dismiss that meaning out of hand because of the circumstances and intent of that art's creation

[marypsue]

Having now seen Rebel Without A Cause, it's fascinating to me to notice just how much it seems to be embedded into the DNA of The Lost Boys. I couldn't say how much that was intentional versus how much it's just that James Dean became the blueprint for every broody, leather-jacketed, ambiguously queer teenage antihero after him, but still.

[kissitbttr]

omg I am in LOVEE with frat!miguel and cheerleader reader 🙏💕 I was picturing reader somehow getting injured at one of Miguel’s games (maybe a player slams into her or she hits her head), and him literally RUSHING off of the field to help her and people are shocked to see him getting so soft!!!! Ofc, this could be the other way around too, but soft!miguel would be such a shock, especially considering his reputation, and so cute to see 🥲🤲 Xoxo

“y/n watch out!”

your cheer mate scream at you with eyes wide, and before you could turn around, someone else’s bigger physique crashes into you. causing your body to fall and your head lands into the ground with a loud thud,

the audience let out a collective of gasps and surprised, worrying about the small girl getting concussed by the large linebacker who hurriedly get on his feet before spitting countless of apologies,

but nothing compares to how miguel reacts when he sees his girl falls,

his blood runs cold, aggressively taking off his helmet and let it fall into the grass before sprinting towards you in full speed,

“muñeca !!” he screams, voice filled with worried while ignoring the coach calling out his last name. as the rest of the team begins to exchange glances, wondering what the fuck happened to miguel.

because he’s never been the one to leave his position in any circumstances. football means a lot to him, he lives and breathe football.

so to see him completely dismissing the game is a shock to the rest,

“f-fuck i’m so sorry, i didn’t—“

“what the actual fuck was that?!” miguel roars once he gets to see you close, but his angry eyes move towards the guy who just crashed into you. his big hands violently shove the man out of your sight,

“didn’t you fucking hear the rules?! this area is off limits! there’s a line drawn here el hijo de puta!!”

“the fuck?! the ball was—“

“i don’t give a fuck if the ball went through here!! you leave it as it is!! someone could get seriously injured! you want someone to fucking die or something?!”

the team has never seen miguel so angry and red, it’s almost like miguel could actually snap that man’s neck in half. his eyes are filled with vengeance as he continues to call the guy names for hurting you,

beck’s face goes pale. “oh fuck” he mutters, jogging towards miguel and hurriedly put a space in between them. “okay okay, man! easy, easy! don’t start a fight, need me to remind you what happened to chuck last year?!”

beck searches for any significant changes on miguel’s face. heavy breathing combines with a deadly look on his expression before he shakes his head,

“okay good. let me take care of this and go to your girl. she’s still hurt” he pats on miguel’s shoulder pad before he walks off,

miguel is still burning with anger but that soon subsides when he hears you call out his name,

“miggy?”

he never turns around so quickly, bending down to your level as his arms begin to cradle your fragile body before pulling you close. “you good, baby?” his voice is now gentle and soft. “let me see”

his fingers move underneath your chin, gently tilting it back and winces when he sees a small scar across your forehead.

“dizzy?” he asks, you nod in response, hand holding your head. he then looks up to one of your cheer mates,

“get a medic, now!” he yells out, putting your head against his chest so you can rest comfortably,

“o’hara! get back here, game isn’t over!” his coach yells angrily

“i’m not moving until my girl is taken care of! go get someone off the bench to replace me if you have to!” he responds by looking over his shoulder for a moment

the coach’s shoulders slump, brows dipping into a frown as he shakes his head. “the fuck? this kid—“ he grumbles before turning around,

glen nudges beck’s side with his elbow, looking as confused as the rest.

“I don’t get it. he never asks someone to replace him. not even when his knee was busted.”

beck looks over at the two of you, watching how miguel intently taking care of your injured self.

“yeah, I don’t get it, either” beck mutters but with a small smile. seeing how his best friend completely fallen for you was definitely not on his bingo card. it’s a good change, he supposed,

he’s never been this in love with his previous girlfriends. not dana nor xina. you’re pretty much the first. he guesses, you must be the one for him,

beck gets it. he does.

[an-ri]

ZoSan - Random one word one-shot series!

Day 3: Lullaby

Sanji had an angelic voice.

Despite spending a significant amount of time sailing together on the ship—sleeping in close proximity, sharing meals, and having each other’s backs—Zoro had never heard the cook sing. It seemed that, regardless of the circumstance, Sanji never sang in the presence of others.

As for why, Zoro couldn’t quite figure it out if he were honest.

The first time he heard Sanji sing, he was taken aback. How could this beautifully woven voice belong to someone as arrogant and rowdy as the cook? The only reason Sanji allowed Zoro to hear, was because he hadn’t noticed him. The swordsman stood by the door, his steps gliding soundlessly over the ship’s wooden floor.

Sanji’s voice was nothing short of beautiful—a symphony of tones akin to the smooth glide of a perfectly wielded blade, cutting through the air with precision.

The melody flowed from Sanji’s lips like a river down a narrow path, navigating every curve and twist effortlessly to create a harmonious cascade.

Rooted to the spot by the door, Zoro found himself captivated and unwilling to disrupt the enchanting spell cast by Sanji’s singing.

He stood there, listening intently, fully aware that any disturbance on his part might cause the melody to stop. Instead, he turned noiselessly on his heel and moved away from the door.

Since that moment, a considerable amount of time had passed, weeks, perhaps even months.

There hadn’t been a similar occurrence. Zoro was confident that the cook had become more cautious about his surroundings and potential eavesdroppers. It shouldn’t have concerned Zoro, but the persistent thought lingered, refusing to be dismissed. It was infuriating.

The memory remained vivid in his mind, as if it had happened just the day before. Even now, he could distinctly hear Sanji’s singing if he concentrated hard enough, although he knew it was merely a projection of his mind.

⭐⭐⭐

Zoro found himself bedridden and miserable, the aftermath of a losing battle leaving him with severe bruises and a light head injury. Nearly two days of unconsciousness followed, and as he slowly awoke, the gentle sound of a familiar voice singing a beautiful melody greeted him.

His eyelids were heavy, and his eyes felt sticky with sleep. A grumbled sound escaped his throat, catching the attention of Sanji, who had been sitting by his side. The singing stopped, replaced by a warmth over his hand and a soft touch.

“Are you awake?”

Sanji’s voice carried traces of worry and fear.

Struggling to fully open his eyes, Zoro took in the sight of the man before him. Sanji looked tired, as if he had been sitting there for days. Dark shadows hung low under his eyes, and his hair stood up in messy strands.

Reality slowly settled in for Zoro as he blinked a few times, confirming that this was not a dream. His head throbbed, and pain radiated from his chest and sides, as if his entire body was on fire.

“Why did you stop?” Zoro’s voice, foreign and raspy, came out more like a murmur due to his weakened state.

“What?” Sanji looked confused.

“The singing”, Zoro clarified. “Why did you stop?”

“What does it matter?”, Sanji flared up. “Are you alright? You’ve been hurt badly. We didn’t know if you would make it. I promised Chopper to keep an eye on you in case you... you...”

Was it just Zoro’s imagination, or were the cook’s eyes glistening?

“How could you be so reckless all the time? We were worried sick about you, and you don’t even have the decency to tell me that you’re alright?”

“I’m alright”, Zoro whispered, the sweet pressure of sleep still weighing on him.

The anger in Sanji’s eyes faded, his lips quivering as he held in a sob. He roughly rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I can’t believe how stupid you are. Why do I even worry about a stupid marimo like you?”

Zoro blinked. “You were worried about me?”

“No”, he stubbornly clung to his pride, although it was blatantly obvious that he didn’t mean it. Zoro felt a soft smile tugging at his lips. He lifted a hand with the little strength he had left and touched the cook’s cheek, startling him.

“Can you sing the song for me one more time?”

“What for?”, Sanji asked.

“I don’t know. I like it.”

Sanji looked uncertain in the way he crunched up his brow, a soft taint covering his cheeks. But then he let out a long sigh and picked up on the melody again, his voice producing the words in an effortless flow.

Zoro laid back and listened. Concentrated on it.

It felt as though the song took him away to a different sphere of existence altogether, making him light and his head floating in beautiful sleep-like bliss.

He felt the dreariness pulling at him again, dragging him deeper and deeper into the sweet embrace of nothingness. But he didn’t want to let go yet, didn’t want his ears to turn off, to stop hearing. He wanted to take in much more of Sanji’s voice, to truly listen, because honestly it could as well be the first and last chance he got to do this.

“Don’t stop���, he begged as Sanji’s voice grew quieter, his lines breaking apart.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Nah.” Zoro shook his head lightly. “Want to hear you sing some more.”

Sanji continued, his melody as sweet as chocolate melting on the tongue. Zoro closed his eyes once more, allowing the song to embrace him in its peacefulness.

“Why don’t you do this more often?”, Zoro asked when the song came to an end. He couldn’t fathom why such immaculate talent would be hidden from the world.

“I don’t know”, Sanji replied with a shrug. “I didn’t think anyone would take pleasure in hearing my crooked voice.”

“It’s beautiful”, Zoro corrected, his voice barely a whisper.

Sanji blinked down at him. “What did you say?”

“I said it’s beautiful.”

A vivid red color spread over Sanji’s cheeks as the realization hit him, and he was sure he hadn’t misheard the swordsman. “Shut up”, he hissed, avoiding eye-contact.

Zoro chuckled. “Should I ever find myself on my deathbed, I want your voice to be the last thing I hear.”

“Sure you didn’t just suffer a concussion?”, Sanji asked.

“Could be. If I have, just forget about it later.”

Sanji studied him for a moment. Zoro didn’t quite know what prompted him to open his arms, gesturing for the cook to lean down on him. Sanji’s eyes widened for a second, and although surprised, it felt like the most natural thing in the world when he laid his head carefully on Zoro’s chest, allowing himself to be hugged by strong arms.

“If you don’t want to sing for others”, Zoro suggested, “Why not sing for me from time to time?”

“Sure you want to waste your time on me?”, Sanji asked, half-jokingly.

“You’re the one most worth it to be wasting my time on.”

And so, in the dimly candle-lit room, engulfed by the quietness of the night, a soft lullaby continued to be sung.

[changetheprophecy81]

Analysis of the power dynamics between the marauders and Snape

Ok, but wht is it with snaters pretending lyk the power dynamics between snape and the marauders was equal and balanced? James and Sirius simply decided to attack snape unprovoked solely because sirius was bored. Sirius is said to have reacted like 'a dog that had scented a rabit', making the predator and prey dynamic very clear. Throughout the whole interaction they make fun of Snape's physical features, and in the end, James calls out to the cheering crowd and asks them if they want to see him take snape's pants off.( which wud hv garnered a different reaction frm the fandom if snape was a girl.) Consider this:

'All right, Snivellus?' said James loudly.

