#deserve that for having done 'things wrong')

[unlimitedhearts]

I want to highlight too that celebrity hate brigades can also have a detrimental psychologicalveffect to bystanding fans. Association with the thing or person being hate mobbed makes you fear that someone will hate mob you next even if its not logical.

Even back when all of this was in vogue and hating John Green was the cool thing to do - I was a teenager on tumblr who wanted to be a writer because John Green's work touched me DEEPLY. I read Paper Towns and it Changed me enough to where I still think about how I could possibly make anything as meaningful to anyone as that one book was to me. I came to tumblr with a love for John Green and his work only to be met with this horrific vitriol toward a man that, as far as I was aware, had done nothing.

That vitriol trickled into my own subconscious and I started to wonder if I was a bad person for liking John Green's work. So by the time the TFIOS movie was out - I didn't say a thing about it. I didn't talk about the book outside of one post i made of my pre order copy coming in the mail. I didn't talk about being an active member in the Nerdfighter community. I didn't even write anymore because I was afraid I would piss someone off that I didn't mean to. I felt sorry for John. He was nothing short of one of the most genuine people I'd had the pleasure to internet meet and im fairly sure both him and Hank Green were directly responsible for steering my adolescent internet journey into a good one.

Speaking of Hank... its quite disturbing to me that John got the brunt of the internets anger for daring to be Creative In The Wrong Way and Being Neurodivergent, Hank was often lauded. Both by tumblr and larger swathes of the internet I have rarely if ever seen Hank Green be treated with the same Cringe Hammer that John Green has. Is it because he does science? Is it because his Neurodivergency is closer to ADHD and therefore more acceptable than OCD and Anxiety? Is it because he didn't write YA at the turning of the tide against YA in the pop culture?

Something tells me the same cancel culture/purity culture people would have had a thing or two to say about An Absolutely Remarkable Thing and A Beautifully Foolish Endeavour if they released in the years 2012-2015. Raking him over the coals for much the same as they did John. For these perceived slights in a fictional work that had nothing to do with them. But because Hank didn't release his books during Tumblrs heyday, that never happened.

All John Green ever did was write his stories, say what he needed to say, and be openly Neurodivergent on the internet. And because everyone on tumblr couldn't stand the idea of someone being earnest on the internet, they crucified him for it. John Green deserves an apology. From the people who harassed him, from people who didn't, from everyone. He didn't deserve an iota of the shit he got for no reason.

I can't stress enough how much the John Green debacle was an early example of how cancel culture and purity culture combine to make people feel righteously justified to engage in harassment.

John Green, during his time on tumblr, committed the heinous sins of...being neurodivergent and talking openly about it, earnestly interacting with fans in a very direct and unfiltered way, and writing about teenagers navigating first love and sexuality while he himself was an adult. The worst things he ever did were be a little cringe or misspeak, for which he was always prompt to apologize (often whether he really needed to or not).

Yet despite the former two being things tumblr claimed to love and the last one being true of 99.99% of YA authors, in this case a large segment of tumblr users steeped in the early 2010s resurgence of purity culture decided that these things were suspicious and predatory, and used that as an excuse to justify some truly awful behavior.

Which is really all that cancel culture is: the normalization and even celebration of the process of misapplying morality or ethics to dehumanize someone for the express purpose of justifying whatever pain and suffering you want to inflict upon them. Basically, deciding "this person is bad, so I am exempt from affording them basic respect and human dignity, and am allowed to cross any and all otherwise uncrossable lines in order to punish them without damaging my own moral or ethical standing."

Contrary to popular tumblr lore, the infamous "cock monologue" was not the sum total of the harassment, or even the worst of it. Callout blogs issued long lists of "receipts" about how terrible John Green was, most if not all of which were either taken out of context or completely refutable. His works were torn to shreds by people who'd never read them, as evidenced by much of the criticism being obviously and blatantly counter to the actual contents of the books.

Not that it mattered. Once the John Green hate party reached a certain level of critical mass, it became less about who he actually was or what he'd done, and more about proving you were a good person by hating him. That's the natural conclusion of cancel culture, after all: virtue signalling by identifying yourself in opposition to the cancelled parties. They're bad, and I'm good, so I hate them! Or, more often: They're bad, and I hate them, so I'm good!

Before it was over with, John Green had been accused, with no evidence, of being everything from a Nazi to a pedophile and subjected to hate mail and death threats. He eventually left the site for the sake of his own mental health, and because he no longer felt comfortable engaging directly with fans in the same way he once had.

Yet even now, with the benefit of hindsight, and even among those who ostensibly reject purity culture and condem bullying and harassment, very few on tumblr take what was done to John Green as seriously as it should be taken or condemn it as thoroughly as it should be condemned. Which I think is something we need to at least consider doing, given the increasing rise of purity and cancel culture online, and given the recent influx of professional creators eager to interact with fans on a more direct level than they have on other social media.

And my concern is not purely, or even primarily, for the Mike Flanagans and Lynda Carters of the world. I'm far more concerned, actually, for the small, independent or self-published creators in this space, and how much even a very small level of visibility gives too many people a feeling of carte blanche to engage in harassment.

I myself have less than 3k followers on here, a handful of popular posts, and zero notoriety or consequence outside of tumblr whatsoever, and I've been repeatedly told to kill myself for saying such innocuous things as "I don't think censorship is the cure for the world's evils" and "maybe learning the history of communities you want to participate in would be a good idea."

Thankfully, all it took for me to stop the harassment that came my way was to block those few individuals. But there have been many instances over the years of small creators or just random tumblr users that got a bit popular being stalked, doxxed, swatted, and harassed to the point of leaving the site and dealing with serious mental health issues as a result. It has never been just John Green. John Green isn't even the worst example. And tumblr has never learned its lesson.

