#appeals against judgements

[womensjudgesday]

United Nations Appeals Tribunal Registry (UNAT) Oral Pronouncements.

The UN Appeals Tribunal (UNAT) was established by the General Assembly in 2009, as part of the new UN internal justice system. As the second level appellate review tribunal within the internal justice system, UNAT reviews, within its specific jurisdiction, appeals against judgments rendered by the UN Dispute Tribunal, the Dispute Tribunal of the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA), as well as appeals of decisions taken by the Standing Committee acting on behalf of the United Nations Joint Staff Pension Board (UNJSPB), and by those organizations, agencies and entities that have accepted UNAT's jurisdiction.

UNAT usually meets in session three times a year, in spring, summer and fall sessions, to render judgments. The sessions are held in New York, Nairobi, or Geneva (at times at other locations). UNAT consists of seven judge positions. The UNAT President usually designates three judge panels to decide each case. However, under certain circumstances a case may be heard by the entire UNAT bench. UNAT judgments are final and binding on the parties.

The UNAT 2024 Fall Session will be held from 14 to 25 October 2024.  On 25 October 2024,  the outcome of the judgments rendered during the 2024 Fall Session will be announced by the Judges in the UNAT's oral proceedings in CR 6.

Watch the United Nations Appeals Tribunal Registry (UNAT) Oral Pronouncements

[julia4today]

shunned (tf141 x fem!reader)

part one

walking up the powdery mountain with the rest of the team is something of a torture device. it's times like these, when you can't feel your legs and your vision splinters between areas of the forest, you reconsider your choice of becoming a part of this team. the particles of snow pound against your face, your eyelashes become coated in the fragile flakes, and blinking only serves to hurt you. your brain begs you to stop and the dryness of your eyes calls out for hydration. unfortunately, you ran out of water an hour ago and if you did happen to have some, you're sure it would've been frozen solid.

your legs begin to slow, you steadily begin to drop out of formation, beginning to trudge along simon instead. you feel his large hand on your back, managing to propel you forward so you don't drop behind him and get lost in the flurry white of the freezing blizzard.

"your trousers weighing you down there girl?" he still manages to get out a distinct chuckle, despite his mask being covered from the whiteout.

"fuck you, riley," you say trying to push against the weight of the pounding snow. while irritated at his snide remark, you can't help but be thankful for the small push his consistent hand is giving you. allowing you to use what little strength you have left.

the blistering winds make it harder for you to hear the faint words of ghost. but you manage to slightly make out the sound of him communicating over his radio.

"cap, how much longer until our destination? ladies in the field can't keep up. over"

it was a shallow dig at you, not unfamiliar, but certainly not welcome. although the misogyny stung in a deep part of you, you were thankful for him asking. your own radio crackles to life, a recognition that it wasn't simon asking the question for himself.

"we still have a couple miles to go. hold out. over."

quick, concise, to the point. that is how you would describe captain price, your current commanding officer. while your body was screaming for a rest, you would never hear the end of it if you were to give out so, despite all better judgement, you reluctantly reply, "wilco."

digging deep and pushing through had never been an issue for you. that's probably one of the reasons you even joined the military in the first place, it's something you've always been good at. but right now, you could fall face first in the snow, laying there for the rest of the mission, and perhaps that would be more appealing than this.

"keep up slug," you hear murmured behind you obviously by none other than ghost.

slug, a derogatory nickname which, also happens to be your callsign. fucking great. it was given to you in your rookie days by much more sexist men. calling you slug because a. you were "slow" and b. resembled a slug during "that time of the month," assholes.

"shut up." you bite back. soon you begin to pick up the pace. your cheeks and ears warm from fury and your legs get the message.

maybe mental strength doesn't help you push through, but spite definitely does.

perhaps hours of trudging to through the icy abyss has made your body numb to the burn it now feels as you begin to pull ahead of your fellow team members. in front of johnny and kyle, but never in front of price.

"aye lass, ye're helding oot on us wi yer strength," johnny remarks. his thick scottish accent cutting through the lashing of harsh air against your ears. while already originally hard to make out, the lapping of wind makes it so much harder. so like most things he says, you ignore him and continue to drag yourself through the wintery mountain range.

it could've been hours or pure minutes of walking before your gaze is peeled away from the garish snow. a hand placed on your shoulder stopping you, your head moved to face your captain. you look up with an exhausted expression, everything in your body screaming for respite.

price turns to face the rest of the boys.

"alright, men-" his eyes glance to you awkwardly "er, um. ahem. team. we've reached our first shelter for the night. a mountain hut. i am sure you're all familiar. but we've reached enemy territory, so, tonight we are rotating watch."

he moves his hands from your shoulder so he can unlatch the door and file in the squad. in a respectful world it'd go you first, then everybody else. but you are quickly shouldered out of the way, left in the swing of the door.

"a'll geyt the feer goin'" soap announces, immediately tearing off his gloves and shoving his backpack to the ground.

"gonna put those boyscout badges to work?" kyle retorts, chuckling as he peels off his icy scarf. one which was originally red in color, now a sheer white. he finds purchase one of the four wooden chairs that surround the old molding table.

the entire cabin reeks of mildew and rot. looking around from the door you can immediately spot the decaying boards beneath simons feet and the decomposing beams dangling above the hatted price.

you grumble in frustration and begin to remove the equipment that surround and insulate your body.

a familiar paw rests atop your shoulder, forcefully turning your body as the big large figure stoops down to your shoulder. "gonna make us a meal, slug?" the venomous words slip off his tongue. another unwanted jab at the fact that you are a woman.

"no, i'm not gonna make you a fucking meal, simon." the cabin quiets. your voice had come out louder than intended, but every time since joining the task force the men expect you to clean, cook, polish, and dust, like you're some sort of maid.

"easy slug," a deep voice sounds beside you. your eyes meet the soft contact of john price. "i am sure he did not mean to offend you. so why don't you back off a little, hm?" it's almost impossible to not be soothed by his fatherly voice. "besides, you're on a team. just because you're a woman doesn't mean you get to slack off." there it is.

while on the surface, he may seem like one of the better ones. no passes at you, no eyes roaming your body, no inappropriate hands. but every once in a while his true colors show. that he thinks less of you because you are a woman.

"whatever." your gaze breaks away, his nurturing demeanor no longer tricking your brain into calm. your, now, slightly less icy hands move to unlace your boots. socks wet and toes freezing.

the atmosphere of the decaying shed lightens mildly as johnny begins his rants. loud and mainly incoherent, he sings his thoughts. with no filter and no manner. price melts some snow near the fire and divvy it between the soldiers. water used to rehydrate themselves and the food packed in their bags.

the men gather around the table, quickly filling all four chairs. not a thought left to you. instead, you leave yourself the far end of a corroded couch to eat your meal. the springs sticking into your thighs and torn fabric an ardent reminder to who you aren't and why you are not at that table.

————

okay ! this is a lot of preamble to the rest of the fic but nonetheless i hope you enjoy it !! and yes i promise to actually do a part two

and yes, i’m sure you can tell, it isn’t proof read. (sorry)

[lushaletta]

the objective and persuasive / theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

summary: a tale of forbidden romance through the eyes of a lovesick theodore nott

a/n: what is this?!?! ivy actually WRITING??? unheard of! anyway.. i still do not have my ipad so my tom riddle miniseries will be on hold for a bit :( i still have more i wanna say for it! in the meantime, you may have some horrible writing in the form of my theodore nott debut! lorenzo zurzolo fine ASFFF okay bye enjoy

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Theodore Nott is very intelligent. Maybe he’s a slacker. Maybe he puts off homework until it’s being collected during class. Maybe he has a bad habit of poor time management. But what Theodore has never been is stupid.

So why is he still here, hopelessly barking up a fruitless tree?

“Please, I just want to be with you,” he’s slurring, drunk on too much whiskey and a side of love.

You cup his face in your hands, wondering how in Merlin’s name you have Slytherin’s smartest boy with his knees on your feet, fingers clinging onto yours. It’s truly senseless; for he knows the circumstance. He knows what will happen if this is taken further. He knows it cannot be.

And yet, his hands drop to your sides, running up and down as they ride up your dress. “It’s impossible, Theo,” you say, matter-of-factly. You’ve always been quite the objective.

You swear his eyes gloss over. “Bella— oh, God, I can’t. Why don’t we make this fucking real? Be my girlfriend already.”

A sigh escapes your plush lips, the smeared makeup on it looking much nicer to Theo knowing it’s he who ruined it.

“Don’t be difficult. For my sake.”

He throws his head down, grip tightening on your hips, “What about my sake? It hurts. It hurts so bad. I just need you.”

“You need sleep.”

Theodore will regret this all in the morning. He will come to his senses and remember all the reasons a relationship with you would be futile. But for now, he’s fallen at your feet, begging like only a fool would.

And it’s hard. So hard to keep your composure. To not pull him up and into your arms and avow him forever.

Your gaze darts away quickly. You’ve had your fair share of alcohol as well and your judgement is beginning to cloud. His face wouldn’t help anything.

“I am yours. I promise. If the issue is that you doubt my loyalty, you don’t have to. I’m devoted,” he drawls, searching your eyes for any sign of weakness. He finds none.

“Theodore, please, get up,” you urge, pulling on his fingers and willing him to stand— to make it all a little less painful.

He’s firm. “Not until we try and make this work. Not until you promise.”

To crumble sounds appealing. You’d rather be the pile of mush on one’s feet than the villain to resist. Your resolve is shattering, piece by piece, with every word that leaves his mouth.

“Theo, we’ve been over this.”

He tightens his grip on your hips. “I don’t fucking care what my father has to say about it! I’ll fucking kill him! I’ll do anything for you to consider me.”

Again, you pull him up, hoping he’ll stand. At first he’s resistant, and then he sees the look you’re giving him.

He’s finally upright, now towering over you and still you don’t feel any smaller. He’d give you control if you only parted your lips to say so.

You clash against him, pulling him in for a kiss he didn’t expect. He half-thought you’d turn him away but with your haphazard attempts at silencing him, he should’ve known. He’s always been quite the persuasive.

Theodore grabs your face, swishing his thumb over your cheek with adoration to rival Romeo’s with Juliet. He’s holding you as if you’re going to disappear.

You scoff at the thought, like you’d ever disappear on him. You’re in knee-deep, letting his right hand travel your back, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your stomach.

“I love you, Theo.”

And while it’s not a promise to try, the man takes what he can get.

[diejager]

Hello! Your works are really great could you please write a Non-Con For Philipp Graves? 🦅 EAGLE SCREECH

Shackled

Pairing: Philip Graves x fem!reader

CW: CONSENSUAL NON-CON, DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, P in V, creampie, unprotected sex, BDSM, leather cuffs, torture/interrogation, rough sex, soft Graves, kinda aftercare?, tell me if I missed any. WC: 1.6k

You shuddered, the hair on your skin standing high from the cool air of your isolation room. You were strung up by your hands, leather cuffs wrapped snugly around your wrists with the short chain hooked over the claw of a clasp, holding your weight firmly. Two other chains linked the cuffs of your ankle, spreading you open for whoever would walk into the cell. You flushed in shame and embarrassment, naked in the cold cell, tied to the ceiling and spread open by leather and chain shackles. 

