#but it's more the reason it exists that bothers me

[froody]

It really bothers me when I see MRAs harping on family court favoring women after divorce. Mothers getting custody of their children is actually a rather new concept and for much of history children were seen as the property of their father and fathers were usually granted custody automatically. This precedent existed into the 1970s. And still the court is biased in favor of men, men win 93% of custody cases they participate in, women are twice as likely to lose custody if they report abuse perpetrated by the father. Courts are still biased towards fathers and it is detrimental, the reason you see more custodial mothers is because men willingly give up custody. If they fought, chances are they’d win, even if it was against the child’s best interest.

[rizsu]

the "losing all my innocence in the backseat" lyric is so geto waitttttt 😩

sneaky link geto who's like that guy who haunts the narrative of your love life

⢷ pepsi will never thrive without coca cola. (he ain't shit) geto suguru ꘟ fem-reader.

+ love, ‘su: PAUSE THE CHAT 🗣! geto would def stalk ur very much directed tiktok reposts and reply to them with “u miss me huh” (no beta #writtenassoonasigotthisask)

s-link!suguru who just wanted some quick comfort. he didn't need a nagging girlfriend who'd bother him about his whereabouts, certain messages, or even the not-so-hidden circular bruise at the side of his neck, a little under his ear.

in his eyes, you were — no, you are the perfect match for him. you're everything he's ever needed. you used him the way he used you; one and done. no more, no less. both equally needing the sense of relief and relaxation without pushing for deeper meaning.

s-link!suguru who obeyed the “no kissing” rule. to him, kissing is intimate — it's pure. the intentions of a kiss (in his view) are always romantic and genuine, two things that he's long been stripped of. he also avoided eye contact during the moment. it made him feel vulnerable, like he was ready to give up the persona and bask in your love.

again, you never opposed. if that's what he wants then sure. it's not like you were hoping for anything deeper. ignoring the sting in your chest, you often buried your head in the junction of his neck to shoulder — sometimes biting on his skin to deter yourself away from tears. you don't love him; it's just in the moment. that's all.

unlike what s-link!suguru believes, his friends collectively agreed that he's slowly falling in love. why else would he be aggressively tapping through your instagram stories? why would he swipe to reply with “who the fuck is that” if he isn't your boyfriend?

a monkey who doesn't see his own tail won't recognize his own mistakes, a saying his friends often preach — much to suguru's dismay. he doesn't know where it came from nor why they use it, but he's heard it from time to time.

the men can be heartless, but they have no tolerance for suguru intentionally hurting someone as sweet as you. you've met them, they met you, and s-link!suguru's hand never stopped lingering on your body. “not her boyfriend,” he said.

s-link!suguru eventually acknowledges that he's falling — head first, too. this is against every rule he laid out at the beginning of... whatever you two had going on. so, he didn't hesitate to slowly go no-contact with you.

it was easy to say the least. muting your chat, silencing your calls, skipping your posts — too easy. almost as easy as the first time you let him through your barriers. but he hadn't anticipate your immediate move on. when you finally confirmed that he's beginning to ghost you, you moved on.

did you jump relationships? no, but you did post more revealing outfits and “clubbing” stories.

his bottom lip suffered tremendous damage once he saw what you've been doing. is he angry? upset? jealous that you're in a dress he specifically pointed out that it'd “look hot on you” during a walk together?

it didn't take long before nailsbytrish457 kept viewing your profile. they were within the first few viewers. at first you were weirded out by it — a random account keeping daily tabs on you? time to private your profile.

for some reason, you didn't bother to private. instead, you were set on blocking the account and the other accounts it's attached to. your following count went down by 2. odd, right? why would su_geto be blocked as well if you only blocked nailsbytrish457?

s-link!suguru who gave up the non-existent fight and called you. he didn't care — you were going to deal with him whether you had the energy to or not. minutes into the call, arguing about the fact that he shouldn't be bothered until you hear a car pull up in your driveway.

baffled, you'd say “you're not fucking serious.”

he'd only reply with “open the door.”

in between the cursing, yelling, middle fingers being thrown up every now and then, you found yourself straddling his lap, digging your nails into his neck. you want to injure him — badly — but your mind can't seem to stop replaying the flashbacks you desperately tried to turn into lost footage.

s-link!suguru who cracks a cocky smile knowing he got his way, per usual. it's always like that. you know it too, but you can't seem to do anything about it. at least, he's a call (and an argument) away if you need him.

you're familiar with the warning that your love life will crumble if you don't get him out of the picture permanently, but how can you if he's so consistent yet irregular in your life? he's there, he's not. he's with you for a week, he's ghosting you the next.

a push and pull game you're too tired to care for.

andddd thats it bc im out of ideas 🧍🏽‍♀️ idk how situationships go i've yet to experience real romance in my life BYE. i literally stole my friends' experiences n stories for this #inspo #shoutouttotheirls

[ellecdc]

could I please please please request — “you don’t need to earn my affection, not now and not ever.” with remus, angst with comfort🥹

poor baby rem

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who loves him for no specific reason [850 words]

CW: angst, remus' self-loathing, hurt/comfort

Remus was rotten company, he was well aware. He probably wasn’t great company at the best of times, even less so laid out on a hospital bed.

Yet there you were, in a stiff hospital chair as though it was a luxurious wingback in the Gryffindor common room, feet propped up against the end of the bed so your legs were folded slightly at the knees, and a book in your lap. Here because Remus was and for no other reason. 

The worst part was that Remus wasn’t even pretending to be asleep. He was splitting his time between staring at the side of your head as you read quietly - bothering absolutely no one yet Remus was so horribly aware of your presence - and glowering at anyone and everyone who walked by the foot of his bed. 

This is how Remus spent his time. This is what a life with Remus was; full moons, healing balms, terrible moods, and glowering. 

“Why are you here?” He asked then; voice hoarse and grating though he didn’t bother clearing his throat. He was rotten company. 

You didn’t look over right away, your eyes drifting from the pages of your book as you tucked your finger to the place you were on and folded the book closed.

“Do you not want me here, Remus?” You asked, eyes still pointed at where your feet were resting on the hospital bed. 

“That’s not what I said.” He countered darkly. “I asked why you’re here.” 

“Because I want to be.” You answered simply.

“Why?”

“Remus-”

“Why would you want to be here?” He asked, gesturing vaguely to the sad, curtained walled room the two of you were sequestered in; you willingly and him not at all. “Why would you want to be here with me?”

“I always want to be with you.” You offered quickly, the end of Remus’ sentence barely left his tongue before you were arguing with him. 

You were sitting up now; feet on the floor and leaning over the book still in your lap as though you were itching to be closer to him but not wanting to risk it.

“Why?”

“Because I love you, Rem-”

“Why!?” He wasn’t embarrassed by the way his voice echoed through the hospital wing, nor the way that the matron shushed him reproachfully. He was embarrassed at the speed of which you sat up straight, rearing back as though Remus had slapped you.  

He was rotten company. 

“What do you mean ‘why’, Remus?” You sounded gutted, utterly heartbroken. Remus was rotten. 

“Why would you love me?” He whispered defeatedly. 