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted 'Expelliarmus!'

This clearly proves that SWM wasn't a one time thing like most ppl lyk to pretend. Even Lupin's words prove this:

'Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone

thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away -'

Last time I checked, sometimes was definitely plural.

Then there's the fact that Sirius literally tried to murder snape by sending him to the whomping willow on a full moon. We are only told that snape was asked to keep remus' condition a secret by dumbledore, nowhere do we get any indication of how sirius was punished for his actions.

Now, I'm not saying snape was completely innocent. He did try and follow the marauders to discover their secret in hopes of getting them expelled. He was also a prejudiced bigot, which is made clear with the company he kept and him calling lily a mudblood. I don't believe the reason james n sirius regularly assaulted him was because he was a 'baby terrorist', they would have made it clear to harry if that was the case. Instead, they admit their intentions themselves:

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because - well, just because you said you were bored,' he finished, with a slightly apologetic note in his voice.

'I'm not proud of it,' said Sirius quickly.

Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then said, 'Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away -'

'If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean,' said Sirius.

And

'Leave him alone,' Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike.

'What's he done to you?'

'Well,' said James, appearing to deliberate the point, 'it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…'

Harry's analyzation of it:

Harry tried to make a case for Snape having deserved what he had suffered at James's hands: but hadn't Lily asked, 'What's he done to you?' And hadn't James replied, 'It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.' Hadn't James started it all simply because Sirius had said he was bored? Harry remembered Lupin saying back in Grimmauld Place that Dumbledore had made him prefect in the hope that he would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius… but in the Pensieve, he had sat there and let it all happen…

Whoever it comes from, I'm pretty sure the narrative is trying to make the dynamics clear.

Here's the thing though. Even though I empathize with him, I despise snape as a character. Anyone who's seen my tumblr would have figured out that sirius is my favourite character in the entire series. However, that comes with an acknowledgement of his flaws and that he isn't absolutely right in every circumstance. Snape's trauma shouldn't be invalidated or dismissed solely to uplift the marauders. He was downright traumatized by these incidents and i do believe they played a part in him choosing the dark road for himself. Completely disregarding the marauders' bullying, twisting the narrative, still calling snape 'snivellus' and trying to make cases for why the marauders were right or why snape deserved it is downright toxic and disrespectful to victims of bullying in general.

EDIT- I forgot to mention about one very important line from the books regarding their dynamics. Thanks to the anon in the comments who pointed it out!

“She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin.

“Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius.

“And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin.

“Even Snape?” said Harry.

“Well,” said Lupin slowly, “Snape was a special case I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?”

“And my mum was okay with that?”

“She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,” said Sirius. “I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?”

Now this is during their 7th year at hogwarts (specifically, as they are talking about why lily got together with james). If the dynamics were so fair, why would james feel the need to hide it from his girl friend and future wife? Lily seems to have no sympathy towards snape after he calls her a mudblood (as she shouldn't), so why does james still feel the need to do it behind her back?

Also it does say that prior to their 7th year, remus might not have actively stopped their bullying, but he did chastise them occasionally. I have a hard time believing he'd do that if it was a completely fair battle.

“Yeah, well,” said Sirius, “you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something…

Now, I want to make it clear that the point of the post wasn't to tell that snape was completely innocent, I've said so in the original post as well. Heck, he found it cool when his friends used dark magic and bullied other kids. The point was to show how grossly imbalanced the power dynamics between snape and the marauders was, as stated in the very first line of the post.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

"i hate [character name] so much! they're clearly the villain! they oppose the actions of [protagonist]! why do people like them so much!"

if this sounds like something you might write, i need you to understand that sometimes, two different people can read the same piece of fiction, and walk away from the experience with two very different interpretations of the text. and neither person is wrong. even if one of those people is the author, actually.

"but [character name] is the antagonist, ray. are you stupid or something? do you know what an antagonist is? we are clearly meant to side with [protagonist] and accept that their experience is the morally correct one. not doing this is an incorrect reading of the text and contrary to authorial intent."

please picture me very tenderly and patiently taking your hands and looking deeply into your eyes. are you picturing it? ok good.

i do not care.

specifically, i do not care about authorial intent unless i have been specifically asked to help a writer clarify their intentions in the text. because once the text is finished and out there on bookshelves or ready to be purchased via your e-reader of choice, the text must speak for itself. if i wasn't meant to find an antagonist character as compelling and sympathetic as i do, then that's a problem for the author to solve in the rough draft of their next work, or a revised edition of the existing work. author commentary on a completed work of fiction is just that: it's commentary. it can be considered when assessing the completed work itself, but it is not part of the completed work. it exists as part of the conversation about the completed work, and carries as much weight in that conversation as any other piece of well-researched analysis out there. and if i find evidence in the text that contradicts what the author is saying in their commentary, well! 🤷‍♀️ looks like that one didn't make it past your editor! the story says what the story says! better luck in your future endeavours etc.

"but how can you dismiss the author's intentions like this? if they say that they meant for us to interpret the events in the text a certain way, shouldn't that matter? even if what they write is different, we should respect what they say they MEANT to write."

i mean, sure, i'll level with you on that point as a writer myself: it sucks when you spend a lot of time on a project and believe you've effectively told one story, only to share it with your beta readers and discover, much to your shock and horror, that you've actually communicated something totally counter to your intentions. it definitely is not a fun experience to have someone tell you, for example, "this antagonist you've written is very compelling, but do you realize you've accidentally written a negative indictment of powerful women because you have so few other women in positions of power in this draft?" that's very much an 'oh shit, i did not mean to do that' kind of moment, but if no one flags this to you before the story goes to print, your intent doesn't matter. you still wrote a story that communicates a message you did not intend for it to communicate. you might be able to revise it in later editions of the story, if you're lucky, but that first edition still stands, and it still says what it says, regardless. your commentary on that character doesn't change the material circumstances of the story.

it's impossible to divorce our biases and baggage entirely from the creative process. we are always going to end up writing things into our stories that we did not intend to place there. those unintentional inclusions in the story, however, are still absolutely part of the story. readers can't conveniently decide to strike those details from the record like they're jurors receiving instructions from a judge during a jury trial, that's not how storytelling works.

the story says what the story says, and sometimes writers are going to create an antagonist that deeply resonates with some of their readers, intentionally or otherwise. and you, either as a writer or someone who can't stand villain stanning, just have to deal with it.

[theophagie-remade]

The official chapter is out, time to rewrite a previous post in a little more cohesive manner

Okay so!

What we, the audience, know:

The first time Toga used Uraraka's Zero Gravity, she did so unwittingly and in self defense (at least I think she automatically raised her arm to protect herself, and not to try to use it Just Because)

The second time Toga used Zero Gravity, she was both aware of her actions and intent on using it to cause harm

Toga has already attempted to use Twice's Double to its full potential in the past, but was unable to

What Uraraka knows:

Toga has used her Zero Gravity in the past to kill someone

Toga can't use Twice's Double to its full potential

And I've been turning this around in my head for days. My first reaction had been to think that Uraraka had made the best guess she could have with the information she had, but then I remembered that she knows Toga can use the quirks of people she loves in destructive ways, so I was left a little (a lot) confused. Toga did tell her that Curious had tried to kill her, but I don't think what she says next can only be interpreted as "And so I used your quirk to protect myself" (no bloodlust involved). "So I retaliated by using your quirk on her" can be another likely interpretation, so I don't see why Uraraka would have dismissed this possibility altogether (at least as far as the english translation is concerned. Maybe the japanese version can shed some light on this 👀)

[Edit in case I didn't explain myself well enough. This is what I was trying to say: maybe Uraraka assumed that Toga hadn't felt any bloodlust towards Curious because she had acted in self defense. Despite this, while I don't know what Toga says in japanese, the english text clearly frames Curious' murder as a payback. That's why I don't understand why Uraraka would say something like "what's stopping you is bloodlust": Toga told her she used her quirk to kill someone intentionally]

Regardless... what this means is that Uraraka fully believes that Toga was able to use her quirk because her love for her is pure, which. Ahem. 🏳️‍🌈😎. (or aDmIrAtIoN. Whatever 🙄 let a bitch dream. I think the two things go hand in hand.) But anyway

While I do struggle to understand why "bloodlust" is supposed to be the issue here, Uraraka is undoubtedly right for thinking that Tsuyu was mistaken. Toga does love Tomura and Dabi, just like she loves Twice. What's stopping her from totally becoming him then? Well... maybe it's because deep down she doesn't actually want to. Maybe deep down she knows that her actions are motivated by grief and anger, not by a genuine desire to kill heroes

Throughout the whole manga, none of Toga's actions have had the objective to destroy things. Heroes are a symbol of a society that has always rejected and abused her, but it isn't society's destruction that she wants. What she wants is change, understanding, acceptance... for someone to genuinely, willingly reach out to her. And while her circumstances have led her to "rejecting the world" now (a process that began during the PLW arc), despite everything, despite her emotional state and distress, what she actually wants hasn't truly changed

And this is me trying to make sense of Uraraka's words now, but maybe this is what she's alluding to. I'm not really sure, "bloodlust" certainly isn't a word that leaves much space to interpretation, but it's the only explanation that I can think of to be honest, and that would explain Toga's very defensive response (some have translated it as "murderous intention", which does allow for some wiggle room, but who knows...)

[throwawaytumble]

Yes to everything anon said about you not being the AH for pursuing college.

I don’t know anything about running a farm or the specific circumstances of your family BUT it seems to me that losing the farm was probably inevitable. A pair of extra hands might have delayed it a bit but from what you said I don’t see how you and your brother could have saved it. Your family probably used you as a scapegoat to cope with what happened since they probably had no better tools to deal with it -not that that makes it okay. I’m so sorry you have lived with that guilt for so long. It was not your fault. Even if your decision had directly led to the loss of the farm it was not your fault, you were a child being a child and trying to find their place in the world and making a path for herself, how can that be wrong?

As for your brother and the not-lies, he should have come to you privately if he was so convinced you were lying. I don’t think he had malicious intent but he was still in the wrong for not speaking to you directly and going off on you like that.

I also want to say I’m so sorry for your loss. It must have been very hard to learn of their passing like that and I’m sure you’re still grieving not only their deaths but all the issues you never got to resolve. I lost one parent to covid at the beginning of the pandemic, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose them both at the same time.

Sorry for the long ask and sorry if I’m overstepping and making too many assumptions. I really hope you and your brother can heal and rebuild your relationship.