You were weak and vulnerable, unable to fight off anyone or anything that’d come in the room and the low temperature made your numb, fingers and toes curling in an attempt to stave off the cold. Squirming would be useless, hips swaying and legs kicking in all ways would make you waste energy, precious energy that could be used to escape your imprisonment when - if - you were free from your restraints. You grumbled, staring at the metal door, eyes burning the hate and anger into the door. 

Sudden, loud steps heading towards your cell had you biting back a flinch, imposing and strong steps made to scare you, to intimidate their captives. You especially, the commander’s prize. Keys jingling, followed by the click of the lock, the door cracked open and you caught a foot breaching the entry of your room. 

“Shaking, ain’t y’a, sweetheart?”

The familiar drawl in his words, the cocky and teasing tone he used in every visit had you wishing he could shut up, but you were more annoyed that he was so pretty. His cobalt, blue eyes framed by luscious lashes and a caramel-like tan to his skin, glistening under the white light of your cell, thick brows and beautiful, light brown hair. Age had only made him prettier, his rough stubble and rugged wrinkles made him look sinfully appealing, and the scar that stretched when he smirked added to his appeal.

Phillip fucking Graves. 

You glared at him, burning into him your shameful anger. He only smiled, closing the door behind to give himself a bit of privacy with a lazy kick. He approached you brazenly, arms crossed over his chest as he admired your nakedness. His eyes wandered over your perky nipples and round breasts, down the valley to your navel and between your open thighs. His eyes narrowed, a lustful gleam when he placed a hand on your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your freezing skin. 

“Why the frown? I thought we were getting somewhere,” Graves cooed, standing flush against you, hands wandering to feel you up. 

He ground into you as he chuckled, his cock poking at you from the confines of his cargo pants, the harsh cloth chafing your soft folds. His expressions tempted you, coaxing you to lash out, to scream and fight, to bite down on the finger that lingered too closely to your face and to curse him to hell. Against your better judgement, you let him touch you, his warm palm cupping your cheeks. The harsh pads of his calloused digits drew a line under your eye and down to your sneering lips, pressing softly on your lower lip. 

You shuddered from the gentleness of his acts, the almost loving touch with that soothingly calm voice cooing at your current submission. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, the sudden dryness of it had you sucking at his finger, swallowing what little saliva you had left. Your eyes fluttered, taking in the warmth Graves exhumed with a sigh. Your time alone in isolation had you craving warmth and attention, but the nagging part of your brain shook you awake, eyes cracking open and lips pulled back. Your teeth sunk into his finger before he pulled it out with a hiss, waving his hand around to ease the sting off.

“Fuckin’ Christ-” he growled, seeming shocked that you tried to bite him. He frowned at your laugh, the sweet, yet smug sound riling him up. 

He backed away, face flushed angrily, he pulled his hand back and backhanded you, throwing your head aside. You groaned, teeth digging into your lower lip, the force he used left your cheek pulsing, burning with the promise of a bruise. You whipped your head back, spitting at him with a red-tinted liquid. You missed horribly, landing your spit on his shoulder rather than his face. 

He chuckled, launching himself at you and pressing himself to you, his hands grasping at your scarred skin with hard, bruising grips. Your chest swayed, squirming against him to fight him off from undoing his pants. His cock sprung out, the angry, leaky tip slapping his clothed navel. His hardened length stood proudly, drooling from the slit, down the slight curve and the base, where hung heavy balls, engorged and thick. 

“Fucking bitch,” he cursed, forcing himself on you with the vigor and vitriol of a berserker, rutting against your moist pussy lips. “Who’s laughin’ now?”

You jerked, a scream retching out of your throat when you felt his bulbous head bob between your folds, drawing a line of pre up and clit and down your ass. You forgot every thought of taunting your captor, to tire him until he decided to untie you from your hooks and simply cuff your hands to the back of a chair, to be left alone and escape by yourself once Graves was tired of you. You squirmed and fought, feet kicking from their bent position and voice rising to an outraged cry, calling him names that would most likely shame Price. 

He cackled, hands holding your waist still, flush against his hard, throbbing cock that drooled over you. His hips pushed off you, pumping himself with a hand as he led it towards your wet cunt, the slipperiness easing his way in. He groaned, mind numb to your screams and cries, he was solely drawn into the heat that wrapped around him, the tightness and the wetness. 

He pushed in slowly, taking every second to enjoy the sensation until he bottomed out, hips against thighs and balls to your ass. Graves’ only thought were to fuck you and keep you, maybe drug you into a clumsy and submissive doll, but still having that bratty spitfire. He rolled his hips, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix, pulling out and slamming back in, the head bruising your ring of muscle. 

His chest rumbled with a satisfied hum, ignoring your useless struggle as he fucked you, teeth nipping at your collar, placing red marks on your sweaty skin. Every thrusts had you moaning, body jerking upwards with bouncing tits, your body burned, sweaty and exhausted. Your once cold tenure became boiling hot, the heat from Graves searing its way into you with heavy strokes of his cock. Your toes curled and legs shook, the chains holding you up rippled with the same force as Graves’ strength. 

He drove himself deeply, his angry head bruising your cervix, he groaned and grunted, hung on your cunt’s tenseness, throbbing around him with a pulse, tightening and loosening, close to coming, but never really falling from the edge. He lips trailed a line down to your nipples, lips wrapping around your perky button and sucking, the sound as equally erotic and as disgusting. He sucked as if he was searching for milk, rough and toothy, before he let go with a wet pop. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he slurred, pulling back and slamming in with a loud, dirty squelch. “Gonna come, doll? C’mon, don’t be shy.”

You hated how sensual his voice was, how it called to you and coaxed your body to react in ways that he wanted, that he willed, even against your mind’s wishes. Your back arched, cunt pulsing and clinging onto him, the knot in your navel tightening to an unbearable urge. He grew sloppy, his fast and rough pace slacking in haste but still holding on his deep and rough strokes. He was slow but deep-hitting and rough. You mewled, pleasurable sounds pulled from your throat by Graves, moaning and gasping, seemingly asking - pleading - for more, for it to be harder and faster, rougher, but never uttering a word. 

When he tilted his hip, changing the position, he rubbed against your g-spot, his bulging veins massaging you while his head pounded your crying cervix. It was all it took for the knot in your core to pop, furling outwards as you clamped down on him, milking him for his worth. You came with an embarrassingly loud cry, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock, under the thickest part of him. He groaned, curling into you as he stuttered, bottoming out as deep as he could before he came, spurting ropes of potent cum from his tightened balls, painting you with the marks of your torture, of your mistake that led to a failed mission. It was your sin, one you’d hold onto you for the rest of your miserable life like a visible scar. 

“Fuck, doll,” Graves slid out, his flaccid cock plopping between his soaked thighs. “You all right?”

You hummed, watching him untie your ankles and kneeling to place your feet down before uncurling your wrists. He hissed at the red chafing on your skin, soothing it with kisses and promises of aftercare. He wrapped a blanket around you, holding it over your shoulder for you to grasp, kneeling before you to pick you up, one hand under your knees and the other on your back. 

“You were amazing, sweetheart. Thank you for indulging me.”

You giggled softly, dried lips finding his chiselled jaw with fluttering pecks.

“Anything for you, Phil.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

[invisiblestringmm]

chapter five

“tell me everything about her.”

a/n: not much to say other than a massive thank you for the support and that I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! 🤍

warnings: slight angst, anxiety attack, language & lots of fluff.

5.638k words

Telling your parents about Lily’s dad being back into your life was harder than you believed it’d be - there were no judgements, of course, but they asked so many questions that you were convinced that the night would never end. It was five years of questions they kept to themselves, but you didn’t have much to say at the moment. You still had to meet Mason and tell him first, which in your opinion, would be the toughest part of it all alongside telling Lily.

Mason Mount.

Your dad’s jaw dropped when he heard the name and he seriously contemplated it to be a prank, but he let go of that theory because Lily definitely looked like Mason. “Except for the nose,” he said. When you left for bed, before shutting the door to your room, you heard your dad mumbling to himself how unbelievable that was as he drank down his scotch - you cringed at the thought of how embarrassing introducing Mason to your dad would be, considering that he was a massive football fan and that Mason played for Chelsea when the old man was wild about Arsenal.

Of course hoping for a quiet night was too much to ask, but you never thought it’d be like that. Still trying to process Mason’s appearance in your dreams, you felt like staring at the ceiling was a lot more interesting than getting out of bed to confront the day like an adult - staying in bed felt a lot more appealing. Hoping no one would come for you, hoping today wasn’t the day yours and your daughter’s life would fully change felt better than anything else you had to do today. Instead of thinking what you’d say to Mason, you decided you’d let it all out as naturally as possible. Concentrate on Lily, on how special she was, on how his life would be extraordinary with her in it because Lily was pure joy in human form.

Concentrate on apologising.

Two soft knocks on your door and that pair of hazel glistening eyes glancing at you with curiosity brought you back from your thoughts. Lily pushed the door with her foot, concentrating on not letting the liquid content in the cup she carefully held spill on her grandma’s carpet. “Good morning mummy,” the way she looked at you, spoke to you, walked to you made your chest clench. Lily was so precious and had no idea that the night before, her daddy watched her dance. She had no idea you’d see him today and tell him about her and how extraordinary she is. “I brought you peppermint tea.”

“Of course you did,” you murmured, sweetness in your voice as you got out of bed and took the cup from her tiny hands and put it on the bedside, placing a kiss on her fingers as you also took her in your arms and went back to bed. “Thank you so much, my love.”

With tiny arms wrapped around your neck, Lily smooched both of your cheeks. “Why can’t you come with us today, mummy?” she pouted, hoping to persuade you to join her at Foxwoods before you had planned.

“Mummy needs to do some adult stuff but I’ll be there before you notice,” you kissed the tip of her nose, hands cupping her face as your thumbs caressed the delicate skin of her cheeks. “But you’ll be a good girl and behave, won’t you?” Lily giggled and nodded, knowing what you implied by it. Christmas was the time of the year that your mum valued the most, so she was everywhere and making sure everything would be absolutely flawless - which meant her Latina nature became a lot more evident than usual and the only person who’d calm her down and bring a smile to her face was Lily.

You two spent a few more moments like that, cuddling in bed, as you updated yourself on the day’s news and sipped the peppermint tea she kindly brought you. The final moments of life being just the two of you against the world, which instantly took you to the day you were still pregnant and felt her moving inside you for the first time - the overwhelming joy and fear of not being a good mum to the child that was growing so strong inside you, it all vanished when you first held Lily in your arms and fed her your milk. That had to be the most magical experience and memory you had of learning to love your daughter.