The question seemed to boggle your mind, leaning back in your chair as you scrutinised Remus; a difficult arithmancy question, a troublesome potion, a crystal ball refusing to give you answers in divination. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Remus scoffed a humourless laugh, jamming his fingers in his eyes until he could see stars. “Why wouldn’t you!? Maybe- maybe because I’m not James sodding Potter with an endless amount of energy to chase you around like a witch ought to be. Or… or-or Sirius Black who can shower you an endless amount of compliments or flashy gifts. Or even-”

“Remus.” It wasn’t the venerating way in which you said his name that had him pausing, realising the way his breaths were leaving his lips in panicked little bursts, but the way in which your hand - warm, so warm - gently landed on his wrist now lying against the bed. “Stop.”

The next sound from Remus was a sob. 

“I don’t know” you started slowly, punctuating your words with a gentle squeeze to his wrist, reminding him you were real and that he still existed “who told you that any of those things made someone more worthy of love. But it is simply not true.”

He shook his head but didn’t dare contradict you when your fingers circled Remus’ wrist with more fervency in warning. 

“I am choosing to be here. I want to be here. And if you want me to list all of the reasons why I love you I will happily do so but Remus John Lupin, you listen now, and you listen good: you do not need to earn my affection. Not now, not ever.” 

Remus let out a shuddering sigh as he tried to will his heart to return to his chest from where it migrated to his throat. 

“Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” He croaked, offering you the best (though the most watery) smile he could muster. “I hear you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you.” You promised again; expression a mixture of determined, somewhat frustrated, and dutifully in love. “For no specific reason either, alright?”

Remus smiled at you, easier this time. “Alright.” 

“Go back to sleep.” You sighed, though you had a smile on your face. “I love you; but it’s even easier to love you when you’re well rested.”

“I love you.” He repeated as he settled back into his bed. 

“I know, Rem.” You murmured. “I love you too.”

Remus was rotten company. You loved him anyway.

[saintrvckwell]

there'll be no rest for the wicked (au)

joel miller x platonic!teen!reader AU

summary: more than enough of your mother's vices waltzed into your life unannounced, leaving without a trace. but then, then there was joel.

warnings: heavily implied father-daughter dynamic, joel grows protective for the reader, father-daughter bond, platonic stuff and thangs, angst as well (what else i would write, lol), but man the fluff, joel works as a cop (lol howdy), trigger warning mentioned into story (there is a warning before the scene! -- nothing happens, but the nature of it implies the boy's intentions, so i rather chose to give a warning)

wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: hi! lately i found myself enjoying the joel x platonic reader stories again and figured, i could contribute myself, again. treat the daddy issues strugglers like me, ha. enjoy!

splitting this into more parts, please, be patient with me.

Your mother was never the nurturing type. For her, this word did not exist in her vocabulary. She loved you, you supposed, because there was never a clear sign. You were left to wonder. Whether she really cared and if so, where was she?

Throughout your childhood, your mother seemed like a visitor. Someone who, once in a while, passes through. There was never a holiday, spontaneous trip or even a lunch. She had lunch, just not with you. Her friends, her social life -- it was everything for her.

And it seemed, as though, you were not part of that list.

From time to time, as you were growing up, the idea of your father popped in your mind couple of times. Your mother never told you his name, went as far as to not include him in your birth certificate. There was no clue. So, for a child, who's yearning for a presence of loving parent, your imagination stepped in.

Whenever your mom would be on a business trip or simply out with your friends, you would sit on the windowsill, counting the threes below your apartment window. Until you fell asleep. Until the dreams, the wishful thinking, the cycling imagination, gave you what you had been looking for.

A father.

It was natural, you thought. You wished to be saved from your mother's claws. Unmaternal claws that suffocated you. The desire in your eyes, she saw it. But never bothered to do something about it. Your mother never cared, she never listened. She never came to your recitals, school races or when you gave a valedictorian speech.

You put your sweat and tears into it -- trying to figure out that your message will be received. It was a significant moment in your life, or so the teachers kept saying. The praises were coming from every direction, except for the one you wished for the most.

This was the moment you were hoping for -- that she would finally acknowledge your achievements and efforts. And she would come, sit in the first row and cheer you on.

But the reserved seat stayed empty.

And you found yourself standing in the middle of the parking lot, diploma in your hands; your mother nowhere to be found. You waited, for almost an hour, before pulling out the keys from your backpack and setting off, walking the streets in your graduation robe, wiping away the tears you promised yourself not to waste.

Not on her.

When instead of trying, she stayed at home.

With a man.

The anger was running through your veins and the patience was standing on the edge of a cliff.

You could go ballistic.

Who would have blamed you anyways. Your mother's attitude gave you enough reasons to scream it out of your lungs and lose control. But, perhaps, the anger was the one, standing on the top.

The bittersweet taste of disappointment, there it was again.

"Hey, how was school today?" she asked, casually, as though it was an ordinary day -- to be frank, she probably had forgotten about your ceremony anyways.

The man, standing by the kitchen island, with a glass of brandy in his hand, turned around.

Compared to what had travelled through your apartments over the years, he looked decent. Well-dressed, without an awful cologne and more importantly -- without a fake smile. Most of your mother's short-term partners would always pretend wanting to find out more about you.

When they only wanted to find out what was under your mother's clothes.

Still, it would not last forever, you thought.

"Good," you mumbled, putting the cap back on your head. "Same stuff as usual."

There was an urge to leave this uncomfortable setting but before you made a move, the strange man had noticed the clothes you had been wearing and smiled, again. As if though it was contagious.

"Congratulations," he spoke.

Your mother looked up, eyeing your appearance.

"Oh, you had the thing today, right?" she mumbled, grabbing her glass of vine.

You couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, the bizarre kept getting worse.

"Yeah, the Valedictorian thing, if that's what you mean," you mumbled, holding onto the red case of your diploma.

"Cool," she nodded, "Hey, how about you go pick us up some celebratory dinner? Noodles down the street?"

The anger crawled back into your mind.

"It's raining outside," you shook your head.

"Ever heard of umbrella?"

You never attempted to lash out at her -- solely because of knowing the fact that she would not care. But now, when she stood next to her latest boyfriend, vine in her hand and disinterest in her eyes, you just wanted to scream.

Every symptom of emerging emotional breakdown was on its way, and you knew, you had to get out of there. Not another word said, as you departed into your room. There was no energy to slam the door -- to give a little statement.

Throwing off the robe, along with the diploma, you laid down on the cold, wooden floor and closed your eyes. Five minutes, you just needed five minutes to gather your thoughts. You got four years left, in the same household. Then you would be free.

You never understood her stance. Why was it so easy to show to all of her dates and parties, but never to yours? When you stood on the stage, reciting your speech, you could see the numerous pairs of eyes of those proud parents.

You did want her to sit among them and weep.

You just want her there.

At this point, you would be grateful for anything. For the tinniest amount of your mother's affection that she so graciously gave to her boyfriends.

"Can I come in?"

The voice on the other side of your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

There he was her boyfriend.

You did not know why he knocked on your door and frankly, you did not care. He was going to be here long, there is no point in getting to know a temporary vise.