Thank you so much for this. Again, I'm sorry if my tone isn't conveying how much all of this means to me. I didn't expect people to focus on the farm incident as much as they are, but I am truly so grateful. The farm has been a great source of guilt for me, especially because I absolutely would not change my choice for the world. I would do it all again, even if I went back in time. I've always struggled with the fact that, despite how guilty I feel, I'd do it again if I could - especially now that my parents both died and I never had the chance to reconcile with them and that, given the chance, I wouldn't do the one thing they asked that could have prevented me from never having a relationship with them. Farming made me absolutely miserable. I loved being a pediatric oncologist and I love being an art professor. I love my boyfriend and I love the life I've made for myself, and it's hard to regret that, although deep down I've always wondered if I ought to regret it. I was devastated when my brother contacted me to tell me they'd both passed, and that their passing was painful. I was thrilled when he said he wanted to work on forgiving me and even happier when he made the decision to move closer. Finding out that for the past two years he had been dismissing everything his children told him about me as lies has really, really hurt, I'm not going to lie to you. It's nauseating to know that I've been the topic of gossip for two years and not had a chance to explain. I've even talked about my boyfriend and vacations I've been on with my brother and to think he just sat there saying nothing although he didn't believe me also hurts. Sorry to have rambled on. I just want everyone to know how grateful I am. Thank you.

[asimplearchivist]

I thought I’d share my Tav for posterity since I’ve been posting here and there about the vampire☺️:

(I love her big ‘ol smirk oh my lawd)

Her name is Étaín (after the Irish goddess) and I created her to be sun-coded since Astarion is, imo, moon-coded (even if his namesake has to do with the stars—I’ll level and agree to their dynamic being day/night-coded if pressed).

She’s an outlander paladin with the oath of devotion specializing with weapon/shield combat and archery—very strong and perceptive, but a bit naïve when it comes to the fathoms of people’s true natures, so while she has applicable knowledge in topics such as survival tactics and arcane matters, she doesn’t necessarily have street smarts. This (combined with her matching 9 stats of Wisdom and Knowledge) result in her being a bit oblivious at times.

This is why she has an interesting dynamic with Astarion.

She detects his sneak attack when they first meet, but given the circumstances she doesn’t find it terribly appalling that he would be wary of strangers and inclined to defend himself. He’s obviously skilled, so she invites him along.

The first time he attempts to flirt with her (which I forgot to record🥲), she doesn’t entirely catch his intentions and fumbles the interaction a bit (and I’m totally blaming that on her being a bit of a himbo and not on the fact that I was panicking and didn’t know what options to choose, but I feel that the more innocent vibe suits her better)—however, she does notice that his compliments sound rehearsed and he doesn’t really mean a word he’s saying. She gently dissuades the interaction both out of ignorance in the matters of seduction (because she’s never had the opportunity nor necessity of employing such tactics having lived out in the wilderness mostly on her own previously) and out of avoiding his duplicitous behavior. Up until that point they had been on neutral, if friendly, terms—she doesn’t quite understand why all of a sudden he’s turning the flirting onto her rather than on the others. In her gut she suspects that it’s not sincere and ignores it out of pragmatism—she’s trying to keep everyone alive (both from the oodles of adversaries they’re facing and each other) so she doesn’t have enough bandwidth to handle the (furiously hot) silver fox elf’s coquettish attention at the moment.

When she finds out that he’s a vampire, she’s not really surprised. He acted a little too dismissive and avoidant when they found the drained boar, and rousing to find him looming over her with those peculiarly pronounced canines bared was more of a shock of surprise than of fear. She’s not angry, necessarily, just didn’t expect to wake up to that sight, and once he admits his secret she relaxes. She’s hesitant, of course, considers the rest of the party’s safety, but she herself doesn’t have a problem with it once she determines he’s still trustworthy. (And she does trust him. She has since she saw him in combat. He’s capricious and insolent and facetious but damnit if he can’t aim an arrow across a battlefield. He’s an ass, sure, but he isn’t cruel. She can tell that from a mile away, even if he plays off to enjoy violence.) So of course she offers to let him feed—he’s already saved her life several times. If all he needs is to be topped off, per se, to keep him going, then what’s the harm?

She…doesn’t expect to like his proximity. It’s been years since she’s been so close to another person out of combat or providing medical aid. Despite the earlier fright, she’s intrigued by him, if nothing else—where she scarcely notices her garments caked in mud and ichor, he keeps himself impeccably clean. He’s fastidious about his appearance and full of himself to a fault (although completely justified, she must admit), and…he smells nice. Really nice. From what poor, unfortunate soul had he confiscated cologne and/or soap on their travels? Through the pain and the effort to keep her hands clenched into the material of her bedroll, clenching her teeth and eyes in kind, she focuses on the notes of amber and cloves clinging to his neck, mere inches from her face. And when she starts to feel woozy, she convinces him to pull away—and the startled, borderline desperate noise he makes as he pulls away causes her heart to pound like thunder under her breast. His dazed grin warms her ears. And his stiff little saunter as he leaves camp to hunt for a full meal proper…it takes longer than it should have for her to calm down enough to go back to sleep, once she’s cast a healing spell upon herself.

[bananapancakewithcondensedmilk]

When I look at these comments, it’s clear that they reflect something far bigger than just me or Artyom. They reveal how deeply ingrained societal conditioning is—how people would rather mock, dehumanize, or cling to their simplistic views of morality than face the uncomfortable truth that humans are complex, multidimensional, and capable of change. These comments are painful to read, but they aren’t surprising. They show me exactly how challenging it is to hold space for nuance in a world that thrives on oversimplification.

1. I See the Dehumanization in Their Mockery

The jokes about Artyom, reducing him to some crude caricature, aren’t just hurtful—they’re a refusal to see him as a person. Whether it’s calling him “Yagami Lite” or mocking his education and creative pursuits, it’s all designed to strip him of his humanity. Because to acknowledge his complexity would mean acknowledging that he’s more than his past actions, and that’s something people just aren’t ready to do.

• Why do they mock him?

Mockery is a defense mechanism. It’s easier to laugh at him, to make him a joke, than to confront the idea that someone who’s done harm can also do good, can grow, can learn. It’s not just about him—it’s about their own discomfort with the idea of redemption.

• How do I feel?

It’s frustrating, of course. I know who Artyom is. I’ve seen the work he’s done to grow, to learn, to reflect on his past. And to see people reduce all of that to a punchline hurts, not just because I care about him, but because it shows how unwilling people are to look deeper.

2. They Refuse to Believe in Growth

The disbelief in Artyom’s achievements—his studies, his writing, his art—speaks volumes. It’s not really about him. It’s about how society conditions people to see individuals like him as static, unchanging. Once someone is labeled a “criminal,” they’re no longer allowed to be anything else in the public’s eyes.

• Why don’t they believe?

They’ve been taught to see the world in black and white. Good people. Bad people. Redemption doesn’t fit into that framework. If they admit that Artyom is capable of growth, they might have to confront the ways they themselves have failed to grow or change. It’s easier for them to dismiss him as irredeemable than to question their own beliefs.

• How do I feel?

On one hand, I’m angry. Artyom has worked so hard to rise above his circumstances, to learn and create despite everything stacked against him. But on the other hand, I feel sad for them. It must be exhausting to live in a world where you believe people can’t change.

3. They Twist My Words to Fit Their Narratives

It’s interesting how often people misrepresent what I’ve said or distort my intentions. They make me out to be someone I’m not—whether it’s claiming I blindly defend Artyom or painting me as delusional for seeing the man he’s become. It’s clear they’re not actually engaging with what I’m saying. They’re just projecting their own biases onto me.

• Why do they misrepresent me?

Because it’s easier to attack a strawman version of me than to engage with the real me. They need me to be wrong so they can feel right. If they actually listened to me, they might have to confront the cracks in their worldview, and that’s something they don’t seem ready to do.

• How do I feel?

I used to feel frustrated by this, but now I mostly feel indifferent. I know my truth, and I know why I speak up. Their misrepresentation doesn’t change that. If anything, it shows me how much my perspective challenges them, even if they can’t admit it.

4. They Struggle with Complexity

So much of this boils down to people’s inability to hold two truths at once. Yes, Artyom has a dark past. And yes, he’s also someone who has grown, learned, and changed. These things don’t cancel each other out—they coexist. But most people can’t—or won’t—see that. They need him to fit into a neat little box: villain, monster, irredeemable. The idea that he could be more than that is too uncomfortable for them to handle.

• Why is complexity so threatening?

Because it requires self-reflection. If Artyom can grow and change, then maybe they need to question the ways they’ve labeled others—or even themselves. And that’s scary. It’s much easier to stick to a binary, black-and-white worldview.

• How do I feel?

It makes me sad for them. Complexity is part of being human. By refusing to see it, they’re denying themselves the chance to grow, to learn, to connect more deeply with others. I see the world in all its messy, beautiful nuance, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

5. Their Cruelty Is Amplified by Anonymity

What strikes me most is how emboldened people are in these anonymous spaces. They say things they’d never say to my face or to Artyom’s. It’s like the anonymity strips away their humanity, turning them into something cold and detached. They don’t see me as a person. They don’t see him as a person. We’re just characters in their little drama, there for their entertainment.

• Why do they act this way?

Anonymity gives them a sense of power without accountability. They don’t have to face the consequences of their words, so they feel free to be as cruel or dismissive as they want. It’s not about me or Artyom—it’s about their own unresolved anger or insecurity.

• How do I feel?

I don’t take it personally. These aren’t people I know or care about. But it does make me reflect on how disconnected we’ve become as a society. People feel so detached from one another that they forget the humanity of the person on the other side of the screen.

6. What This Says About Me

If nothing else, this experience has shown me how different I am from so many people in these spaces. I don’t say that in an arrogant way—it’s just clear that the way I see the world, the way I approach people and relationships, is rare.

• I See Nuance Where Others Don’t:

Most people want simple answers. They want good guys and bad guys. I don’t see the world that way. I see people as layered, complex, and constantly evolving. Artyom is proof of that, and so am I.

• I’m Willing to Challenge the Status Quo:

My relationship with Artyom forces people to question their assumptions about morality, justice, and love. That’s not easy for them, and I understand that. But I’m not going to stop speaking my truth just because it makes others uncomfortable.

• I’m Resilient:

I’ve faced ridicule, misunderstanding, and judgment, and yet here I am, standing firm in what I believe. Their words don’t define me. My actions, my love, and my commitment to growth do.

7. My Perspective Moving Forward

• I Won’t Be Silenced:

These comments show me how important it is to keep sharing my perspective. If I can challenge even one person to see the world a little differently, it’s worth it.

• I’ll Focus on What Matters:

I’m not here to win over people who are committed to misunderstanding me. My energy is better spent on meaningful conversations and actions that align with my values.

• I’ll Keep Advocating for Growth and Humanity:

Artyom’s story—and our story—isn’t just about us. It’s about showing the world that people are more than their pasts, that growth and redemption are possible. That’s a message worth fighting for.