In the end, motherhood was continually learning. About how to raise her properly so she’d be a decent adult, about how to adore everything about that other human, to be there whenever she needed and for whatever she needed because she was your priority.

As you finished doing her hair, you could only hope that it’d be the same for Mason once he learned to love her too. That’d he have the same level of interest, because this wasn’t about you ending up disappointed anymore - it was about Lily and her anticipations.

Truth is you got a little emotional watching her go with your parents without looking back, you knew you were doing it right every time that happened because it meant that while she still loved you like crazy, your daughter was also independent. It’d be good for her when it was actually time to leave home, but you tried not to focus too much on it. Back to reality, you got two missing calls from Willow, probably wanting to know what were the plans, when you realised that you also had no idea how today’s events would unfold, so you decided to text Mason.

Of course, he lived in the area, it definitely worked well for him since Chelsea’s training ground was in Cobham - what made your brain nearly explode was to see where you two were going when he sent you the location. That was the same café your mum would spend most of her afternoons at, so they probably bumped into each other at some point without knowing that there was a little human that linked them to each other. It only proved once again your whole point about how the wealthy were pretty much all linked by someone they had in common. But the nicest thing about your mum is that she couldn’t care less about the world you grew up in, probably the reason why you were so down to earth - while your dad tripled his fortune working for England’s most wealthy as a lawyer.

Only to add to your tension, you were now on FaceTime with both Willow and Jasmine, freaking out again about what to wear to see Mason in two hours. Your hair and makeup were done, and you had Jaz making fun of you for giving such importance to what you’d wear as if you were going on a date.

“You two just don’t get it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “The last time we spent more than 30 minutes together was five years ago and I was a drunk, young mess. Then I was a pregnant mess again, months later, by his door. I was throwing up like, ten times a day!”

Now, you were a mum, and you couldn’t look like a mess if you were going to tell him that you were a mum to his daughter. You had to look fairly decent, and no one would change your mind about that - especially when you took your phone and walked into your mum’s closet for a pair of one of her golden hoop earrings and a watch. Luckily, she didn’t mind sharing.

“Oh my,” you heard Jaz gasping. “Is that a Birkin behind you?”

“Yeah, my dad spoils my mum with bags whenever he needs to persuade her of something,” you chuckled. “Which is quite a lot.”

“Sadly, you don’t have a brother to marry me,” Willow said, pouting. “Give Jaz a tour through your mum’s closet.” Jasmine didn’t notice, but you did - the teasing in your best friend’s voice because you’ve both talked about it before and knew that at some point you’d have fingers pointed at you declaring that it was for the money. That you were a clout chaser, getting pregnant by a young millionaire footballer when you were wealthier. It’d take a few hate messages before they associated your last name to its fame.

After a quick tour and a jaw-dropped Jasmine, still stunned by your mother’s collection of handbags, jewellery, and shoes, you said your goodbyes, blew the girls a kiss, and began to dress up. Informal and basic, but still classy. You definitely had the mum vibe in those jeans, but you also looked your age - most of the time, fully taken by the obligations of maternity, you’d overlook how young you still were and how little time you had to act like someone your age. Clubs weren’t something that often happened in your routine, even if you loved going out to dance. You’d go to bars with work colleagues, and old friends from school, but their lives were so much different from yours. Most of the time you felt distant even from Willow, who although was your best friend, wasn’t a mum.

By the time you were ready to leave the house after snapping a mirror selfie and sending it to Willow, Mason texted you saying he’d be there in 20 minutes and you decided to walk there instead of driving. You wouldn’t be able to focus and fresh air would come in handy, and the café wasn’t distant from your parents’ house.

During the short walk there, your phone buzzed with texts from your dad and Jaz.

Well, if things went bad with Mason, at least your support system was still one of the greatest you’ve ever seen. Letting out a long sigh, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders when you spotted the cafe right across the street. The only good thing you could think about it now was that it seemed really intimate, not busy at all, that’s probably why he decided on this place.

When you stepped in, you were received by the soothing aroma of coffee and chocolate. It comforted you down but only for a few seconds when your eyes met Mason’s figure - his eyebrows slightly frowned, like he was focused on something that was going on only in his mind, and biting his nails. You stood there, astounded by the fact you’ve seen that same facial expression on your daughter countless times before, until his eyes found yours and the frown gave place to a wide smile and happy eyes.

There was no way you wouldn’t smile back at him, it was contagious.

It took you some courage to make your way to him, and your tension only boosted when Mason greeted you with a hug, his hand ran up and down your back as he breathed in your perfume and, unconsciously, you did the same. But his happiness in seeing you wouldn’t last much longer. You planned to be as sharp as possible instead of dragging the weight of that secret for the rest of the afternoon because that was the reason why you went there in the first place.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, pulling the chair for you and sitting in front of you right after.

“Chamomile tea, please.”

“Are you nervous?” there was a mischievous smile playing on the corners of his lips, making you shift uncomfortably on the chair. You don’t know why, but you just nodded and got a chuckle as a reply. The whole thing was absolute madness and torture. You could feel that pair of hazel eyes studying you with so much interest, Mason’s entire body language was incredibly easy to read because you could see Lily there, in everything that he did and even in his breathing. ‘Except for the nose,’ like your father said. Except for the nose, Lily was exactly like her father. “Well, I’m a bit nervous too.”

The waiter brought chamomile tea for you, and peppermint for him. You couldn’t hold back a soft smile when this morning’s memories flooded your mind, and as you drank down your tea, you felt like having Lily on your mind would make this easier. Her eyes, the soft pinkish flush on her cheeks, her laugh… Slowly, you felt your hands steadier, your breathing calmer. The priority had to be your daughter and everything she meant for you, all these years where it was just the two of you would be over and her biggest dream would come true.

“Mason, I-”

“Let me begin,” Mason moved his cup aside and now it was him shifting on the chair, clearly uncomfortable and making an effort to find the correct words to say. A sigh parted his lips as he rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been feeling embarrassed for years now, for the way I treated you when you showed up at my door. I wasn’t prepared for a relationship and I didn’t know what to do, nor how to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A relationship?”

“The way you kept calling, texting… it overwhelmed me a bit,”

“Wait. You assumed I went there to tell you I was in love with you or something?” you raised your voice a little, immediately regretting it when the waiter side-eyed you.

“Weren’t you?”

“I think that stick was a bit too far up your arse,” you muttered, suddenly feeling confident enough to straighten your posture and calmly drink down your tea again. You observed his jaw drop and Mason’s cheeks were so red you could swear he felt them burning.

“Anyway,” he coughed. “I am sorry, deeply and truly. I tried to find you the next day, but I had no idea where you lived and you blocked my number.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Mason. There is a reason why I went to your place, an extremely significant one. A reason that changed my whole life and it would’ve changed yours too if you hadn’t been a complete idiot,” a frustrated sigh parted your lips and it didn’t take long for your eyes to burn with tears. “But in the end, I also need to apologise because I should’ve insisted, and I truly hope you can forgive me someday…”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” His voice was soft yet tinged with a mix of urgency, curiosity, and apprehension.

As you sat across each other, the aroma of peppermint and chamomile mingling in the air, you took a deep breath, heart pounding against your chest. This was it, this was the moment. “There’s something I need to tell you,” you started, voice barely above a whisper, which was making Mason feel as tense as he’d ever been. You could see concern etched on his face. “That night changed everything I thought I knew,” You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I went to your house to tell you I was pregnant. We have a daughter.”

The words hung heavy between you, the silence only broken by Mason’s gasp. He stared at you, his eyes wide in shock, the natural flush on his cheeks instantly gone as his face went pale. “A-a daughter?” he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. You nodded, eyes brimming with tears as you watched his reaction. “A daughter,” Mason repeated, his brows together in a frown as he mumbled it again a couple of times.

“I thought about going back there and forcing you to listen, and I know I should’ve,” you swallowed a sob, forcing yourself to push away all the hurt you felt that day and bringing Lily’s face back to your thoughts. Emotions swirling inside you. “But you shoved me off. I instantly felt like I’d face rejection again and it wasn’t about me anymore… it was about… her.” Your voice trailed off.

“I would never,” Mason reached for your hand across the table, his expression softening. “I wish you would’ve insisted.” He said, his tone gentle yet filled with a mix of hurt and, much to your surprise, understanding. You looked down, unable to meet his gaze when his warm hand gently squeezed yours. “Look at me, please.”

When you looked up, you noticed his eyes glistened with tears. Letting go of his hand, you reached for your phone and realised that the easier way to tell him the rest of the truth was opening his sister’s Instagram and showing him a picture of Lily and Summer that he’d seen before and even left a comment. The frown was there again as he took your phone from you, jaw dropping again, Mason blinked repeatedly. His mind raced, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what was unfolding before him. This was his daughter, the child he never knew he had. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown out the cacophony of emotions swirling inside him.

His mind nearly exploded once he finally realised that he met her not long ago and his heart sank as the realisation that he had actually thought how adorable and polite she was, and also extremely thoughtful - it hit him like a ton of bricks. A type of anger he never felt before bubbled up inside him, mingling with hurt and another feeling that was still unknown to him and Mason could not yet describe but was directly tied to that lovely little girl.

Mason’s heart felt heavier by the second as he tried to process the truth - the woman he shared a fleeting connection with kept their daughter hidden from him for years. Confusion blurred his thoughts for a second, he asked himself if his sister knew, and if she did, it only made him feel angrier. Beneath the anger, though, there was indeed a flicker of understanding.

“I couldn’t hide it anymore, and Jaz confronted me after she was in the same room as you and Lil-“

“Lilian Maisie,” he murmured. “You named her after me?”

“She needed you around, somehow.” Your words hung in the air, laden with the weight of missed opportunities and what-ifs.

As he looked deep into your eyes, Mason saw a reflection of his own emotions - uncertainty, regret, but also a glimmer of what could be… hope? Despite the hurt he felt that moment, Mason couldn’t shake the feeling of connection he always felt towards you and he now wondered if it was Lily who tied him to you. Like a force of nature, one he didn’t know existed, always making him think about you and if you were well.

Silence settled over you for longer than you expected, but not once you nor Mason looked away from each other - the weight of revelation started to sink in. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with emotion. “Tell me everything about her.”

Relief washed over you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded, finally being able to breathe. “Do you think we could go somewhere else, though? Somewhere it could be just us. Maybe your car, I-“ a sob interrupted you but Mason quickly paid for the tea and gripped your hand as you left the café. It was only when you two finally got to his car that you allowed yourself to actually cry, loud sobs making your body shiver. It felt like the weight of the world was no longer on your shoulders.

