#autonomy is great and all but they were close so...

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[tsuutarr]

You’re not sure how long you’ve been trapped in the water god’s temple, the presence of sunlight absent in the depths of the sea. The only light source comes from the bioluminescent algae, plankton, and animals that decorate the halls.

It’s all very pretty, but… it’s hard to get used to being stripped away from everything you’ve known and loved so suddenly. Not to mention the fact that the water god is adamant about making his presence known to you at every second. He never leaves you alone, constantly having his large hands on you as he carries you around like a trophy.

You’re honestly exhausted, your sense of autonomy fading away as your only sources of comfort are the water god and the aquatic animals that roam the temple’s halls. If it were any other situation, you’d have found the talking turtles and dolphins very cute, but you don’t find much wonder in anything nowadays.

After all, how can you have a sense of wonder when you don’t belong to yourself anymore?

Resigned to your fate, you sit on the water god’s lap as he feeds you your dinner as always. 

“Pretty pet,” he hums as he forces you to chew, his large hand on your jaw. “Are you enjoying your meal?”

The silver lining is that the food here is pretty good. He surprisingly has a variety of fruits and other things you wouldn’t expect to find in the sea, but you’re not going to ask any questions. You don’t think you’ll like his answers.

Instead, you nod as best as you can while his grip is on you.

Pleased, he gives you a toothy grin, his teeth sharp and edged. “Good. Eat up, pet. This meal is my gift to you, after all.”

You blink up at him, confused.

Lowly, he chuckles, before nuzzling your hair. “I’m sure you’re aware of what they say about mermaid meat, no?”

The food in your mouth suddenly feels heavy and stale, too sour for your tongue.

“It’s a great gift, isn’t it? Now, you and I will be together forever.”

If his hand wasn’t on your jaw, you’d have thrown up. But, with him pressed so close to you, you have no choice but to swallow down his unorthodox gift.

[poweringthroughthis]

love on the beach | jeong jaehyun

desc: paired opposite each other in one of the most anticipated series this year, (name) and jaehyun struggle to see the fine line between play-pretend and real feelings.

warnings: making out

Being the latest topic of conversation in the industry has its benefits. The fans, the money, the vanity, stardom leaves no luxury in life unattainable. And trust him, (name) was beyond grateful for all that and more. But perhaps the general audience is unaware of some unavoidable downsides that actors have to face.

For one, you’re not allowed a lot of autonomy on what projects to sign when you’re a newcomer. Which explains why (name) was in his current predicament. Having to share a bed with Jaehyun.

Jeong Jaehyun, one of the most visually stunning men to ever step foot on earth. He was already an established idol in the kpop business and was recently venturing into the world of cinema, with a BL series no less. Given his natural talent for acting, angelic voice and great face card, there was no doubt he’d take the acting world by storm as well in no time.

This was even more reason for (name) to feel nervous around the man, he was way behind the singer in terms of achievements and fame. The two were in Hawaii to shoot a confession scene at a beach house and the filming ended late.

Since the production was behind schedule(owing to both males’ other commitments), the hotel they had booked for the week long stay, only had one room available for this final (extended) night. Ha, they’d have to make do.

It was not awkward, but the air was a little tense as Jaehyun set his things down. He was just as friendly and soft spoken off-screen as he was in front of the cameras. His personality made it easy for the other to loosen up around him.

By the time they were ready for bed, the awkwardness had long dissipated. Both men were in a good mood, a little drunk too. Nonetheless, the thought of sharing a bed with Jaehyun sent shivers up (name)’s spine.

(name) tried his best to maintain as much distance as he could without seeming rude. Jaehyun was facing the other way, relieving (name)’s nerves a little, though he still spent half of the night squirming in his place with unease.

Eventually, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and squinted his eyes to check the time.

02.39 AM.

Jaehyun was lying down, his eyes shut. You could never tell what a guy like him was thinking about.

You could tell he was asleep when his breathing steadied. His face looked even more stunning in the dim light. (Name) stared at the other in wonder.

It felt weird having a guy who was not only famous, but also incredibly attractive, lying in bed next to him.

(Name) was sure his lips would taste like heaven.

And suddenly, his arms were wrapping around the observing male, pulling him close. Jaehyun whispered his name, his voice dripping with affection. (Name), startled, could feel the half-asleep male’s hot breath against his ear.

His heart was beating so loud, he was afraid Jaehyun would hear. But Jaehyun didn't seem to care, instead he continued, "(Name), I like you. I know it's wrong but I can't help myself."

A wave of heat spread across (name)’s face. Jaehyun pressed his lips to the still shocked male’s neck. His kisses were hot and wet. His skin tingled wherever Jaehyun’s mouth touched it.

(name)’s body trembled as he nibbled and sucked at his flesh. Jaehyun’s caressing hand traveled down his side, resting on his hip.

His touch was gentle and reassuring, but still, the other actor was nervous. His thoughts ran a thousand miles a second in order to not overlook the gravity of the situation. The Jeong Jaehyun, just told (name) he liked him and was currently smooching him in a hotel room in Hawaii.

He kissed (name) deeply.

His tongue pushed past (name)’s lips, exploring his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and honey.

Jaehyun pulled away, gazing at the flushed male. One could see the sincerity in his eyes. (Name) liked him too. But this was beyond scary. Jaehyun was one of the most popular guys on the planet and here he was, professing his feelings to his male co-actor.

The situation was almost surreal.

(name) didn't know what to say, so he just leaned forward, capturing Jaehyun’s lips in a kiss. His grip on (name) tightened. He ran his fingers through the shorter’s hair, pulling him closer.

The two were lost in the moment, letting go of all inhibitions. They made out for what seemed like forever. Finally, Jaehyun pulled away, leaving them both breathless.

"I want to take you out. On a date."

The words hit (name) hard.

A date. A real, proper date.

The last time he'd gone on a date was... well, ages ago.

(name) hadn't really dated anyone since he entered the industry. Propelling his career came first, and dating had been the furthest thing from the plans.

But now?

Now he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

(Name) nodded.

"Really? Are you sure?"

(Name) gave him a small smile.

"Absolutely."

The agreeing male couldn’t help but let out a chuckle again. Jaehyun raised an inquisitive brow at the action as he explained.

“When you were stuttering while filming the confession scene today, I never thought this was the reason.” (name) exclaimed.

“And what do you think now?”

“I think my fluttered just the same on both occasions, Jaehyun.” (name) looked at the male with adoration.

Jaehyun grinned, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

Who Takes Care of The Hero? Part 1

SFW, fluff, angst, Hallmark movies vibes just in time for the holidays ;)

pairing: gn!reader x Rolan, gn!Tav x Rolan

word count: 2300

A/N: I’ve had writer’s block for soooo long but godsdamned if this grumpy, perfect wizard won’t get me through it.  There is definitely at least one more part to this that will be more mature, but we’ll see how far I can take this storyline :)

It had been another long, grueling day in the Shadowfell; you and your companions were especially weary after the high stakes mission of discreetly jailbreaking the prisoners of Moonrise Towers and leading them back to the safety of the Last Light Inn by boat.  Despite your aching muscles and the grime that coats your body, you manage a smile as you cross the threshold to see the many happy reunions surrounding you.  At the opposite end of the room, you watch Cal and Lia practically sprint to Rolan over by the bar; his trademark scowl is completely gone for a moment in shock but, in true Rolan fashion, he quickly furrows his brow again as he begins to chastise his siblings for getting captured.  You can see the anxiety in his features as he lectures them.  Maybe that’s why, despite his abrasiveness, you like Rolan.  You know how heavy it can be to feel responsible for other people’s lives, and like yourself, the young wizard clearly never asked for the immense amount of responsibility stacked on his shoulders. 

You quickly blink away your pensiveness and try to relax the tension by gently butting in and reminding his siblings that Rolan was highly distressed in their absence, and the trio quickly apologize to each other.  You feel great relief to see their family reunited and sigh contentedly when you feel a thin, cool arm wrap around your shoulders.  Astarion is smirking at your side as his eyes flick from you to the wizard and he clears his throat theatrically, “Anything to add Rolan?”

You quickly flick your head to face him and try to shoot daggers out of your eyeballs into his smug face, but he just continues to smile maniacally as his ears perk up and he looks back towards Rolan…

You had become close to Astarion quickly after you met; your respect for his autonomy and commitment to protecting him despite his condition created a deep loyalty between the two of you.  As such, it took Star one look at your face while you watched Rolan at the tiefling party to recognize the crush you had developed on the wizard.  He quickly began teasing you about your “tiefling husband” on your journey to distract from the near-constant horrors you faced. Your noble heart had feared for all the tieflings journeying through the shadow curse after leaving the Grove, but the anxiety you felt over Rolan’s safety would constantly wake you up at night; often to the company of Astarion who would sit with you and chat until you could fall back asleep.  When you had first reached Last Light, you felt terrible to learn of the attack on the road, but you silently and selfishly thanked every god you could think of that Rolan had remained mostly unharmed…

But now, Astarion slyly removes his arm from your shoulders and steps away, allowing Rolan to sheepishly approach you while rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.  He’s so close your body tenses slightly and you suddenly become very aware of how gross your armor must be from the blood and grime currently coating you.  If it bothers him, he doesn’t allow it to show as Rolan speaks softly to you, “I’ve lashed out at you. Drunkenly, and otherwise, and you helped anyway.  You didn’t deserve that- I’m sorry. And thank you.” He pulls a small coin purse from his side and pushes it towards you, “You went out of your way to help us, it’s only right you get some-”

You step backwards and shake your head, “Absolutely not. I am just glad you are all alive and well.  You can buy me an ale when we all reach Baldur’s Gate.” You offer a tired grin and raise your hand as all three siblings begin to protest, “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to clean up and retire for the evening. Goodnight.” You lock eyes with Rolan and blush before quickly turning to go up the stairs and change out of your armor.  Your exhausted companions, sans Astarion, have already retired to their bunks for the night, so you shed your armor and wrap a small parcel of clean camp clothes and soap in your towel as you quietly make your way to the large bathroom down the hall. Karlach, being the angel she is, has been preparing your baths at Last Light when she's on camp duty without you…

About a week ago you heard her muffled giggles and water splashing from the hall so you quietly stopped to peek through the semi-open door; she was animatedly sloshing the water to create lots of soap bubbles with one hand as the other played with a small wooden duck Halsin had carved her, gliding it across the surface of the water…

You close the door behind you and the steam from the bath instantly relaxes your muscles as you slowly peel off your armor clothes that are caked in sweat, blood, and dungeon dust before carefully stepping over the wooden side and sitting down into the hot bath water. The lavender scented suds relax your body and mind as you rest your chin on your knees and close your eyes. However, they quickly fly open again as the doorknob turns and Rolan enters the room, shyly looking at the floor; but as he looks up at you, his eyes grow huge and his jaw drops as he stutters out,"Tav! I- I- I'm so sorry!" His hands cover his eyes frantically and in his blind panic he trips and smacks into the door, accidentally closing it behind him.

"Astarion told me you were here, but- I didn't,- I swear he said it was an office!" His already red face is now glowing a bright shade of scarlet that probably mirrored your own, as he stands paralyzed with embarrassment and, despite your horror at Astarion's audacity (you'll get him back for this later) you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of this situation. It was cheesier than one of Wyll's romance novels.

Rolan sheepishly peers around the side of his hand when he hears your laughter, and he smiles for a second before blushing and readjusting his manual blindfold to try and forget the fact you're naked and a very short distance away from him. But that's all you can think about as you try to figure out how to navigate this without making Rolan feel any more uncomfortable than he already does .

"Rolan it's okay, I can tell from your reaction you fell victim to one of Astarion's pranks. I'm so sorry, he gets me all the time, really!" You giggle again as Rolan lowers his hand but drops his gaze to the floor, and you can almost see the physical strain he is using not to glance over at you in the tub.

" He can be such an ass sometime bu- AHH!" you take a sharp breath through your teeth as you feel a sting on your mid back as you attempt to reposition yourself to face Rolan while lowering your body further into the water. You look up to see Rolan's face tinged with concern and he takes a small step forward and gently lowers himself to the floor next to the tub, his eyes still on the floorboards.  It simultaneously gives you more privacy, but both of you sit completely still, your closeness overwhelmingly palpable.