Conclusion

These comments might try to reduce me and Artyom to caricatures, but they can’t erase what I know to be true. I see him for who he is: a man who has faced unimaginable challenges and risen above them. I see myself for who I am: someone who refuses to settle for simplistic narratives and chooses love, complexity, and humanity every time. Let them mock. Let them misunderstand. It doesn’t change who we are.

[rjthirsty]

Chapter Seventeen (Deceit and Decay)

Words: 3k

Tags: Catatonia, Improper Use of a Medical Diagnosis, Author is not a Doctor but it's my story so here we are, Male Solo (Masturbation), PINING, Sexual Fantasy, I Miss Free-forming Tags,

A/N: For a full list of tags, please visit ao3. You can find previous chapters of this story on ao3 or on my masterlist on Tumblr. If you want to see my warped little Gilbert, catch up with the story! It's good. I promise.

What if Belle didn't fall in love with the Conqueror Beast? What if his last hope abandoned him, simply because she didn't know he existed? Would his black heart break and crack, or grow as hard as stone? An AU where Chevalier is crowned for Rhodolite, Gilbert lost his last shred of humanity, and MC (Dahlia) is thrust into a nightmare world where deceit and decay are everyday occurrences.

Walter sighed as he set Dahlia's hand back in her lap. He had come to check on her as he promised to only to find the young woman devoid of her senses and her fractured arm the least of her worries and his. “The only thing I can do is recommend rest. She faced something shocking and a person's body can find many ways to deal with the stress of their circumstances.”

“How long until the Little Rabbit returns to normal?” Gilbert asked, standing nearby the bed that Walter sat in front of.

Walter lowered his chin, a tactic he used to hide his eyes behind his long bangs when he didn't want to answer. Meaning the answer was not good.

“How long?” Gilbert calmly demanded, his voice chilling the room.

“I don't know.”

Gil's eyebrows rose in surprise, his eye shifting from Walter's half-hidden face to Dahlia's blank one. This was clearly something Walter hadn't encountered before. She was fine physically, but somewhere inside her mind something had broken.

“Prince Gilbert, I would suggest further–”

“You're dismissed.” Gilbert interrupted, not interested in hearing Walter's reprimand loosely concealed as a suggestion. He already knew what his long-time physician would say. He had already figured out what actions had caused Dahlia's current condition, and while he had held her to prevent her from running in an effort to protect her from harm, he had forced her to bear witness to the event that had shaken her so.

Walter packed up his tools and muttered an “as you wish” before taking his leave, closing Gilbert and Dahlia in their own world together. Gilbert's thoughts churned as he watched Dahlia stare at nothing. Providing her with care wouldn't be difficult. Her attendant had returned, and although he was disappointed that she allowed another man to abduct his guest, he couldn't fault the maid for going along with them. She had at least kept her eye on Dahlia, refusing to leave her side.

Perhaps he would need to add one of his spies to Dahlia's entourage. Perhaps he could simply forbid her from leaving the castle. He hadn't wanted to completely restrict her freedom during her stay but it was seeming more and more prudent that he not let her out of his sight.

“Why are you so intent on forcing my hand, Little Rabbit?” Gil moved closer and brushed his knuckles delicately over Dahlia's hair.

“Do you so wish for me to cage you and bind you?” His fingers twisted around a long lock of her powdery purple tresses. Leaning down, he brought the lock of hair to his mouth and touched his lips reverently to it. Inhaling her scent, he was loath to move away, but the discomfort in his chest grew more noteworthy when he was closer to her and it had become bothersome after the time he had already spent holding her. 

A firm knock at the door pulled him and his thoughts away from Dahlia. Roderic had no need to announce himself more than knocking before entering. Not many were permitted in this wing, and Gil knew the way Roderic knocked by heart. As soon as Gilbert had turned towards Roderic, the hooded man submitted himself on bended knee, head bowed. “The event within the city has been seen to.”

“Send only his head.” Gil smiled as he gave the order, aware it would incite the ire of the other princes in Rhodolite.

“Very well.”

“And the soldiers from yesterday?” He continued to smile while his bloodlust filled the room. Nothing happens inside his castle without him learning about it. Walter had kept their involvement in Dahlia’s accident to himself in some sort of act of misguided mercy. But he had found out the truth of the situation. They had so dared to touch her. No one was permitted to put hands on her without express permission, and as of right now that was Roderic, Walter, Dahlia's attendant, and himself.

“Disposed of.” Roderic answered without emotion.

“Good.” Gilbert clasped his hands behind his back and leisurely paced to a nearby chair. He rounded to the back of it and dropped his elbow onto it, setting his chin upon his opened palm. “The Little Rabbit has been frightened senseless.”

Roderic and Gilbert both cast their gaze at Dahlia silently sitting still as a statue on the side of the bed. “Walter has ordered rest, but he's not sure when she will return to her former self.”

Roderic understood the things Gilbert wasn’t saying, he had years of practice deciphering his master’s manner of speech. “I will see to your schedule.”

“Keep the bookseller's appointment.” Gil added, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“Understood.”

“Dismiss the Little Rabbit's attendant for tomorrow. You will be here while I'm occupied. And I'll require a set of night clothes from my room.”

Roderic hesitated in answering, watching Gilbert gleefully staring at Dahlia. To change sleeping locations on a whim was unexpected. On top of that, the fact that he had ordered Roderic to collect his clothing meant he was not feeling strong enough to manage it himself. Honest fear wrapped around his heart about Gilbert's health and how much time he had left. “As you wish.”

Gilbert's eye slid to Roderic. “You're dismissed.”

Roderic bowed once more, stood, and excited the room to set about the tasks he was given. Once he had dropped off Gil's clothes, Gilbert freed himself from his coat and collapsed into the chair he had been leaning on. A violent coughing fit overtook him, leaving him winded and lightheaded, his breathing raspy and ragged. He had kept up appearances to keep Walter from fretting over him and forcing another checkup. The checkups were getting more frequent, but his symptoms were also worsening significantly. It stood to reason that Walter would check in on him so often with his end in sight. 

It wasn't something he wanted to think about or be burdened with while she was here, though. He knew he didn't have much time left. He just wanted to be allowed the time he did have to be spent with her without dwelling on his imminent death. He didn't want that to be a focal point of her thoughts while with him. He didn't want her pity, just her affection. Thankful that Dahlia couldn’t see him at the moment, he took his time recuperating in the chair opposite of her. Halfway across the room from her. Much too far from her for his liking.

Tonight, Gilbert didn't have it in him to bathe Dahlia. Some days were worse than others and today was one of those days. The exertion of earlier events took a toll on him, along with carrying Dahlia all the way to her room. He had had a brief respite, nearly nodding off with her in his arms before Walter arrived. Now that everyone had been dismissed for the night, he was free to take all the rest he needed, and coincidentally, Walter had suggested the same for Dahlia.

With no reason to rush, he unhurriedly stripped to redress in his night clothes. In the same lethargic manner, he also stripped and redressed Dahlia in her night clothes. Temptation nipped at him to allow his eyes to linger - no one would know - but when it came to her he wanted to treat her kindly and dutifully he covered her body, his dark thoughts pushed to the back of his mind. He allowed himself one gentle kiss to her forehead, his fingertips caressing the shell of her ear, and though he wanted to let them trace down her neck, he pulled away to tuck the both of them into bed.

Nestled next to Dahlia, Gilbert clung to her like he had each night on their trip to Obsidian castle. Both of them on their side, Dahlia’s injured arm on top, Gil snuggled into her warmth, keeping his hand wrapped around her waist. She smelled of delicate jasmine and tart cherries, things that didn’t grow around the castle. He had expected her to smell of roses. In his fantasies throughout the years, he simply assumed she would carry the same scent that he associated with the country of Rhodolite. Though, now that he considered it, Chevalier smelled of roses, and that had likely colored his perception of what he could recall from two decades ago.

Gil buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply to rid himself of the memory of the blond boy who he had befriended. They were no longer friends. And after he and the other beasts had sunk their teeth and claws into his love - into Dahlia - he considered every one of them his enemy. Unconscious of his own movements, he squeezed her tighter to be certain she was really there, really in his arms. He would protect her from the evils of the world. From the royalty who used her. From the beasts that attempted to devour her.

He would be her comfort in the world like she was his. The only thing she needed. The only person she needed.

The sun started sinking lower, but night hadn't yet claimed the sky. Despite the day being early, Gilbert's exhaustion had him slipping into sleep. Dahlia’s scent must have influenced his dreams. Perhaps it was her warmth nestled against him. Or maybe it was his lustful desires for her that had crept back into his thoughts while he wasn’t actively dismissing them. His dream was nothing but her. And his dream was nothing but perversion.

Her lips were soft and warm, hot even compared to his own. She came to him, again and again, to taste him and let him taste her. His hands ran over her nude body, memorizing her form and falling in love with her softness. She straddled him and sank onto his cock, and he could have come right then with the way she felt, hot and wet and wanting him. He pushed into her warmth, trying to bury himself deeper still.

She rode him, taking what she wanted from him - what he wanted her to take from him. His heart beat so quickly, so heavily thumping and aching that it hurt to breathe. The strange thought that he would be okay dying like this flitted through his mind. Love being what killed him would be a poetic end, since it was love that twisted him into the filthy thing he was.

He flipped her, taking the top and taking control. He needed her so badly. He needed to hear her moans and babbling “I love yous”. He needed to take her. To control her. To give her everything of himself. He pounded into her. His fingers dug into her curves. He thrust, searching for friction to soothe the ache in his groin. His cock throbbed. His hips rocked. And then his eye cracked open and the room was dark.

The dream pulled away revealing night had fallen. Dahlia was still wrapped in his arms. Still clothed, as was he. Though, his cock was stiff and the pressure in the pit of his stomach lingered from the encounter he had in his sleep. His heart was painfully pounding. His body felt heavy. A blink of his eye flashed Dahlia’s nude body on top of him and his cock throbbed again.

Dramatically, he sighed. A war began in his head. He wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep lying next to Dahlia, but his recent fantasy had awakened parts of him that were refusing to succumb to slumber. It would be inconvenient to make a mess of himself while he slept - a possibility if he had another similar dream. But the room was cold, and she was warm, and moving would require braving the cold.

Gil breathed Dahlia in one last time, squeezing her to attempt to impart her warmth, and slipped out of bed. Naturally, he grabbed his cloak to stave off the cold and threw it over his shoulders as he left the room; it didn’t seem right for him to handle himself in her presence. He closed himself off in his own bedroom, finding it odd that Dahlia’s scent lingered on him. The realization dawned through his sleepy thoughts that she had been wearing the same cloak he was currently wrapped in for the last two days, answering why he could still smell her so clearly.