He could not overlook the redness in your cheeks and how swollen your eyes had gotten.

At that moment, you were thankful he decided to not care either.

Or perhaps?

"So, what food for the celebration?" he asked, trying to cheer up the mood, after a minute of an awkward silence.

You frowned.

"I was thinking, since it's raining, we could take a drive and pick up something for dinner."

There was an urge to leave the house, without a doubt. And you could either take a walk and come back soaked and cold, and mainly, hungry. Or you could follow him to the front door, watch him grab the cars keys and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat.

The further the house had gotten, the lighter your shoulders had become. The burden of your frustration kept following you everywhere, like an unwanted traveler. But now, you had a moment to breathe out a little, after everything that had happened today.

Even if it meant taking a ride with mom's newest obsession.

For a moment, you cursed yourself for not taking your phone -- since the first few minutes of your drive seemed awfully awkward. You could have at least pretended to read something profoundly engaging instead of staring out of the window, visibly trying to avoid his sight.

He was not very talkative, but still, had this odd aura that floated around the car. There was no tension, especially once he put a cassette in, having the tunes of Billy Idol fill out the space between the two of you.

He had a good taste, you thought. But still -- he was not going to be here longer than two weeks. Why invest your time, you thought.

"So, valedictorian huh?"

After ten minutes of the drive, he finally decided to break through the initial awkwardness.

You looked up from your sneakers, staring at him.

"It's just a stupid red diploma case, nothing else," you shrugged your shoulders, whilst rubbing your fingers, nervously.

He chucked, shaking his head.

"You cannot be so modest, c'mon," he so exclaimed enthusiastically, you found yourself staring at him, little taken aback. "I mean," he gave you a quick look, before locking the eyes with the green light, "You should give yourself a little credit. It is an achievement."

Somewhere, in the pits of your heart, under the walls you were forced the built, there was laying a part of you, wishing to hear this. Only if the source could have been your mother. She had these sweets words for everyone, but you. There was never an applause to be given -- not that you would be asking for it. But a little pat on the shoulder never hurt anyone.

But she never cared enough to do it. So, you settled yourself with the determination to do more, to try more. The desperation ran through your veins like fuel.

Despite the desire to hide it, his words brought a smile on your lips. With that, the awkward silence vanished, as you drove through the suburbs, with Billy Idol's White Wedding.

That evening, somewhere in the middle of ordering your victory dinner, you learned that his name was Joel. And for the first time, you caught yourself thinking that, perhaps, it would not be so bad if your mother's newest vise stayed for more than two weeks.

Over the summer, to your surprise, your mother and Joel had grown significantly closer, travelling almost all the time. You found a job at your local cinema -- with too much free time on your hand, you could have used it for something practical. Saving money was always a good choice. You spent your days watching the same comedy three times in a row, covered by the smell of cheese popcorn and splashes of coke on your sneakers.

Of course, your mother would stop by -- although, mostly to just repack and set off, again. Throughout the summer holidays, you hardly ran into each other. Usually, she left before you got home from work. She would leave a concise note on the fridge (or, if she was running late, a text message) stuck together with a small chunk of money.

As the days went by, you happened to notice the uneasiness that suddenly settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew the source very well -- the good, old, fear of missed opportunities.

It was supposed to be your last summer before high school, naturally, there was the teenage urge to do something memorable. Something, perhaps, completely out of your comfort zone.

And, as it turned out, your empty house presented an incredible opportunity.

Before this sudden urge to fit into your generation, you had never thrown a party. Frankly -- you had no clue how to throw one. Clueless to arrange but eager to learn, the help of your friends seemed as the best fit. As people more fitting for the extrovert description, it posed no issue for them.

Thus, the curse landed on your shoulders.

Certainly, you had no idea how quickly these thinks can come together. It took bunch of your friends, pack of plastic cups, one text message and before you knew, the beer was lined up by the front door and your suburban house was filled with at least thirty people from which almost a half of it were high schoolers.

Seniors, if you may add.

Quickly, they managed to turn your dining room into beer pong game hall, with liquid spilling all over your mother's expensive rugs. Only then, the feeling in your gut started to cry out for help. There were the warning signs, hanging in your mind -- but each one was followed by a cup of beer, until you found yourself looking for a balance.

You lost the track of time, somewhere between your cups, as well as of your friends. It was supposed to be one, welcoming drink. But the more your house turned into a trashcan, the bigger was the urge to kill the voice in your head, cursing you.

For being so reckless in the first place.

Before this spontaneous get together, you had not encountered alcohol -- certainly not in form as large as this one. Rules of drinking were unknown to you; not that you would be too intrigued about them, in your state.

In that moment, the only think you cared about was to stand on your own for more than two seconds. The world around you had become a little dizzy -- this state of being was completely new for you which was quite noticeable for the ones around you.

So, it happened to be a matter of time before one of the seniors posed himself as the knight in shining armor.

If only.

You were aware of his presence but paid no mind at first. After another lost round of beer pong (with no surprise, against him), you had decided to get yourself some water to freshen up. You had no desire whatsoever to lead a conversation with him, let alone anyone else. You wanted to stumble back to your bedroom, lock the door and sleep this off.

Unfortunately, in your current state, path to your bedroom down the hall felt like a ten-kilometer-long hike.

trigger warning for the part below

"Are you okay?"

He could not have asked more useless question. The false concern almost made you chuckle.

"I am absolutely perfect," you grinned your teeth at him.

"You should get some rest," he spoke, unsettling smile on his lips as he brought himself closer to you, locking your possible ways out.

He was much taller, undeniably stronger and determined.

Without a doubt, that was the worst combination.

"Thanks," a forced smile landed on your lips. You had to be smart about this, given his advantages. "But I should actually go and look for my friends."

There was an attempt to make a move, quick slip out of his claws.

You have not even fully tried it, he was already in your away, again.

"I can help you look," the creepiness of his smile imprinted on your brain. "We can search your bedroom first."

The gulp in your throat grew so big, you thought it was going to explode in your stomach, pulling everything out as well. The anxiety was circling throughout your body, up and down, the sweat was running down your shoulders, despite how cold the room had become. Every bone in your body, every nerve sent a signal into your brain.

The fear was going to swallow you whole.

You have never encountered a situation like this. The uneasiness that suddenly held so tight on you.

You could have screamed but what that be good for? Everyone around were too drunk to notice and too unbothered to care, anyways.

Or perhaps, there were exceptions.

end of the trigger warning part

Just not exactly those you would ask for, voluntarily.

You always knew that the universe had its ways to fuck with you.

But this time, this time, came the cherry on the top.

When the scream echoed around the house, buying you an escape from this situation, leaving him too shocked to notice, you ran into the shambles that once used to be your living room, coming face to face with universe's sense of humor.

Dressed in a police uniform, wearing your mother's boyfriend's face.

There he was, catching the sight of your drunken appearance.

"Oh, fuck."

Your stunned reaction came louder than you initially intended, reaching the wrong ends.

His end.

"Officer Miller, we arrived at the scene of disturbance, over..."

You mother's never mentioned his occupation -- not that you would be dying to know, but having this intel beforehand, before you had decided to tarnish your and your mother's reputation, could have been a little useful.