“Your back is raw and bruised on this side.” Rolan speaks barely above a whisper and his concern overrides his shyness as he leans slightly closer to look at your injuries.  As you were exiting the prison, a rogue piece of rock fell onto your back, but the adrenaline and ensuing tiredness almost made you forget until the hot water splashed onto a raw area when you turned.  Rolan’s hand moves painfully slowly towards your bare back and his touch is light as a ghost, but still, a sharp pain shoots through your side and you swallow a pained groan that tries to rise from the back of your throat.  You can hear Rolan swallow loudly before exhaling a shaky breath.  You bite your bottom lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll break skin, but it’s all you can do as you’re overwhelmed by the pain, excitement, and tenderness you feel at the moment.

Rolan silently rolls up the sleeves of his robes and reaches for one of the small sponges on the table next to the tub.  He gently dips it into your bath before delicately pressing it above the raw spot on your back to clean the wound.  Your exhaustion leaves you unable to keep up your bravado as you let out a soft whimper at the sharp sting you feel on your back.

“I know Tav, I know.  Let me help you clean it and we’ll get you bandaged up.” His voice is soothing and calm; you can’t think of another time you’ve heard him speak like this, but you close your eyes and try to relax your aching body. Rolan rinses the area a few more times before gently laying his hand over top of the wound and whispering a short incantation.  It’s like a pulse of hot light on the site for a moment, but you quickly realize the stinging open wound is gone.  Your muscles still have a dull ache, but the painful burn of the open cuts has stopped.  You gently turn your head to look at Rolan and offer him a weary but thankful smile. He smiles back and holds your stare for several long seconds before realizing his hand is still on the soft skin of your back and he quickly removes his hand and places it into his lap.  He smiles awkwardly at you before turning to look at your clean clothes and towel on the dressing table and raises himself off the floor to retrieve your towel.  He continues to avert his eyes as his head looks towards the door, but his body remains facing you so that one hand offers you the towel, and the other is an open palm to help you get up.

“The wound is closed, but I am quite certain you will still be sore for a bit. I can brew up a few healing potions for you tomorrow if you would like.”

You gingerly take his hand and hoist yourself up, goosebumps covering your body as it reacts to being in the cool air above the water.  The gentleman next you never takes his eyes off the door as you cover yourself with the towel, wrapping it around your body before reaching back out for Rolan’s arm to help keep your balance as you step over the sides of the tub and onto the floor mat. You are toe to toe with Rolan and you can feel the intense heat radiating off of him, his cheeks blushing intensely as he glances at your hand clutching his.

“I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you.  For taking care of me like this.” Your voice is soft and you look at his face as his brilliant yellow eyes gently rise to meet yours. He can’t fight the smile that forms at your praise and he doesn’t even realize his tail is gently wagging behind him.

“It is the least I can do after all you have done for me, for my family. Despite me being a miserable asshole to you on multiple occasions.  You are the kindest person I have ever met…or perhaps the most foolish?” He grins coyly and you chuckle at his teasing.

“I’m no saint, but I’m certainly not the most foolish person you��ve met.  Or shall I reintroduce you to my party?”

You both giggle at your joke, but then Rolan lowers his voice almost to a whisper.

“Why are you so kind to me? After how poorly I have treated you?”

Perhaps it’s fatigue, or perhaps it’s the vulnerability in his voice, but you lean in so your faces are close enough you can see the different colored freckles that sprinkle his nose and cheeks and the way his sharp canines just barely poke out beneath his upper lip.   

“I think we are similar.”

He shakes his head and laughs, but you cut him off, “I mean it.  We both feel deeply responsible for the people around us.  It is a lot of pressure, but I feel it’s my duty, and I’d rather die trying than let them down. I am constantly worried I am going to fail them.”

He turns to face you fully as his eyes bore into your soul while he tries to take in what you’ve said. His searching look causes you to clear your throat, worried you’ve gone too far too fast, “Forgive me, I am a bit cold.  Would you turn around for a moment so I can put this on?” You hold up your clothes and Rolan blushes before turning back towards the door as you quickly drop your towel and throw on your underwear and the oversized linen tunic you’ve been sleeping in.

“Walk me to my room?”

“It would be my privilege.” Your cheeks burn hot as he offers his arm out for you, before he opens the bathroom door and escorts you into the empty hallway.  You lean into his warm frame, your muscles weak and your eyes heavy as the multitude of events from the day finally catch up with you.  You stop in front of the heavy oak door to your room before Rolan whispers quietly to you, “Sleep well Tav, I will prepare some healing potions and check in on you tomorrow.” He opens his mouth slightly, as if to say more, but instead he reaches to open the door for you before bowing his head silently and retreating down the stairs toward his own room.  You quietly move through the dark room towards your bed, where you practically collapse as your body falls against the mattress.

[stari-hun]

I get having an issue with a lot of “good” ending AUs in Mouthwashing ending with murdering Jimmy or something, but I think the issue should be more with how heavily needed he is for the plot. Like as a fictional story he’s still very important to the message that Wrong Organ wants to tell and the story they wanna show. The point of having no autonomy as a player is to force you to sit down and listen because let’s be real if we had even 2 canon endings then people would go even more stupid than now. Mouthwashing is inspired by real stuff that happens (SA, “holding off” on getting justice for it for the sake of the group, people who ignore the actions rape culture perpetuates then becoming victims of violent acts on their own, etc etc).

We just saw a CEO who’s indirectly responsible for the deaths of thousands of people being murdered and the public response that followed. As a society we’ll literally always question whether or not the death of someone bad is a good thing, but we’re much more likely to have outcry with it when it’s so blatant. Someone dying behind closed doors or “softly/peacefully” , generally a non disruptive death to the general public, it’s held with significantly less outcry. A lack of tension doesn’t guarantee the presence of justice.

I think that Jimmy being killed to save the group should also be recognized as an equally viable option in the same way Curly’s decision to hold off on angering him more until they got back to safety was valid.

Curly holds a very important role as the Captain of the Tulpar which at the end of the day means that no matter what any and all mishaps ARE on him. Being a leader means taking on the responsibility of care for others, and considering him being the sole member kept by the Pony Express, Curly was GOOD at his job. With all the fights we see between Daisuke and Swansea with him trying to chase Swansea away? Keeping them together for months was a pretty great feat. Anya asking Curly why there’s no locks on the doors of the sleeping quarters is a very significant moment, and there’s a reason why the majority of women who do playthroughs instantly understand the implications while men don’t. It’s also a big part of SA culture. Despite the very real chance of men becoming victims too, it’s something they just aren’t taught to fear or think about as a possibility. It never crosses their minds that that will happen to them or someone in their general vicinity if they “know” everyone. It’s the concept of every woman knowing a victim but no man knowing a perpetrator. Curly genuinely and fully believes in Jimmy’s potential and personhood after knowing him for so long even though logically he’d have the most exposure to Jimmy’s aggression and seeing the way he treats women. As a Captain, it’s Curly’s fault for not connecting the dots or noticing what was going on, or taking more action from the start with the way Jimmy treated Anya despite the fact that Jimmy was more than likely passive aggressive towards Curly as well. Albeit for extremely different reasons with Jimmy looking DOWN on Anya for being born a woman while he dislikes Curly when he perceives Curly looking down on HIM for having more success in life. It’s no coincidence that Curly’s narrative “punishment” is being robbed of his autonomy and choice like Anya was.

The role of taking leadership and looking out for the bigger picture as a whole and ignoring a dead pixel or the unimportant things until perceived bigger issues are taken care of is the JOB of the Captain. For what Curly knew, Jimmy was a problem but hadn't escalated past what he had ever directly seen of him doing, he was in check. When he's a potential threat it makes sense Curly chose to wait until they were in a safer location than closing in on an asteroid field, but ignorance is also a sin especially when you're proven to be a good leader in all other moments.

[son1c]

i think what i'm gonna do for my movie rewrite is put a heavy focus on tails' ostracization from his community. because of his mutation, he's treated differently and suffers a life of isolation. this obviously parallels sonic's early years alone on earth... immediately drawing a through line between the two of them... but it also leaves him primed to be manipulated when The Owls swoop in

in my version of the movie lore, the owls are the self-appointed guardians for the "chaos controller" aka the one person who can use the master emerald's power. but they're also extremely well respected among mobians, almost deified, as their secrecy and reputation as Great Protectors lends to fairy tales and bedtime stories being told about them.

however, this also means that barely anyone has actually SEEN an owl. so, when one appears before tails and offers him an opportunity to be accepted by his community... as long as he does this one thing to help the owls... who is tails to refuse?

the owls want tails to get close to sonic and lure him back to them. they tell tails that the humans want to hurt sonic and harness his power for destructive purposes, but sonic has ""been manipulated"" by the humans, so he won't leave willingly. therefore, all tails needs to do is save sonic from the humans. then, he'll be a hero, and the owls will tell everyone of his good deed. the other mobians will finally love him.

but ofc the owls are taking advantage of tails. they rarely get involved in things directly--it's just not their M.O. since their mission demands the utmost secrecy, they need to contract others to act for them. and they don't care about sonic's autonomy or wants, because they think keeping him safe is more important than his desires. they're controlling and overbearing... but they truly believe they're doing the right thing.

i know this is very different from how sonic and tails meet in the games, where they kind of just stumble into each other and become fast friends. but that's just not possible in a world adjacent to our own; there are no mobians other than sonic on earth. however, it might appear to sonic as though he and tails just stumbled across each other...

i think it'd be interesting to explore tails' loneliness and desperation for acceptance. it plays nicely with sonic's isolation in the first movie and gives tails actual plot relevance. plus, it's not like he'll actually turn sonic over to the owls. he's a smart kid. he'll realize that he values sonic's friendship more than the approval of a community that's always hated him for the crime of being born. and he'll learn that the owls were wrong about humans through befriending annie. like, they're not ALL bad.

[pokemoncenter]

On Master Balls

One thing I often see is that Master Balls are inherently unethical, and they are terrible things to create. That Master Balls take away the autonomy of a Pokemon and is no better than simply forcing them into a cage.

There is truth to this, but it is not the whole truth.

First, let us begin with what a Master Ball is. As its name implies, it was originally intended for use only by Pokemon Masters. Those who have bonded with many Pokemon, attained the pinnacle of their specialization and dreams, and truly understand Pokemon. They were intended only to be given to those worthy of the title. Now, these standards have regrettably been relaxed, but you still generally cannot get one unless you are a Champion or have achieved equal deeds.

Silph Co., which makes Pokeballs, manufactured the first Master Ball. They are known to use several simultaneous locking mechanisms to ensure that a Pokemon cannot break out, guaranteeing capture. The exact mechanisms are a closely-guarded company secret, but it is known they are prohibitively expensive to make. Given that they are not for sale, and the sheer cost of making even a single one, it may seem odd that any are made at all.

The primary use of Master Balls is not by normal Trainers, however. They are made and given to the various Pokemon Ranger headquarters, where they are stored. In certain, extremely rare, emergency situations, they will be given out to Rangers active in the field in great quantities.

However, this is only for emergency situations. The highest Ranger authority in the region must approve of such action, alongside their assistants, in unanimous vote. Only when capturing and displacing vast quantities of Pokemon is the least bad option is this enacted. Events such as Team terrorism, or such as Hoenn's Legendary Pokemon, are not suitable situations for this- Simply capturing the Legendary Pokemon would not end the crisis, and so the Master Ball usage is not approved.

I believe, since the invention of the Master Ball, this protocol has been used twice.

Once was for a rabies outbreak of unprecedented proportions. An antivaccination fad swept an area, and it became a hotbed for spread of the disease. Rangers were mobilized to sweep the area, capture all wild Pokemon they could, and... I would prefer not to get into details. Needless to say, this action saved many, many lives, humans and Pokemon alike.

The other was for an imminent volcanic eruption. Many Pokemon can sense when an eruption will happen, and become agitated, but this was a volcanic island in the ocean. There was no place for the Pokemon to go. The Rangers thus swept in, and lacking time to befriend or get the Pokemon to understand, Master Balls were used to essentially evacuate the island of Pokemon so they would not be killed.