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

[alisha-on-arcane]

It's a cliche 'cos it's true: forgiveness and the cycle of violence in Arcane

I do think a lot of Zaun-aligned Arcane fans find the themes of forgiveness quite hard, particularly forgiveness when great wrong has been done. But.... it's not really forgiveness if no wrong has been done, is it? And by season 2, there's some major forgiveness needed. Piltover's Council has done Zaun wrong, and Zaunites have committed terrorist attacks against Piltover citizens who weren't responsible for the actions of their government. The whole situation there is so messed up that any attempt to allocate justice will most likely create new aggressors out of innocent people on both sides, as Jayce's attack led to Renni's attack, and Renni's (and Jinx's) attacks led to Caitlyn's attacks, and Caitlyn's use of the Gray led to Jinx rerouting it back to Piltover's citizens...

The Jinx - Vi storyline is not really relevant to that. It's nice that the sisters reached first a sort of peace (Jinx watching Vi at the pit fights, betting on her but not coming to talk) and then finally resumed a sort of relationship. But then Jinx just died / left, so all that really happened from the forgiveness was that they both got some closure. That's a great resolution for individual people who can simply get over one another, but it doesn't work for cities that are geographically next to each other. They share a water supply! They could have different governments, but those governments would still have to work together.

The storyline relevant to that is Zaundads. I still think it's weirdly out of character to give Silco (even blissed-out and somewhat inebriated AU Silco) the line "the greatest thing we can do in life is to forgive", but it works thematically. Because what Vander did to Silco was unforgiveable (seriously, rewatch the drowning scene), and no sane person would advise Silco to resume that relationship. But we also know that main timeline Silco was miserably hung up on Vander until his dying day, while AU Silco apparently gets Vander making him cocktails every evening and doing unspeakably pleasant things with him every night. Forgiveness might not be deserved by Vander, but it certainly was the best thing for Silco to do for himself.

... and that's the way with the two populations at war, isn't it? I'm sure the Silco-Vander reconciliation was nowhere near as simple as 'Silco reads the letter, forgives' (for one thing I don't think Silco would have, or should have, simply abandoned his Shimmer plans). And the new combined Piltover-Zaun Council has huge arguments ahead of it, and will probably never reach gazing-into-one-anothers'-eyes-lovingly levels of amity. I bloody well hope their first agenda items are a huge Zaun infrastructure bill, an agreement on more equitable policing, and a joint task force to legalise medical Shimmer. It's unlikely. But I still think that like Silco and Vander, they can build a happier future by working together than apart. They don't really have any good alternatives.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.

[croatoancassiel]

HIII!!! to me sam didn't really do anything wrong but i have noticed how the spn fandom seems to favour dean above sam and they use many mistakes sam has made to demean him while dean has made those same mistakes and so i just decided i would not stand for such sam winchester slander💪!!!!

i have bad memory forgive me is some of these aren't exactly how it happened and also there as spoilers up to s13 if you don't want spoilers BUT heres things I've noticed the spn fandom get mad at sam a lot for: when sam chose ruby over dean, when sam didn't look for dean while dean was in purgatory, everything sam did while he was soulless, when sam left john and dean to go to collage/university, sam's heaven wasn't the same as deans, as well as just some overall hurtful mistakes sam has said and done to dean over the series.

again personally i don't think sam deserves hate for any of those things. all of these had justifications and explanations behind each that i could talk for HOURSSSS about. also dean has made the same and worse mistakes so idk sniffles!!! im a sam winchester defender at heart i love that boy

the the main character who isnt the fan favourite makes one mistake and now the whole fandom hates them and mischaracterizes them so i have to become their self-designated defender (this is about aziraphale and sam winchester i fear)

[makabray]

okay so i know that this is something that at least a few other people have already talked about, but if i may put my own two cents in: i feel like mouthwashing as a game is a lot less narratively impactful if you treat curly as an enabler and nothing more. he is not blameless, that is for sure, but to act like he was a willing (or even enthusiastic) accomplice to jimmy's crimes is doing a disservice to both his character and the overall message the plot is trying to convey.

curly's role in the plot isn't to point out that some men will disregard the feelings of women to prioritize their male peers (though that is something that happens, don't get me wrong) as much as it is to highlight that even the best of intentions can lead to absolute ruin. curly cared about anya, he cared about the entire crew, and yet it was this same compassion that he had for jimmy in particular which inevitably lead to their downfall. i really do believe that he thought he was doing the right thing, but because of his personal attachment to jimmy and the larger forces at work (those being late-stage capitalism and rape culture), he couldn't see him for what he really is until it was too late.

it's this kind of "good-intentioned enabling" as i saw someone else put it which makes his role as one of the two player characters so significant. like everything else in the game, the choice to set part of the story from his point of view is entirely deliberate, but i think the reason for this is to encourage the player to reflect on their own place in perpetuating the things that allow this kind of shit to happen. much like curly, you too probably want to believe that kindness and good intentions are enough, but that just isn't always true. sometimes, it's those good intentions that make things so much worse before you can even realize it.

mouthwashing isn't about if curly or anyone else on that ship is a good or bad person, and it's not about if curly or even jimmy deserved their fates, it's about responsibility. it's about the difficulty of knowing what to do and when to do it, and it's about whether or not you, the player, would be able make things right.

after all, if you were told that your best friend had done something terrible, what would you have done about it? would you take responsibility? it's easy to say yes, of course, that you'd do anything. but would you really, before it's too late? and if you couldn't, would you be able to admit that to yourself? to others?

that is what mouthwashing is about.

[spotsandsocks]

Oh hi!