Now, there was no way back, as you watched three other police officers enter your nearly-destroyed house. The number of scenarios lined up in your anxious mind, one coming off worse than the previous. Frankly, just the idea of your mother receiving such phone call, interrupting her annual girls' trip, the wrath would be horrid.

After that, you would wish to be invisible, in her eyes.

You had no idea how these things work. Couple of your friends once mentioned how a party, they attended, ended being busted but the process was never shared. So, you stood there, as though your limbs had frozen, watching the cops escorting all of the kids outside.

He could have been an asshole -- with all due honesty, part of you thought he would be. Your self-made catastrophe presented an incredible opportunity to turn himself into a hero in your mother's eyes. Her brave vise that had stopped her adolescent daughter from drinking her brains out.

But when the distance between the two of you decreased and his hand landed on your arm, you founded yourself letting a sigh of relief escape through your lips.

You were not out of the woods yet.

As inconspicuously as one could, Joel walked you out of the filled living room and back into the kitchen. He was aware of the liquid courage running through your veins -- after all, he was a cop. This, most likely, was not his first rodeo.

Also, he was not an idiot.

Or so you thought, for now.

It all depended on the events that were about to unfold.

"Here," he mumbled, handing you a glass of tap water, "get some more, I will be right back."

Within a second, he was one foot out of the door.

"What now?" you called out, curiosity prevailing the fear for a glimpse of second.

"They'll do search up, so unless you wanna get your ass busted, you better stay here."

With that, he departed into the hallway, as you dissolved into your anxieties, chucking one glass after another, naively hoping the sobriety would arrive sooner.

Despite the conditions, your foggy brain was capable of holding onto the ends, getting the grasp of what was going on, from the pieces you had gathered. There had to be an advantage he had found in helping you out, you thought. The possibility of him acting on the goodness of his heart seemed too absurd to even consider.

All at once, every partner your mother had brought into your life was a copy of his predecessor. One shallow as the other, hollow and unauthentic as the one before. None of them, especially those who you once had decided to give a little faith, succeeded.

So as exaggerated as it may came to be, you could not let yourself get easily fooled. Despite the part of you that wanted to.

Undoubtedly, there was something about him, the warm your mother never had.

But once that you started building castles in the air, you knew it was over.

So, you had to snap out of your liquid-influenced thoughts and stood stern on the ground.

There was no time to be naive.

Especially, once the so-thought, banished glimpse of danger entered your space, again.

just in case, (last) trigger warning for part below

In all directions.

It still baffled you how tall and buffed he was -- he could surely pass for an adult. Adult that should have no interest in girl your age, but here he was. With that intense gaze, sheepish smile and hands that quickly found their way to your hips.

"Brought you something," he whispered, reaching into his back pocket.

He slowly reached closer, his breath brushing against your cheeks, as his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, tucking something in. Only then, he pulled away, hands still resting dangerously close to your body.

"Your friend told me you're coming in September," he smiled. "Figured we could finish what we started."

In that moment, you were stone cold sober.

"I think you should go," you mumbled, rubbing your fingers. "The cops and everything.."

You had to find an easy way to let him down. Words from people like him, especially the fabricated ones, travelled faster than one would have wanted.

But he turned out to be too persistent for your abilities.

"Seriously, you're gonna get in trouble," you chuckled, as forcibly as one could, to shake off the fear.

He laughed, shaking his head.

The false care was the right string to pull, as he became more curious of the sounds coming from the living room. The voices layered over each other, mostly coming from the cops and their walkie-talkies.

He turned around, one last time -- and the second his face lowered to your height, the worst flew over your mind, as the fear squeezed you like a ball.

For the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing to throw up.

Right into his face, right all over him.

end of the trigger warning part

"What the hell are you doing here?"

But perhaps, digestive problems could have been postponed.

When you found officer Miller standing by the kitchen entrance.

Officer Miller.

You were not sure whether it was the alcohol or the bizarre nature of this situation, but there was an urge to laugh over this phrase.

How absurd, you thought, that of all people, your mother would decide to date a police officer? The more you thought about this, the more you reassured yourself that he, truly, was not her usual type.

Whether it was a good or bad thing depended on the following twenty minutes.

The obtrusive boy gave you one last, nightmarish smile, before he followed your mother's vise out of the kitchen. You could not shake off the feeling his intrusive actions had left on you -- the eerie look on his face, the smile of winner. For awakening the fear.

You wished for this situation to disappear, cursing yourself for ever having such ideas.

After a while, the house fell into silence. The sirens outside the front door started to disappear, along with the heavy steps and chatters. You could not even think of the consequences that would follow this dreadful idea.

The urge to throw up arrived again.

And the kitchen sink turned out to be the only available option. So, naturally, within a second, every liquid your body had absorbed tonight, ended up exactly there.

There was no point in asking if this situation could have gotten any worse.

Because it could.

In the middle of cleansing your organs, whilst your hands were gripping the edges of the kitchen sink, you heard the slam of the front entrance, before a set of footsteps headed towards you.

It really could get worse.

Hair disheveled, mind on a rollercoaster and balance slowly disappearing into the night. Your already skilled friends knew how to throw a party -- just did not give you the manual of processing one. For a moment, you wondered whether your cheeks were splashed by the water, or perhaps, if those were tears, running down your neck.

Nothing about this night you wished to treasure. And you knew that what was about to follow -- was right behind.

Literally.

The pat on your shoulder startled you, almost hitting your forehead against the kitchen cabinet above. Slowly, turning off the faucet, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your existence in one place -- in all senses.

Knowing your current state -- Joel chose to be careful with the physical closeness, moving his hand away as soon as the room felt quiet again. Letting you turn away on your own, he stepped back, remaining focused, just in case your balance would decide to betray you.

"Get some more water," he mumbled, hands on his hips, as he watched you jump up on the cabinet. "That ain't smart, doin' this, y'know."

"Do I look like someone who makes smart decisions?" you hissed, wiping away the drops on your chin. Perhaps, the liquid courage was awaking, you thought.

Sigh escaped through his lips, now formed into thin line.

"Where's your mom?" he asked -- stepping into his police officer demeanor, frowning.

You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders, leaving him more confused than before.

"You don't know?" you looked up, mockery tone now swallowing your voice. "I'm surprised, considering you know more about her whereabouts than I do."

The sentence left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

The frown has disappeared, as he stood there, noticing the shift in your attitude.

"Does she know?" he asked, after a moment.

The look in his face almost made you roll your eyes. It was the typical look of someone who was about to offer you a lecture no one had asked for. Considering your experience with your mother's temporary better halfs, Joel was just passing through. None of your mother's relationships passed the three months mark. He was about to be gone in a blink of an eye.

"Look, I am trying to help you--"

Now, there it was.

The sentence, all of them had practiced. The sweet-caring tone of his voice, the pitiful look in his eyes -- all of them were the same.

Or perhaps.

You could not bet on him.

"Okay," you mumbled, chuckling again. "Good for you."

Joel's frustration started to arise. You did not make it easy on him.

He shook his head, trying to maintain his patience.