It is true that Master Balls, in the wrong hands, would be devastating and cruel beyond measure. However, the Master Ball is a tool like any other. Whether it harms or helps is based on the wielder, not the tool. It can cause misery, but it can also save lives.

Please remember this.

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 1 || “Vocal Chords”

Eden had taken everything. 

He had always known it would come to this, had always known they’d get him. From the minute he had stepped into that worn-down van with the white paint peeling off the doors, the alleyway dank and grim, smelling faintly of algae, the child in front of him so pitiful and small, he had known for certain: There was no escape. 

It was inevitable, and he knew it.

He was made to live in the warehouse. They had molded him, through long-winded lessons and strenuous physical tests, through lectures and speeches and mantras, and whatever other propaganda they could cram into his head. All of it, every single personality trait and personal moral and principle he had gained, it was all because of them. They had created him. 

He had no semblance of a life before this, before all the rules and regulations, the careful schedules and training. He was nothing; no more than a little boy with no name, no identity, no home. Running away was nothing more than a fantasy, a silly dream to be somebody else. He was Eden’s property: he’d always belong here. All of his attempts to escape it, this destiny they had bestowed upon him, was futile. 

He was never going to make it out. They’d made sure of it. 

From trackers to surveillance cameras to the fucking shock collar that ruined it all, they always had him in their sight. Thoughts of how maybe being a better soldier could have gotten him out were useless. Nothing would have worked. Even if he was somehow more resourceful, more calculative, more capable – it still would have been for naught. Eden was too great, a company that had eyes everywhere, spies planted on every street. A life of endless running would have awaited him, danger in every corner he turned. 

The truth was, he was just one orphaned, teenage boy, who had thought that maybe he could escape the future that had been set out in stone for him. He was insignificant, compared to them. 

Eden was eternal. Eden was endless.

He knew it. 

As he paced the grungy, metal-plated cell, his body alight in pain, mind twisted and warped by the time in captivity, he knew it. 

Escape was no longer an option. 

But giving up wasn’t one either. Because despite everything Eden had, despite the hoards of soldiers, new and old, undyingly loyal to the cause, despite the cameras and careful control they had over every city in the country, despite the government working closely beside them to shut up anyone defiant – anyone like him – he had something that they did not. 

He had a will. 

Although most people didn’t know it, all those inside Eden — they were scared. They were scared of change, scared of evolving, scared of the future. Scared of what Magicae represented, what co-existing meant for the rest of them. They were stuck in their ways; rigid. 

He had been rigid. For a long time, he’d been unable to see any other way than his own, too busy stuck up his own ass to see the answers right in front of him. But change, adapting, it wasn’t something to be afraid of. No, change brought just as much good as it did bad. Everything good about his life, everything he loved, it had all come from accepting change, from accepting others. 

And so, as he paced his cell, his mind racing, the eyes of the others drilling into his shivering, shaky figure, one thing was clear. He was going to make a change. 

See, Eden had underestimated him. They thought he would fall in line like he was supposed to, thought that if they beat it into him enough then he’d listen. That he’d be a good little boy like he had been trained to.  

They thought he was like the rest of them, just another faceless soldier, a toy for them to use and then discard. They thought if they trapped him by himself, took away his autonomy, pumped him with enough drugs to keep him complacent, stole his friends, his name, his identity, that he’d forget to fight. 

Well, they were wrong. 

He would scream. He’d scream until he couldn’t anymore, until his throat was raw and coated with blood. He would scream until the echoes of his ragged voice were all those filthy guards could hear. He would scream until they ripped out his fucking vocal chords, if it came to it. He’d do anything, anything, but he was not going to sit and act proper no longer. 

He was a fucking person, and they were going to treat him like it. He wasn’t some thing that they could just throw into the darkness, forget about, when he displeased them. He wasn’t going to lose himself to their control, not as much as they tried. They could mix up his memories, brainwash him and feed him lies about what he was, who he was, but none of it was going to work. 

He wasn’t going to ever stop fighting them. 

And so the boy screamed, and screamed, and screamed. If they thought he would go down so easily, they were painfully wrong. He did not care how long it took. He didn’t care what he had to do. Didn’t care what it cost him. He was going to be heard. 

They were going to listen.

masterlist // next

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[vickdrake]

Desire

Ever since he had investigated what you were like in person just to satisfy his own desire, Jake hadn't stopped dreaming about you.

Most of the time he thought he felt your fingers on his skin, he thought he felt the heat of your breath on his lips or the back of his neck.

He didn't have enough time to sleep, there was never a moment to allow himself that need and it was increasingly difficult to ignore that desire to fall into his dreams when every time he closed his eyes he found you.

You'd think he couldn't think of you that way, that he'd be more likely to think up tender, sweet scenarios with you (and he did), but his mind played tricks on him that he couldn't evade.

He felt embarrassed by what his imagination was showing him, it seemed like he was doing something wrong, but a small part of him wanted that contact.

Sometimes it wasn't even necessary to close his eyes. While he was trying to work on his computer, at times, a sudden thought would come. Your name would come to his head just because he was wondering what you were doing, and then the other thoughts would come in waves.

You next to him while he focused on his computer. He was aware that he was alone in the room, but if he tried hard, he felt that the wind coming in from the window was, in reality, your breath on his cheek while you rested your hands on the back of his chair, as if you were watching what he was doing on his computer even though you couldn't understand any of those codes.

He closed his eyes only in moments of great weakness. It was only a few seconds, but with the help of all the fatigue he was able to see you. Although as soon as he realized what he was doing, he opened his eyes.

Jake wasn't prone to letting himself go, he liked to have control over what he did or said, but lately, it seemed like he had less and less autonomy over himself.

One of his last dreams had been too realistic.

Your hands had begun to caress his hair, moving down his body, exploring every exposed part of his skin. Jake had felt as if after years of being in the desert he could finally find water to drink. You had caressed him with so much tenderness that it was inevitable that a couple of tears would slide down his face.

The "you" of the dream had kissed him and dried his tears tenderly. A soft moan had escaped his mouth when he felt the softness of your fleshy lips. He had pulled you towards him, cupping your face so he could kiss you again, but before that, you had slowly pushed him until he fell back onto the bed.

Human contact was never a need for him, it was never something he thought he would need as desperately as he did at that moment.

He remembered that you had run your fingers through his black hair, the feeling of them had been so real that Jake almost thought that you could really have been with him at that moment. You were so beautiful, someone could easily mistake you for an angel.

The angel who had come to save him.

Jake had grabbed you by the waist. He didn't wanted to wait, he didn't wanted to face the horrible reality of him and lose that moment. His hands were firm as he sat you down on top of his lap before crashing his lips hard against yours.

The heat of your body, the sensation of your touch, everything had seemed so real to him that when he woke up in bed he began desperately looking for you. It took him a moment to realize that you had never been with him in the first place.

Jake resigned himself to going back to sleep after that.

He had been staring into the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the screen of his computer showing the location of his pursuers. He didn't feel like continuing to run away, he thought about giving himself up like he did many times before meeting you, but this time, he was afraid of never having the opportunity to see you even from afar. Only that last bit gave him the strength he needed to pack his things and continue running.

The longing, the desire, the need.

You.

[suzukiblu]

Silver, glory or shatter?

Jon had a great childhood right up until he had a horrible one, which is something he tries not to dwell too much on.

It's also something that's a little harder not to dwell on than usual while standing in front of the only other Kryptonian-human hybrid he's ever met, who's twelve years old if he's a day.

Literally. Literally this kid is both twelve years old and also just a day, because Jon and Jay and Damian apparently walked right into the middle of this weird cloning scheme that no one in Cadmus wants to explain the purpose of to them.

So, like, that's not screamingly suspicious or anything.

"Hi, kid," Jon tries. The baby clone wearing his dad's twelve year-old face just stares up at him from the bottom of the shattered remnants of the cloning tube that Jon maaaaaybe shouldn't have punched quite so hard.

"We could eliminate the staff and destroy the evidence," Damian suggests from where he's standing by the nearest computer with Jay, which is not actually the kind of thing that Damian suggests anymore. Like, ever. It makes Jon more than a little bit concerned about what's on that computer.

"Less murder in the plan, please," he requests, not quite able to take his eyes off the kid with, again, his dad's face. And also Ultraman's face. But he tries to concentrate on the "Dad" part of that observation, for obvious reasons. "Although I'm still open to destruction."

"Any witness to the clone's existence is a threat to its autonomy and survival," Damian says as the staff members tied up in the corner all look very, very nervous. "Frankly the only compelling argument not to execute these contemptible excuses for sapient life is the risk of inciting trauma in the clone. I recommend covering its eyes at a minimum, depending on its currently developed powerset and any potential X-ray vision or enhanced senses that it may possess."

"Not to encourage Nightwing's less Batman-approved instincts, buuuuut I just read, like . . . everything they were planning to do to this kid once they cracked that cloning tube," Jay says, eyeing the computer screen very, very darkly. "So we are treading a bit dangerously close to 'how many lives are worth this kid's freedom?', and to be honest the math does not support the assholes in the lab coats in this particular equation."

"That doesn't make sense," the clone says as he gets to his feet in the tube and starts distractedly pulling off the genuinely alarming amount of machinery hooked up to him, looking puzzled. "The staff would be way harder to replace than me. They're, like, real people."

. . . Jon reconsiders the merits of the murder plan. Just, like . . . just a little bit. Just a touch.

[brucewaynehater101]

Talon Dick via Tim AU

@hisaribi came up with the initial AU and helped flesh this idea out!

To start out, most of the timeline is the same up to just before Jason comes back as Red Hood. Here are the two main differences to the OG timeline:

Before Dick's parents died, the Court of Owls experimented slightly on Dick. He was a candidate they were considering for the Talon program. They injected him a few times to monitor results before deciding whether to initiate fully. They brainwashed him with some latent codes and were planning to take him after his parents' deaths. Obviously, Bruce stopped the second part of their plot. The codes and serum still existed in him as he grew up, though.

Tim's parents were invited to the Court of Owls. Due to their travels, though, they weren't able to meet membership requirements. Tim thus knew about the CoO but wasn't a part of it.

Here's where the timeline starts to diverge. Tim's been Robin for at least a year now. Bruce and Dick are somewhat talking again. Everything is okay (not necessarily great, but Tim hopes one day it could be).

Then Bruce causes Dick to die (dealer's choice on how deliberate it was).

A second son of Bruce (and perhaps the last child he actually considers as his own) dies. Obviously, this man tries to reenact his brutality boogie through Gotham.

Tim believes it's his fault that Bruce caused Dick to die (if Tim had done his self-assigned job better, if he had healed Bruce more, if he kept a tighter leash on that man, maybe Dick wouldn't have died).

The techniques Tim had used before to pull Bruce from that ledge aren't working. The teen is barely able to restrain the Batman's more violent tendencies. He's trying, in the midst of his own grief and self-blame, to do what he became Robin for. He's really really trying.

Tim, the lovely little rascal, gets the brilliant idea to use the CoO resources to bring Dick back to life. Perhaps he can fix his failures, prevent Bruce from drowning, and have his brother back.

It somewhat works.

Due to the shit in Dick's system before he died, more injections are able to receive Dick. It changes him, but he's alive. That's what Tim cares about.

Yet, the CoO find out about their shit being used and steal Dick away.

Tim then spends almost a year rescuing him from the CoO, trying to fix all the brainwashing, and reforming Dick's sense of identity. Dick isn't fully himself, he follows orders too readily, and he spends a lot of time dissociating. He has some physical traits of Talons, but he also has more autonomy and resistance than the others.

Tim can't quite present Dick as a fresh Talon to Bruce. That wouldn't work and might make Batman even more violent. Thus, Tim spends that year juggling his mentor and Dick's wellbeing. That poor kid is stressed and going through it (he's also fighting off the CoO alone and has to hide Dick). At the very least, Talon!Dick cares for Tim. They are close, and Tim gets showered in affection by the older one.

Unfortunately for the teen, a certain red helmet starts popping up in Crime Alley.

Jason is high key pissed at Bruce. He is raging and foaming at the mouth because Dick died (and no one but CoO and Tim know otherwise). Jason has let go of some of his hatred for Dick. He's able to remember the better times and that the man was his brother. They didn't have a perfect relationship, but they were siblings.