For my wintery ask to you, I'm sending 🎅🏽 and marshmallow. :)

Hellooooo! Thanks for sending a stocking ask. One ficlet for marshmallow. 570 words . Hope you like it 😊

His phone is ringing which considering the time is enough to make Buck’s heart rate spike. It’s way past the acceptable time for calling without an important reason. Grabbing his phone and seeing Maddies face and name lit u does nothing to calm him down. It’s way past eleven. What's happened?

He answers the phone intent on finding out “what’s wrong?”

“Elves! Stupid things. I hate them.”

It’s not anything close to what he was expecting. At least it’s not an emergency or a disaster which considering thier lives is more than possible.”

“Ok and why do we hate elves at” he checks the time “11.23 at night?”

“Because I forgot about them tonight and Howie’s on an extra shift tonight and I have not idea what to do with the damn things! I need help! You're my help!”

Maddie sounds at the end of her tether, hardly surprising the holidays are stressful, there’s a lot to do and the elves are, he knows from Chimney a major source of stress. He makes a mental note to not start any elf shenanigans when he has kids,

‘“Ok… what have you done already?”

“Everything! Stupid things, maybe they can have an accident tonight…”

“Maybe not, let’s not traumatise Jee ok Mads.”

“They deserve it, they could get locked out or get flushed down the toilet, the oven…”

“Maddie!” He stops her, almost shocked at the level of homicidal rage she has towards the naughty Christmas elves Jee loves to see every morning. “Flour footprints?”

“Basic, did it week one.”

“Drawing on the fruit?

“Done it.”

“Using the pans as drums?”

“Fun but done it.”

“Playing cards?”

“Boring!”

“Top of Christmas tree? Melted ice cream? Stuck to the ceiling? Grated carrot?”

“Buck, you’re meant to be helping me. I’ve done all that, it’s almost Christmas Eve, I’ve got to get creative now!”

Ok… um what have you got in the cupboards?

Almost at once he can hear cupboard doors opening and closing.

“There’s nothing useful! What am I going to do?”

“We’ll think of something, don’t worry.”

With his sister calling out things from her cupboards he tries to think of Christmasy things. Cookies, mistletoe, snow, stockings, trees, presents, baubles… one of his ideas comes back to him; snow.

“Maddie, you got any marshmallows?”

“Umm… yeah, why?”

“Big ones or small?”

“Both.”

Hoping this idea goes down better than the others he takes a breath.

“Ok, build a snowhouse out of the big ones and then use the others for snow and make a snow angel shape with the elf.”

He waits hopefully. There’s silence on the other end of the phone, then a sigh of relief followed by his sister's voice.

“That’s brilliant. Buck you’re a genius! I love you.”

Then she hangs up. About 15 minutes later he gets a picture of the elves doing exactly what he suggested, it looks good if he does say so himself.

Maddie sends a text that says thank you and heart emojis that make him smile.

The next one she sends doesn’t. It says; great job tonight so you can help again tomorrow.

Looks like Maddie’s elf problem is his too now, but then what’s family for if not to put mischievous elves into situations together. He opens a new browser page on his phone and types ‘elf on a shelf ideas’… who needs sleep when there are nieces to keep happy.

[crimsonphantasmagoria]

I've been scouring my brain for weeks now, trying to come to a reconciliation between the Solas we get through Inquisition into Trespasser, and the Solas we see in Veilguard, and I think I've finally come to an answer which satisfies me, though YMMV of course. It all has to do with selfishness.

What put me onto this is the way he talks about the romance path. "It was selfish of me" he says, almost angrily. Selfishness is a thing he can't stand in others, and certainly can't stand in himself.

Solas has had his opinions and wants dismissed in the name of selflessness again and again. Most importantly, this has been done by the person he Respects the most, Mythal (this is true whatever you believe the nature of their relationship was).

The first thing, which led to everything else, is that she persuaded him to take a body for a selfless cause: protecting the People from those like Elgar’nan. Then, she had him craft the Lyrium Dagger, against his wishes, because it was necessary to end the war. And then she betrays him. He was brought into this world against his will to prevent Elgar’nan and the like basically from doing exactly this, and she's going along with it? He doesn't want to go against her, but he has to, for the good of the People.

Once the rebellion starts, Solas is required to act against his personal wishes again: he has to uphold the mantle of the Dread Wolf. We see this in Felassan's letter to him.

The next time we see Solas and Mythal together is when he warns her about the Evanuris using the Blight, and more or less asks her to run away to the Fade with him. And she refuses. We can debate her motives all we want, but I think it's safe to say that running away to the Fade with her was what he wanted. His selfish wish. And she rejects it, and goes to confront the Evanuris alone, and dies. His grief reframes this as her dying because he was selfish. And in his grief, he chooses to seal away the Blight and the Evanuris. Now, this wasn't a bad thing to do, but he is pretty explicit in Trespasser that he did it directly in response to them killing Mythal. A selfish act. And it goes catastrophically wrong.

He comes to years later, and the world is horrifying. Elven mortality, corrupting spirits, magic suppressed, all because of his mistake. His selfishness has hurt the People he has a duty to, given to him by the person he respected the most. He immediately sets about fixing the mistake. After all, he's more or less the only one who can. He kills Felassan, when he betrays the cause. He doesn't want to, but since when has he wanted any of this? When was the last time something he wanted mattered? Fixing what he's done to the world matters more.

But then he gets outwitted by Corypheus, and the Veil is coming down in the worst way possible, causing untold harm on both sides. And he can't fix this problem. The only person who can is the one with the Anchor, the future Inquisitor. So he sets himself to helping them do so, because it's the best he can do to fix his new mistake. And in doing so, he sees the best parts of the new world. He meets people he genuinely likes and admires, potentially even loves. He realises that these people are complete as they are, 'real'. It goes faster with a high approval or romance Inquisitor, but even with low approval, he eventually gets to the same place. He wants to help them. He wants to stay with them. He wants his time with them to have mattered.