"Listen, smart ass," he stepped closer, as the frown arrived again. Although, this time with disaffection. "An ounce of gratitude would not hurt you."

Bitting your lip, you got off the kitchen counter, now standing face to face with Joel. He was much taller, with broad shoulders -- he was the epitome of someone who tried to play the good cop.

"Okay, Joel," you whispered, deadly sarcastic.

It was a risky situation; you were well aware. But the events of this evening emptied the rest of your decency.

"Thank you for being such generous police officer, even though we both know your true intentions," you smiled and curtsied.

Now there it was.

The thin ice had been broken and Joel's patience ran over the edge.

"Excuse me?" he asked, offended.

"Excuse me," you whispered. "I've got a house to clean. So why don't you go ahead and give my mother a call? She'll be delighted."

Part of you knew that being this harsh could come back and bite you in the ass. Perhaps it was the defense mechanism -- your mother had never brought an exemplary man into your life. And if they happened to resemble one and you chose to believe it, they vanished into the thin air before you knew it.

You could not settle with the thought of Joel being an exception.

For your own good -- for the high hopes you would be willing to give him.

Joel stared at you for a little, without uttering a word. Which, you chose as an opportunity to leave this conversation for good.

But it took one step in your condition, for you to fall on your knees.

Howls of pain escaped through your lips.

And two steady hands pulled you back before you managed to smack your face against the cold, kitchen tiles.

"Fuck!"

Curse words were flying left and right, though Joel had decided to ignore that. He could have paid you back -- which you were kind of expecting. Instead, with one swift move, you were back on your feet, with Joel being the one responsible for your balance.

The world around became slightly dizzy. And, for a moment, it felt as though your limbs were made out of Jell-O. The funny bubbling in your stomach made you laugh.

"I think I am gonna throw up."

Was the last thing you whispered, before leaning against the floor, letting the remaining bits of alcohol depart on the tiles.

It was Joel who, once again, caught you in the last minute.

"You really are a fuckin´ pain in the ass, kid."

It really, really, could get worse.

[olliewrites-stuff]

What needed to be said.

Isadora’s body sighed to a halt upon recognising the tousled blonde hair of the person cradling a mug of coffee through the cafe window. Driven by an insistent urge to force her presence onto this once-friend, now-stranger, she stormed through the establishment’s kitsch red door. Her footsteps pounded towards the figure before she tapped an indignant finger between their covered shoulder blades.

"I wrote to you," she hissed.

To their credit, the blonde recovered swiftly from the initial shock, relaxing their shoulders once more and sighing deeply.

"I know,” they whispered. An infuriating silence followed as they took a leisurely sip of their steaming beverage, “but you never said what I needed you to say."

Isadora jolted back as if she’d been slapped. “What’s that supposed to mean, Carlin? I wrote to you! You didn’t bother writing back to me!”

The blonde sighed again, placing their mug gently on the table.

“Fine,” they stated, pulling out the lacquered stool next to them and gesturing for Isadora to sit down. “Let’s talk this through, I guess.”

Carlin picked up their coffee and took another slow sip, waiting silently and expectantly for their estranged friend to take a seat. Isadora slid into the stool warily whilst eyeing the side profile of the other.

They looked… tired. The dark bags under their eyes would certainly not be permitted to be carried onto an airline cabin. Their gaunt face whispered remnants of a mental and physical decline that Isadora had missed entirely due to her distance. However, a stubbornness resided behind the exhaustion that dared Isadora to call it out. It dared her to name the obvious, and in doing so, speak that which had been avoided.

Her cowardice won, as usual. Isadora slumped in her stool with a heavy sigh. “What did I need to say, then? What would have made you stop avoiding me?” she murmured.

It was Carlin's turn to sigh, “I never actively avoided you, you know? I just stopped being the first to reach out. You never instigated anything, so suddenly receiving your paragraphs of texts one night just - wasn't what I needed.”

They took another meditative sip of their coffee. “I needed effort. You forgot about me, and I moved on. One day you decided for whatever reason that I was finally worth some attention, but I'd moved on.”

Hazel eyes met Isadora’s searchingly, “I deserve effort, Dora. I deserve more than a word vomit apology late one night.”

This entire situation suddenly felt like a clusterfuck of historic proportions.

“But, but,” Isadora stammered. “But I didn't want to bombard you! I realised that coming out of nowhere would be jarring, and I didn't want to scare you off! I purposely didn't want to follow up until I heard back because I didn't want to overwhelm you!”

“You're telling me that I should've gone with my gut instinct?” she cried. “I thought I was doing the right thing by saying my piece, apologising, and then giving you space!”

A glimmer of frustration finally pierced through Carlin's stoic stare. “'The right thing’ would have been reaching out YEARS before you did. Time to process is only effective if that's what is needed. If emotions are still high…” They closed their eyes and inhaled deeply, centering themself.

When their eyelids opened once more, their irises shined with unshed tears, “We went from being attached at the hip, from platonic soulmates that had finally found each other despite the vastness of the universe, from best-friends turned siblings, into people who didn't acknowledge the other's existence…”

Carlin’s voice became small; a dramatic contrast from their larger-than-life personality. “I stopped waiting. I stopped expecting you to reach out. I accepted that our lives had veered us in opposite directions.” Their next sigh came from somewhere deep within their soul, “Space is the last thing I needed, Isadora. I needed my best friend.”

Well. Isadora had to do her very best not to burst into tears in the middle of this quiet cafe. Carlin's use of past tense ignited a fear that she had missed her chance.

Desperately, she opened her mouth and let the words fall out as they pleased. Carlin and Isadora had always found honesty easy. “I ask your parents how you're doing whenever I can,” she said. “I thought about reaching out to you years ago, but I couldn't string the words together. Then the time got longer and longer until I figured you'd forgotten me and it wasn't worth trying. My message was a desperate plea - it felt like sending a message in a bottle and tossing it into the ocean, hoping it'd wash up on your shore…”

Carlin had not yet responded in any way, so Isadora powered through. “I thought about you every day, Carlin. You're my best friend - my sibling in every way but legal and blood. I thought our bond could withstand anything, even if our active friendship didn't.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for what she needed to say next. “I know it was you who told my mum everything. I know you sent her everything I shared in confidence with you.”

Carlin had frozen, their eyes wide.

Isadora swallowed around the lump in her throat, “It destroyed me. I know it happened so long ago, but your betrayal was fucking world-ending.”

Carlin opened their mouth to speak, seemingly ready to launch into a defense. The brunette cut them off. “I know, I know. You were worried about me. About my safety. You were trying to help. I just - it wasn't even about you telling her, in the end. It wasn't even about your actions…”

Isadora chewed on her lips momentarily before allowing them to open once more. “It was what you didn't do, Carlin. That's what killed me. I had to find out, from my mother of all people, years later, that it was YOU who made my world crumble when I was already at my lowest. You watched silently as I detached from my high school friends because I figured that they were the ones to blame. You agreed with me to my face. You listened to and supported me through the breakdown of whatever had remained of the relationship between my mother and I. Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have ever suspected you. I still struggle to accept that you did all this and chose not to tell me a single thing. That you chose to let my life and relationships fall apart. I thought we were honest with each other, and that's what destroyed me.”