“Breathe, please,” Mason cupped your face, his thumbs wiping your tears. “Can you breathe with me, Y/n?”

His tone was so gentle you couldn’t believe how well he was treating you when he had to face the fact that you literally hid a child from him for five years. His child. How long would that last, though? How long until things crumbled, once he realised reality and parenthood were not easy to face? That once he accepted this role, his life was no longer his and that everything was about her? Their daughter.

“Better?” He asked, letting go of you when you nodded. Oddly enough, you missed the warmth of his touch. “Think you can tell me more about Lily now?”

Nodding again, you decided to show Mason pictures of her growing up as you shared every little detail about your daughter. How she was the sweetest, and most chubby baby you’ve ever seen; that she was always paying attention to everything and everyone around her, and clapped her chubby hands whenever she liked something. You told Mason that her first word was ‘goal’, and there was a mix of a sob and a giggle parting his lips. You told him that Lily behaved like an adult most of the time, that she loved animals, and that she was always making sure everyone around her was happy.

That her laugh was the sweetest sound in the world, and how her eyes crinkle when she laughed. Just like him.

You told Mason that besides ballet, she also loved football, and you could see pride in his eyes.

You told Mason that she also loved peppermint tea and that it was your thing to share a cup every morning.

Last but not least, you told Mason that he was her biggest dream. That she longed and cried for him almost every night, that her life was nowhere near complete without him in it, and that if he wanted to be in Lily’s life, his life would instantly become better and happier because she loved him more than anything in the world without even knowing who he is. That was the purest form of love he’d have, and the only thing he’d have to give in return was his love.

“I was surprised I didn’t hear from you right after you met her and Willow that day,” you admitted, watching Mason frown again.

“Willow?”

You nodded. “My friend who was with me the night we met.”

“To be honest,” he moved in his seat, cheeks flushed pink. “You were the one who had my attention and I wouldn’t remember her face even if I tried. I think Woody ran into her at some point but-”

“He did?” you interrupted him, not remembering if Willow ever mentioned it to you. Mason just nodded.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“It’s funny, but that day… watching her with Summer, I felt something so weird.” Mason repeatedly and slowly shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. You could hear your heart pounding against your chest, “Like the world’s entire happiness was right there, in front of me. I remember how I went home thinking ‘Oh wow, what a sweet little girl’ and I couldn’t understand why.”

“Oh, Mason…” the familiar knot on your throat was there again and you nearly forced yourself not to cry again. “I’m so sorry, so sorry-” You were interrupted by his arms around you.

Did he really pull you into a hug? Was he really hiding his face in the crook of your neck, crying like a little kid? Were you really comforting him, right hand up and down his back as he sobbed his heart out?

That wasn’t the reaction you expected, and guilt hit so hard that you could feel how your vision instantly blurred and you finally allowed yourself to cry again. You broke his heart, prived your daughter from living the first 5 years of her life with that man who probably would’ve given her his whole world - and also everything and anything else she wanted him to give her. Like his love, affection, and a big family. You took that from both of them, and you couldn’t help feeling like a monster. So the only thing left to do now was to fix this, beg for everyone’s forgiveness, and work forever to repair the damage you’ve caused.

“Does she know about me?” his voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence between you. Mason still had his arms tightly wrapped around your body, which was only making things worse for you because how could he still show any sort of affection when you’ve done something so horrible?

You shook your head. “I wanted to see how you’d react before telling her,” you sighed, feeling completely vulnerable and defeated. “I was expecting lots of screaming, maybe you shoving me off again or something like that and telling me to speak to your lawyers.”

Too close for your sanity, Mason pulled from you just enough so he could look you into your eyes. The way his eyes were so red and puffy broke your heart into a million pieces because it was like seeing Lily crying - even the way he kept his brows in a frown, and slightly pouted. “Let’s save the lawyers for when we have to do the bureaucratic part of her getting my name.”

A nod was all you could give him back as you swallowed hard and your heart skipped a beat. You were far too naive thinking lawyers wouldn’t be brought into this, especially with your father being one of the greatest. You shook your head at the thought of Mason trying to take her from you, and even if you felt extremely guilty, you’d be ready to fight for your daughter no matter what or how much it’d cost you - the sudden pain in your chest and how you now desperately tried to catch your breath made Mason let go of you and cup your face again. You tried to look away, but he made you focus on him because he noticed what the word ‘lawyers’ did to you.

“Breathe with me, yeah?” His voice was calm, there was so much patience in every little gesture he offered you, that it wasn't hard to feel your heart and breathing going back to its normal pace. “I’m not taking Lily from you, ever. I promise.”

“You have every right to but I want yo-,“

“Y/n, don’t.” Mason interrupted you, and for a moment you felt like he could read your mind and soul by how deeply that man looked at you. “I would never, ever do that. She’s ours and we’re gonna find a way to make this work, let’s focus on her now, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, but we can arrange a DNA test if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Do you have any doubts that she’s mine?”

“Gosh, no! She’s all you, Mason.”

For a moment, you could swear there was a glimpse of pride sparkling in his eyes. Mason took a long and deep breath and, much to your disappointment, let go of you. You watched him run both hands on his face, and stay silent for a few seconds. He was definitely lost in his thoughts, and once again you knew that because that was the same facial expression you’ve seen on Lily’s face multiple times.

“But I think it’ll be necessary, at some point. We can think about it later, let’s just focus on her and make sure she’s safe and-,” Mason stopped talking when he noticed a smile curving the sides of your lips. That’s what, deep down, you hoped for. Him putting her as a priority. “What?”

“You probably didn’t realise yet, but you’re behaving like a dad.”

That was when reality hit him again, like a slap in the face. Mason was a dad, and his life wasn’t just his anymore - there was a little human who loved him unconditionally without even knowing who he was, who waited and cried for him on countless nights, who hoped he’d show up for birthdays and important events such as a ballet recital. Mason was there the night before, watching his daughter without even knowing she was his. It hurt, but it also made him feel oddly happy.

Suddenly, he felt the impulse to wrap his arms around her slight figure and protect her from everything and everyone. Mason couldn’t understand why and how that feeling took power overer him so quickly, but now he understood why he always felt like part of him was missing. Lily was the missing piece.

“I didn’t want to leave you yet,” He started, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “I’d like to tell my family today, so you can do the same and we can set up a day with just the three of us.”

“She’s the only one left to tell now, but yes,” You nodded. “She’ll want to see you as soon as possible, I can already visualise her going wild thinking about what to wear. There’s just one thing…”

“What?”

“She’s not here now, my parents took her to the Cotswolds for Christmas and I’m supposed to meet them there. I can bring her back or you can meet us there…?”

Mason scratched his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t want to crash your family’s Christmas.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Unconsciously, you reached for his hand, watching how he instantly intertwined his pinky with yours in what was the most precious and delicate gesture he’s shown. You felt your cheeks burning under his gaze. “You’re her dad, that alone already makes you part of the family.”

Mason’s lips parted in a wide smile at your words, he unhurriedly nodded, his pinky playing with yours. You two shared a giggle and you watched him sigh before saying anything. “I don’t really want to think about the after, my brother having to do damage control because of the media. I want to enjoy this moment to meet her, what she’s like…”

“Yes, and you can come stay with us if you’d like to. There’s lots of space there, even if your family would like to join us,”

“Let me take you home now, and we’ll settle on what to do, yeah?” Mason gently squeezed your hand before letting you go, again, much to your dismay.

It stunned every inch of your heart and soul the way he responded to the news, almost as if deep down he already saw it coming. As you guided him to your parents’ house, your mind was working on how to tell Lily that she was finally meeting her daddy and that he couldn’t wait to see her - finally, she’d get one of the things she wanted the most for Christmas. You couldn’t avoid the feeling that it was all too perfect, though. That, at some point, something bad would happen and you feared for Lily's protection, understanding how exposed she’d be once the media was aware that golden boy Mason Mount is a father to a five-year-old girl who’s been entirely hidden from the limelight. You feared curious eyes and potentially evil words directed at her, to you, to your family. But, right now, it was about allowing Lily to finally have her daddy all to herself.

When Mason pulled over the car, you noticed how his jaw slightly dropped and how he bent his body to take a proper look at the house.

“What? Not what you expected?” You teased, lifting an eyebrow at him and watching how his cheeks immediately got pink. “At least no one can say it was about money, huh?”

“I’d fight whoever said it was,” Mason murmured. “But definitely not what I expected. Is that a fucking Arsenal flag or am I delusional?” You watched Mason’s eyes widen, and a loud laugh filled the car with pure bliss. That was the first moment you allowed yourself to relax and laugh. “Are you a Gunner?”

“Fucking hell, no! My dad is,” A single tear rolled down your cheek, as you recovered from the sudden wave of euphoria that caused you to laugh so hard. “He wasn’t happy to know that a Chelsea player knocked up his daughter.”

“Oh man, this is going to be fun!” Mason punched the air and then helped you with the seatbelt before getting out of the car to open the door for you. You muttered a ‘thank you’, stopping in front of him as you searched for the keys in your bag. “Can you send me pretty much everything you have of Lily? Photos, videos… I’d like to show my parents.”

“Of course, Mason,” With both hands in your coat’s pockets, you scanned him for a few seconds and, finally, gathered some courage to step forward and give his cheek a delicate kiss. “I’ll accept your follow request too, and we’ll sort things out so you can meet her, okay?”

He nodded, cheerfully, like a child having the best Christmas morning in the world. When you were about to turn and head home, he pulled you again and embraced you as tight as he possibly could.

“Do you believe she’ll like me?” Uncertainty was so clear in his voice that you felt your chest clench.

“She loves you, Mason. Lily loves you unconditionally,”

Watching him go was different this time because you knew Mason wasn’t going anywhere ever again. He’d stay, you knew that with your whole being - the thing is that if he was going to be there all the time, you’d have to find again to set boundaries between the two of you or things could end up badly. And it couldn’t, not if it involved Lily’s happiness and well-being.

You’d get along with Mason, and spend time with him so Lily would understand and live life with her parents around, but allowing yourself to have feelings for that insanely gorgeous was out of the question, even if you had no idea how to avoid it when he kept being so touchy and so lovely, much to your frustration.

In the end, it seemed that Mason would become an issue, but to your heart.