But that would be selfish. Since when have his wants mattered?

He leaves them. He doesn't want to, but he has to. He kills Flemythal, because he needs her power if he's going to do this, even though he doesn't want to. He weeps. Gets back up and continues on. Since when has what he wanted mattered?

Trespasser happens, and he tells the Inquisitor almost everything, because they deserve to know, but also...he doesn't want to do this. This is the beginning of his subtle attempts to help them stop him. He can't admit it. He can't admit that he needs help, that he wants to stop, but he can subtly, almost unconsciously guide them.

This culminates in him leaving the eluvian path open for Varric and co to follow him to the unguarded, unwarded ritual site. Unfortunately, Varric tries to reason with him. But he cannot be reasoned with by Varric. Nor by the Inquisitor, nor anyone else in modern Thedas. That's what he wants, you see? He wants to stop, so he can't. That would be selfish. I do think that, maybe, if Harding had taken the shot, he might have allowed it. Taken it as a fair defeat. But she doesn't, so we'll never know.

So he ends up in the regret prison, otherwise known as literal Hell for Solas, and tricks Rook into helping release him. He's more or less the only one with power sufficient to take on Elgar’nan. You know, the guy he came here, unwillingly, to oppose in the first place? So he goes and helps the Shadow Dragons in Minrathous, but it isn't enough. Fortunately, Rook escapes, and they defeat Elgar’nan together. Unfortunately, he has now run out of excuses to not do the thing he doesn't want to do, and the Veil is coming down anyway, so.

But then Rook offers another choice. Bind yourself to the Veil and save us. He does seriously consider it for a second, because it's what he wants to do, and Rook isn't a person he cares about personally. He might respect them, but he doesn't really like or care about them, like he does Varric or the Inquisitor. Weirdly, this might make it a more effective plea, taken from this perspective. Ultimately, though, the Unselfish thing is clearly to fix his mistake, fix the world, so he goes to do that.

Then here comes the Inquisitor. He can't stop for them either, but he feels like he owes them an explanation still. He failed Mythal, and she died. He was selfish, and she died. This will all have been for nothing if he acts selfishly now.

Now Morrigan arrives. Whose fault is that? She channels fragment Mythal. I like to think this part is these two fragments of Mythal reuniting for a few moments. And Mythal says, in effect, "if i had let you stay where you wanted, if I'd listened to what you wanted, then maybe none of this would have happened. You aren't the only one at fault here. Be free from your duty to the People, and choose your own path from now on."

The Inquisitor reinforces this, and it takes him about two seconds of collecting his thoughts to choose, because frankly it's what he's wanted to do the whole time. And then he chooses to return to the Fade, and to seek atonement for his part in creating the Blight. Probably also something he wanted, but felt like he couldn't persue because he wanted it. But now he finally can, because his wants have been acknowledged by that person he respected the most as valid. So off he goes.

This might actually make the romance with Lavellan even more powerful because it means he wanted her badly enough that he almost chose her anyway, even despite his prior conditioning. Sadly, he eventually realised that the relationship was fucked if he couldn't stop his plans and couldn't tell her who he was because he couldn't stop his plans, so he ended it, for her sake, another selfless act, to try and make it easier for her to hate him. And if she doesn't, and asks to come with him in Trespasser, he refuses, for selfishly stated reasons, because he wants this one thing to remain pure and uncorrupted. But in the end, he won't refuse her again because he's finally allowed to want again, and what he wants most of all has always been her.

Idk, I've just been struggling to make Solas’s motivation change between games make sense to me, and this is what worked. Nobody else has to think this. Totally just my personal speculation.

[lovemyromance]

No I'm sorry but Lucien is a grown man. Tamlin was doing something wrong working with Ianthe & Hybern in ACOMAF - and Lucien knew that it was wrong, but he continued to help Tamlin.

He could've warned Feyre - like "hey btw ur ex is working with the enemy" but no.

He could've ditched Tamlin's ass the second the man tried to lock Feyre up.

He could've seen the way Feyre was withering away and done more than just offer to "speak to him" about it.

He could've left Tamlin's side at literally any point.

It doesn't matter if their dynamic has never been what Rhys has with Ariel & Cassian. In fact, if it's never been that way - then all the more reason NOT to stay loyal to someone you know is wrong.

Im telling you right now - if Rhys had ever tried to harm Feyre - Nobody in the IC would've stood for that, HL or not.

I'm tired of people making excuses for this man. He might not have been the sole reason Nesta & Elain turned fae - but his actions were indirectly what led to that.

If he and Tamlin had never gotten involved with Hybern - Nesta & Elain would still be human.

He could've done a million different things - but he chose to stay with Tamlin even after being a witness to everything.

I'm tired of seeing all this bullshit like omg Lucien is so powerful he's the heir to the day court and super strong and hot - WHEN THE MAN HAS ONLY EVER BEEN A LACKEY.

Enoughhhh.

For people to say "oh he deserves his mate" is CRAZY.

Because wtf has he ever done to earn her???

[burningcheese-merchant]

yandere cheese drabbles? 🤲

Merry Crimmus to you all, my gift is more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese things today

Can't think of a story title atm, buuutttttt here is a story nevertheless 😘

Tucked under a cut because this AU is still fucked lol

"I hate you."

How long has it been since she wrote that? How long ago did she take her seat beside her desk, pull out this paper, and bring her pen to it, only for nothing but those three words to bleed out of the ink?