Bruce killed him (Jason's perspective on it regardless of how purposeful Bruce was in orchestrating Dick's death). Bruce killed Dick, the original Robin, and he's got a placeholder still prancing around in stoplight colors.

So, Jason goes to beat the shit out of Tim to prove to Bruce that he obviously can't protect anyone.

When he gets to Drake Manor guns blazing, a very angry and protective Talon!Dick starts beating the shit out of him. Only by the grace of Jason's helmet being removed mid-battle is Jason saved.

Later, when a cold Dick refuses to stop hugging Jason, Red Hood raises an eyebrow in Tim's direction and asks what the fuck is going on.

Tim wants to ask him the same thing.

More snippets for this AU:

Because Dick is immortal as a Talon, he's forever as he is. One day, all of his younger siblings will grow older than him

Jason and Tim will teach each other not to base so much of their life off of Bruce. From opposite ends of the spectrum (devotion vs malice), they base their choices, demeanor, and paths according to Bruce.

Dick oscillates between the two during their arguments about Bruce (especially due to his Talon state being more or less present)

Dick struggles with his memory. Both recent and pre-Talon memories can be harder to recall some days

Jason is chill with killing, but Dick despises it. He doesn't want to kill, but, due to his programming, he's been forced to.

When Dick is forced to follow an order, he has two reactions. He either blanks out and wakes up with no memory of what he's done, or he is mentally present the entire time as he screams at himself to stop :(

When Bruce gets lost in the timestream, Jason believes Tim. However, he wants Tim to let Bruce die

I think I covered everything we chatted about! If not, I'll add more ^^

[tuliptiger]

Bro I hate Silco so much. Bro. And don't get it twisted right. He's a good character, he's well written or in THE VERY LEAST incredibly interesting and compelling. To me I guess. I still can't stand him, I hate him and I think he embodies every human flaw a person can have. And every bad decision we make at our lowest points.

And for that I can't stand him in the purest way and I think that's kind of awesome. Get him out of my face though lol fuck that guy. Great presentation of what I feel a lot of people in the world are like or have the potential to be like rn.

For what he was meant to be, having just found out the original plan for him which I really shouldn't consider. Or maybe I should in favor of him, as a little grace for him. I guess Jinx and him were supposed to be like romantic. If that's your thing go for it I guess but I'm not going to talk nicely about it and it disgusts me as a heads up. Fair warning.

I'm forever grateful they didn't pull a Joker/Harley Quinn but because jesus christ I think I actually would've hated Arcane for that. For all you people complaining about Arcane, sure that's your right and it's all personal tastes anyway but it could've been actually, sincerely awful. It would've ruined Jinx as a character and undercut all of her nuance, her autonomy as a real, deeply thought out character. Her struggles, her mental health, her trauma, it would've fucking sucked.

I hate Silco for even the possibility of that and unfortunately i think it explains a little bit about some things. But anyway, back to hating Silco.

1.) He betrayed every single thing he's ever cared about in his life. He betrayed Felicia by trying to and knowingly kill her children. He betrayed the promise he made to not JUST Vander but to Felicia and himself.

Because what? Vander betrayed him first? Because he tried to kill him? Because he probably does feel genuine regret about maybe enacting the event that got Felicia killed? We never get the story but I think it's implied. Either that or Vander really was just deep in grief and rage and put that on Silco. I think they both fucked up for the record but Vander didn't CONTINUE that for the rest of his life.

What did any of that have to do with Vi and Powder/Jinx though? He's the reason everything bad happened, maybe you could blame Viktor since he went back to give Jayce the rune but every bad moment after that is almost exclusively Silco.

2.) He bribed Marcus contributing to the corruption in Piltover and Zaun. He fed drugs to Zaun for the point of nothing in my opinion. Because he couldn't come to terms with his grief, he couldn't make Piltover pay the way he wanted them too? He justified his own terrible actions for some idea of an independent Zaun for what? For who? Piltover may have taken from him but he actively chose to burn whatever he had left by trying to kill Powder and Vi.

3.) He's the reason Vi and her crew lost their loot, and their lives NOT Powder. He's the reason or at least the means for Singed to create more fucked up abominations and shimmer.

4.) He IS A HUGE SOFTIE he's soft as fuck. He loves and he loves deeply but he could never get over himself to do better. And this is possibly the main reason I hate him, he sincerely loved Vander and Jinx and Felicia and Zaun. People get hurt all the time, and it isn't the same as the trauma he faced but I DON'T think a reasonable series of decisions is to betray everything you are and have worked for to fuck over literally everyone around you. He is the scorched earth method, he wanted to hurt everyone and everything for what he felt and experienced. He's so incredibly selfish I cannot stand him.

5. A close contender, maybe even tied because I love Jinx so much. I hate that he is directly related to all of the hurt Vi and Jinx have experienced. I hate, I loath, I detest what he did to Powder and to Jinx. I feel so fed with season 2 episode 7, we DIRECTLY see what happens when Silco doesn't decide every day to hurt the world around him and hurt everyone in it. What happens to Powder without his fucked up influence.

I never thought anyone made Jinx specifically, like there isn't someone to blame because it felt diminishing to Jinx herself. But I'm rethinking it, I would say with certainty Jinx wouldn't have existed without Silco. I don't give him full credit, not in the creation of her and not her herself but the REASON she was reborn into a different person. Powder and Jinx created Jinx, but she created her because she had to, because Silco brought her into a fucked up world where she had to be different to survive.

Silco didn't support her, he enabled her, made her fear the world, fed her insecurities and projected himself into her. And because he does love, he really really did love her I think, that was what she felt she needed as a TWELVE year old girl. She needed a guardian who had her best interest at heart and not just love. Whatever support she had before, he ripped it from her and shredded it, and from that pile of rubble and ash Jinx had to find herself and emerge. But she picked herself up and chiseled herself into who she is in the series not Silco.

She's smart as a whip, she's so incredibly clever. She knew to some extent the reality of what was happening. But reality didn't have any real gravity anymore for her without something to hold her to it. Silco, at any time, could have stopped what he was doing. He could've seen her hurting and said, this isn't it. This isn't worth it. But he didn't, and she didn't need a reason to change because she had someone who fed her love when she had no one. When she thought it was all her fault and where Silco tried to convince her Vander and Vi weren't good people and that they didn't love her, won't love her.

I could go on, I fucking hate Silco. Once again, I think he's the weakest character emotionally and mentally but certainly not writing wise. He's spineless, he can kill sure, but in the main universe he couldn't get over his own feelings of guilt and hurt to do better. Nobody is satisfied with the slow progression of equity, of freedoms and peace. Silco wanted to take it all violently, take it all and take everything around it down with him.

In another universe, he's better. He makes better decisions because a different set of events led to reconciliation between Vander and him. Because Piltover made the first move of peace after Vi had to be sacrificed. Because Marcus saw a dead Zaun child in the arms of her younger sister. Because a lot of things, Silco is a better man and I think he's stronger for it.

The main universe Silco was wrong about everything he did, he made every possible bad decision on purpose over and over and over again.

The fact that I just wrote what feels like an essay on this bastard should at least show how I hate him, in the way I don't like hate hate him. I hate him in the way good art makes you hate it in just the right way. I think he's interesting enough to think about. I don't hate the alt universe Silco, I just hate the main one. He's multifaceted, he's a villain, he just kind of sucks, he moved the story in permanent ways. He forever changed the world by facilitating the events that led to Jinx as a person in Runeterra.

Anyway Yeah I really really hate Silco. Thanks for reading lol If you have some good points or different interpretations of events with Silco I would genuinely love to read them especially if they are different. I'm the first to admit I don't fully understand all the subtleties in Arcane and I love it for that, but I miss things. Changing my view on what actually happened in scenes is one of my favorite things to do right now. I crave the richer and fuller offering of a closely inspected Arcane provides tbh.

[itachanta]

Okay, so, I was in bed looking for Tristamp fanart, and I came across a comment online that said Meryl's voice reaching Vash in chapter 12 was cheap, and it happened only because she is "the girl". My mind went immediately ballistic so hard i almost fell to the floor. Like, did we watch the same show at all? (screaming in a fit of rage)

Here i'm going (rolls up sleeves) beware spoilers. (and sorry for my broken english)

Meryl was the start of the show. She was our eyes, the narrator, the witness, and the rope that first tied the main group together (pun intended).

She started following Vash out of curiosity, then by admiration, her beliefs, and a big determination to help him and learn more about him, through danger, even not knowing how to fight or even lift a pistol.

Vash, despite loving humans, was, at the same time, distant to them and closed off. Almost every time, sooner or later, he ended up bringing some form of misery, hurt or loss to the humans around him, or they ended up betraying him. That's why he was called the "humanoid typhoon". We have Jenora Rock as an example. After the downfall with Knives, even Rosa, who seemed to know him for a long time, blamed him and tossed him out of her life. (I'm not roasting Rosa, i understand it's easy to put the blame on others when you suffer a great loss).

Meryl, witnessed all of this, and still followed him.

Meryl, who learned what Vash really is, and saw his markings, and even though she was surprised, she still smiled to him the next day.

Meryl, who was kidnapped to trap Vash into coming to July, and was told the truth about plants and humanity, but still didn't bail.

Meryl, who lost her mentor because of her decision to follow Vash, and didn't blame him, at all.

Meryl, who ran straight to try to save him, even though it was very dangerous and she could have ended up dead.

In the moment Vash was totally robbed of his bodily autonomy, his will, and basically, he was being violated, a tiny human, who followed him around through danger, challenged his views but never blamed him, smiled to him, wasn't afraid of him and supported him, was there, calling his name, calling for him to come back. A tiny human who believed in him, along with Luida, Brad and Rem.

This was specially noticeable when Vash was running, following Rem's voice. We can hear her say to him,"Thank you for protecting my dreams and my hopes", this, refering to her ideals about plants and humans coming together, wanting to create a bridge between them with their help, as she said to the twins when they were kids. And JUST RIGHT AFTER THIS, when he is looking down with sorrow and closes his eyes, Rem's voice calling his name mixes with Meryl's, and with that final push, he opens his eyes with a changed look, this time hearing only Meryl, and he gets out. THIS DETAIL GUYS. THE EYES. THE VOICES. LOOK AT THE GIFS.

THE CHANGE IN HIS EYES?????

Just imagine, after everything he went through, after being psychologically tortured by Knives, what was for him to hear Meryl CALLING HIS NAME and trying to save him. WAITING FOR HIM in a very dangerous place when she could have just, you know, escaped. His hopes in humanity, Rem's values and love lessons, compressed in this small tiny koala person. How can you even think, her voice reaching him, was FREAKING CHEAP OR DIDN'T DO ANYTHING? ASDJLAJKDASHDASKDLASDBASKD (dramatically sharpening a knife)

[bloodandoranges]

“Dear god, please help me.”

Astarion/Tav (depictions of Astarion’s past and trauma, may be a bit confronting! I tried my best to keep it somewhat lighter but it’s…kind of impossible / no mentions of tavs gender / vague mentions of his former victims / angst / 18+ / happy ending with Tav)

song inspiration

I am walking through Rome,

with my heart on a string.

The streets of Baldurs Gate were no stranger to Astarion; he’d sauntered it countless times in his life, walked these streets nearly every day. But now, stalking like a fox in the dark through the dimly lit streets? He hardly knew where he was going.

He’d only awoken days beforehand, and here he was, on the prowl… Cazador, his master, had given the order to hunt; never to take more than their bodies, not a single drop of their blood…only their hearts.

Dear god, please help me.

She was such a sweet girl; he was her first. She’d laughed and sang to him, and tangled her fingers tightly into his hair as ran his mouth over her sweet soft body.

He was a little harder to woo, strong and stoic and quiet… but he became bashful after sweet whispers and a hand over his thigh. Astarion had him in his bed moments later, crying out his name.

I am so very tired

Of doing the right thing.

He had everything planned out almost down to the second, every single touch, every sweet words, every cry of false ecstasy. He became a master at his game. Despite the disgust he felt, the ache of autonomy no longer his? The nights spent in a sweet embrace of someone he didn’t care for far surpassed those in the dungeons, the nights the smelled of foul blood, of cracked and bloodied nails.

Dear god,

Please help me.

There are explosive kegs

between my legs.