****

BONUS:

next chapter

[apas-95]

the liberal 'actually, it's impossible to tell whats good and bad, so you should never have any authority over anything' approach is, principally, ridiculous, but is also just incredibly weak as a defence.

whether abortion is good or actually murder is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. whether hrt is good or actually delusional self-harm is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. whether being gay is good or actually a sign of a sexual predator is a pretty important thing to address: it's good. in all these cases, going 'yeah, maybe abortion is murder, but it's my inalienable right to bodily autonomy, either way' is laughable. it wins over nobody who doesn't already think abortion isn't murder, and is based on a premise that we should already know is wrong: there are no such thing as universal human rights. all rights are socially-situated and conditional, and in fact, there are good times when 'bodily autonomy' should not be respected - I mean, for god's sake, we intend to kill people with guns.

we have to actually make value judgements and weigh the positives against the negatives for real, specific cases, not just pre-emptively refuse the question out of a solipsism and appeals to universal truths. forcing someone to give blood to save lives at a mass casualty event is more emotionally impactful, despite being identical to, mandating vaccination and handwashing. both of the latter are 'violations of bodily autonomy' that are plainly agreeable on practical grounds. the position that finds no possible way of extricating 'stopping someone from committing suicide', an act generally thanked after the fact, from the abuses that take place in capitalist psychiatric institutions, is not one based on material analysis or an attempt to mitigate harm - it is a juvenile 'abolitionist' approach that refuses to consider class character, in favour of an idealistic condemnation of entire systems and related practices in the abstract.

ultimately, there is nothing incorrect that is not also harmful. a refusal to analyse the positives and negatives of behaviours, procedures, and acts, justified by 'it's impossible to know!' and 'doing anything would be authoritarian!' is not helpful, does not bring about correct behaviour in practice, it is the opposite - it is a cover for harmful behaviours, and promoting it to avoid the hard discussions over whether a given behaviour is harmful is wrong. it fails to defend correct things - like the fact that hrt is good - and works to defend incorrect things. any view that our positions should not be based on practical, material facts is corrosive.

[ryssabrin]

i feel like people who don’t like solas or solavellan have such a warped perspective of what the romance is and how fans of it actually engage in it. like i’ve seen a lot of (most likely het dudes lol) on reddit say they tried it to see what the fuss was but felt it was “demeaning” and i’ve seen it described as literally a horror story where solas is manipulating and using and lying to a young impressionable lavellan who gives up her entire identity for him and becomes a complete doormat to all the awful shit he does. that’s never been my experience and i kinda just want to ramble about how i see it and what i find romantic about it?

so full disclosure, if veilguard had come out a few years ago with how they portrayed lavellan and solavellan i might have been pretty disappointed. i think there is a subset of the solavellan fanbase that likes the wolf/halla or student/professor thing and they play their lavellan younger and agreeing almost without question to everything solas says. i see the appeal but i never played my lavellan that way and i really like the dynamic of it when lavellan actually goes against his advice at times. solas is a character that needs to have his preconceived biases questioned. especially in inquisition when he’s still coming to terms with the fact that the modern people of thedas are in fact people lol. so i was concerned at the prospect of my lavellan being taken out of my hands and having to listen to her make excuses for him and submit to everything he says. (which tbf i don’t think is how she actually comes across in dav, but that was a worry.)

however when i replayed my canon dai run this year, i realized i was closer to the age i always saw my lavellan as (early 30s), and as my lavellan is probably the bioware pc i’ve always played closest to my own personality, i took the opportunity to tweak her a bit and make some different choices. i’ve (hopefully lol) matured and grown a lot since i was 24 and so rather than going for the snarky sarcastic cool girl vibes i opted to play her with more diplomatic and caring choices. it made me see the solas romance in a completely new light. rather than some sort of student/professor dynamic or a pride and prejudice-esque rivals-to-lovers vibe where lavellan is fighting for his respect the whole time, what stuck out to me was how much their connection builds simply because lavellan is kind to solas. she hears him out when he wants to give his opinions and advice, she respects his expertise on the fade and spirits, and she offers him comfort and friendship when she sees he needs it. she impresses him because he finds himself wanting to indulge in her closeness. he finds a connection to someone he never expected to and it makes him rethink everything about the broken state he put the world in.

it’s worth noting that lavellan is always making the first move. she kisses him first, she pursues him. he tries to brush off the kiss as a spontaneous lapse in judgement and she doesn't let him. he only ever gives in to her advances, he doesn't make them himself. he calls their relationship "selfish" on his end. he knows he shouldn't be encouraging her but he can't help but long for her companionship. that being said though if lavellan shuts it down he respects it. he probably feels a little relief because the temptation is now out of his hands lol.

i feel like there’s also this perception that he’s constantly shitting on the dalish while lavellan just has to put up with it and that alone is reason enough to find the relationship demeaning. he mentions the dalish in one optional conversation chain where you ask him for his opinion on the state of the elves and then in the balcony scene where he realizes he’s misjudged the inquisitor after his personal quest. in both instances, lavellan can stick up for the dalish. in the optional conversation, lavellan can say that if solas had a bad experience with a clan once (which we know from dav is exactly what happened lol), that she’d like to correct that misunderstanding about her people.

it's worth noting as well that lavellan doesn't know solas is the dread wolf when he's criticizing the dalish. from her perspective, he's essentially a city-born elf who had some dalish look down their nose at him for not being a "true elf" like they are, something that not only happens in canon throughout the games and lavellan would be aware of, but literally happens to solas specifically, right in front of you. he doesn't say a single word to mihris and she doesn't know a thing about him other than his face is bare and thus feels comfortable referring to him with what is essentially a slur. but rather than confront her directly about it he just passive aggressively speaks to her in elven almost exclusively for the rest of the quest lol.

far from the dynamic being that lavellan is just putting up with someone talking down to her about her culture, i think it's reasonable to see her view is more that they're both members of the same marginalized group, but from different cultures. his position in criticizing the dalish is not punching down it's lateral. she loves her culture, but is able to recognize it has flaws and not every member in it treats other cultures well, particularly even when they're from the same marginalized group. (and it's also just really meaningful that the first "flirt" option you get in the solas romance is lavellan recognizing that solas has put himself in a very vulnerable position as an elven apostate joining the chantry-led inquisition and with whatever power she has she will make sure that it's not held against him.)

i do think the writing conveys that he does have his mind changed about the dalish at least a little bit, but one of his pet peeves is when people are ignorant and refuse any information that challenges their worldview. as a manifested wisdom spirit, it is a particular sticking point to him to not be listened to when he is providing knowledge. i think criticism of how he is towards the dalish is lacking without taking into account his nature as a spirit. obvs we didn’t know that in dai but we do now. when wisdom isn't listened to it turns to pride. "i told you so," "i'll prove i'm right," "you should have listened to me," etc. etc. he got his feelings hurt when the dalish didn't believe him (and according to dav, literally tried to kill him) and his ego's held a grudge ever since.

when it comes to the vallaslin, to me it’s less about solas wanting to dismantle part of dalish culture (he offers no actual opinion on the dalish during that scene) and more that it clearly bothers him a lot that he fought so hard to free the elves from slavery and the one community of elves that’s closest to the descendants of the people he wanted to free still wears tattoos honoring the very tyrants he wanted to free them from. if lavellan says she wants to keep them and that the dalish reclaimed them and they mean something else to her, he doesn’t argue. i actually don’t like that solas’s post breakup banter with cole implies that lavellan thinks he might have broken up with her over the vallaslin. it’s putting thoughts in the head of my character that i personally don’t see her having. the way the breakup plays out, there’s not a single indication that it has anything to do with the vallaslin. i like to pick the “i believe in us” option because it shows lavellan having some idea that there’s something solas isn’t telling her and that’s the main reason he’s walking away. and the irony of course is that we learn in dav that that was the moment he came the closest to just giving up everything to just be with her.

so when i played through dav with my solasmance lavellan and she talks about what drew her to him it all just felt so right. he was kind and wise and sad but he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him. (and that was very almost true!) there was a passion and intensity to their relationship that made her think he was the person she wanted to be with forever. when she says "i thought i would have followed anywhere he asked me to" you could read it as her saying she would have joined him in tearing down the veil if he asked and depending on your lavellan that might be true (though in the next bit she talks about how she would have been trying to change his mind anyways). but you could also read it as what her mindset was while she was with him during dai. before joining the inquisition, she knew him to be someone that traveled the world looking for lost secrets and history. why would she not have wanted to join him in that? is that not something you do when you're in love with someone?

something else that i find really compelling about solavellan is how solas relates to the inquisitor (not just lavellan) as a figurehead stripped of their personal identity. he knows from personal experience exactly what that's like. in the romances (not just solas's), the inquisitor is able to find someone that knows and cares for them for who they are, not what they represent. this aspect of the inquisitor's arc is honestly why i like keeping the vallaslin. my lavellan wants people to be able to look at her as the inquisitor and see a dalish elf. it's one small act of defiance and in reclaiming her own narrative. so thinking about what she might want to do after her responsibilities to the inquisition are over, it's reasonable to think she might want to just go wherever solas goes? because she loves him and feels like herself around him. even her asking him to let her come with him in trespasser feels more motivated by the fact that lavellan sees solas isolating himself and closing himself off and she's sad about it because she cares about him. that was why she wanted to grow close to him in the first place.

and i genuinely don't think it's all that wild that lavellan still holds a torch for solas 10 years later. i personally was friends with this guy in high school i always had a crush on, and towards the end of senior year it looked like it could actually end up turning into something. but then he immediately left for a summer abroad after graduation and eventually moved out of the country full time for school. we kept in touch off and on and caught up when he was in town, but nothing romantic ever happened. for years after i would catch myself thinking every so often what could have been and what he was up to. for solavellan, they were actually together. they had mutually expressed feelings and though their time together was maybe a few months at most, it was intense and passionate. they split up not because anyone's feelings changed, but because of solas's baggage. it's really not unrealistic for lavellan to continue wondering to herself what would have happened if he had been honest with her sooner. if she could have convinced him to change course. and it's not like she has the luxury of retiring and just not thinking about him anymore. that's not a conscious manipulation on solas's part to string her along, that's just the reality of their situation.

and even with all that in mind, in dav lavellan is still able to have the self-awareness to understand that the good in him that she believes exists and all that they had together and what she meant to him could all just be wishful thinking on her part. that she's giving him the benefit of the doubt "imagining his broken heart" when he doesn't deserve it because it makes her feel less foolish. she's not blindly faithful to him. i just loved everything about that scene and every word out of my lavellan's mouth felt spot on and perfect for how i saw their relationship. i could not have been more relieved lol.

as for the ending, i really really dislike the bad faith read that the only thing that matters is mythal and that he somehow loves mythal more and if that weren't true then lavellan alone would be able to convince him to stop. varric says about solas that he wants to be a hero, but it's easier for him to play the villain because it means he didn't fail, everything bad he's done is a choice. once you've done one bad thing, betrayed one friend, manipulated and sacrificed some pawns, committed one lil genocide, etc. lmao, it becomes easier to do it again. you've already crossed your moral event horizon and now you just have to find an end that justifies the means of all your misdeeds. what i've said about solas before is that what's frustrating is that he does genuinely feel remorse about the shit he does, but he needs to believe it's necessary and he will keep doing it. he needs to believe it will all be worth it in the end. it's not that he thinks feeling sorry makes up for it necessarily, but that he had to do it. he had to be the one taking on all of the bad things to hopefully one day do a good thing and it will all work out.