Sucking in a sharp breath and steeling herself, Golden Cheese at last forced her hand to move again.

"I hate you. I loathe you. You are a sick, miserable, disgusting monster. It is only by the grace of the gods that you still live, and this world shall be a brighter, happier place when you no longer do."

There. That was one thought out of the way. Given life in the waking world. Now she just needed to keep going.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you torment me this way? What have I done to deserve it?"

She paused, briefly considering adding "If you utter even a single word about the Soul Jam, I'll rip yours out of your chest and grind it into a fine powder", but decided against it and continued.

"How can you inflict such untold suffering onto others? Onto complete strangers? How many lives have you ended? How many families have you torn apart? How many hopes and dreams have you cleaved in two with that axe? And for what? For me? When I never asked or wanted you to? What in cheese's name is wrong with you?"

She stopped again, peeking over her shoulder at the shelf by her bed - the one hiding the locked metal door, leading to... her collection. A shiver crept up her spine when she realized that the shelf was slightly ajar; she hadn't taken good enough care to close it all the way after leaving earlier that day...

"And on top of it all, you burden me with these... with these so-called gifts," she wrote when she turned back to face her little work-in-progress. "These tokens of... what? Your affection? You call this affection? You think handing a woman the blood and viscera of your hapless victims is how you win her heart? What parasite burrowed into your brain and took control of your senses to make you think this way?

"You sicken me, Burning Spice. Well and truly. You are selfish, wicked and unfathomably cruel. You are a blight on all mankind. You are hardly a step above a rabid animal. I should have put you down and spared us all of this chaos ages ago."

She stopped and set the pen down. Her eyes bore into the last sentence she wrote, unblinking. Dragging along each word, back and forth, over and over again for what may as well have been an eternity.

She should have killed him already. He should be long dead. She should have saved the world as well as herself by now.

But...

... Shaking her head, she moved the letter aside and grabbed another piece of paper. That train of thought is done. Time for another one.

"You curse me, Burning Spice. Not only with your presence, not only with your words, not only with your heinous actions... You curse me with the aftermath of it all, as well. I alone am burdened with the end results of all of your lovesick rampages. I have a closet full of severed heads because of you! Innocent men and women who have been denied their lives and their dignity to satisfy your sick infatuation with me! I struggle each and every day to find their names and identities so I may return them to their loved ones, in an act of penance on both of our parts, because I am as much of a sinner as you for even having them!!!"

She always had blood to wipe off of her hands every time she went into that room. That precious ichor, now cold and sticky, staining her delicate, flawless skin as she carefully tended to the new additions and tidied up the old ones. Every single time.

Not a single head ever left that room. She did all the work of uncovering who these poor, unfortunate souls were, and then... left it at that. Left those souls trapped in limbo. In that cold closet, behind that cold metal door. Never to see the light of day again.

Every visit inside that little den of sin only made the excuses she comforted herself with grow weaker and weaker.

"I don't understand you. I have tried, and tried, and tried with all of my might, to no avail whatsoever. Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you like this? What do you stand to gain? Is this really how you wanted to live your miserable life?"

Wait.

... Who was she writing this to?

She shook her head again - harder this time - and set the letter aside, on top of the first. No more. Next thought.

"I hardly sleep anymore. I'm haunted by the things you do. The things I do. The things I DON'T do. Why have you done this to me? Why won't you stop?"

... No. No more. Into the pile. Next thought.

"You-" Her hand was starting to tremble, smudging the ink. Another deep breath and an attempt to still herself kept her moving along. "You don't hurt children. You listen to me only this one time, for this one instance. How kind of you. How sweet. How thoughtful. Why do you it, I don't know; all life seems the same to you. Just a sea of useless little flesh automatons for you to toy with and crush as you see fit. Why do you obey the line I draw? Why does it matter? Is this the one shred of conscience that yet remains within the black hole your soul resides in?"

No more. She can't think of children. It didn't matter that Burning Spice listened to her and didn't harm them; the mere possibility was too much. Too horrible. Next thought.

"You drive me mad. You never leave my mind. Front, back, the spaces between. You consume my thoughts. Your image has been engraved into the insides of my eyelids. I even DREAM of you now, so oppressive is the hold you have over me. I can't bear it. The guilt. The shame. You curse me."

Next.

"It's a waste. You're a waste. Your entire life is a waste. You could've been someone worthwhile. Someone who made this world more bearable. You have the power, you have the means. Yet you always choose yourself. You were a hero once upon a time, there's no reason you cannot be one again. What a waste."

Next.

"Or were you not? You were never truly a hero, were you? You did it for the praise. For the gold and jewels. For the scores of people chanting your name, building statues in your honor. Selfishness. Arrogance. You're a thief. A coward. A fool."

Who- no, who is this? Who is this for, again?

"I hate you. I HATE YOU. I WANT TO KILL YOU. I WISH TO SEE THE LIGHT IN YOUR DEVIL'S EYES DIM AS I END YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE. YOU MEAN NOTHING TO ME. YOUR FEELINGS MEAN NOTHING. YOU ARE SICK! DERANGED! THE ONLY PERSON YOU EVER LOVED WAS YOURSELF, AND EVERY COURSE OF ACTION YOU TAKE ONLY SERVES TO PROVE IT MORE AND MORE!"

Her hands were trembling violently now. Ink splotches stained the pages. Deep, dark dots. Jagged streaks. Small, delicate fingerprints hovering above certain words.

"I want you."

Same as the very first letter, Golden Cheese stopped and stared down at the page with wide, unblinking eyes.

"I want you You're handsome. I think you're handsome. Devastatingly so."

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.

"I want you You're handsome. I think you're handsome. Devastatingly so. Your voice shoots through my ears and drills into my skull each time you speak. I never want you to stop talking. Why do you ever stop talking?"