There was no joy to be found in sex anymore. It was as monotonous and as natural to him as breathing was; he hardly even gained any temporary bliss from it. He existed to please - never to be pleased. He didn’t dare indulge in a thing.

Except this once; one darling he could not find it in himself to kill.

The adrenaline wore off within the first few days. His hands were bloody, nails cracked and torn. He wished and prayed for freedom for the first tenday, and the next? He prayed for death.

When the lid of the coffin was finally removed, after a year of pure agony? Even the dim light of candles burned his eyes as his frail body was dragged from his tomb.

He wondered how anyone could believe in the gods. How anyone could pray to them and believe their prayers would be answered; or even heard. How could benevolence even exist in such a world?

Dear God,

Please help me.

Will you follow and know?

Know me more

Than you do

Track me down

And try to win me?

The first time he laid eye on you he’d felt a spark; though he jotted that down to his new cerebral neighbour. Of course, you were just too good to pass up - the leader of this merry little band of misfits? He had to have you wrapped around his fingers; the only way he knew how.

Soft touches, kind words… promises he couldn’t keep.

Then he motions to me,

With his hand on my knee

Dear god,

did this kind of thing happen to you?

The nightmare had rattled him to his core. He stood over you, staring for what felt like hours before he made his move. And of course? You had to wake up.

After a heated discussion, you gave yourself to him…and as he drank greedily from you; it was cemented in his mind that was truly free …and that he owed a great deal to you.

He sauntered off into the night, sated, feeling more in control than he had in 200 years. And with that? He felt his resolve slip; he didn’t need to worry about manipulating you anymore. He had the ball in his court, so to speak.

And yet, as he hunted? You were all he could think about.

Now I’m spreading your legs,

With mine

In between

Dear god, if I could

I would help you,

In the all too familiar graveyard of Baldurs Gate, he draws you close, breath cool on your warm flushed skin — hands exploring your warm, soft body. You’d given him everything; or atleast given him the tools and the strength and the /love/ to get this far. He owed it all to you.

As he presses you back, he whispers sweet nothings, soft ‘I love you’s’, his hands taking the time to explore…eager to make you cry out for him, but even more eager to relearn your body. Eager to enjoy your pleasure, eager to enjoy his /own/.

Now I am walking through Rome

And there is no room to breath

But the heart

Feels free

Astarion cowered behind the shade of a few shipping boxes, grateful he had a robe to shield himself. He gave a choked sob just as you arrive, scrambling over to shield him further. He felt like everything had been stolen from him again, and yet, when you spoke?

“It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure something out.” You whispered as you cup his face, and suddenly, he felt his worries drift away. He trusted you completely; if you said you’d figure something out? He had to believe it.

As you cradled him, soft sobs wracking his body? He realized that he was finally, truly free. He’d find his own sun. Perhaps he already had.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - LDPDL & Nosferatu 2024 (Pt9: Subverting Gothic Gender in Femme-Coded Gay Black Men)

Since S1 aired, a large portion of AMC's Interview with the Vampire 2022 fandom has resisted the notion of Louis de Pointe du Lac, a Black gay male vampire living during Jim Crow, as a female-coded character. Viewers (esp. cis straight white women--the antithesis of the gay Black man) have expressed how they either cannot or will not see Black!LDPDL aligning with feminine tropes, archetypes, aesthetics, sentiments, roles, norms, or social positions. Many cis straight white fans have made in depth analyses of IWTV's Gothic/Horror genre(s), and Gothic hero/heroine tropes through white male/female lenses, but I've yet to see any substantial analysis (or even acknowledgement) from this contingency about Black Horror, let alone the intersection of Black LGBT+ Horror and Gothic Horror. Meanwhile, their main defense/offense against Black & Bipoc fans has consistently been to either throw TERF accusations & media literacy snobbery at anyone who criticizes or counters their white-centric gender analyses of Black!LDPDL's place in Gothic Horror (others' experiences: x x x | my own experiences: x x x). And interestingly, a lot of IWTV Gothic aficionados have avoided engaging with the most recent iteration of the vampire in Gothic Horror that loosely inspired Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles series: Dracula, a la Nosferatu 2024.

So this post is largely in reponse to several of @pynkhues' anti-GothicHeroine!Lou etc analyses of Gothic characters, but I'm still sticking to the Louis/Ellen theme when relevant, just walk with me.

Louis as the Byronic Hero? 🤔

First let's look at @pynkhues' analysis of Gothic characters here:

YES, Louis is a Byronic hero. However, AR's own Alphabettery acknowledges that all Byronic heroes are NOT created equally.

Lestat is "THE embodiment a Byronic hero," while Louis SUBVERTS the archetype by regretting/rejecting his bad tendencies, rather than EMBRACING them, unlike Byron/Lestat/Lord Ruthven/etc.

Cuz going by the definition Pynkhues provided, when you actually break their characteristics down, you can easily see which one fits more than the other.

Louis has far LESS in common with the Byronic hero than Lestat. Lou's similarities to Byronic heroes are largely skin-deep (LOL). He's a tortured emo pretty boy, sure, but the points where he differs are what BREAKS the Byronic mold, not AFFIRMS it:

3) Louis does NOT rebel against "all fundamental values and moral codes of the society"--the whole point is that he CONFORMS to societal expectations, to the detriment of his own happiness!

5) often shows a GREAT DEAL of disrespect for ANY figure of authority. | 8a) arrogant

I've addressed this b4, cuz LouisAntis keep pointing to the RACIST Alderman Fenwick calling Lou arrogant, and Lou sassing him saying "MAYBE I am arrogant!" as CONFIRMATION BIAS for all the things these horrible white men said about that uppity Black N****r who dared to rise above his "PLACE in the world...flying too close to the sun." And we see the exact same nasty sentiments with Santiago & Lestat & Sam's script in 2x7 (written by three more white men to insult & vilify Louis). Cuz yes, Louis IS prideful/haughty, esp. in the context of the classic tragic hero where pride comes b4 a fall. But it is in direct response to his attempts to break FREE of the societal constrictions tryna keep him DOWN. The white racists in NOLA are busy tryna steal his property right under him with the Ordinances segregating Storyville; and the coven's busy tryna convert him into their satanic death cult where he'll never be allowed to have his own autonomy/independence again; a SLAVE; "you'll be our little birdie for the next 50 years~!" The point is that GAY Black men & women in general were both at very the bottom of the social pyramid (maligned in a patriarchal society that equated femininity with everything negative & weak & exploitable). LDPDL & Ellen Hutter resist the UNFAIR TREATMENT they received. That resistance is treated as disrespect to KEEP them in "their place;" abused & dehumanized.

Louis shows TOO MUCH respect to awful racist homophobes, from his hateful AF mother, who he deferred to until her dying effing day; to his racist white bosses Tom Anderson & Alderman Fenwick & Fenwick's lawyer; to the white cops who busted in his house threatening to put him in JAIL for being gay. Louis' monologue in 1x2 about "No, Sir; Yes, Sir" flew CLEAR over y'all heads; y'all have the nerve to take Louis STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF against insults & blatant racism as a sign of "disrespect," and then wonder why Black fans call y'all out as racists, I swear. 😂

6a) Neither Louis not Lestat stand against the dehumanized system of labor, as they both indulge in the benefits of human exploitation, from slavery to prostitution.

6b) WHERE does THE Catholic Guilt LDPDL stand against traditionally repressive religious??? 🤨 Jacob's most iconic scene is of Louis crying out to God in a confession booth! 🤣 Yes, in WWII he started losing his religion, scared that God didn't exist cuz of everything he saw during the war, but Armand pointed out that Lou was STILL holding onto Christian notions of good & evil. Yes, in Dubai he says he doesn't read the Bible much anymore because of it, but he STILL wondered if his mom was right that his nature was that of the Devil, and he tried to prove everyone wrong by not killing since 2000.

6c) WHERE does Domestic Thy Name Is LDPDL stand against social & familial institutions & traditional family values? 🤨 Lestat & Armand didn't even WANT any kids--Louis was the one constantly pushing to start a family with them; only for Lestat to tell him to his face that "I am your family, Louis;" eff them kids, eff Benni, we don't need sons or daughters to be a family so long as we have each other!

8d) WHERE is Louis "unrepentant for his faults"? 🤨 All he does is blame himself for ish that ain't even his fault! All he does is repent--he's eating human food every week that tastes like PASTE! CHALK! SOAP! as a form of self-mortification, to remind himself that he IS human, that he doesn't WANT to be a damned & undead killer.

Louis =/= Gothic Heroine? 🤔

From CLAUDIA'S POV, yes 100%, Loustat are BOTH the patriarchs from hell, her "taught to kill by her demon fathers," etc. She indeed follows the typical Gothic Heroine arc (putting aside her being a child, ofc), esp. since yes, Louis doesn't really rescue himself from his bad situations--Claudia is "my light, my salvation" who saves him in S1, and Daniel saves him in S2. But AMC!Louis has far more agency than book!Louis, in that he IS aware of the Murder Plot, and actively (albeit reluctantly) takes part in it; unlike book!Louis, totally blindsided by Claudia. He never wanted to leave Lestat--who represented FREEDOM & PASSION for him; "I was seen!" And just like Ellen/Mina, in the end Louis musters the willpower to slit Lestat's throat & "kill" his soulmate--not for his own sake, but for the sake of HIS DAUGHTER. He sacrifices his happiness for her, but still chooses Death, when he refuses to burn Lestat. He WANTS to hold hands with death, BUT ALSO sees purpose/worth in how he can weaponize his bond to Lestat to distract Les long enough to axe him.

The biggest difference with Louis & Mina/Ellen isn't GENDER, it's SPECIES--the other protags DIE, while he lives on as a vampire. (Ofc there's some iterations of Mina Harker AND Jonathan Harker/Thomas Hutter where they're permanently turned into vamps, too.)

Louis 100% wanted to leave Armand--how on earth was Louis able to leave "easily and definitively"?! 🤨 He tried to KILL HIMSELF in SanFran to get away from his boring AF life with Armand, but Armand wouldn't LET him die. He tries to do the interview in 1973 and Armand INTERRUPTS. He does the interview in 2022 and Armand INTERRUPTS. Over & over, Louis is trying to GET OUT, and he can't. This is what I mean by BLACK HORROR, cuz unlike y'all Gothic experts in the fandom, I actually have analyzed similarities between Black!Louis in IWTV, and THE Black Horror film, Get Out.

Rolin Jones constantly stresses the (over)emphasis he puts on psychological horror in IWTV, AND the effects of gaslighting and manipulation in abusive & traumatic relationships, particularly when there's already a power imbalance stemming from race & sexuality, and the withholding or resistance of knowledge in a teacher/student dynamic. The whole point is about POWER & CONTROL. It's not that one has all the power/control & the other one has none. It's about who has MORE than their FAIR share. That's what IMBALANCE means. 🤦🤦🤦 Yes, Louis allows Armand control over his life, and Armand takes ADVANTAGE of that trust and goes behind Louis' back & lies & schemes in ways that are a VIOLATION.

Just because Louis gains (temporary) socio-economic status/power as Lestat's lover does NOT mean that he is EQUAL to Lestat, and just because he loves Lestat & WANTS to be with him doesn't mean he NEVER recognizes the ways that he IS under Lestat's thrall--

"in the well with no bottom" | "We're not slaves. Maybe mindless accomplices." | "We were compelled to sleep in the same chamber together again. He would have it no other way. We would spend our hours enduring, with little pretense of getting along, locked together in hatred. He would have it no other way."

--and Daniel constantly called BS whenever Lou tried denying it:

"White master, Black student, but equal in the quiet dark." | "It's the abused-abuser psychological relationship I'm talking about. I mean, usually when you're a little too close to it, the abused still loves the abuser, but you flipped it completely on its head! Years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some f**ked up gothic romance!" | "'He only beat me the one time, Officer. It's not his fault!' Classic Stockholm, eh, Doc?"