(as a side note when solas says "i would not have you see what i become" in trespasser i always thought that meant he was going to resort to some awful corruptive magic or something but it turns out what he actually meant was "i'm about to be a real asshole and do some incredibly awful things and i don't want you to see that side of me" which is much sadder.)

so when rook says "you don't have to do this" solas counters with "i've betrayed and fucked over and killed so many people who trusted me and if i stop i will have done that for nothing." so then the inquisitor jumps in with "as one of those people, i'm telling you that you can stop." but then we get to the heart of it. he thinks he failed mythal when she died the first time and was unwilling to listen to her as flemeth. he needs to make that mean something. he needs to justify to himself what mythal made him into. so he needs to hear from his mythal, not morrigan's mythal who has the benefit of the wisdom and hindsight centuries of living among mortals gave her, but his mythal, the one closest to who she was when she died that what he is is broken. that she's the one that broke him and he alone doesn't have to bear the weight of everything he did because of her. it's not about loving her, it's about the specific relationship he had with her. with that baggage unpacked, he's not only able to let go of his prideful need to prove himself right by tearing down the veil, he's also free to choose what he always really wanted: lavellan.

and still! yet again! he does not ask or assume anything on her part. she offers! of her own free will. something that really rustles my jimmies about a lot of solavellan criticism is that people act like lavellan has no agency. that she couldn't possibly make the choices she does of her own accord and it has to be solas manipulating her. that has never rang true to me at all. she always made the first move. i think this more uncharitable read might unfortunately be encouraged by how many actual solavellan shippers play into the wolf/halla thing but i personally don't think that's the dynamic that weekes actually wrote. it is lavellan that pursues solas, not the other way around. and weekes was honestly so careful in how they wrote the romance so that when solas's identity and plans are revealed, it doesn't feel like he intentionally tricked you or took advantage. i actually really like the ambiguity of whether or not they slept together because to me it does feel like that's a line solas wouldn't cross, but i get why that doesn't matter as much to other solasmancers.

i also think there's this perception that solavellan is a ship with an unhealthy power dynamic that needs to be "fixed" in some way or at the very least apologized for before you're allowed to like it. for me it's honestly kind of the appeal? not that there's some goofy dom/sub thing going on lol but that in spite of how "superior" solas may or may not feel to lavellan and the modern elves, he still falls hook line and fucking sinker for her. lavellan has so much more power in the relationship than she realizes. she changes his entire perspective on modern elves and his ultimate goals so bad he had a complete crisis of faith and had to run as far away from her as he could. how could he have broken the world so badly he needs to catastrophically break it again to fix it if it could create someone like her? someone he wants and cares for so desperately? it's the push and pull of him trying to stay away but selfishly indulging as long as he can that's so juicy to me! it's so good and i just wish other people could see that, even if they don't care for the character.

anyways. i don't have a conclusion. i don't want anyone to think i'm vaguing about them. this is honestly the result of some thoughts that have been brewing for a while and a lot of common criticisms i've seen over the years. i didn't want to respond directly to anyone in particular bc i learned my lesson about not doing that waaay back in the shenko fandom iykyk lol. i just really like the ship! i think it's tragic and romantic and lovely and poetic and mythological and all that good stuff. it humanizes solas as a character and makes me think about empathy and compassion and how much faith you can have in someone if you love them. or how it might feel to sacrifice love for something you think you need to do, only to ultimately realize you never did and find that love patiently waiting for you to get your shit together. or to love someone and know they love you back and that they love you so much they had to leave or they would have given up everything they thought they needed for you and then to be able to actually get through to them and get them back. "she could save him if he'd only just let her"! it's a very niche wish fulfillment fantasy and it's me! i'm the fan being serviced!

[shorthaltsjester]

sorry if it was unclear but the clarification on ashton's position in 110 that has made the ugliness of his current ideology clear was not the fact that he listened to what was said to him, it was his claim after that "The shard of titan in me, it's good. If things go the way I think they're going to go... I think nature is ready to right itself one way or another. [...] I think the world is ready for a bit more chaos. I think that we could be good for this place and I think we will more than survive the gods, if it comes to it ."

First, claiming that nature as titan has any moral standing at all is a bold move, because then ashton is ascribing the exact same power structure he thinks is inherently horrible with the gods to the titans. the titans are morally neutral if taken to be part of nature, the shard is just power, ashton's assumption that there is something about the titans that makes their responses and role in the world more right, natural, or most of all good is literally just. textbook essentialism.

but second. one of the first pieces of communication in that exchange was a correction of ashton's thinking (one similar to the correction the matron was trying to draw out as she kept bringing up the agency of mortals and their power). when ashton says "i'm a part of you." they're corrected and told that actually she's a part of ashton. in the literal sense this is obvious that the shard is inside ashton, but it also speaks to the pattern of bh looking everywhere but inward for an answer to what they should do, which is rather comedic given the degree to which ashton is willing to reinterpret anything said to them to get a specific answer but not actually uphold their own agency when it comes to 'nature righting itself.'

particularly i find revealing the "we will more than survive the gods" part. even taken as generously as possible and assuming ashton is just exercising his lack of judgement and does mean all mortals in his use of the "we" pronoun there, he has completely overlooked what was explicitly said about how, if the world is remade, only the strong are likely to survive. paired with the notion that the world needs a bit more chaos after spending weeks with several people whose lives have been irreparably damaged by the chaos that the other person in exandria who is appealing to a greater power to free him from the responsibility of dealing with his trauma at any cost... even my best faith still comes out of that looking at ashton (as someone who literally earlier in the same episode pushed back against his party members being optimistic because it wasn't realistic) as someone acting with naive optimism for blatantly selfish reasons. also just, general icky feelings about ashton referring to nature righting itself, the world getting more chaos, if things go the way he thinks they're going to go in vague, hand-wavy fashion when he should well know, punk icon that he is, all the violence those notions include.

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Astarion (Baldur's Gate 3) x Reader ...a kiss because time's running out

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

...a kiss for Astarion because time's running out

You could feel your stomach drop as your eyes followed the enormous pink brainstem up into the clouds, imagining the monstrous platform that it might form at the top. Months of adventuring, forming lifelong bonds, the gathering of your allies; it had all led to this. At the top of this strange tangled rope of flesh and nerves your destiny awaited. Win or Lose. Life or Death. Good or Evil. The balance that had hung so tenuously over each of you for as long as you could remember all came down to this. It almost felt a relief knowing that salvation or damnation stood right around the corner. It made finally making your feelings known to well-dressed vampire beside you feel far easier.

You hadn't meant to leave sharing your feelings until quite such the last minute, but every time you had tried to broach the subject before now the fates had conspired to stand in your way. At your camp whenever you finally had a moment with him alone the fire would need tending to or Volo would burst from nowhere with a new poem about you. Whenever you two found yourselves roaming the woods together and you finally started to find the words to tell him how you appreciate all that he is, some rabid creature would appear from above and try to end you both. And god forbid you two be left sharing a goblet of wine at some heroic celebration, Astarion smiling so deviously at you until the only thing standing in your way is your own inability to form a sentence when he looks at you like that. No matter how often you had tried, you and Astarion had come all this way, growing closer than friends could ever be, without you ever getting to articulate that sweet bond.

"This is really it." Karlach sighed out behind you, sounding battle worn but steeling herself for one final push.

"This will all be over soon. For the better I'm sure." Gale echoed, sensing her fears and trying to sound more confident of the outcome. You turned to Astarion, ready to finally put your feelings into words only to find him already staring at you expectedly, waiting for your final rousing speech or spirited song. He looked almost scared as he drank in your expression, worried that the final turn of battle might not go your way after all the sacrifices and challenges you had faced to get here. You could barely think of what lay ahead as you focused on his features, watching him search your expression for some meaning he couldn't quite decipher.

You had no words, as usual. No quip to appeal to his wicked wit. No sincere praise to win his fractured heart. No great confession to draw out his affections. As you stood silently staring at him you let out the only thought you could manage to form.

"Fuck it." And with that your hands clasped the cold porcelain skin of his face, watching his eyes grow wide as finally after weeks of wanting, your lips met his. He may have felt cold to the touch, but the soft skin of his lips had warmth flooding through your body, the faint feeling of sharp teeth running over your top lip as he grinned against you. His hands were quick to latch onto your shoulders, giving you a gentle squeeze as he added pressure to the kiss, tangible desire and desperation coming through in the way your bodies sought to be together in what you could your final moments.

Astarion could have kissed you forever waiting for the hammer of fate to drop, but unfortunately your mortal lungs couldn't quite wait that long. You pulled your face just an inch away from his, taking a deep breath and finding only warmth and reassurance in his gaze.

"Okay, I'm ready to go." You announced to the group, a proud smirk spreading across Astarion face at your chosen final action before you faced the judgement of the gods.

"Should we? For good luck?" Karlach turned to Gale, not one to feel left out, but you and Astarion began your climb together without waiting for his decision. Both of you filled with a renewed confidence this fight would go your way, if nothing else because you knew you had something important to fight for. And something joyful waiting for you on the other side.

***

If you enjoyed this check out my Baldur's Gate 3 master list for more Astarion content!

[luna-rainbow]

I've seen a lot of differing opinions on how aware Bucky was as the Winter Soldier under brainwashing. Some say he was fully aware but just indoctrinated into wanting to follow orders, while others say he was a programed machine with no control basically.

I just wanted to ask what your opinion on that topic was. I love your other metas btw 💕

Sorry for the late reply! I’ve been somewhat away from Tumblr and I’ll try to work through the bunch of asks that I’ve missed.

The theories that say Bucky was aware and simply indoctrinated tend to be based on his comics origin. I haven’t actually read Brubaker’s run myself, but my understanding is comics Bucky was far more aware of his actions. While I think he still didn’t know his true identity because of his amnesia, he had far more self-awareness and independent thought.

For me, MCU Bucky is not someone who had the capacity to make his own decisions. The fact that the “wipe��� manages to deprive him of every frame of reference including even his most recent memories of his missions means he simply doesn’t have the understanding to make judgements. It also seems to me that they erase his sense of identity - comics Bucky may not know his true identity, he at least had an intact sense of self, while MCU Bucky has a robotic, impersonal demeanour when he’s freshly wiped and in mission mode (both the Helicarrier scene and the Civil War activation scenes show Bucky in this very mechanical, depersonalised state). Certainly both of those scenes suggest Bucky doesn’t have much contextual awareness of who and what he’s fighting for. In particular in the Civil War scenes, it suggests that voluntary thought was stripped from him when he’s “activated” by the code words. He doesn’t respond to Howard calling his name, nor does he recognise Sam and Steve later when Zemo activates the Soldier.