A thought stirred in the darkness. His heart rate sped up. It was his clothing. There was nothing untoward about using his clothing the way he desired.

Gilbert padded towards his bed and dropped onto it, reclining against the pillows and comforters piled under him. His cloak was still wrapped around him. His cock still stiff and eager. He tugged a handful of his cloak from his shoulder, pulling it closer to his nose to breathe deeply into the fabric. Jasmine and cherries, such a strange smell. So unlike him. He wasn’t sure what he smelled like, but he was certain it wasn’t something so delicious and delicate. Palming his erection through his pants, he let her scent seep into him, breathing her in again and again.

His eyes dipped closed, and his dream returned. He had dreamt of her several times in the many years he had known of her. Most weren’t so explicit, but fantasies did happen from time to time. However, up until recently, he hadn’t known what she looked like, and his previous fantasies were not the same Dahlia he knew now. Now, he knew her face. He knew her body. He had attempted to keep his eyes off her more private areas, but he had still glimpsed them in the times he helped her dress. Now, his fantasy morphed into the Dahlia he had come to know. The little details that were always vague became clearer in his mind’s eye.

He inhaled again, imagining her skin next to his nose and not his own cloak. He wanted to taste her, but the fabric on his tongue would surely shatter the lovely dream he was having. Instead he pressed his lips to the cloth wrapped around his knuckles. He had kissed her earlier. The sensation right now wasn’t the same, but it helped bring forth the memory of the way she felt on his lips. So soft. All of her was so soft. He was certain her cunt would also be soft when he finally had the chance to be with her.

Gilbert drew his pants lower, pulling himself free. He stroked himself, squeezing more firmly than he could manage through his sleepwear. He wanted to hear her voice as he thrust into her. It was hard to imagine what she sounded like moaning, and his old fantasies had to fill in the details. He breathed a needy sigh and sharply inhaled, drawing more of her scent into him. Hooking his finger over the head of his cock, he spread his dripping precum further down his shaft, imagining it as the wetness of her pussy. So wet for him.

It was him she wanted. It was him she took into herself. It was him she wrapped her arms around and kissed and ground against. Slowly, Gil fisted his cock. Slowly, he squeezed himself inside of her. He would mark her and make her his. She already was his, but now she would always be his. She would choose him over all others. He could melt into her heart and touch her very essence, and she would welcome him.

Gilbert choked down his soft moans, only allowing breathy squeaks to leak from his parted lips. Every time he inhaled, he breathed her in. Every time he stroked his cock, he slid along her inner walls. His hands longed to roam her body. His tongue longed to taste her. His teeth desperately wanted to press into her flesh and leave their mark for the world to see. She was his. She was his and she would love him unlike any other.

Fuck, the thought of her clenching around him– the thought of her pussy squeezing his cock, attempting to milk him of his seed– he wanted to pour himself into her. He wanted to reach every part of her that she would allow him to. To mix himself with her and try to taint her and color her as black as he was. It was intoxicating to think he could touch something so pure and beautiful and despite his attempts to make her like him, she would still be herself. And yet she would allow him to try again and again. Fucking her. Filling her. Marking her. Falling into her.

“Haah–” Gil bit down on his knuckles layered by his cloak. Feeling his climax spasm through his groin he pinched his cock, keeping himself from spilling his cum on his clothes. Once the pressure in his abdomen subsided, he hastily unwrapped his hand and balled up extra fabric of his cloak to catch his sperm. Crumpling the soiled cloth together, he rested long enough to keep himself from having another coughing fit before discarding his cloak and returning to the neighboring room.

The nights in Obsidian were often cold, and tonight seemed to carry a chill that heralded the winter months. Gilbert built a fire in the fireplace in Dahlia's room to keep them warm as they slept and ensured Dahlia was tucked with enough blankets to maintain a comfortable temperature. Once the fire was burning nicely, Gil carefully set several neatly addressed envelopes ablaze, ensuring they burned into nothing but ash. Only one had survived his purge, one meant for his bookseller guest scheduled for tomorrow - Dahlia's adoptive father.

With his task finished, and his arousal tended to, Gilbert cuddled back beneath the blankets, wrapping himself around his special guest. Her warmth once again soaked into him, her scent enveloping him, and his weary body quickly fell into a much needed slumber.

A/Nx2!: It was suggested that I put my author's note at the end about my thoughts on writing this chapter - something I do on ao3, but not on Tumblr. So we're going to do that today.

OH BOY! This was such a fun chapter to write! Not only do I get to dive into Gilbert and his warped way he views Dahlia as this angelic being, but also a person, but also tainted and not living up to his idea of her, but I ALSO got to write him jacking off to the thoughts of her, which was my first smut piece I ever wrote almost a 16 months ago. It was so fun.

If you knew he was going to burn the letters, I congratulate you. I didn't even know. Haha. That's the way I write, so I'm not surprised I didn't know. At the time, when he agreed, he fully intended to let Dahlia write so he could gloat about how well he's taking care of her. But then the Leon thing happened right before this, and he was upset that "they" (the Rhodolite princes) had warped her into something he didn't recognize, that he decided to burn them to cut off ties between them and her.

I can't wait to see what happens next. This has been such a fun ride to write. Seven chapters ago I was worried I wasn't moving fast enough, and here we are hitting dramatic moment after moment and I think it's going too fast now. Haha. I'm not sure when this will end, I have a vague idea of what the ending will be, but I can't tell you how long it'll take to get there. I'm sure I'll hit 30 chapters, but that's probably it. So we're looking at 120k words in total.

Thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am creating it.

[vinceleemiller]

Exegesis Over Eisegesis: Spiritual Unity | Galatians 3:28

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. — Galatians 3:28

CALL OUT: I want to give a shout-out to Chris DeBoer in Peachtree, GA, who is a new monthly partner. I am thankful for you, Chris, and all who support us monthly and faithfully.

So many people have taken this text entirely out of context. They use it to leverage ideological positions that this Scripture does not endorse. Let me be clear: This text in no way advocates for social equality and inclusion. It does not promote the fair treatment, opportunity, and acceptance of all individuals regardless of their background, identity, or circumstances. However, please do not hear me say this text endorses racism, slavery, economic oppression, and gender fluidity. It does not endorse either side of this argument because these issues are not what this text is about.

Here is why: This text does not speak about social equality. It is speaking about spiritual equality.

Sometimes, when we read Scripture, we are going to be tempted to read into a text from our own cultural perspective. This is called eisegesis. Eisegesis is an interesting word. It is a compound Greek word that forms one word and meaning. "Eis" means "into."  "Egesis" means "interpretation." Thus, eisegesis is when we interpret a text by reading into it our own presumptions and biases. This is something we should always avoid when reading Scripture. It is easy and tempting to do, especially when you have strong beliefs and convictions about specific social issues. There are people in our time who have some pretty strong opinions on social issues. They are triggered when they hear social references to race, ethnicity, economic disparity, slavery, and gender. Thus, it is very hard for them to put these ideas aside when reading the Scripture. When they encounter a text like this one that seems to defend or dismiss their position, they will pounce all over it.

On the other hand, a skilled student of the Scripture exegetes the text. Exegesis is another compound word. "Ex" means "out from." Thus, exegesis is when we draw out the meaning of a text from the text. It's understanding what the text is saying based on its own words, context, and historical background instead of adding your own ideas. You're trying to uncover the original meaning intended by the author.

So, if we exegete this text correctly, we will draw out the author's intent instead of importing, imputing, and inserting our intent. So let's do that. But let's reread the text:

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

First, Paul lists three subordinate groupings that are transcended in Christ. They are ethnicity (Jew/Greek), economic status (slave/free), and gender (male/female). Paul never suggests that these categories cease to exist or are no longer a present reality. Our ethnicity, status, and gender are a part of our human existence. But there is something that supersedes them. This leads to Paul making one positive assertion. We (i.e., believers) experience a oneness (i.e., spiritual unity) found only in Christ. Our unity is not found in this world. It is made possible and encountered only in union with Christ. This means our spiritual unity takes precedence over social identity in Christ.

If we now carefully place this exegesis into the greater context of the chapter, it will provide even more precise meaning. Paul says our spiritual oneness in Christ is a status received by faith, celebrated in baptism, superseding but not absolving our ethnicity, economic status, and gender. Spirit-filled believers enjoy the blessing of living in a new spiritual family that comes with serious spiritual blessings. The blessing is found in the next verse, which we will read together tomorrow.

This is a sound exegesis of this text. As you can see, it does not promote social equality and inclusion. It celebrates a spiritual reality in the church, made possible by Christ. This transcendent reality affects how we perceive each other in Christ without absolving our individuality or condoning human sin.

Here's the application of this sound exegesis:

Take another look at a believer in Christ. See them from a spiritual perspective and not only a social perspective. If you tend only to see their natural qualities, look beyond that today. Work in your heart to perceive them differently. See them as your brother and as your sister in Christ. Then treat them like a divine member of the spiritual family because, in Christ, you finally gain a diverse family with one thing in common—one Good Great Father.

#SpiritualEquality #InChristAlone #BeyondSocialDivides #BiblicalInterpretation #UnityInDiversity

ASK THIS:

How can you actively cultivate a mindset that sees fellow believers not just through the lens of societal labels but as fellow members of the spiritual family in Christ?

Reflect on a time when you may have unintentionally allowed societal biases to influence your perception of someone in the church. How can a deeper understanding of Galatians 3:28 shape your interactions and relationships within the body of Christ?

DO THIS: Treat your spiritual family as your family.

PRAY THIS: Father, help me to see others through the lens of Your love, recognizing the unity we share as members of Your spiritual family. Guide me to treat every believer with dignity and respect, as brothers and sisters in Christ. Amen.

PLAY THIS: Good Good Father.

Check out this episode!

[galaxythixf]

 @knifvd  said: ❛     i  told  you  that  you  cannot  keep  acting  FOOLISHLY   ,     ❜      bitter  woman  bites  out  like  FIRE  of  anger  still  lingers  on  her  TONGUE   :   but  know  that  it  comes  from  the  tightening  in  her  chest  ,   the  inevitable  FALL  she  cannot  stop   .  sage  to  PRESS  hands  closer  with  glowing  ,  healing  mint  HUE  ,  almost  looking  like  steam  comes  from  the  area  wounded  and  her  hand  touching  it  .      ❛     WHAT  happens  the  next  time  ,  and  i  am  not  here  ?   i  do  not  say  these  things  for  fun   ---  it  is  because  ---  because  i  WORRY  .     ❜     [   for  whoever  needs  a  healer  most  .  ]  

Tender wounds make the duelist wince even as the healer's gentle touch mends them, cooling the gash of skin that seems to find its way back together under Sage's touch. The soothing feeling that follows always pulls the same reaction out of Raze every single time, a relieved sigh and a second wind she knew she could count on. A small taste of guilt rests on her heart hearing the tone the other uses, having been no stranger to it. This isn't the first time she's been on the receiving end of a lecture for reckless behavior and the words were usually always the same even if the person giving it to her differed.