Here @pynkhues says they're not racist cuz they started reading two (2) papers on Black gender & sexuality--congrats. Thousands more to go, but you'll get there! 👍 Good news though: you don't have to read ANYTHING to see with your own 2 eyes what the show itself is messaging. The very fact that Black!Louis moves into LESTAT'S HOUSE the entire time they were together is a glaring red GAY flag. book!/film!Loustat lived in LOUIS' house, until Lou burned the plantation down and they purchased a home in NOLA together (with Lou's money). AMC!Louis doesn't TRULY embody Black masculinity, cuz it's a facade; he has a target on his back the entire time he's with Lestat; EVERYONE has something homophobic to say about Lou even associating with that flaming "queer, half queer" WHITE man (x x).

You know good & dang well that WOMEN were supposed to marry in & move in--NOT the men. Louis already had a mansion in his name--wtf is he doing moving into Lestat's townhouse on the white side of town like a WIFE? You know the whole DPDL family dynamic's further screwed up, cuz Levi's a mooch who ALSO MOVES IN, rather than doing what the man was expected to do and providing his bride with a home of HIS own.

I laughed up a storm when we found out Lestat gave Louis the deed--because it's ODD: interracial gay relationships were illegal, and Black people weren't allowed to own prime real estate in the segregated French Quarter where 1132 is. Lestat bought the house FOR Louis, but the Black people in Louis' life KNOW Louis' not embodying Black masculinity and TELL him so to his face: "Your white Daddy | The Housewife | etc." Louis tells Florence "it's half a mile BOTH ways, Mamawn," but Florence won't even set FOOT in 1132, which even the white folk know has "weird goings-on in that sodomite townhouse." The Alderman even tells Louis to put Lestat as "the public face of your operations" cuz he's white and he's the only one anyone's gonna listen to & respect, even though Louis allegedly gained REAL social status. 🙄

Lestat is the honeytrap BECAUSE white men listen to white men and are more receptive to them--on top of the fact that Lou'd already explained that the Azalea worked as a "revolving door of prey" so Loustat could EAT the Johns (mostly Lestat, cuz Lou'd already started hating killing people)--TOURISTS like the white man who asked them directions for the Fairplay. Les takes the man cuz he's going to EAT HIM. He asks him how long he's in town, to confirm if anyone would NOTICE when he goes MISSING. Pynkhues' post also conflates/ignores the timeline of events, as if Lou's a housewife DURING the time he owns the Azalea, which....NO. Claudia's housewife quote in 1x5 (c. 1925) and Louis owning the Azalea PRE-Claudia in 1x2-1x3 (c. 1910-1917) are 2 radically different contexts. 🤦 Yes, Lou IS revelling in his newfound high social status, and yes, he insists on paying Lestat back specifically so no one can throw the fact that he had to borrow the money to buy the Fairplay in his face. But this is NOT about Lestat as the "placating partner while Lou's king of the castle"--in front of all the most important white businessmen in the city, Lestat DISMISSES the Azalea as "Louis' HOBBY," just like rich husbands who keep their wives busy & happy buying them silly little nail salons & florist shops & dog grooming salons & fashion shops to run! (x x) 💀 Back then, male pimps/gangsters like IRL Tom Anderson owned brothels, but they sure AF didn't RUN them--that was the MADAME'S job, for women like IRL Bricktop Jackson. Louis was doing WOMEN'S WORK. By marrying Lestat, Louis' "civil death" was in full swing, it just took Storyville burning as the final nail in the coffin. After that, Lou's thoroughly domesticated and doesn't interact with businessmen like Tom Anderson for YEARS.

This applies not just to AMC!Loustat, but to book/film Loustat, too:

Louis is NOT the dominant one in Loustat's relationship--he's patently submissive, as he either willingly/reluctantly capitulates to the whims & demands of everyone around him--from society at large, to his biological family--to even his Blood family, yanked around by Lestat AND Claudia for his eating habits to his leaving NOLA. From Louis' conception by AR, the theme of SLAVERY was a main point--not just book!Lou's status as a slaveowner(par for the course for moneyed French white colonists in the 19th century American South), but also the power imbalance between Loustat that manifested as "need and control, with one vampire dominating another for companionship or slavery."

Lestat represents the man Anne wanted to be, as she was sick & tired of how victimized & depressed & submissive & CONTROLLED she (Louis) felt under her husband Stan (Lestat). Just because Louis mouths off does NOT mean he's the one in control--the stalemate at 1132 existed because Louis REFUSED TO ACT. His INACTION in the face of Lestat's domineering behavior was because he was afraid of the consequences of what would happen if he DID defend himself & stand up & exert kinetic resistance (a la the Alderman) or action (a la Grace's door): his power was in his submission, like I've said 1000x.

Mouthy Black people getting put in their place is the whole point of another Black Horror/psychological thriller with interracial dynamics, Antebellum (2020). Not giving away too much of the movie, cuz it has a major plot twist, but the visual motifs are all about covering/opening the mouth, cuz the story's about a bunch of people known for being vocal for Black empowerment, who're rounded up & sold into slavery to be tortured, raped & killed by their white masters. The mater of main character Eve (played by the GOAT Janelle Monae) claims to "love" her even as he rapes & beats her; traumatizing her so badly that she goes silent & is too scared to help the other slaves run away to freedom, for fear that she'll be BURNED again--her master burned an an iron brand on her, marking her as his property. The monsters are the white slaveowners. The film can be hard to watch cuz they don't shy away from graphic scenes; it's horrific.

Just like Louis all throughout S1, and Lou & Claudia at the Trial, they're forced into silence & punished for speaking up to defend themselves or exert any autonomy--which RACISTS see as "disrespect." 🙄😒 And Claudia's burned alive, her own words used against her to damn her to death. And Louis' memories are used against him, everyone from Lestat to Armand to even Daniel contradicting his words, till he can't be sure what's true or not, and just goes with whatever the white man says, he's been worn down so badly. UNLIKE Claudia, he CANNOT run away from Dubai--Armand wiped that impulse from him after his final "eff off and find me later" in 1973 SanFran. And we're just left with Armand's word that he was telling the truth about Louis "asking" him to.

Louis ENCOURAGES Claudia to leave & be free THRICE OVER:

1x5 when she runs away and Loustat BOTH let her leave--(Louis begs her not to go, but never actually STOPS her, cuz he KNOWS she's right to be mad at him. He spends the next 7 years sending out telepathic apologies, letting her know that he still loves & misses her and that she has a home to come back to--but that return is always on HER terms, NEVER his.)

1x6 when SHE asks him to come to Europe with her and HE tells her: "You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away." LESTAT was the one who dragged her back home like a runaway slave!

ALL OF S2: "New Orleans, unhappy. Vampire homeland, unhappy. Paris, unhappy. Comes the coven, you're beaming like the whole world went technicolor. I didn't want to wreck that for you. You picked the coven! You left me! Go sit in your choice, Sister!" HE asks HER if they can go back home in 2x1; he follows HER lead, as he does from 1x6 all the way to 2x6 when he makes Madeleine for her so they can LEAVE Paris together--without him. ARMAND is the one who uses her family reunion with Louis as a trap to have them all hamstrung through the BONE so they cant escape when he puts them on Trial & kills Claudia, then spends the next 77 years covering up the details.

Coercing Emotionally leveraging her rebirth in 1x4 & physically assaulting her in 1x7 - Yes, agreed.

Lou's less concerned with "influencing Claudia's DIET" as he is about her SADISM/"extravagance" that LESTAT kept enabling/encouraging. His whole point about killing is that "you don't have to humiliate them;" then WHAT happens in 2x7? He outright tells Claudia when she's grossed out by him drinking fish blood that "it's not just what you eat. You can kill quick and painless." His open disgust over THEIR diet is no better or worse than THEIR open disgust for HIS. And they BOTH ganged up on him in 1x6 to force him to agree to Lestat rule about "when he hunt, we hunt HUMAN," rather than going by what Lou said: "I eat what I eat, she eats what she eats, we RESPECT our differences." But as soon as Lestat was back in the house & exerting more & more authority, the balance between Louis & Claudia evaporated. And even in 2x2 Paris, Armand noticed that "the male hunted to please HER."

WHEN does Louis guilt Claudia into staying? 🤨 LESTAT guilts Claudia into staying in his threats on the train.

Louis threw Lestat out of LOUIS' house; he got the deed baby! And Lestat had already BEEN gone--Lou just confirmed that Les could STAY that way--but NOTHING lil ole Claudia & crippled Lou could've done would've ACTUALLY stopped Les from waltzing back into that house, be serious. (As for Antoinette, who CARES?! 🤣 That's what that skank gets for sleeping with a married man!)

What does Louis being a former pimp have to do with how he treated Claudia? Did he pimp Claudia out to the public for money and have her walking the streets to promote his businesses and punish her when she refused? NO. But you know who DID treat her that way? ARMAND. And you know who told Armand that he didn't like it? LOUIS. (Please miss me with any & all pimp arguments.)

Louis definitely threatened Grace at the funeral, yes, but when did he strong arm his mother? 🤨 She was the one who refused to let him in his own house to see his sister & nieces (whom SHE was busy badmouthing to so they'd be afraid of him). Levi literally tried to FIGHT Louis to keep Louis off his own property, when LEVI'S useless arse never contributed one red cent to LOUIS' house! The door getting kicked in was an accident, but OH FRIKKIN WELL, it's HIS door. (Miss me with any & all talk about Florence & Levi, omg.)

Yes, Miss Lily was expendable. But her death was all wrapped up in Lestat's relentless barrage of Come to Me, leading to Lou's drunken suicidal death spiral running to the confession booth screaming about how he wanted to die cuz he was a dirty gay sinning pimp whose family hated him. He had no time to mourn Lily. He BARELY had time to mourn Paul. And once he was a newlywed getting his back blown out to the rings of Saturn every night, sorrynotsorry but chile ain't nobody thinking about the woman he paid to sit in a room and talk to him! 😅

If Louis had been literally any other pimp, and if the Alderman wasn't suffering from chronic Jungle Fever smitten with her, Bricktop would've been DEAD. It was illegal during Jim Crow for Black people to even look white folk in the eye without their permission--"get your hand off me, N****r!," let alone bash their skull in and cuss them out "You put a SIR on the end of that!" Be serious, and understand the gravity of the situation in that scene, and how remarkable it was that Bricktop was NOT tossed to the wolves, where the Alderman would've been able to do WAY worse than sodomize her. It's wild AF how modern white folk are more ignorant about the history of racism than Black people, like wtf.

Yes, Louis helped curse her into damnation as a vampire--in the book/film he drains her & almost kills her, and Lestat brings her back as a vamp; while AMC!Lou's actions killing the Alderman was the catalyst sparking the racist white people burning Storyville down--and Claudia's house with it. 😡 The "monstrousness" Pynkhues nastily accuses Louis of is willfully misdirected to absolve the white racists of blame in order to damn Louis. His killing that p.o.s. Alderman is NOT a Byronic act, its VIGILANTISM due to the RACISM he experienced at the Aldermand's hands, that he stood up against by killing him and then IMMEDIATELY REGRETTING IT as he saw the devastation that happened to Storyville--the Bryonic hero does not REGRET/REPENT his misdeeds--as you cited above! 🤦 Claudia is indeed "trapped in the body of a little girl," but Louis does NOT "imprison/trap" Claudia in that house--just like Paul, he was the one encouraging her to be free & LEAVE when he knew he wouldn't.

As such, misreadings like this totally miss the mark of Louis' character arc, and I'm mind boggled. "Defiance" had NOTHING to do with Louis leaving NOLA--he regretted leaving Lestat the entire time, and was constantly hallucinating Lestat cuz he just wanted to go back home--and the SECOND he got free of Armand's shenanigans, he was back on a plane and in a car driving WHERE? To NOLA. And WHY? "I came to see you," LESTAT. And any "defiance" against Armand would've amounted to EFF ALL if Daniel hadn't gotten the real script from the Talamasca.

Gothic Heroines - Female Gothic vs Male Gothic

And guess what? Queer Gothic sits in the middle of this venn diagram--or rather, it creates a brand new paradigm where vampiric Gothic Horror stories written by a white woman in the 1970s about a white bisexual man can now be adapted in the 2020s by a white male showrunner and his MULTICULTURAL TEAM of male AND female writers about a Black gay man who represents male AND female social anxieties & struggles alike.

Westengard, Laura. "Queer Gothic Literature and Culture." Twentieth Century Gothic (2022): 259-272.