I think a lot of the early meta (from 2014) theorised that maybe he was only brainwashed because of that grand speech Pierce gives him (“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. I need you to do it one more time”). He seems to be appealing to the Bucky that we remember from CATFA, who would’ve stepped up at the beckoning of a greater cause. But to me, that scene was…maybe a bit of Pierce’s mockery and also his manipulation. He refuses to tell Bucky who he’s actually fighting against, and speaks in vague terms about what Bucky’s mission was for. We never see any hint that Bucky knew or understood what cause he was fighting for. As soon as Bucky asks who Steve is, Pierce first minimises and then shuts him down swiftly with the wipe. Bucky also doesn’t respond to Pierce’s pontification — we could either interpret that as him being distracted by his memories of Steve, or that the preaching was just performative on Pierce’s part because Bucky had no idea anyway.

[cats-artbag]

SwapOut/Webcomic/Twitch PSA!

Hi everyone 👋🏻 Zk here >< or Cats, for older followers

So I've been getting back into doing SwapOut again, but I would like to appeal to everyone who reads and loves the comic. Much love to all of you who's still sticking around 🙏🏻💙 But something has also always been bothering me throughout this journey.

As many of us know, we artists do these comics for free (especially fan comics), starting them out of love and taking a LOT of time and energy out of our lives to continue making them.

And it's amazing how many of you come from translations or comic dubs on Youtube, which are also very well-done and take a lot of effort to make, much love to them too. There is a difference, however.

Monetization.

And I'm not asking for pity! I'm appealing for understanding.

Because some comic dubbers on Youtube are able to earn ad revenue from the videos they upload. From the beginning, we artists have given them the permission to dub our works. But we don't receive anything from it, nor do we usually charge them for using our art (against our better judgement).

We let them use our comic pages in their monetized videos for free. And occasionally these videos receive thousands and millions of views, which I imagine gives a decent amount of ad revenue, while the artists themselves don't usually earn anything from their own artwork, nor do we ever want to put it behind a paywall of any kind. (we like reading free comics too so don't worry x|)

... But doing full-colored comic pages for free eventually gets hard to sustain without any income from it, even more so when we need to give our time and energy to other jobs to earn money for a living instead. We legitimately keep going on our comics purely out of love. Truly, we would LOVE to do our own art for a living. There's things like Patreon but it's only feasible if we're also able to produce bonus content or show BTS, and only people willing to spend money for them can help us, and not readers who aren't able to.

And we understand that not everyone can afford to support us monetarily. And that's okay!

But if you love these comics and want to really help us to keep going, there ARE ways you can easily support us for free!

For example, affiliates on Twitch (like myself) are able to earn ad revenue very early on (they must have at least 50 followers, quite a requirement, but still easier to obtain than Youtube's 1000 subscribers).

(my Youtube, btw. not much rn but drop a subscribe?)

But simply put, if the vast majority of readers from the yt numbers visit and stay for ads on the artists' Twitch streams (remember to have adblocker disabled for the site, if any), they'll be making an actual, physical contribution to the artist themselves, at no cost whatsoever. We earn up to 55% from any ads that run on our stream, so the more viewers, the better!

(this is my twitch on average 8 viewers, with a 3 hour stream. again, the more the better!)

(ofc you can also buy subs to watch ad-free and supports me directly, but i'm typing all this to share the free ways people can support their fave creators ✨)

And even if that doesn't work out, I'd be happy enough to see most of you there 🙏🏻💙 I've been treating my streams as work, so I'm striving not to break the streak.

So drop a follow on my Twitch, and catch the streams when you can! They're great if you need company or background noise, and also great for co-working~

Currently streaming WEEKLY, Mondays, Wednesdays (SwapOut) and Saturdays, 10.30AM EST

(art by @cupcakepaints)

>> twitch.tv/zkcats <<

Anyway thanks for listening to my Ted talk, please share this around for others as well >< 🙏🏻 Artists, make this a reblog chain or something! Promo your stuff!

And apologies for the essay, I wasn't expecting to type this much sdghsgh this itself is not an ad for Twitch or whatev, I'm just a little frustrated with needing to juggle all this.

I was also considering hosting SwapOut somewhere that could get ad revenue, but I wasn't sure where until I realized I can probably earn that from my Tapas now (i think?? sdfhgh up to 70% ad revenue there but i haven't seen any yet) So maybe I'll post there a day earlier than here or something? We'll see. Go subscribe there! Check it out! Reread it! Help ME help YOU!

... Much appreciated ><

[aliesbienish]

Love at first swipe

Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader. Modern Au.

Warnings: Cheesy AF. Innuendos.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cute smile. Check.

Kind eyes. Check.

Well written profile with no misogynistic undertones. Double check.

This guy must be to good to be true. Definitely a bot. Or married and cheating on his poor wife. Plus what girl hasn’t been screwed over by a ‘Ben’, maybe he’ll be yours.

Still against better judgement you swiped right on Mr. cute smile, and then called it a day. Closing tinder and setting down your phone, reluctantly getting up to make yourself dinner. Honestly having a partner to share the cooking load was just as appealing as the romance at this point.

Basic spaghetti made and glass of wine in hand you plopped back onto the couch to continue your next rerun of pride and prejudice, the tv show of course. At least you could always day dream of life with Mr Darcy, and if he was always looking like he just emerged from the lake then so be it.

Grabbing your phone to enter into some simultaneous mindless scrolling you saw a notification from Tinder pop up. Oh boy a new match. Maybe you needed more wine.

Of course you couldn’t help being intrigued, so you opened it up to see a new message from the definite robot himself.

Ben: Good evening [y/n], to what do I owe this pleasure?

You: Bit early to determine I’ll be a pleasure isn’t it?

I’m actually only here because I am convinced you are a bot and honestly chatting with a bot is almost guaranteed to be more exciting than chatting with a man.

Ben: I’m nothing if not optimistic. I promise I am not a bot. And before you say it; I know that it’s exactly what a bot would say but it’s also exactly what a human would say.

You: Touché. Alright Ben, prove it.

Ben: Do you interrogate all your matches or am I special?

You: You’re special. But don’t get sappy about it, I’m just suspicious that your profile doesn’t have a photo of you fishing or in front of a car.

Through many years of observation I’ve hypothesised that each human man must show one or the other.

Ben: And have you hypothesised why that may be?

You: It’s almost certainly something to do with their hunting and gathering skills. That or compensation.

Ben: And how was this concluded?

You: Well fishing is obviously a modern (and frankly boring) man’s hunting and gathering.Least amount of work and blood involved. These men want to prove they can provide, but will likely never actually do the real hunting and gathering ie. Grocery shopping.

Ben: Science seems sound. And cars?

You: Well that’s obvious. The bigger and shinier the car the smaller the 🍆.

Ben: I quite agree…but that might be because I own a mud covered beetle.

You: Haven’t you heard it’s best to keep expectations low?

Ben: And risk losing out? No thank you.

You: If you’re real, which the jury is still out, I’m sure that’s not an issue.

Ben: Still? I’m flattered. And while it may not be an issue let’s say why would I settle for bronze when I can have gold?

FYI that’s me saying I think you’re gold

You: thanks for the clarification. You’re really into calling this early aren’t you? 10 minutes and you’re obsessed.

Ben: It’s actually been about thirty minutes if you count when I first came across your profile and haven’t stopped thinking about you since.

You: That is either incredibly honest or an amazing line.

Ben: Oh it’s both. But first and only time I’ll use it, cross my heart.

You: So what next?

Ben: Coffee, tomorrow hopefully if that’s not too soon?

You: Tomorrows great. Meet in the city? Say Leicester Square at 11am?

Ben: Done. I look forward to it.

You: You’d better be real or I’ll hurt you.

You were standing in the square outside of the cinema, your agreed meeting place. Despite the anxiety in you wanting to call the date off you’d made it. It was likely a good thing you only had 24 hours or so to think about it. Ben had been funny and endearing and so damn sure he wanted to meet you. He seemed so lovely that it defied belief, but you were willing to suspend reality.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you spun around to come face to face with Ben. In the flesh, as handsome or in fact even more so than his profile photos.

You meet his eyes and suddenly you felt lost in them.

“Hi,” You muttered, a goofy smile plastering your face. “I’m [y/n]”.

“Hi back. My real names Benedict. But Ben is fine. Long story. It’s lovely to meet you properly.”

“Thank god we’re both real,” you laughed.

“To be honest I never had any doubt. When you know you know.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Maybe I’m just trying to manifest my own luck on the dating apps 🤷🏻‍♀️

[in1-nutshell]

G1 request bot buddy being kups dating blurr

Its been a while since I've done G1, lets do this!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Kup's kid and dating Blurr

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Familial, Cybertronian reader

G1

Kup takes pride in catching things before others.

It was one of his specialties, besides being a great shot.

He takes pride that his kid can do the same.

Buddy, his spunky kid he picked off from the streets of Cybertron, turn to one great addition to the Autobot fold.

Saving humans, bots and kicking Con can!

A true Autobot!

An Autobot who was apparently dating someone.

Kup is leaning against the wall while Buddy is busy cleaning their blaster. Kup: “So… who is it?” Buddy tenses a bit. Kup: “Don’t even try to hide it Buddy.” Buddy: “I… I didn’t tell you cause I needed to make sure what we had was serious.” Kup raises and optic. Kup: “And? Is it?” Buddy smiles a bit: “Yes.” Kup: “And your happy? Respected?” Buddy: “Yes. Makes me feel like one of the happiest bots on base.” Kup smiles at this. Kup: “Well the lucky bot? Springer? Hot Rod? Arcee? Perceptor? Oh, Primus don’t tell me its Grimlock!” Buddy: “What no! No, none of them! Its Blurr!” Kup: “…Blurr!?”

Yeah, he did not expect that answer.

Blurr? Why!?

He didn’t see the appeal.

But he trusts Buddy’s judgement.

Kup decides to observe the relationship from a far.

And he isn’t disappointed.

There is a bit of a balance in their dynamic.

For example, Blurr keeps Buddy on their pedes and surprises them with small gifts he finds on missions.

Buddy in the meantime makes sure Blurr is refueling properly, and all his weapons are ready to use.

Kup is spying on the happy couple from a bush. Hot Rod pops up beside him. Hot Rod: “What’s going on?” Kup jumps. Kup: “Hot Rod? What are you doing here?” Hot Rod: “I could be asking you the same thing.” Kup grumbles and looks at the couple. Hot Rod: “… You don’t think that Blurr’s going to do anything to Buddy right?” Kup: “I just want to make sure that they are okay.” The mechs see a Seeker fly in the sky. Buddy, without looking away from Blurr blast the Seeker’s wing. They were pretty sure that it was either Skywarp or Starscream. Blurr just gives them heart optics and squeezes their servo a bit. Kup and Hot Rod: “…” Hot Rod: “Remind me never to get on Buddy’s bad side.”

Kup does eventually gives Blurr the ‘shovel talk’ as the humans call it.