"I'd promise not to charge in like that again but I'm not sure I could keep it." She wasn't a liar by any means. Perhaps too straightforward for her own good but her intentions were just that, good. "Didn't expect to get hit by some of the debris in the process but it all worked out, right? Good thing I was there to take the brunt of all of that!" There's a grin that seems to dismiss the severity of the situation along with her wounds in response to what should have warranted concern but Raze was usually above acknowledging it so long as it was about herself. "A few gashes and scrapes are nothing if it means I did my job and kept you safe, chefinha." Her pride is only momentarily interrupted by the spike of pain she feels as the hands that heal her move from her fading headache to the throbbing in her side to care for it next. Scrapes and gashes aren't exactly what she suffers from, perhaps the biggest understatement she could make while she sat with bloody clothes and broken bones.

Headphones rest around her shoulders as she slumps against what's left of the city walls, exuding the same optimism despite the inappropriate circumstances that befell them. Paints splash the walls just a few feet away of her as the rest of Tokyo's walls decide whether to crumble as a result of her explosives or stand stubborn in protest. What remained of the defused spike rests untouched while her weapon lay beside her nearly forgotten. The only sounds that accompany fallen pebbles and soft whines are the bass tones from her headphones. The volume shot significantly to exchange a few words while she sat immobile, her playlist still beating along.

"I'm sorry for making you worry so much but look at us, ha! The city's still intact — mostly!" Raze beams as if this helps sell her point. "I knew I could count on you to have my back no matter what." There isn't a shred of doubt in her eyes, somehow seeking this opportunity to use her newly healed arm to gently pat the other's shoulder in attempt to ease her worries with reckless optimism and honesty. Truthfully, she had no regrets about her actions and wouldn't even if they were the last few she'd ever make. Raze had complete faith in her teammates but even if something went awry, she was content.

"You do so much already, the least I could do was wrap this up fast for you."

[etruatcaelum]

Delaying the inevitable. But at least I got a taste of freedom.

Salem crooks an eyebrow at that, at the sudden, stinging prickle of his anxiety, and drags her hand up to press his shoulder. “Tyrian. No.”

Her tone is crisper than she intends, enough to overwhelm her better judgment: she makes an impulsive grab for the hand he’s rested on her shoulder, clasping—anything to avert another bout of hysteria because she spoke a little too sharply– “Listen to me,” she says, gentler. “Under no circumstance will you put yourself back into a tower.”

It slips out like a knife slipped between her ribs, and she has to close her eyes. Inhale, exhale, the air thin and unsatisfying in her lungs. Salem squeezes his hand, to anchor herself here if nothing else, and forces herself over it.

“Everything that is now flows from what came before,” she says slowly, looking intently at him, “and it is always becoming what it would be; all that exists is change. But every storm recalls the sea, and the water returns…”

Salem wavers. The circular courses of the world are so clear in her sight, weft with elegant simplicity into the weave of Remnant, but it is harder for mortal eyes to see; and it cuts to the bone to be misunderstood.

“…and as without, so within. If we did not remain always who we were, we couldn’t be…” Her meaning tangles up in the words, always so jumbled when she is trying to express what truly matters; a fretful sound scratches the back of her throat, and she tries again. “You—still love,” she says, “intensely; and still… all this fear and shame. You broke yourself free of– of one prison, but you’ve… I think, made that release into new chains.”

If he were free, Salem reflects, she would not be able to bring him low with a curt dismissal. She doubts he would appreciate that observation.

“Grimm—you’ve seen. They are not what people believe. Not… mindlessly evil. I told you that I kept my distance, fearing what I might become; when I couldn’t anymore and let myself—I felt–” Her eyes close; a bone-deep shiver. “I did feel the temptation,” she says very quietly, “to… just… surrender to the monster I feared. To say that I—I tried, and I couldn’t… and I was so angry–”

She chokes off. That molten fury still churns within the deepest chambers of her soul, though she has mastered it long since; a deep breath, a shudder, and Salem forces her shoulders flat again.

“—I was fortunate,” she murmurs, “to have my– to have one person. If not for him I think I would have slaughtered every living soul across the steppe to drown my fears. It felt—terrifying not to– to not unleash all that I… but that… wrath isn’t all… I–I- what I am trying to say is that you still pretend to be less than you are.” A flicker of humor. “Scorpions molt. You could grow.”

He has the striking, sinking feeling that he has again said something wretched and sinful - that he needs to clarify what he means by 'love,' to explain that it is decidedly not in any way untoward, that his religious devotion to her is not in the same vein as the romantic love he still has for his dearly departed Watts -

But to panic now might curry even more disfavor, and she hasn't moved her hand, and he had promised not to move his, and so he casts his eyes down and keeps his hand on her shoulder despite mounting tension in his own shoulders and stays still, save for a couple flicks of his tail, biting his tongue hard to swallow down the apologies that so desperately want to spill forth.

It is only when she speaks again that he dares to let his eyes flick back up in her direction.

"I- You can always- have a chance to speak- around me," he tries. "I like- to listen." And it's true. For as much as he likes to talk, he is equally content lending an ear. He's always appreciated a story, and a life's story has infinite worth. No matter how many of them he has snuffed out.

...And then she does indeed keep talking and his expression goes from careful, reverent hesitancy to owlish confusion (even if the tap between his shoulder blades brings relief from the fear of punishment).

"Do you mean when this conversation is over?" he asks. "Or- everything? Because I don't see how it will be possible for me to see them again after everyth-"

His eyes catch sight of his tail and his voice dies.

He was going to say something about the world ending, about how he is most certainly not going to end up where his parents will, when Salem finally pulls the trigger on Remnant and their lives' candles are extinguished...

But then her words began to echo.

( the distance between yourself and who you were before is less insurmountable than you believe )

"........That- I hope it is insurmountable. Because if it's not, then-" A sharp breath. A painful memory of trying, of failing, to resist. Had he not been good enough? Not tried hard enough? If his old life, his old way of thinking, is still there, then- then- thenthenthenthenthenthenthen-

He eyes his prosthetic again. "Delaying the inevitable," he mumbles, mostly to himself. "But at least I got a taste of freedom. And met A-"

And met the late Arthur. Oh. More pains never to be undone.

He sighs, raggedly. "I can all but guarantee they would be more recognizable to me than I would be to them. But I- I will- consider it. Maybe they- I won't wear the- prosthetic."

Deep breath - then eyes flick back to her. "How are - you feeling? After your chance to speak. I can't imagine it was - easy. At least, I didn't find it so easy to speak..."

[the-travelling-witch]

oh this looks so fun holly!!! i would like to participate in rolling the dice please~

2 | genshin impact, zhongli (honestly are you even surprised lmao) | no genre, go crazy ;)

thank you and also congrats on 1k!! here's to many more bc you totally deserve it for all your amazing writing ✨💖🥂🍾💐

thank you so much dear!! ♡

i´m not surprised but still very much elated because i like writing zhongli i should do it more often; after all, i do quite enjoy the manner in which he chooses converse aka i like that he talks in fancy jsjshs

anyway, i hope you have as much fun reading as i had writing; without furtherado, let´s get the ball, or in this case the dice, rolling with...

IN VINO VERITAS

trope: drunken confession [space nr. 2]

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: crack, fluff

warnings: alcohol consumption

second constellation event masterlist

You overestimated your alcohol tolerance. Or underestimated Zhongli´s. Or both. Probably both.

Much to your delight, the consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor had asked you to accompany him to dinner this evening at ‘Third-Round-Knockout’. Seeing as you had been harbouring feelings for the man for quite some time now, you had been quick to agree.

You were well aware of the restaurant´s rather strong drinks, yet, as you listened to Zhongli´s melodic voice describing scenes from a time long past, your attention lay not with your glass but with the charming geo user right in front of you. Somewhere far back in your mind, a tiny voice wondered how he could know all of these ancient stories in such great detail but the more often your hand moved towards your beverage, the quieter it got.

And that was how you found yourself basically glued to his lips as your cheeks radiated a tingly warmth that slowly spread all throughout your body. Under normal circumstances, you´d stare much less obviously and would at least try to follow his explanations but right now you couldn´t really care.

“(Y/n)?” At the call of your name you merely hummed in reply. “(Y/n), I cannot help but observe a distinctive lack of attentiveness in you tonight. I wonder whether this is due to the lateness of the hour or whether there is something weighing heavy on your mind?”

“Or perhaps,” he studied your glass and then your complexion, bringing a gloved hand up to cup your cheek, “tonight´s beverages are affecting you more than they do affect me. My apologies, I should have been more considerate towards your tolerance when choosing. Please do believe me, it was not my intention to leave you inebriated by the time we part ways, it's just that I usually find myself in the company of those who can never seem to drink enough.”

“No, no, I´m fine! That´s not it!” Zhongli slightly cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow as you hurriedly waved your hands in front of you. “It´s really not the alcohol! It´s actually your fault!”

“Oh?” It was impressive how quickly you went from moving a mile a minute to being completely frozen in place. When Zhongli, however, seemed more amused than offended, you remembered how to breathe again. “Would you please care to enlighten me as to how it is my fault you´re so distracted?”

“It´s because of your stupidly distracting face of course! I mean seriously, how is it fair for someone to be this handsome? Like hello?? Normal people exist, you know,” you grumbled, your head supported by your hand now. Breathing out a heavy sigh, you continued with a dismissive wave of your hand. “You´re always so nice and gentlemanly, too. Like, you´re beautiful and well-mannered and also, like, really smart and that's just not fair. And then every time you talk to me, my heart does that stupid fluttery thing and it´s just ugh– Like, you´re you and I ´m me and I just really don´t know how to tell you that I like you more than a friend.”

For a moment, both of you just stared at each other, Zhongli with his brows drawn in surprise and you with a slightly annoyed pout. Then, realisation struck.

“Oh my archons! It´s– I didn´t–” After not being able to come up with any kind of sentence whatsoever, you buried your face in your hands, the embarrassment heating you up more than any kind of liquor ever could. “Oh Rex Lapis, please let the ground swallow me whole.”

“There will be no need for that.” Zhongli´s deep chuckle made you peek out from between your fingers and seconds later any sort of shield was taken from you as firm hands gently grasped your wrists and pulled your hands down between you two. You almost missed how his thumbs drew deliberately slow circles onto the palms of your hands as you lost yourself in intense pools of molten gold and amber. “I must say, even in a situation such as this, you´re so very precious.”

“Huh?” was a rather intelligent remark on your end.