Isadora wiped away a rebellious tear with a sniff, “It took a few years for me to process this. Hence the lack of contact - on top of my general social ineptitude. I finally got over it enough to reach out again, but based on our conversation, I failed that, too.”

“Oh,” Carlin's voice was soft.

“Yeah,” Isadora replied.

The two sat in an awkward silence for a long moment.

Isadora slid her eyes to get a look at her friend through her peripheral view. They really did look exhausted. Maybe this moment of honesty was the perfect time to finally address a burning topic.

“Your parents told me about your new boyfriend. They told me you have to pay his rent because he can't keep a job… You shouldn't let him do that,” Isadora stated in a rush.

She knew instantly that this was the wrong thing to say when Carlin's eyes shuttered, blocking her out once more.

"Oh, and you're going to tell him to stop?" they seethed. “I don't need another parent, Dora.”

Isadora figured she looked quite pathetic if only one glance from Carlin softened their demeanour ever so slightly.

“Look, Dora,” they sighed, “we're not how we used to be. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't always love your attempts at parenting me even when we were close. So, now? My relationship is DEFINITELY out of bounds, okay?”

The napkin that had wandered into Isadora’s hands now lay in pieces on the wooden bench. Her heart, for the record, also now lay in pieces within her chest. She managed to utter a small affirmative sound.

“I'm not saying we don't have a chance of rebuilding a relationship. We just - we can't just jump straight back in to how it used to be. It may never be like it used to be.” They shrugged, “We need to take it slow and hope we can become friends again naturally.”

Isadora nodded - a jolted, jerky motion in the wake of her sudden grief. She gathered her bag and swept the napkin remnants into her cupped hand.

She stood from her stool and stared down at Carlin, "Tell me to stay."

Carlin squeezed their eyes shut and looked away. Their voice was thick with emotion when they finally uttered, "I wish I could."

Isadora walked out of the cafe door as her world crumbled around her once again.

© O.M.A

"I wrote to you."

"I know. But you never said what I needed you to say."

[thsc-confessions]

"I never liked Ellie x Dr V it just never made any sense at all especially when they never ever meet at any point in CTM" submitted by anon

[dirtytransmasc]

Are yyou team green or black? And why?

team green, though I'm not in support of every green character (namely Otto though my opinion of him is complicated. I also have opinions on Aegon and his characterization that makes it even more complicated)

[I have only read bits and pieces of the book, so my opinion is based almost solely on the show. keep this in mind]

I'm team green for 3 big reasons. they're more complex, thought not perfect by any means, more morally "right", and are simply more my vibe when it comes to characters. now this is very simplified and not at all nuanced, so stick with me for a minute.

Firstly, they're more complex. the greens have very deep, detailed, and nuanced lives and stories that lead to them being very complex characters that can't be put into a box. Alicent was a child bride who had lost her mother young became a mother young and suffered at the hands of power and men all her life. her children were affected by this and the world they were forced to grow up in throughout their lives. even individually her kids are drastically different; aegon the child who was forced into a life he did not want and suffered due to his father neglect and mother pain. Helaena who was never understood and grew up treated like an oddity. Aemond who was never seen to his full potential, always ignored or looked over, angry throughout his life. each of them has strengths and weaknesses, flaws and benefits, they're imperfect but never completely horrid. they're also never simplified (not entirely, even when the plot and writers seek to simplify them) to the point that they put on a moral pedestal or made straight evil (i'd even argue that the attempts of the writer to oversimplify them as evil and in the wrong makes them 10x more fascinating). I find TB characters tended to miss the mark on that, always put in the moral light, not even allowed a moment to reflect on their actions, lives, or positions in any nuanced or meaningful way, so they always just feel dull. they're also out on a moral highground that they can never be budged from, which makes them harder to like and honestly, really boring. they get away with everything instead of being emotionally and morally nuanced.

secondly, they're more morally "right". I will never say that any of the greens are perfect, they are far from it (with the exception of Helaena and her kids, who have done literally nothing to anyone, but I digress). what I will say, 9/10 times there is some level of reasoning that has some level of reasoning. Alicent always tries to do whats best for everyone, all throughout the series she tried to do best by the court, the king, her children, the realm, and Rhaenyra. did she always succeed? no, but she always tried and her mistakes were almost always honest. I will say she held resentment towards Rhaenya, but honestly, I can't blame her. Rhaenyra's lies and behavior hurt Alicent over and over again so for her to be angry is expected.when it came to succession, Alicent backed Rhaenyra until it was made clear she and Daemon would be a threat to her children's lives and even than she held mercy for Rhaenyra. Aegon's drinking can be blamed on the abuse and neglect he suffered at Viserys, Otto, and Alicent's (though the abuse and neglect from his mother is insanely different and nuanced. she perpetuated her pain onto him because she couldn't heal herself. so I hesitate to call it abuse, cause its so much more complicated than that) hands. though nothing will justify his rape of Dyana, I personally think it was a bad add in on the writers part, and leave it at that. Aemonds rage after years of being ignored doesn't entirely justify what he did to luke, but he had reason for his cruelty after years of Luke (and jace tbh) being cruel just because they could. TB characters tend to do terrible things in response to either A. nothing B. their own terrible things. Daemon kills who he wants when he feels like it, even for stating facts. Rhaneyra will lie and hurt those around her to protect her bastard children. both of them conspire to protect themselves and allow themselves to be wed, really just cause. while there are times they have their reasons, its a lot less of the time, and typically the backing to their actions, is they were trying to unbury themselves from within their own graves. (to preface, I don't care about rhaenyra sleeping around, it doesn't bother me, but its the fact that she will hurt everyone around her to protect her lies, allowing a child to be maimed and people to be murdered)

thirdly, they're my vibe. I like morally complex character, who are, to be frank, pathetic. I like characters with complex trauma's and issues, who aren't perfect people but its not entirely their fault. I would much rather watch a whole show about alicent, a child bride who tries so hard to be a good wife, queen, and mother while not prepared for any such role. Aegon who is a boy with severe mommy and daddy issues, a drinking problem, a flawed past, and constantly wet eyes. Helaena an ignored girl who has suffered for no better reason then her family. and Aemond, a boy who was tormented, bullied, maimed, and made stronger by it at the cost of his compassion and emotional stability - over a nepo baby who was coddled by her father, her murderous husband with a knack for unneeded violence, and her similarly coddled children (the show boiled them down to this, in my opinion). one is simply more up my alley than the other. I want character that need to be dissected, who have suffered, who hurt me to look at.

also, team black created almost all of their own problems. seeing as the main source of contention had to do with Rhaenyra's kids being bastards, which was Rhaenyra's problem, which she caused, and kept digging and digging that grave (faking Laenors death just so she could marry daemon, turning the blame on aemond when luke maimed him furthering the divide amongst the house, trying to wed Helaena to Jace putting her in danger, trying to take the driftmark throne and killing Vaemond for a claim her sons did not have, etc,) till viserys's death, earns her a lot less pity from me. at the end of the day, her being a woman was only a needle in a haystack worth of problems she caused herself that hurt her claim. if she had just strived to create to connection with ancient and her kids, and didn't make herself look like a threat to everyone who lessened her claim (which alicents kids would be the first people to be taken out) alicent would have backed like she had all season and there would have been no war, maybe conflict, but no war.

theres also the effect of the fans on my opinion. I have faced more cruelty, terrible media analysis, and outright ableism/misogny/(blood and sexual based) purist ideology/etc. from the TB fans then I have ever witness by TG fans. TB fans have ruined almost all of the TB characters for me in more ways than I can count, so I will say I am very biased.

thats why I'm team green. as a whole they are simply more appealing, their stories are more interesting, demand more attention to detail and emotional understanding, and from my point of view were the "right" side to be on in the war (the war was wrong on both sides, but my chips lie in the favour of the greens).