But he knows that Blurr’s a good kid and makes Buddy happy.

As the relationship goes on, Kup finds himself rooting for them and playing mediator.

It’s nothing new to him, so its okay.

Primus helps the bot who decides to talk trash about Buddy’s relationship.

Kup still knows how to aim a blaster with pretty good accuracy.

And mercy on anyone who decides it a smart idea to trash talk about Buddy, Primus forbid THREATEN Buddy.

They won’t know what hit them from the blast in their behind and a speedster socking them across the face multiple times.

[katerinaaqu]

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

[merbear25]

Needing release

These members of the Donquixote family won't be so quick to admit their attraction to you; whether they're in denial or fear rejection, they have been keeping their lustful desires suppressed. However, a dainty garment of yours catches their eye, unleashing their dark fantasies.

CW: NSFW, MDNI!! male masturbation, gn!reader but fem lingerie

Doflamingo, Caesar, Corazon

pt.1, pt.2, pt 3

Doflamingo: In spite of the loyalty you'd shown throughout your time with them, you'd begun to make him second guess your devotion to the family. He felt fairly confident about his hunch, but seeing you crumble and snap beneath your own falsehoods was much too tempting for him. Wanting to catch you in your web of lies, he snuck into your bedroom.

Rummaging through your desk, he found nothing worth his time, which lead him to snoop in your dresser―figuring you'd hide the secrets he'd fabricated about you under your personal attire. In hindsight, he should've been prepared to see your delicates; your panties were on full display when opening the drawer.

Balling up a pair of your bikini undies, he thought about how often you must wear them. They were soft and must add to the tenderness he'd undoubtedly find between your legs.

Taking a moment to consider his actions, he went against his better judgement―he took them and brought them to his face. Inhaling the traces of your scent which were still sewn in its silk fibers, he tugged his pants down before sprawling out on your bed.

Riding his fist, his climax was quickly approaching. Thinking of you finding him only brought it on faster. Most of his lust coated his palm, but the over flow splattered onto his exposed stomach.

Coming down from his high, he cleaned himself off using your garment and tossed it on the floor, leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

When seeing you afterwards, he held no remorse in soiling your privacy, though his suspicions of you had now become muddled.

Caesar: Pacing through the halls in search of one of his goons to subject experiments to, he found himself in the corridors wing. Thinking one of them would surely be exiting or entering their rooms, he went on in search of an unfortunate soul.

There was a door open further down, piquing his interest. Peeking in, he quickly realized whose room this was―yours. Seeing you weren't there for him to bother, he backed away. However, that was before the thong you'd carelessly thrown on your bed caught his eye; the dainty bow placed on top appealed to him the most.

Without hesitation, he snatched them and hurried back to his room. Immediately locking the door, he hurridly rutted against his open palm, shaking from the sudden rush of excitement.

Simply holding it while pleasing himself just wasn't doing it for him though; he needed to feel like you were there. Draping your thong around his aching member, he gripped it again, leaning his head back from the sensual friction.

Now he was being flooded with images of you wearing them―how good they must look on you. Looking down at them, there was a wet patch forming from his precum, which made his breaths quicken.

Then the lewd thought of you wearing them after he'd cum in them was just about to send him over the edge. Picturing his cum sliding across your most private area sent him into a frenzy of overwhelming passion―leaving your thong absolutely soaked.

Shoving the dirty deed deep within your hamper, he felt a bit ashamed about it, especially when seeing you following the incident. However, 'what you don't know can't hurt you' replaced that feeling quickly.

Corazon: He'd been looking for something specific, something that he needed to add to the dirt he'd been collecting on his brother. You trusted each other, so he thought you had hidden it in your room somewhere. Letting himself in, he began searching through desk drawers, books, even in the boxes under your bed, but he still couldn't find it.

The idea to check the bathroom came to his mind; perhaps it would be strapped under the counter he guessed. Upon entering, his eyes were directly alligned with your hamper; your cheeky panties were carefully displayed on top, as if taunting him.

He stood in the doorway, attempting to fight off the sudden urges stirring in his jeans. Stepping in, he sealed off his path when he closed the door.

It was no use resisting at this point. Releasing his hardening shaft, it started throbbing once he inched closer to your garmet. Grasping at the wall, he needed to steady himself as he attempted to ride out the first wave of lust.

Choking back a moan, he was allowing himself to get lost in his sinful indulgence: thinking of them hugging your hips, the dip in front which acted as an arrow―the temptation was causing him to pant.

Picturing how the laced fabric covered your most delicate parts was overwhelming him, making him force back a final grunt―being careful not to let any of his seed leak out of his agitated fist.

Post nut clarity left him feeling humiliated. He'd add this to the long list of things he wouldn't talk about. When he saw you again, his face burned red and he avoided eye contact.

[atoriid]

You find me attractive when I’m jealous?

-oneshot-

summary: You were away for a while…Zhongli is missing you so badly and is marinating in his dark thoughts…

incl.: Is mostly following Zhongli, Zhongli jealous, dark-ish thoughts on Zhongli’s end, longing also on Zhongli’s end, you're implied to be an artist here (potter), Neuvillette’s name is thrown in the mix, Clothes sharing, pet names, reader is implied to be male but could be read as gender neutral

pairing/s: Zhongli x reader, Zhongli x male reader, Zhongli x gn reader

warning/s: talks of tying and locking you up, slight yandere themes

note: took me a day and then some to write this...hoot hoot…part 2?

☆masterlist☆

You were away on a business trip to Fontaine, overseeing the expansion of your business into the region, leaving your significant other back in Liyue. This marked the first extended separation for both of you.

As the days stretched into weeks, Zhongli found himself wrestling with unfamiliar emotions, the absence of your presence gnawing at him like an unrelenting hunger. Each morning became a battle against solitude, with the memory of your loving kisses at the start of the day serving as a constant reminder of your absence.

Lying on your side of the shared bed, mentally preparing himself for yet another day without his love by his side. He buried his nose into your pillow, unable to muster the heart to change the sheets. A lingering hint of your scent still clung to them, offering a faint reminder of you.

Once he deemed his morning ritual complete, Zhongli moved to ready himself for the day ahead. However, when it came to selecting his attire, he found his own wardrobe lacking in appeal. His gaze wandered to your side of the closet, “I’m sure Y/n wouldn’t object…”

Dressing in your crisp white shirt brought solace, as your scent enveloped him. He should’ve done this earlier, your scent lingered on your clothes, not too much but enough to make him be reminded of you just like the pillows.

Zhongli stood by the window, watching as the early rays of sunlight danced across the Liyue skyline. As he gingerly held the cup in his hands, marvelling at the intricate patterns adorning its surface.This particular set had been lovingly crafted and gifted by you to commemorate your fifth anniversary, he found comfort in your delicate craftsmanship, a testament to your talent admired across nations.

The demand for your team’s products surged in Fontaine, preparations for a new store were underway, drawing you to the region. While Zhongli brimmed with pride over your achievements, yet a tinge of melancholy gnaws at him due to the prolonged separation from you, accentuating the bittersweet nature of your success.

His thoughts wandered into a darker place. Image of you in Fontaine, surrounded by strangers and perhaps, other admirers. The mere thought twisted his stomach into knots, igniting a fire of jealousy deep within.

Zhongli’s eyes roamed, unable to ignore the lingering traces of your presence-subtle reminders of the life both you shared. The empty space echoed with memories of shared laughter and more…intimate moments, now replaced by a haunting silence that seemed to mock his solitude. His nails elongated into claws, digging into the table as frustration and longing intertwined within him.

In the depths of his heart, Zhongli acknowledged that his jealousy was irrational, stemming from fear and insecurity rather than any tangible evidence of wrongdoing. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t silence the voice of doubt that whispered poison into his ear, clouding his thoughts and judgements.

And so, the days turned into weeks and the distance between you grew daunting, Zhongli found himself trapped in a prison of his own making, his heart consumed by the flames of jealousy that threatened to consume him whole.

However, amidst the growing anticipation of your return, Zhongli’s heart leapt at the sound of your voice echoing through the halls of your shared home. “Zhongli~, I’m home,” you called out, your presence immediately illuminating the space. He perked up, turning to behold you standing in the doorway, your smile as radiant as ever, almost banishing all negative thoughts in his head. Setting down the bags you were holding, you stretched out your arms, offering a warm embrace.

Zhongli did not hesitate to leap into your arms. Hand resting on your shoulder, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He took a hearty inhale of your scent fully expecting to bask in you for a bit. However, amidst the warmth of your embrace he caught a lingering scent of an unfamiliar dragon.

He pulled away your hands still wrapped around his body. “Who were you with?” His voice carried a low growl.

“Ah, it's quite a story actually…the Chief Justice of Fontaine, sir Neuvillette saw me off.” You did not question why he was asking, too focused on holding him as close as possible at the moment.

Zhongli’s gaze intensified as he caught another whiff of this Neuvillette person. His hands curled in anger, nails digging into your back.

“You’re lying,” His voice still low and dangerous, his eyes fixed on you.

“Hm? No?” you countered, meeting his gaze steadily. “Sir Neuvillette merely bid me farewell on my way out.”

Zhongli leaned closer, his breath heavy against your skin, his eyes a blaze with jealousy, his disapproval of the Chief Justice becoming increasingly apparent.

“Was it a quick farewell?” He inquired, his voice laden with tension.

“It was brief and cordial,” you said in a steady tone, mind connecting the pieces together. He’s clearly jealous. You pulled away, your smirk betraying your amusement as you caressed his cheek gently.

The touch caused Zhongli’s breath to hitch, his body tensing momentarily. The scent of another man lingered on your clothes, fueling his suspicions despite your reassurance.

“Jealousy looks good on you my love,” you chuckled. Your playful words only served to deepen the ache of his burning jealousy, leaving him torn between desire and doubt.

His grip loosens and instead of anger an annoyed expression etched on his face. “You find me attractive when I’m jealous?” His jaw remained clenching, brows furrowed.

Leaning in, you whispered into his ear, “Absolutely divine, my love,” a playful tease dancing on your lips.

Zhongli questioned himself: Was his jealousy warranted? As he observed your nonchalant demeanour, every sign seemed to point to your truthfulness. Yet, a darker thought crossed his mind-what if he simply took you, tied you up, and never allowed you to leave the house again? All that you offered to the world would then be solely his…

It wasn’t such a terrible thought…He is a deity, he possessed the power to do it, and no one could stop him. Yet, he realised that such an act would inevitably alter the way his lover would look at him. And that, he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Love? What are you thinking?” Oh right Zhongli was still wrapped in your arms.

“I’m thinking of tying you up.” To his bafflement you burst out laughing.

“Zhongli, my love, you always have the most dramatic ideas.” You look surely amused but Zhongli is surely debating whether he should go through with it or not.

You both dropped the subject but Zhongli kept this thought in the back of his head just in case…

word count: 1,120