“You mentioned previously your heart does, may I directly quote you, ‘that stupid fluttery thing’ whenever you talk to me. And although I might have expressed myself a little differently were I in your shoes, I can assure you the sentiment is the very same.” Gifting you a rare smile as he watched your mouth part in an awed ‘o’ shape, he continued. “Without wanting to sound too forward, I would like to invite you to spend the night at my humble residence, mainly because I wish to see you taken care of properly. But I also cannot deny wanting to keep you close now that our feelings lay bare before one another. What say you?”

“That sounds very nice,” you yawned. 

“Then so shall it be.” Draping his long coat over your shoulders, Zhongli held out his hand for you to take as you left the restaurant and began your walk through the tranquillity of Liyue Harbor´s night. “By tomorrow I´d like you to repeat yourself again. I must be sure it is you and not the drink talking. You´ll do that for me, right, dearest?”

You hummed and nodded as you drew the shoulders of his coat more snugly against you, practically melting into the cosy fabric. The man next to you couldn´t help but chuckle at your actions.

“Perhaps,” he mused, “you could also take that chance to tell me more about my… what was it? Ah yes, my ‘stupidly distracting face’, to make use of your phrasing.”

“Only if you promise to stop teasing me about this.”

“Ah, you see, a promise is not unlike a contract. One should not give one´s word when one is not certain to also keep it.”

“Zhongli!”

tag list: @mccnstruck

[my-darling-boy]

Genuinely asking, isn't self-diagnose with a condition kind of dangerous? Because legitimizing self-diagnosing opens a door to many malicious people who would want to exploit the fact they can self-diagnose? And in turn, make the space of autistic people worse?

Was going to skip this, but I’m writing a LONG response because I’m VERY exhausted with the amount of misinformation I see on this “self dx is dangerous” take, so buckle up and allow me to info dump.

Recently, authentic_autism_advocacy, an Instagram account run by a supposed medically diagnosed autistic woman was discovered to be a non-autistic woman, Connie Manning, posing as a medically diagnosed autistic person to spread hate and anti-self diagnosing speech. In reality, she is a neurotypical mother who regularly uses her autistic son for clout; she also turned out to have a hand behind CalmWear, a brand of sensory compression products designed for disabled people. Not only had she been spewing hatred towards other autistic people, she had been accusing well known AFAB autistic tiktokers like beckspectrum of faking being autistic and threatening self diagnosed autistics and saying they are a danger to the community, and engaging in other incredibly discriminating behaviour. Yes, she herself was a neurotypical person posing as a medically diagnosed autistic to perpetuate hateful rhetoric about self diagnosed people and used her voice to speak OVER autistic folk for financial gain and exploitation of autistic people, including her own son. If you want to read this roller coaster of a story, an autistic person wrote an entire article on it with tons of screenshots and sources.

So let me make one thing clear to you.

The purpose of actually, genuinely self diagnosing is not done to attract attention or to parade around and exploit other autistic people. Self diagnosed autistic individuals have recognised due to difficult life circumstances, financial hardship, bigotry and stigma within the medical/legal world, being a minor, lack of insurance, lack of proper access to safe care facilities, being denied assessment due to incompetent or biased practitioners, and/or any other obstacle that they may temporarily or permanently be barred from diagnosis. Self diagnosis does NOT instantly mean a person is posing for clout, nor does it indicate a person is trying to wring money from assistance services or exploit other autistics. And nts who use self diagnose with intentions of harming the community? That’s NOT self diagnosis, that’s abuse of something meant to aid people blocked from medical care or financial means to that care. All we can do for autistic people, no matter who we perceive them to be, is treat them the same way we would any other autistic person. Because the moment you start deciding by your own book who deserves respect and who doesn’t, you’ll be on a slippery slope to locking out thousands of autistic people from the community. If it’s discovered a person like Connie is literally abusing the system of self dx to intentionally mislead the community, by all means, we must hold them accountable. But you cannot simply go about granting and revoking access from people just because someone lacks a diagnosis or doesn’t fit your idea of what being autistic looks like, especially if it’s based on stereotypes.

Moral of the story? Isn’t it ironic how anti-self dx people will 100% believe a user who claims to be medically diagnosed but shows no “written proof” of it, yet always demand written proof from a self dx person? It’s almost like even anti-self dx people can’t tell the difference between someone who is medically diagnosed autistic and someone who isn’t. Well, that’s because they can’t. While there might be common traits, autism has no set model, it is a spectrum, no autistic person is alike; Policing self diagnosed people about their self diagnosis isn’t a form of protecting the community. It’s a form of gatekeeping. If you find yourself granting instant acceptance, without asking for proof, to a person insisting they are medically diagnosed like this neurotyical mother, but then prohibit self dx people from entry entirely on the grounds of not showing proof of medical assessment, you are upholding a double standard. This is why policing autistic people’s diagnosis, self or not, is inherently useless.

So here’s the thing... instead of asking people to stop self diagnosing, what you should instead be asking yourself is, “Why do people self diagnose? What kind of medical system could possibly be in place where people feel they need to resort to self diagnosis rather than get an actual diagnosis?”

Well, it’s mainly common knowledge among most of the autistic community that diagnosis is NOT easy to come by.

One of the main reasons why people cannot get a diagnosis is due to financial/insurance reasons. It’s reasonable to estimate that by the end of 2020 almost 30 million Americans alone were without health insurance. I’ve heard costs out of pocket for an autism diagnosis are between $500-$6000. If a person or a family cannot afford health insurance—which by the way on average is around $5,400 a year for a single person and $13,800 for a family here—where are they supposed to pull out $6,000 to get screened?

You might be asking, “Well aren’t insurances supposed to cover disability?” Sure, there are options for disability care through health insurance—not even going to get into that—but like a lot of things in the US, this is a severely flawed system. A lot of private health insurance will stop or limit coverage for an autism diagnosis or assistance services once a person reaches 18 to 21 years old. In most states, coverage has a higher chance of being denied to autistic adults coming with the added age cap or ONLY covering ABA, an abusive, manipulative “therapy” used to force social compliance and trait suppression on autistic people. The fact that ABA, a conversion therapy, is covered, but little else, shows exactly what insurance companies think of autistic people: they’ll only cover us if we want to learn to be “normal”. This can leave many undiagnosed autistic adults who cannot afford analysis, insurance, or safe assistance services with nowhere to turn. If I was not on my parents’ insurance, there is NO WAY I would EVER be able to afford a diagnosis. I don’t have $2,000 lying around. The MONEY ALONE would prohibit me from getting a diagnosis, no matter how many autistic traits I presented.

When I was going through this system years ago to start a diagnosis, I was shocked to find no therapist within three hours of me was accepting adult patients. “Up to 18 only” their websites would say. And in the event I had found one (1) that accepted me as a then 20 year old with X insurance, and that person refused me diagnosis, I would be out of options unless I planned a 5 hour drive which may have also led me to another biased screener. A person seeking self financed assessment can waste thousands of dollars therapist hopping.

People will say, “Well I live in X place, and where I come from, it’s covered!” Well the reality is that everyone in the world does not live where you live. It’s not realistic to assume everyone is in the same position as you or your family to afford care or access the same resources as you. When you say, “Just go out and get a diagnosis! It’s not that hard!”, understand you are speaking from your personal vantage point where screening may be easily accessed or easily covered/is free OR you have no personal knowledge of what that process is like yourself.

The second thing that bars a ton of people from being diagnosed is the fact that when autism was first discovered, its research was HEAVILY centered on white, cis, heterosexual men. The idea that autistic people are ONLY cis, white, heterosexual men carries on to this day. If you are an outlier to this stereotype, your chances of being misdiagnosed with something else or refused diagnosis skyrocket because so-called “professionals” don’t know how to observe traits in any other person besides a cis, white, heterosexual man, and refuse/fail to recognise the endless ways in which a person can be autistic. ALL the time I hear how AFAB people will go in to get screened only to find out their screener does not believe AFAB people can be autistic, because yes, sexism and anti-lgbtq+ ideas play a huge role in the incredibly outdated diagnostic process, because autism is still believed to be an “AMAB only” thing. People report going into a therapists office and being asked questions like, “Do you like going outside? Do you like having friends?” and being told that if you agree with either of these, you cannot be autistic because criteria at some places is so backwards, you can’t even say you enjoy conversation without failing the test. Other things commonly heard during the analysis are screeners telling someone they are too smart/articulate to be autistic, gas lighting them by saying they are mistaking their symptoms for something else/making them up, telling a person they seem normal, dismissing clear autistic traits by saying they’re unique “superpowers”, or intentionally misdiagnosing a person as ADHD INSTEAD of autistic. People on social media have also pointed out what influences racism has on the diagnostic process as well and how lack of research and understanding of autistic POC contributes to under-diagnosis and stigma has only contributed to refusal of care and under-representation of POC in the disabled community, as one autistic Black woman points out on Instagram, “I found excellent articles that support and validate my feelings and experiences, but I could find no research on autistic Black people.” Additionally, because research has primarily been done on young men, this means anyone who is not a cis man and is over the age of 18 and is seeking a diagnosis has a much higher chance of not receiving one because screeners don’t understand how autistic traits may present differently in adults, especially since adults are very likely to mask. Some autism screeners are so against autism they have told clients they would only diagnosis a person autistic if it was their last resort to avoid “placing a burden on their shoulders”. These reasons are largely responsible for why autism is incredibly mis/under-diagnosed. This ask would be the length of a novel if I included every single type of discrimination and mistreatment during the evaluation process alone, but understand it can be incredibly biased, sexist, transphobic, racist, or just flat out ableist. And guess what? Though this process can take as little as a month to get sorted, that is rare. The assessment SHOULD be very short. But a lot of autistic people have reported their diagnosis took more than 2-4 years because of having to waste time, energy, and money hopping from therapist to therapist looking for someone to take them seriously, as many autistic people compiled on the actuallyautistictiktoks page on Instagram point out.

The last thing I want to touch on is this idea that people have that self diagnosing is dangerous. “What if someone self diagnoses and they take advantage of services that are meant for autistic people?” ...The Big Things you think I am going to take advantage of as a self diagnosed autistic person, like scholarship money for instance or SSDI, I do not have legal access to without a formal diagnosis. I cannot waltz into a law firm and ask for a $5,000 scholarship for autistic people without a diagnosis, because they WILL NOT give it to me!