His voice. That deep baritone that went from silky smooth to hot and rough effortlessly. Did he do it just to get to her? To rile her up? Did he know what his voice did to her?

It was working.

"Did your eyes always look the way they do? Is the fire within them ever-burning? Were they taken from a demon and given to you the day you were born? Why do I still feel them raking over me, consuming me, even long after we've parted ways? Why do you always seek to set me ablaze?"

"It's a waste. Really. A waste. You're a good-looking man. You could've lived a normal life. You could've found a nice girl and-"

And? And? And what?

"You could've used that face and voice and those eyes of yours to charm someone and-"

And? Why can't she finish the thought? Why did her heart pound against her ribcage so hard it ached every time she tried?

"You you would you could have you could've been a normal reasonable good man and had a wife and children-"

She took the page and crumpled it, tossing it at the wall.

"I want you. I want your voice in my ears. I want your eyes devouring me. I want to hold your face in my hands. I want you to give me another one of those hellish grins of yours. I want to feel you sink your teeth into me. I want to taste your lips. I want to feel your tongue caress mine. I want to feel your hot breath in my mouth, on my skin. I want your hands on me. All over me. I want you to touch me. You've told me about all the things you want to do to me- do it. Do them. I'm sick of waiting and so are you. Why do you tease us both like this? Do it. Touch me. Taste me. Break my bones. Break my bed. Praise me, call me a goddess, worship me. Worship me like you have been all this time. Tell me you love me. Tell me you adore me. That you'll die without me. That you'll slaughter us all for my sake. Do it. DO IT. Praise me, touch me, kiss me, fuck me, just fuck me, Burning Spice, PLEASE-"

No. No, no, no. Not this. She can't say any of this. She can't. SHE CAN'T.

"YOU'RE MINE. YOU BELONG TO ME NOW. IS THIS NOT THE LEAST YOU OWE ME FOR WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH? YOU'RE MINE! MINE! YOUR TROPHIES ARE MINE! YOUR BODY IS MINE! YOUR HEART IS MINE! ALL MINE! DON'T YOU DARE EVEN CONSIDER DOING ANY OF THIS FOR ANYONE ELSE!"

"YOU'RE MINE"

"YOU'RE ALL MINE"

"I HATE YOU"

She slammed her fists down onto the desk with such force that cracks formed in their wake. Out of the chair, away from the desk, out of her bedroom she went. Rushing down the hall. All but throwing herself out the nearest door. Taking off into the sky with a quickness that made her wings ache.

So absorbed in her failed therapy session was she, that she never noticed that the eyes of the marble snake adorning the decorative tree Burning Spice had given her had been glowing the entire time. Nor did she know that he himself, that object of her ire and her sick affection, was lounging on his throne, watching her fall apart with that devil's grin she loved so much.

----------------

Hope this is good. I'm sorry to keep you all waiting. New installment in the Accidental Yandere AU, there shall be more soon. Happy Crimmus 🎄

[littlemisssatanist]

Hitlist

the jackal x fem reader

~ i am a whore for eddie redmayne so you should thank his face for being so gorgeous

~ this is 2k words of poorly written and unedited smut. if you see typos,,, no you didnt.

~ i need his face in my chest thats like the only reason i wrote this

~ ty for everyones lovely comments on the last part!

~ look at my art of my beautiful husband who is too old for me

~ BEFORE I FORGET. i have a longfic idea for this sorta universe,,, a mr and mrs smith type of situation crossover w sherlock bbc as a case fic. what do we think

part one | part two

You lead him back to a hotel room. Your hotel room, though not for much longer. The people who had hired you paid for everything, and once they heard you had betrayed them, they would eventually be able to track you down. The faster you left, the better.

The Jackal kept you in his sight the entire time, staring into the back of your head as if he was trying to cut a hole right through it.

It’s not like I would have hurt him anyways, you thought mulishly, poking your tongue into your cheek, troubled. Your mind had already been made up before you had even stepped into the room.

You could never hurt him.

As you walked into the room, he stalked past you and started examining everything, keeping an eye on you all the same.

“It’s clean,��� you offered, but he only shot you a side glance, not bothering to acknowledge you had said anything. You worked hard to keep yourself from letting the hurt show on your face.

Instead, you ask: “Married?” 

Trying to lighten the mood, you couldn’t help but notice the ring on his finger. By the way his face tightened, you knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Divorced,” he muttered. “You?” he added, as an afterthought.

“No,” you shook your head. You had thought about it once, a long time ago, but it never worked out. You simply could not stop thinking about him.

The Jackal sat down next to you on the bed, done with his search. He was close, closer than you would imagine comfortable. This close, you could see every freckle and mark on his face.

You are definitely not complaining.

“Her loss,” you whispered. At his questioning glance, you clarified: “Your wife.”

The tips of his fingers brushed over yours and you shivered.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, it was my fault. She deserved better than me.”

His eyes flickered shut as he leaned in closer. You could feel his breath on your face.

“Probably,” you agreed, tilting your head away to admire the earlier hickey you had left. He blinked a couple of times, confused by the sudden distance you had put between them. Then you pressed your hand into the purple mark, and he hissed and pulled away. 

He went to lean against the headboard and you followed him, climbing into his lap. His hands immediately found your waist even as he tried to push you away.

Instead, you only pressed his hips against his, hands caging him in on either side of the headboard.

“Come on, J,” you crooned. “Don’t you miss this?”

“You tried to kill me!” He snapped. “Forgive me if I’m not so forthcoming.”