Claudia & Louis often SHARE/SPLIT the role of the Gothic Heroine--deuteragonists are a thing after all. It does NOT "diminish Claudia's arc;" instead, it lends her a more nuanced characterization, BECAUSE there are ways that she CANNOT fulfill certain Gothic Heroine tropes on her own--she's A CHILD, ffs. Louis is Claudia's surrogate adult male/female the way Lestat is Gabrielle's surrogate adult male/female.

As I've said b4 (x x), Louis is the Mina Harker/Ellen Hutter to Lestat's Dracula/Orlock--there's no way on god's green earth that anyone can seriously claim that Lestat's the female-coded character in the Dracula/Nosferatu framework of vampiric gothic horror--or any of its incarnations, from Twilight to True Blood; Louis is the Bella/Sookie, NOT Lestat (or Armand). But Lou is ALSO the Jonathan Harker/Thomas Hutter--and SO IS CLAUDIA, who does double duty as the Lucy Westenra/Anna Harding, too.

In S1 Claudia assumes the "masculine" agency Louis is expected to have as the male protagonist, but fails to live up to due to all of those character traits (typically perceived as weak & "feminine"). He's not the damsel in distress, but CLAUDIA thinks he is ("the housewife;" "we're his slaves, and I will free us both!"), and acts accordingly. Claudia/Thomas/Jonathan has consulted the scholarly experts on vampires (her vampire books | Dr. Van Helsing/Prof. Von Franz) and returns from a long period of absence (ran away from home | traveled to Dracula/Orlok's castle) to warn her companion (Louis/Ellen/Mina) about the dangers of the Big Bad Vampire corrupting them ("His love is a small box he keeps you in, don't stay in it!" | "He seeks after Ellen, I know it!" | "I know where the bastard sleeps!"). C/T/J struggles to reconcile their desperation to save their loved one with the realization that said loved one is connected to the vampire by a bond stronger than they can understand or meddle with (Loustat's cord you cannot see | DracuMina's crossing oceans of time | Orllen's dream-possession). She's not the main heroine, but C/T/J still wins a significant victory by purging the world of the other threat/impediment lurking (Antoinette/Herr Knock/Renfield).

But S2!Claudia ultimately reifies the Gothic heroine format; "victimized, virginal and powerless while being pursued by villainous men." This isn't a return to the format, since she never left it--in S1 she also represents the Lucy/Anna; the main character's closest friend & confidante, who's viciously targeted by The Vampire--either as the bait to lure his primary love interest under his influence, or to demonstrate just how much control he has over everyone's lives. Bruce, Lestat, Santiago, Armand, and even Sam all participate in her murder; but LOUIS is also a victim of the Trial, powerless to help himself or either of his daughters--a la Anna/Friedrich Harding.

Anne Rice & Self-Inserts

Last part, cuz I've hit Tumblr's image limit, grrr! Something I almost never see anyone talk about wrt Anne Rice & LDPDL is how much alcoholism was a major inspo for her vampires. Sure, on the surface one can easily say: Lord Byron was an alcoholic bisexual depressed pretty boy drug addict etc etc too. But for AR, vamps are the Embodiment of Thirst (famously levied against book!Armand), and a large part of Louis' morose depression stems from his fighting his cravings for drink--alcohol as a human & blood as a vampire; following AR's experiences with her own alcoholic mother, whose "helplessness and need [for alcohol] echoed in Louis' mannerisms: guilt, insecurity, helplessness, a sense of isolation and secrecy, low self-esteem over-reaction to criticism, and intense sadness."

Everyone on the anti-Femme!Louis side is always quick to dismiss the AR evidence as irrelevant cuz Lestat was AR's self-insert, too~~! Sure, ALL characters that authors write are to some degree a self-insert, or based on different facets of themselves. But Louis is THE Titular Vampire, and the one she originally framed TVC's narrative around, to focus on Claudia's relationship/impact on him. His depression is HERS for losing her child and resenting her husband, and her MOTHER'S for her alcoholism. And I already discussed gendered Gothic Victorian depression/melancholy/mental illness wrt Louis/Ellen here.

Evidence has been provided from Jacob Anderson, the showrunners, and even Anne Rice herself about the femme-coded dynamics, motifs & influences used to create Black!LDPDL as AMC's racebent gay Black take on Anne Rice's originally bisexual Caucasian 19th century book/film character; but this is usually conveniently downplayed or outright dismissed by those who insist on seeing Louis as a perpetuation of the racist Black stereotype of the hyper-aggressive sexually dominant hyper-masculine threat to white/female innocence--a la his portrayal in the Theatre of Vampires' smear campaign of a Trial in 2x7, which was specifically designed to sentence him and his Black daughter Claudia to death for their "crimes" against the white male co-lead Lestat de Lioncourt.

As a femme!Louis Truther, I've been increasingly agitated by the gross inequity of the fandom's ready & willing acceptance of all the parts of Lestat that are femme-coded, and the otherwise blatant & willful ignorance of Louis' in kind. Lestat, the campy fan-favorite, is more popularly accepted in the feminine role, largely on account of his being their Maker, his aesthetic appeal to white feminine norms: his long-haired blondeness, and especially his exaggerated mannerisms; which are seen as feminine by modern audiences, but are actually a gender subversion in and of itself, as a hallmark of masculine ideals in 18th/19th century Europe--a historical fact that somehow never factors into how Lestat is analyzed by his fans (even the ones who hold media literacy and nuances about 19th century Gothic contexts oh-so-sacred). Instead, they fail to see past his epidermal layers to get to the substrata of his character/behavioral dynamics vis a vis that of his Black counterpart Louis.

It ticks me off something fierce, cuz I see it for what it is: RACISM--the inability of white people to see Black!Louis as a vehicle by which he can be related to on a (white)feminine level, let alone in classically heteronormative predominately white Gothic Horror or Gothic Romance that demonizes The Other: monsters, gays & Black people alike. AMC!Louis never stood a chance with y'all bigots; but y'all hide behind media literacy & white!feminism rather than just speaking your biases with your whole chest.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

This fic took me forever to write and its taken me over 45 minutes to post because of my shitty wi-fi but here it is! I'm so fucking hungry.

Subject: Genshin Impact, Neuvilette

Title: Justice

Trigger Warning: Size difference, breeding, dub con, double dick, claws, biting, nipple play, cunnilingus, scratching, kissing, rut (mentioned), some praise

By order of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale: You will be bred by the Hydro Dragon.

All you could do was stare dumbfounded at the sentencing from the Oratrice, the courtroom a riot of concerned whispers. Face placid, Neuvilette had been kind enough not to read your punishment aloud, instead walking down to your place on stage and allowing you to read it for yourself.

He breathed heavily beside you, his body so close the heat of him was like an inferno. Impossible to ignore.

You shivered.

Normally being besides your former boss was cooling and refreshing like fresh, clean water on a hot day. Your mouth grew dry remembering all that and changed between the two of you, and now this sentencing.

In the history of Fontaine, no punishment like this had ever been issued before. At least, as far as you knew.

And what crime was so great that you had to give up your autonomy? Forgery. For the last year, you'd worked as Neuvilette's assistant, and one month ago you were approached by a man looking to reduce a friend's sentence in exchange for more money than you could imagine. You caved. You sliced off ten years from his sentence.

And you'd been caught. Fired on the spot and scheduled for trial.

And now you were being sentenced to be bred by the Hydro Dragon, Neuvilette, your ex-boss.

In the last week you spent in jail, you dreaded the moment you’d have to face him again. Neuvilette was undeniably likable, and not just for his pretty face or deep, smooth voice. He wasn’t necessarily your friend, but you trusted him and disappointing him felt like an unforgivable sin. He’d been so kind to you at work, always happy to see you and ready to offer advice when you needed it.

"Meet me at my place tomorrow night," Neuvilette said quietly so only you could hear. His deep voice rumbled through you like thunder on the horizon, a taste of what was to come. His pearl grey-blue eyes bore into you, slit pupils cold and calm. This was the Hydro Dragon, not the judge of Fontaine. "I'll try to make your sentencing as comfortable as possible."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left you alone on stage, clutching your punishment between shaking hands.

***

All the next day, night threatened your every move. Each time a cloud passed in front of the sun was a jolt to your nerves, shadows growing as the dreaded time crept closer. The idea of doing anything knowing that once the sun was gone you would be spread open and fucked until the hydro dragon's seed rooted in your core... It made doing anything else impossible.

Neuvilette was the unattainable workplace crush. He was unearthly beautiful and tall and spoke with a voice that was both commanding and sensual. No man could compare and yet he was on an entirely different level. No one had the courage to so much as talk to him about anything other than work. The one time you'd tried ended in an awkward discussion about the weather and him recommending a new brand of water.

Even worse, you weren't even sure what to wear. It's not like it would stay on your body all that long. But still, this was Neuvilette's house, he was always so put together and calm. Showing up in your pajamas would be an insult, and despite betraying him, you still respected him.

Eventually you settled on a modest dress, long enough to the knees with a zipper on the back to take off easily.

By the time you'd finished applying an inoffensive red lipstain to your mouth, the sun was burning red against the green hills of Fontaine.

No more stalling. It was time.

***

The dragon's house was grand, not because of its size, but because of its warmth. Two stories tall and covered in flowers, boxes at the windows and lovingly spaced around the perimeter. Ivy crawled up the walls and tangled with a rooftop vegetable garden.

Smoke puffed from the chimney. Warm light spilled from the windows, clear indications that Neuvilette was home. Waiting.

All you could do was knock.

Within moments the door opened, Neuvilette's imposing figure filling the doorway. Without his judge's robes—and dressed down in simply a dress shirt, pants, and pink apron—you nearly thought you had the wrong house. But those cold, serpent eyes remained the same as they drank you in.

"Please, come in." He said.

Inside was well decorated, new vases of flowers and polished wood furniture. The fresh scent of warm bread and hot food tangled in the air with wood polish and pollen. Floorboards creaked pleasantly under your weight, the scuff of your shoes overshadowed by the deep thud of Neuvilette's boots.

"I made dinner for you," he said. "I thought I should at least do that for you before we... begin."

You nodded but your empty stomach was twisting. You weren't sure how much you could even eat knowing that soon you'd be pinned down with your other mouth stuffed full of a completely different kind of hot soup.

The kitchen was cozy, big windows giving a view of the street outside. Mechanic lights glittered in the dark. A hand-carved table sat in the middle of the room with two chairs, one place set for you and him. His seat already had a glass of wine poured and half consumed. At least he was nervous about this, too.

He pulled your chair out for you and offered you wine, which you accepted. In silence, he served your meal and set his own down on the table.

"The Oratrice has never made a decision like this," Neuvilette began. "I... I cannot imagine why breeding must be your punishment but its decisions have never been wrong."

You could only nod.

He didn’t look at you, fiddling with the wine bottle. "I will try and make this night as comfortable as I can, but you should know that my body only looks human. Not all of me has the same... anatomy."

You blinked at him confused. "I don't understand."

Neuvilette raised one milky white hand—you hadn't even noticed he wasn't wearing his usual gloves—and presented two blue-stained fingers. "I have more than one member. But fear not, one should suffice for tonight's... activity."

"I see." Two?! He had two cocks under those tight pants? Your head was spinning and you hadn't even sampled the wine yet.

The rest of dinner was had in silence. Neuvillette collected the dishes and placed them in the sink. Then his hand was on the back of your chair, the heat of his body a physical weight you couldn't ignore. "Shall we move to the bedroom?" His voice was nearly a whisper, so quiet it would have been easy to ignore.

You couldn't.

Like a ghost you followed Neuvilette to his room on the second floor. He'd prepared for the evening. New bottles of lube sat on his twin dressers, a sea of pillows spread across the mattress, and seated on a chair was a box of toys. Vibrators, dildos, blinding mask, and even handcuffs.

"I hope it's not too much." He said behind you. “I'm afraid I am rustier than I'd like to be.”

"Oh, no, it should be fine. It's fine." Nervously you sat on the bed. "Should I take my clothes off or...?"

"Please," Neuvilette sank to one knee, sliding between yours in a single, swift motion. His hands were on your thighs, parting them to give him more space. His heat sent a thrill of excitement through your core. "Allow me."

Slowly his thin, blue fingers slid beneath the hem of your skirt, just the tip poking beneath the elastic of your panties. He pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, placing modest and thrilling kisses up your thigh, stopping just inches from your apex.