[hexelein]

Everytime someone hc the stardew valley bachelors and bachlerottes as monosexual or uses the word "playersexual" a fairy dies

[torchwood-99]

Ok, been sitting on this for a while, been trying to talk myself out of it, but here goes.

The book doesn't sell me on the love Theoden had for Eowyn.

I tried to read it and find something in his actions towards her that tell me he has proper regard, proper respect for her, that gives any weight or meaning to his love for her, but I can't find anything. He dismisses her before the entire court, doesn't consider her an heir or a proper part of his house, and has to have her virtues called out to him by other people, when she has been serving him for years.

Return Of The King sees him spout platitudes and declare her "dearer than daughter", but none of this is backed up by his general actions to her.

He loves Eowyn, fine. But he doesn't love her the way he loves Eomer, or probably loved Theodred. He doesn't love her as a fully realised being. Nor as someone to take pride in and carry on his legacy. He loves her a crutch, a tool, and something between pet and person.

He has affection for Eowyn, but his love feels more like a trivial thing, than something with any real worth or regard to it.

[maretriarch]

hour three of a continuous rush, your break is 25 minutes late, you're the only cashier/bagger they have on at the front for the entire store, you have an 7+ line of elderly agitated customers, groceries are 300 dollars for one cart now so every single person in the building wants to commit murder-suicide just by entering the store, and your manager comes to tell you to improve your items per minute scan, the fake gay measurement that only counts towards her bonus

[nexus-nebulae]

another childhood bucket list item obtained: i finally have a snuggie

[swagging-back-to]

just fired my therapist who has been ghosting me for 4 months because she sent me a letter threatening termination because "i have not responded to any contact and continued silence will be taken as agreement to cancel services"

literally fuck you. actually fuck you. she would call WITHOUT WARNING when i would be out running errands and then when we actually have a scheduled meeting she would cancel 20 minutes after it was supposed to start.

therapy is sooo incredibly useless. i have never needed it, it has always *harmed* me more than not having it.

[randomnameless]

I've heard you mention before how bad the Zahras chapter is in terms of characterization for the three lords, especially Dimitri, but can you specify the reasons why?

Thanks to the datamine, I can finally get those lines without having to screencap everything from youtube!

So,

For Dimitri, Claude says this :

I'm just gonna come out and say it: After the war, I'm going to abolish the Central Church and depose the archbishop. The people of Fódlan have been shackled by this decrepit system for too long, and I'm ending it.

So okayyy...

Claude just says he has some beef with the person Dimitri welcomed as a refugee. Why?

That's right. Think about it. Who steals your freedom and gives you an endless list of duties and obligations simply because you have a Crest?

Dimitri's obligations and duties are his, not because he has a crest, but because he is a King - just like King of Almyra would have obligations and duties not to let his own people starve or be used as meatshields in Saturday raids, or letting his spurned son mount the biggest invasion ever because he's too busy mopping about his missing son, but apparently the King of Almyra doesn't give a fuck about his people.

And while yes, Dimitri is a King because he was born with a crest as Lambert's son... The need to have a crested King never came from the Church, and let's be real, Dimitri, as the character we know, feels like he has a duty to people and wishes to help because he is Dimitri, even if he was crestless like Ashe, Dimitri would want to help (just like Ashe!).

Who forces you and your friends into a bunch of unwanted marriages and positions of power?

That's not the Church, for sure, but the feudal notion of nobility - even if, let's be real, it is completely hypocritical for Claude to say this, because the same notion of nobility also exists in places around the continent where the CoS has no sway like... Almyra?

And about the unwanted marriages, again, Claude knows (or should know) Lorenz and his marriage problems, it is not the Church who forces people in unwanted marriages, but the responsibilities that come with being a Noble - Lorenz marrying Marianne means both house Gloucester and House Edmund are strengthened and could work more closely, maybe being able to rival Riegan or even overtake them in an "importance" contest, Lorenz marrying Leonie means... House Gloucester stays House Gloucester.

It's also hilarious because AG has a NPC talking about her marriage to House Gautier (I think?), and she never mentions the Church, rather mentions how she ultimately loves her husband.

The church even forbids any official contact with outside regions!

Source : my chamber pot

Dimitri knows well, after having seen Rhea helping Duscurian refugees, that the Church does not forbid contact with "outside regions", hell, Faerghus and Duscur were on relative good grounds, before the Regicide.

Not exactly great for Faerghus, right? Being as close to Sreng and Albinea as you are.

If Faerghus has sour relationships with Sreng, it's because of border raids, but of course a Prince of Almyra will never talk about this :)

And we know Albinea trades a lot with Fodlan, in general, if their damn fruits being in every region is any indication - or this tidbit from the Book detailing the Royal Territories of Faerghus :

Dominic A small but beautiful barony. Its coastal cities have become a hub of commerce through trade with Albinea.

Too bad Claude speaks, again, with confidence, about something he doesn't know, but can you imagine a micro-second that Dimitri doesn't know who Dominic trades with? Gilbert, a second son of House Dominic, is pious to a fault - but apparently he never bothers telling his brother that trading with Albinea is BaD, so...

Claude, again, is presenting the contents of his chamber pot to Dimitri, asking him to trust him based on those.

Claude continues, after assuring Dimitri that Faerghus isn't his goal !

And really, our enemy isn't the actual church so much as the people at the top who make all the decisions.

Rhea BaD

So it's not even about the Church in General, but apparently, Rhea (as the people at the top) makes the decisions to, uh, prevent the world from interacting with Fodlan (but there are Morfis merchants in Garreg Mach???) - the same woman who, in AG, we hear busies herself helping children and refugees from Duscur after a fire or what not.

(And that's not talking about the kind of official "contact" Adrestia had with Brigid and Sreng...)

I'm sorry Claude, but if the Alliance doesn't want to have any "official" contact with Almyra, it's not because Rhea forbids said contact, but it's because your father, your brother and your retainer (?) Nader apparently do not see anything wrong with a penis measuring contest that consists in raiding, "rampaging" and "bringing souvenirs" from Fodlan for funsies.

So, after playing 12 chapters in AG where Dimitri knows what Rhea does, we could expect some rebuttal, right?

I understand where you're coming from, Claude, and on a personal level I actually agree with you.

Dimi, no :(

But as King, he is opposed, not because a King has to use his head and can't do stupid shit on a whim (like marrying the still current wife of a foreign leader!)