You frowned. “You were literally all up in my business not even five seconds ago. Besides, if I wanted you dead, then I wouldn’t have announced my presence,” you cupped his cheek as gently as possible. You couldn’t stop looking at his freckles. “I was never going to kill you.”

He paused, eyes threatening to flutter shut at your touch. Then he pushed you away again, seemingly remembering why he was mad at you. “Then why did you take the job in the first place?”

You resisted, pressing your forehead against his. “I was trying to protect you,” you said mockingly slowly, as if trying to make him understand something very simple. His cheeks reddened with humiliation and anger. “I knew that taking the job would give you some time. And the only reason I threatened you was because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

The end of your words turned into a soft whine, and you nosed his face into his. Your thumb pressed past his lips and into his mouth, gagging him. His tongue immediately met your thumb, swirling around it on instinct. You moaned, kissing the edges of his mouth.

“Get off,” he managed to mumble through his make-shift gag, saliva dripping past his chin.

“Alexander,” you murmured. “Look at me.”

His name, his real name, snapped him out of the lustful haze your actions had put him into. It had been so long, how had you even remembered that? He should have never told you.

He pushed you away and you finally relented, letting him throw you back onto the mattress and climb on top of you.

“Fuck you,” he said, before swooping down and capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was hot and searing, and you could feel his large hands feeling up your body.

“That’s the idea, J,” you mumbled into his mouth, running your own hands up his back and tugging on his shirt. You needed him naked. Now.

He pulled away, biting your bottom lip as he went, tugging his shirt above his head. You watched from beneath him, admiring the ways his abs flexed before he dropped his hands and caged you in between them.

“You look nice,” you breathed, your hands creeping up his chest. “Ah… I remember this. But the background was different. Ah-!”

J buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting down harshly onto the soft skin there. At the same time, his hand slipped down your pants and underneath your panties, finding the growing wetness between the apex of your thighs.

“It… it was something like,” you sighed as he slipped two fingers inside, “a desert scene? R-remember that, J? Fuck!”

He curled the fingers inside you, his free hand making a large bruise the way it pressed into your waist so tightly. He kissed up your neck and jaw and eventually found your mouth, muffling the words that couldn’t help but spill out.

He remembered it too. The Al-Qaeda operation, the wedding party, the car bomb. You had been a junior sniper working with his team, and he could not help but notice the way your quiet gaze kept falling on him. You met him in his room that night, slipping past the door silently. You weren’t so quiet then, and you weren’t so quiet now.

When he killed the rest of his team, he let you live.

Maybe it was a mistake to do that. But the way the moans kept falling from your mouth, he wasn’t in any position to regret his decision. His thumb pushed at your clit, circling it faster as your voice grew to a higher pitch, as moans and gasps filled the air quicker. He swallowed your sounds as they came out, not letting you get in any air.

The hand holding your waist came to rest at your neck. It was so thin, so easy to just wrap his fingers around it and choke the life out of you. He began to apply pressure, just the tiniest bit, but the way your breath hitched, he knew that you knew the power he had right now.

Your chest heaved up and down against his. Dimly he realized that he had neglected to take off your blouse and bra.

He pulled away slightly, continuing his circular movements on your clit. A thin strand of saliva connected your mouths, and he broke it with a soft flick of his tongue. The hand on your neck tightened, and you released a strangled groan. 

You were vulnerable. Completely at his mercy.

But you found that you didn’t mind. You wanted it. A relationship with him, one in which you could trust that he wouldn’t hurt you, the same way you could never bring yourself to hurt him. 

The pressure on your neck furthered, and your hands instinctively went to his wrist, gripping it tightly. He stared into your eyes. You could feel the wave of pleasure in your stomach growing, legs twitching subconsciously, tightening around the hand in between your thighs.

“P-please…” you managed to choke out, arching your back and rolling your eyes as the pleasure passed the precipice and washed over, stringing your body taut before allowing it to collapse into what felt like a melting puddle.

His hand left your neck, brushing over the dark bruise he had left behind. Something in him felt vindicated, glad to have caused you pain. He kissed the deepest part of the bruise, smiling against your skin as you inhaled sharply at the touch. 

You bring your hands to brush through his hair, gripping it tightly to pull him away from your neck, half heartedly throwing him away. He rolled off, groaning, painfully hard.

“Give me a moment,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. Wow. “Fuck.”

“Good?” He asked.

You nodded, before realizing he probably couldn’t see it. You let your hand find his instead, squeezing it. He sighed.

“I need to go take a cold shower,” He said, moving to get up.

By some miraculous show of strength, you managed to sit up before him and pressed your hand against his abdomen, shoving him back down.

“No. We’re not done yet.”

He stared at you as you swung your leg over his lap, hovering above him. His face was still flushed red, making his dark freckles stand out against his skin. His eyes flicked from between your face to where his erection made a tent in his pants.

“Ok,” he muttered. “Take off your shirt.”

You obeyed immediately, fingers thumbing to undo the buttons on your blouse. The Jackal watched you hungrily, hands coming back to hold onto your waist. They were burning hot against your now bare skin, moving up your spine to unclip your bra and let your breasts free.

He cupped them; the heat making you gasp as you worked to take off your pants. You managed to get them to hang at your knees, finally sitting down on his lap and pressing against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips pressing upwards.

You circled your hips, mouth falling open at the stimulation to your clit. It was still overly sensitive from his fingers earlier, and the roughness of his jeans did nothing to help soothe it.

“I need your cock in me,” you moaned. “Please.”

The Jackal let out a strangled sound at your words, managing to sit up and push down his pants. His cock sprang free, nudging against your soaking wet panties. You grinded against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his back muscles.

He pulled at the band of your panties, allowing them to snap back against your skin. One of your hands finds itself back in his hair, pushing his face into your chest. You can feel him grinning, a low laugh rumbling from his throat.