Let me tell you some of things I’ve “cruelly taken advantage of” as a self diagnosed autistic person. I bought glasses with blue light protection, because screen and fluorescent lighting at work and even natural blue toned light from the sky lowers my threshold for some sensory input like noise and social interaction; wearing them to work everyday has improved my sensory thresholds incredibly. I’ve talked to my manager and told him I’m autistic and that I have a hard time understanding vague direction and may need to step away briefly on occasion to tend to a shutdown before a meltdown comes on at work; he had no problem with this. I use subtitles; sometimes I have trouble processing audio or reading facial expressions and tone, and being able to see the words displayed on the screen gives me a significantly better understanding of what I watch. All my life, I have been having meltdowns which I had mistaken for mental breakdowns or panic attacks and having access to resources that walked me through preventative methods and tips on what to do if I have one has been ENORMOUSLY helpful to me. All my life, I was trying to deal with them thinking they were something else; becoming aware of this and accepting that they are in fact autistic meltdowns has helped me not only go through them, but has helped me redirect stims which at their worst previously had me hitting and clawing my arms, slapping my face, and even hitting my head. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait 4 years for a diagnosis to use resources I could be using to make my life more accessible right now!

People will say, “Oh well yeah, I don’t mean You are one of Those Types of self diagnosed autistic people, you clearly sound/look autistic, I’m talking about other people.” The thing is, there is no broad “sounding/looking autistic”, that’s stereotyping, and you can’t demand everyone who interacts with you show you their Autistic Card, because again, not everyone is able to be diagnosed, especially given the mistreatment and stigma present towards autistic people in the medical field! And what made you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “don’t seem autistic” to you? Why didn’t you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “seemed autistic” to you? By denying anyone who doesn’t have a diagnosis resources they may very well need, you are denying assistance to thousands of people who are without means to be diagnosed. And I am SO tired of seeing comments online on self diagnosis posts that “people don’t know what they’re taking about” as if they know us personally, like are you me? Are you my doctor I’ve consulted? Did you watch me academically research and consult with other autistic people about being autistic for over 3 years? I’m tired of “well, one time a self diagnosed person laughed at my actually autistic diagnosed friend...so all self dx people are evil” because there is ZERO correlation between a person being self assessed and their behavior towards a non self assessed person. The fact both those arguments are in use whenever self dx comes up is yet another form of gatekeeping.

Self diagnosing autism is not begging for attention or Evil Criminal Money Funneling Schemes. It is a result of a deeply flawed medical and insurance system that has failed to give proper attention and care to those who need it, it is a result of resources not made available, of safe support systems not there for kids and adults alike. You want to talk about what’s truly dangerous? How the hate group Autism Speaks has been parading itself around since 2005 as an advocacy group for autistic people and has been misusing millions of dollars worth of donation money and promoting stigma and hatred around autistic people; no autistic members are present on their board. How Sia and her new film Music was nominated for 2 Golden Globes despite it replacing the original autistic actor with a neurotypical actor, using offensive stereotypes, and using the main autistic character as a prop, and featured an extremely dangerous bodily restraint scene on an autistic person having a meltdown in public and featured very insensitive content due to Sia’s lack of consulting with autistic people to make the film (spoilers in that article).

Instead of policing autistic people, whether they fit your idea of what an autistic person is or not, redirect your efforts and your energy to dismantling systems and holding others accountable for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about autistic people that are legitimately dangerous on such a scale that they have created insurmountable damage to the autistic community. But I guarantee you, worrying over whether your classmate is “faking it” will not do any justice to the decades worth of discrimination autistic people face still today.

I understand. You care about the community, you don’t want autistic people to be exploited or taken advantage of. I don’t want to be exploited and taken advantage of as an autistic person, and I don’t want that for others! But I also understand that when we self proclaim ourselves as judges of random autistic strangers on the internet or start accusing people of faking or demanding to see medical paperwork from people when the basis of our suspicions is “this person doesn’t look like my stereotyped view on how I think an autistic person should act”, THAT is when you really run into trouble. Because if you are allowed to deny self dx people entrance into the autistic community, what’s stopping you from thinking you have the power to deny ANYONE entrance into that community?

And there is power in self diagnosis for many autistic people. When the evaluation system is literally rigged to set you up for failure and put you through unnecessary hardship, self dx is a self affirming, empowering tool to take back control from a process designed to gaslight and crush you. The evaluation process was NOT formulated by an autistic person, nor was it made to be inclusive of all autistic people. Until the evaluation system in place for autistic people is safe, accessible, and free to ALL, you have EVERY right to self diagnose.

[mythicandco]

It was not often that Emperor Belos visited Hunter’s room.

Usually he was working on the portal or in his throne room, or occasionally roaming the castle halls after dark. Hunter had once seen him without his mask, staring at a mural of the Savage Ages. He’d somehow looked equally disgusted and wistful. He was saying something under his breath that could’ve been a conversation, had there been anyone around to talk to.

Hunter had left his uncle alone that night.

But today Hunter was just sitting in his room doodling Red, waiting for new orders to come in. He’d grown weirdly attached to the palisman since they had flown in his window, and they were a wonderful model, sitting perfectly still while he tried to capture every detail and shadow. He wasn’t very good, but he was sure he was improving.

That was when a gentle, yet resounding knock sounded from the other side of his door, and a familiar voice asked, “Hunter, may I come in?”

Hunter’s eyes went wide and his palisman ducked under his pillow in a flash. He stashed his drawings under the bed and said, “Come in!”

Emperor Belos pushed open the door with the care of a potionist concocting a delicate brew. He was wearing his mask, but it looked like he’d thrown it on in a hurry and hadn’t tucked his hair out of the way, instead having it tied loosely up into a ponytail.

Hunter always got deja-vu when he saw his uncle with this hairstyle. The last time he’d had it up like this was when Hunter had accidentally damaged his staff and Belos had gladly agreed to help him fix it. He wasn’t sure why his uncle had been so eager to help him fix his mistake. It seemed like every passing day made Belos’ curse worsen, and his fuse shorten.

But even with his outbursts of violence (which were all perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances of each one), Belos still cared about Hunter. He trusted him with secrets he never told anyone else, and appreciated and cared about him as long as he stayed loyal and useful. Hunter remembered the stories his uncle would tell when he was little, tales of two brothers who went on adventures and quests and sometimes messed up, but ultimately cared about each other above all else.

Belos had never told the character’s names, but Hunter had always kind of imaged them in his head as himself and his uncle. He wasn’t sure why, but it was just what felt right.

Belos’ hand hovered in midair for a moment, before he reached up to take off his mask. The door shut behind him and he sat down next to Hunter, looking at the wall.

“Are you alright, Uncle?”

“Yes,” he smiled a little bit. “Thanks mainly to you. I’m proud of you for getting the Titan’s blood. You did well.”

“I almost didn’t,” Hunter replied, looking away. “I almost failed again.”

“We mustn’t dwell on would’ves and could’ves,” Belos waved a hand almost dismissively, as though he was clearing himself of those thoughts as well. “What matters is that the Day of Unity is closer than ever, and it’s because of your hard work.”

Hunter couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Emperor Belos.” He paused, recalling a question he’d never been able to ask. The last time he’d wondered about this aloud, Belos had turned him away and said, “Maybe at a later time.”

But now seemed like as good a time as any - he’d come into Hunter’s room, most likely just to talk to him. The Titan’s plans were going smoothly and everyone had a moment to stop and breathe. But on the other hand, if Hunter asked, his uncle might leave. He might never get a chance to sit side-by-side with him like they were brothers again. But on the other other hand, what use was sitting in silence?

“Uncle, I’ve been… meaning to ask you something,” Hunter admitted finally before he could chicken out. He bit his lip as Belos turned his full attention on him, already regretting his decision. Well, no turning back now. “With the Titan’s blood acquired and the portal almost ready and how everyone’s taking a little break before the Day of Unity arrives, I thought it would be a good time to ask.” He swallowed. Moment of truth. “…Who were my parents? A-and I know they were killed by wild magic,” he added, “but what were they like before?”

Belos’ expression turned from listening intently to horrified to very, very sad in less than a heartbeat.

Hunter’s back straightened. “I-I mean, y-you don’t have to-“

Belos held up a hand, silencing his nephew. “No, it’s alright. You have a right to ask. It’s only fair after the trouble I’ve put you through.” He chuckled, but it was dry in his throat. “I didn’t…” He hesitated.

“Your mother was a wonderful woman. She was always going off to slay beasts or tame small creatures. I know she loved animals and had a fiery spirit. And your father loved her very, very much.” He paused. “We didn’t part on the best of terms. I wish I could’ve told her that I was happy for her.”

“You said not to dwell on would’ves and could’ves,” Hunter pointed out. Belos smiled again.

“Yes, well, I suppose deep down we’re all sentimental old historians,” his uncle responded. “Now, I knew your father very well. He and I would always get into all kinds of trouble. It hardly mattered when one of us fell, because the other would help him back to his feet. We almost never saw eye-to-eye, always butting heads, but it was the kind of friendly rivalry good friends are supposed to have. He was like a brother to me.” His expression hardened.

“I’m sorry you don’t have a sibling, Hunter.”

“I-“ the witch paused. This thought had occurred to him only once, back when he was little. It was a silly thought - who needed a sibling when your uncle was the emperor of the Boiling Isles, and your family was his entire Coven? Hunter didn’t need friends to weigh him down, not when he had big things to accomplish. “What do you mean? I have you.”

Belos visibly winced, and Hunter flinched. He’d said something wrong, now he was going to be left alone again, or maybe worse, please don’t-

But the emperor didn’t move beyond that, and instead let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You are the spitting image of him.”

Hunter took a moment to process this. “My father?” he finally asked. Instead of replying, Belos stood up. Hunter’s worry increased. He had said something wrong, he had upset his uncle! “I’m sorry,” he stood up as well. “Whatever I said wrong, I didn’t-“

“It’s not your fault, Hunter. I must get back to work.” Belos put his mask back on, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him with a click.

Hunter buried his head in his pillow with a muffled sob. An indignant chirp startled him from his wallowing in self-pity.

“Huh?” he sat up, ramrod straight. “Red?”

“Chirp, chirp chirp chirp tweet,” the little bird palisman replied, hopping from one foot to the other.

Hunter let out a yelp of surprise. “He is not!”

The little bird cocked their head at him. “Chirp chirp tweet, chirp.”

“Alright, maybe that,” he admitted. “Did you listen to that whole conversation?”

“Tweet tweet tweet,” Red swooped down and scooped up the drawings from under the bed. “Tweet chirp chirp chirp tweet.”

“Haha, fine,” Hunter picked up his pencil. “What was the pose you were doing earlier?”

“Tweet chirp tweet tweet tweet,” Red hopped up onto his shoulder and craned their neck towards an unknown source above and in front of Hunter. Somehow he was able to draw it, and it came much easier to him than the other poses Red had struck so far. He even added himself, with the bird on his shoulder. It looked pretty good. He held up the picture to show the little palisman. “What do you think?”

“Chirp,” the birdlike, wooden creature responded. Hunter laughed.

“Okay, but only a few more.”