Yes, for three reasons. First, abolishing the church would deny the king's right to rule Faerghus. Without one, the people will descend into chaos and war. Would you be able to take responsibility for such a thing, once it came to pass?

My Bad!

That mention of the King's right to rule Faerghus coming from the Church was nonsensical during the discourse days, and still is, after Nopes.

If the Kingdom's name is "Holy", remember that a name and a history doesn't mean a thing when people don't want to follow it - again, remember what happened with Adrestia? They pissed on the Church, Rhea acting as a witness is a custom you can ignore whenever you want, and they are actually waging a war against the Church of Seiros, when Seiros herself fucking created (together with Willy!) the country who has her own symbol on their flag!

Faerghus won its independence against Adrestia, Church or no Church, Faerghus existed by fucking over the Empire (as it was led by Loog). Without the Church, and faced with a powerful Empire, are we really supposed to think Faerghians won't rally behind Loog's scion to, hm, protect them or at least ensure their continued independence from Adrestia?

Second, recklessly discarding the church will only incite discord among the clergy and its supporters.

This is a somewhat valid reason, as we know, the CoS helped the Kingdom in recent times, especially after the regicide. But they are also currently helping the Kingdom against Supreme Leader's war of conquest, let it be by taking care of randoms or sending its knights to support Faerghus.

Also, the Kingdom operates on "shat upon by this game" notions of gratitude, love and loyalty - unlike Adrestia, if Supreme Leader's stunt of backstabbing the CoS after they helped her get rid of "corruption" in the Empire is any indication. And I doubt the same Kingdom folk would readily accept it if their King suddenly got rid of the organisation/woman who helped them so much during their time of need.

And finally, a revolution of this nature will not only mean casualties among the commonfolk, but will endanger your own life as well.

I will have to check the JP text because this "revolution" word is a bit contrived - there's no revolution if you're just kicking out a religious organisation in YOUR Kingdom - but yes, commonfolk will be pissed (maybe take up weapons?) even if I'm pretty sure some "noblefolk" will also be pissed at this decision.

And because Dimitri worries about everyone - save for Rhea and the church apparently because they BaD - he also worries about Claude's life.

Leaving the first two for a second, I have some serious issues with that last one. I'm glad you're concerned for my safety, but I can take care of myself

Claude really replies with "leaving logic aside" and the commonfolk casualties he doesn't give a fuck about if GW is any indication, uwu don't worry about me I can watch over myself :)

Ah, good ol' Plot Armor :)

But don't you see? The people you wish to depose are human, just as you are.

Hahahan hilarious Dimitri, those people aren't human ! Supreme Leader told me!

No matter what ingenious scheme you come up with or how careful you try to be, they will suffer.

Is he trying to appeal to Claude's compassion and moral fiber? The guy who is, in GW, invading his country for funsies, staging a double invasion with Sreng forces who are just used as decoy/fodder?

And their vengeance will eventually find you, no matter how hard you try to stave it off. I know full well the guilt that accompanies such actions…and the retribution they provoke

Lol, no.

Who can give a fuck about the suffering of Nabateans/Church folk? Being backstabbed by everyone because of propaganda, and needing to die for reasons as consistent as a baby's first purée?

"don't do that Claude, Rhea will be angry and swear vengeance against you, and blablabla cycle of hatred and retributions and blabla"

Everyone has to deal with the consequences of their decisions. If you let it rule you, Fódlan never changes.

Says Mister "I abolished a Republic and created a Kingdom in the land that used to say "we bow to no king and to no emperor" " or "I'm invading your land and killing your people" or even "I'm enrolling Almyrans in my army who will rampage and bring souvenirs and the Leicesterians (?) are totally okay with it!" ?

Claude who never ever faces any consequences for his bonkers decision through the entire game? That guy? Talks about "dealing with the consequences"? Fodlan changing is more important than Fodlan dying?

(at least that's how it was for the Alliance turned Federation...)

But not taking the time to look where you're going will only lead you to stumble and fall. And if there are those who would be hurt by this, I consider it my duty to help them.

Dimitri wants to help... Claude, who would be hurt with this "revolution", but dgaf about getting rid of the Church, aka Rhea/Seteth/the clergy who would also, obviously, be "hurt" by this stupid idea?

Heh. There you go, trying to save everyone again. You really are too good for me!

Not everyone, as we all understood - the Church can burn :)

To be honest, I'm jealous of how you're not burdened with the same restrictions.

"tbh Claude, I'm jealous of how you don't give a fuck about the number of deaths your actions are causing"

Are we... sure that's Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd talking here? Really? Wasn't he body snatched by Chilon?

Forgot OOC, this line wouldn't even be said by this character.

In the world I'm trying to create, you wouldn't be burdened by them either. You could even… No, forget that. I'm serious about what I said, though. And I really do admire how you want to save everyone. Honestly, if you weren't a king, I think we could've been friends.

"In my world, you too wouldn't give a fuck about the deaths/suffering your actions are creating! You're only worried about them because you are king! But if you weren't, you could be an amoral asshole, just like me! Could we be fwends in an AU plz?"

I feel much the same. Had I joined with you, I might have been able to see a different vision of Fódlan.

"yeah!"

Sadly, Dimitri isn't able to throw his compassion and morals to the trashcan, so he cannot join Claude !

And if you consider this line can be said during the GW events (remember, the invasion, killing Matthias, killing his soldiers and his people, etc etc), this is even more insulting.

So, as a good friend said, this Zahrofl convo shits on FE16!Claude (but the games is all about it), but more importantly, it is the only place in the game where Dimitri is Nopes'd, aka, his character does a 180° and/or is butchered because the plot demands so.

Like, anon, can you imagine a second, Dimitri, the Dimitri, wishing he too, couldn't "be burdened"' by the suffering he creates?

Imo, it's on par with Supreme Leader suddenly loving the sun and loving to swim. That character wouldn't be Supreme Leader, just like the person in this convo, isn't Fodlan's Dimitri (tfw Engage's Emblem!Dimitri is more faithful to IS's idea of Dimitri than Nopes lol).

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

.

[abyssembraced]

Making You the Patron Saint of Something

Patron Saint of Creation

Patron saint of explosions. Patron saint of More. Patron saint of something new entirely. Something unfamiliar, something you can't recognize. Was Frankenstein's monster an abomination or had his like just never been seen before? You're the patron saint of all those new, beautiful things. You're the patron saint of the monsters, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Patron Saint of Bones

Patron saint of frameworks. Of structures. Of solidity. Patron saint of things that break. Patron saint of things that are left behind. The bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest is gone? What do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? Who holds the bones?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged by: @distrxst (thank you!)

Tagging: Back at it again with tagging Everyone <3 And again, if you have multiple rp blogs, absolutely feel free to do it for one other than the one I tagged!! @bladesfromthedark , @legalbrats , @tazmilyxfamily , @pri-rp , @hopeful-hugz , @quillheel , @musescfmusic , @interdimensional-ship

[blujayonthewing]

more dnd and adjacent media should be run and written by people who think dwarves and elves are boring but care very sincerely about halflings and gnomes