Your breath caught in your throat from the devilish glean in his pearlescent eyes. Just the corner of his stoic mouth was curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that the judge of Fontaine, aka your ex-boss, was a tease.

Just a hair further, Neuvilette whispered into your skin, his mouth so close you could feel the scrape of his teeth, "Is this to your liking, my lady?"

Heat rushed to your already red cheeks. You covered your mouth to try and hide the embarrassment. "It's weird to hear you call me that. Just call me what you normally would."

"Doesn't your name seem too... familiar? We no longer work together and I am bestowing the Oratrice's punishment onto you." As he spoke he slid his fingers around your ass, sinking into the soft flesh there, feeling you under your panties to pull you closer to him. "I should offer you some dignity, shouldn't I?" Neuvilette laid his cheek on your thigh, his white pale skin soft and practically glowing compared to yours. He blinked faux innocent eyes up at you, watching for your reaction.

"Fine." You huffed, your embarrassment and excitement only growing. "Just until we're done."

"Understood." And then his face vanished beneath the skirt of your dress.

You shrieked as you felt the thick length of his tongue against your cotton-covered cunt. Instantly you tried to close your legs, but Neuvilette's arms were under your thighs, strong and soft in the casing of his silk shirt. His thin but strong fingers squeezed your ass, pressing your clothed folds as close to his mouth as he could.

It was like he was making out with your crotch, the way his jaw worked and tongue explored, needy and smooth.

Suddenly Neuvilette pulled back, lifting your hips as he went. Your back hit the mattress as his movements intensified, his desire seeping into the fabric of your underwear as your core did the same. He groaned hungrily against your clit, the top of his white head bobbing between your thighs.

A noise you'd never made before threatened to squeak out of you and you bit your wrist to hold it back.

And just as suddenly as Neuvilette's intensity took over, it vanished. He lifted himself up, long snake tongue hanging out of his mouth as he caught his breath. His pale cheeks flushed red, pearl eyes unfocused. "Forgive my enthusiasm, I'm afraid my rut will be beginning soon. It's why I wanted to begin quickly, otherwise, you'll be trapped here with me for over a week and I won't stop even if you do conceive."

You weren't sure what to say to that, so you just nodded.

It was then you realized he hadn't stopped just to excuse himself. Your underwear was suddenly passing over your thighs and on the floor before you could even properly process it.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nodded.

Neuvilette leaned his face into yours, his mouth on your cheek then the corner of your lips. One hand traced teasing circles across your thigh, your bare cunt unignorable. And the other pressed against your upper back, working the zipper down as he pulled you closer. And just when the zipper was eased all the way open, his fingers ghosted against your folds.

You gasped and that's when Neuvilette captured your mouth in a kiss. Just the tip of his tongue was in your mouth, probing but patient, feeling everything he could without invading even as his hand did just the opposite.

Within a second, one finger was buried up to the knuckle inside you. You were already so wet, accommodating his thin digit with ease. Both of you groaned, him from your sucking wet heat and you from the pleasant feel of him against your soft walls.

His tongue moved a little further in, coaxing your own with his forked tip. It felt strange dancing over your taste buds, asking you to meet his enthusiastic lust.

Hesitantly you raised your tongue, carefully poking out to prod Neuvilette's teeth, tracing the path of his gums to his—you gasped at the sensation of his fangs, dagger-sharp and smooth as marble.

Neuvilette pulled away just enough to murmur against your lips, "You're okay. Did my teeth scare you?"

"Just surprised," you murmured.

A softness came over his face. Neuvilette kissed your cheek, then your jaw, slowly bringing his mouth to the stunning curve of your shoulder. Gently he pressed his front teeth to the skin, letting you feel their shape, then he opened wider to scrape his fangs on your skin. His teeth closed, exciting pain and a burning want inside you.

Your core fluttered around his fingers, suddenly threatening to snap. Unconsciously your hips bucked against his hand, asking for more.

"So sensitive," Neuvilette chuckled against your skin, breath hot. Goosebumps fluttered to life. "But I must ask you not to finish yet, my lady, I want it to be when you take me in."

Before you had a chance to process what he'd said, you were on your back, cunt empty as Neuvilette pulled back to unbuckle his pants. Black fabric slid away to reveal two blue erect lengths. Each of them was softly ridged and unmistakably inhuman.

White bumps lined the sides, growing larger towards the base of his cocks. Along the tops and bottoms were blue, scale-like ridges that followed the same gradient pattern as the rest of his lengths.

"I won't make you take both tonight,” Neuvilette was panting, his chest rising and falling with his eagerness, “but if our first attempt at fertilization fails, then using both may become a necessity." You could barely hear him, watching each head softly twitch with his desire. His cool hand cradled your heated cheek, forcing your gaze up to meet his. Burning pearl eyes commanded your attention. "My lady... Do you understand? I want to hear you say it."

You swallowed. You could barely imagine taking him in tonight, let alone taking two inside of you. "O-okay. I understand."

“Understand what?” He pressed, the ghost of a smug grin slipping into the corner of his mouth.

“That I might h-have to take both.”

Neuvilette seemed to relax, leaning in to nuzzle the side of your face with his own. His lips pressed against your throat as his hands slid lower, gently sliding your arms from your dress. He didn't wait to take off your bra, letting your breasts bounce free before engulfing them in his hands.

His mouth moved lower, breath coming fast as he enveloped the doughy flesh, teasing your nipples by squeezing them between his fingers. He relished your softness. Neuvilette brought his mouth to your hardening nipples, sinking his teeth inside of your breast, leaving bruises in the shape of his desire.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Neuvilette reached for a bottle of lube, pouring enough in his hand to cover one of his members. He pulled back, lubed his cock and aimed it right at your core. The head pushed in suddenly, stretching you out, filling you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your fingers curled into the sheets, back arching as if trying to help him inside.

“Good girl,” he breathed, pressing in. The first ridge popped inside. “Just keep being good for me.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, each ridge slipped inside, strange and lumpy and pressing right against the top of your core, pushing up and into your g-spot so effortlessly you nearly came. And he still wasn't done.

The thick base of his cock began to press in, the ridges on the side struggling to squeeze into your cunt. It occured to you then that those ridges were for competition, to scrape out the seed of competing males. Knowing something so animalist, so feral and possessive existed on someone like Neuvilette who was virtuous with his patience and had a gentlemanly demeanor... It made your core flutter.

Neuvilette sighed, rolling his hips with notable frustration. “I fear I won't be able to get all the way inside. I feel something blocking me.” He shivered a little, his hands gripping your thighs with impatient squeezes. “I don't want to hurt you, but it's disappointing I can't go further.” His hips rolled again, as if testing if your body would really bar him from fully sheathing himself.

Gods, you felt so full. It was hard to focus on what he was saying, especially when the tip of his cock head kept twitching against your cervix in time with its twin hovering over your belly. Its shadow smoothed the bulge below your navel, a barely noticeable rise in your skin. Precum dribbled into your belly button.

He felt so good. Your mind cleared as the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of his cock bulging out of you. Your hips bucked, rubbing him up against your sweet spot, pleasurable shivers rising gooseflesh along your skin. You could probably cum just from humping him like this, forcing his cock head into that sweet spot over and over while his pearlescent eyes drank you in. You shivered again at the thought, fingers curling into the sheets as your core squeezed him excitedly.

Slowly, Neuvilette tested your cunt, pulling out an inch and rolling right back in. His breathing strained as he held himself back, trying so hard to keep himself trapped in the gentlemanly facade he showed the world as the animal he was vied for control.

Wet, pleased sounds escaped your cunt with each movement, eagerly swallowing his cock as best as it could. Pressure compressed against your cervix and just above, causing that sweet knot of release to tighten ever so slightly. The purpose of your union to Neuvilette vanished, only the animal need for more fuzzing over your thoughts.

He was barely moving and yet that the pressure of him, the space he took up inside you, numbed anything but the fire in your nerves. Your hips rocked to meet his, toes curling as you tried to get some kind of purchase under you.

Your clit ached for stimulation but the words wouldn't form in your mouth, too busy slumping open to leak your breathy moans. How did you become such a mess so quickly?

You reached between your legs where his cock was currently making mush of your cunt to relieve your aching but just as you pressed the pads of your fingers to your core, Neuvilette's hands were around your wrists. He pinned them above your head, his firm abdomen flush against your feverish belly. Feeling him press on the bulge of his cock with his other cock and his body, practically squashing his cock inside you and the hilt of his cock pushing up into your clit—

A high pitched whine escaped you as you bucked, head going blank. So close, so close...

“No need to rush,” he purred. “We have all night.”

“Neuvillette,” you cried, “please.” You didn't know what you were begging for. More? To cum?

“So impatient,” he huffed. He inhaled your scent, ghosting his lips over the marks he'd left on your throat. A light sheen of sweat began to glisten on his white skin. “I suppose if you're so wanting, I shouldn't hold back anymore myself.”

Hold back? You'd barely processed what he said when his shallow, smooth thrusts erupted into an animal frenzy.

His body slammed into yours, his bed rocking violently, practically throwing you to engulf more of his cock. Punishing, brutal, animal thrusts bounced you against him, leaving you to scramble to hold onto him for the ride. Pleasure burst like stars each time he rammed into your cervix, your nails burying into his back, legs vice tight around his narrow hips. Neuvilette seemed to relish your reaction, an animal purr escaping his throat.

He panted above you, sweat beading on his temples. White strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks. The clawed shaped of his blue-white fingers bit into his sheets for purchase, to better breed your criminal cunt. Suddenly the god-like gentleman Judge of Fontaine was disheveled and real and a man with human lust. You were probably the first human to see this side of him, and maybe even the last.

The thought nearly sobered you out of your pleasure haze until suddenly his sharp teeth sank into your collarbone. Pain erupted like white lightning and suddenly your core was snapping, mouth open to scream as you came.

Your wetness flooded down his balls, practically dripping but Neuvilette's pace didn't let up. He was moving faster if anything, shallower thrusts to humps against your cervix.

Your toes curled listening to your drenched core being churned, the sound so shamelessly slutty and crude it was nearly impossible to image it was coming from the space between your thighs.

A high whimper sounded in the back of Neuvilette's throat, his thick cock spasming inside you excitedly. “Close,” he grunted into your skin, breath hot. “So fucking close.” Those big teeth met your flesh again, leaving marks on the untouched side of your throat. That whimpering noise came again in time with his movements until his hips were hitching, bucking so hard against you nearly thought he'd managed to get his full length in. And then, melting his pelvis to yours, Neuvilette came.

Something thick, wet, and warm burst inside of you. It felt so strange, like an extra little pleasure right against your sweet spot. Your core twitched as you blinked away white desire. You hadn't realized you were panting until the world settled back under you, the bed still as Neuvilette recovered above you.

Slowly he let his weight pull him down, resting his head in the crook between your throat and shoulder. For what felt like a long time, he laid there breathing, nestled between your thighs and against your cervix. Then, slowly pulled out, standing up to his full height. Even sweaty with messy hair, he was beautiful. “I'll get you some water. I think Mondstat spring water would best suit our theme of tonight.” He didn't wait for an answer, leaving the room.

You went to sit up and felt everything gush out of you—lube, slick, cum. Something was surreal here but you didn't want to acknowledge it, naming what it was would make it actually real.

Carrying two tall glasses of water, Neuvilette returned. Condensation frosted the glass and you were grateful for something cold after how hot you'd just been.

Neuvilette knocked back his glass like a shot. Feverish excitement lit up his pearlescent eyes as they focused on you, slit pupils blown wide. “I think for our next round, a low angle might be best. Hips up and head down, like a stretch or yoga pose. I'm afraid I don't know the exact name of the position.”

Your ears burned hearing such perverse words come from your former boss’ mouth. It took you a second to realize exactly what he was talking about. You weren't done with your punishment, not for tonight anyways. After taking a careful gulp of water you asked, “Um, just how many times are going to be working on my punishment, tonight?”

Neuvillette reached for your glass, gently indicating for you to finish it. You obeyed, fully aware of the hungry stare that watched your throat bob with each swallow. When you'd finished, he took your glass and set it aside with his own. Only then he said, “As long as it takes.”