Finally, finally, he lined up his cock with your pussy and pushed inside. Your mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ at the feeling of complete fullness. He was burning you up from the inside.

He pressed kisses to your bare skin, face still buried in your chest as he kept his hips moving against yours. Pleasure began to build up in you once more, and you knew by the soft grunts and moans that fell out of the Jackal's mouth, he was close too. 

“Inside,” you whimpered, clutching onto him so tightly you wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't ever be able to separate from you. “P-please.”

You raised your hips, his cock slipping out completely, before slamming back down. Your lips met, more clashing teeth than a kiss. His tongue consumed the inside of your mouth, stealing away your breath as you came once more.

Still riding the high, you had enough sense to realize he had also come, just seconds after you, cum filling you and dripping out slightly. 

You swayed slightly, and the both of you fell to the side, his cock still inside you.

Your chest fell up and down. The Jackal shifted closer towards you, placing his head back in the valley of your breasts. Your hand immediately comes to his hair to keep them there.

The two of you lay like that for a while, before you groaned.

“We need to go,” you muttered.

The Jackal mumbled something you couldn't hear. You begin to get up, but he doesn't move, the heavy weight forcing you to flop back down. 

“J,” you patted his back.

“... give me five minutes.”

You sighed. “Yeah, ok.”

part one | part two

tags: (for those who commented they wanted a second part (if you didnt want to be tagged,,, uh lmk) @affective-disorder @simp-ly-writes @freya260

[jubshead]

In my opinion <- strongly for ME

When it comes to Agatha All Along seems like people lose the plot & content about it as it goes, idk why but

1) Agatha is a Villain- she doesn't need redemption she's aware of herself & acknowledges her doings ( like wanda says " you do it you become the hero , I do it I become the enemy)

Agatha doesn't have to atone to what she's done or will continue to do ,does she feel bad hmm 🤪

So she's a serial killer - most those witches deserved it if you ask me, her salem coven completely did for wanting to put a child on trial because they were scared of her powers

"You don't see it holding me back " & it shouldn't hold her back she's a cunty witch no one forced anyone to follow her in her scheme she's a great con artist 🥵 I'd willing volunteer for you AGATHA HARKNESS 😏

Now I'm not saying her grief is an excuse, & that it's ohkay what she's done with her & Nicky's song but isn't a lil evil enjoyable😈 don't always have to be good doesn't mean you're always right

Like the ballad where all that's wrong is right & all that's bad is good!

² ) Agatha & Rio's love IS NOT toxic. What makes it toxic that rio gives & Agatha takes? If you think in depth their love is dynamic! Agatha is a person who time & time again is wronged by close & acquainted people of course she'd close herself from hurt when that's everyone's intentions without giving her a chance it's not her fault that people misunderstands & here comes Rio our amazing entity who knows how to show compassion because no ever will this is something Agatha deserves & Rio is literally the best example being that homo sapien feel the same way about death so who's best to understand Agatha than Rio herself & show & give Agatha what no one has? Their love makes sense & is precious because death can be seen to never be loved & here comes Agatha someone that's put off by people whom in their eyes seem like she's not capable of ever loving, yearns to want & give it & is giving it to death the best way she possibly knows how to, so who's to say their love is toxic?

3)Agatha is a Villain! That's what's perfect about her it's what makes her likeable

She is not evil( yes she is 😏🤭) , just misunderstood, not given a chance . She can still do & is doing the things even if she was good

] a daughter, a mother, a mentor ! Being a Villain doesn't stop her for being the things she was gifted with as Rio sees her for what she masks with - you just have to look through the disguise as well cause in time you'll see notice & you see if you pay close attention she isn't hiding as one would say you just aren't taking the time to notice because she's good at what she does best DECEPTION!

1 and 3) Yes, I agree! Agatha is a villain and she shouldn’t have a redemption arc! She doesn’t want to change and she won’t (tbh I prefer her as immoral lmao)

I think redemption arcs are usually very forced, just bc someone regrets their doing it doesn’t change what they did. She can have better actions, but being a villain isn’t really about what you do in the present, is about the way people view you and she’ll always be a villain in someone’s perspective, there’s no way for her to run from that title anymore.

People have the need for their favorite characters to be liked by everyone, have a moral high ground or something like that, but making her greedy and egoistic (in my opinion) gives her a bigger depth than “oh she always does what’s right”. Who the fucks only do what’s right?

I don’t agree that all of the witches she killed deserved, the only ones I know that deserved were her previous coven!

2) Agatha and Rio have a VERY complicated relationship.

Would I say it’s toxic? No, I wouldn’t!

Are they toxic people? Yes, they are!

I think they basically match each others freak to the point their toxicity doesn’t become toxic lol

And I also think that they have true feelings for each other, they can fight, they can argue, they can hurt, but when it comes to the important stuff they will take things seriously! Just like Rio did when she defended Agatha from her mother.

[astralnymphh]

WELL. F MY LIFE THEN. JUST F IT. now i have to indulge in a commentary reblog.. we know i only do this with masterpieces such as the one i'm about to ramble under.. here we go! gracie has gone and done it again.. my descent to madness is evident in each comment made

Her bed was made.  That’s the first thing you noticed when you crept into her space.

ugh this eerie symbolism.. like it's such a simple thing (AESTRA TRY NOT TO BE INFATUATED WITH SIMPLICITY CHALLENGE) but at this time and in this story, it digs a deeper meaning. just the observation of aberration and shiftings within a room someone has been rotting in. it curdles in the spine quite hauntingly. very nicely done!!!

After walking into that room in the ski lodge and seeing her and Joel bloodied and battered, you cannot get the metallic taste to go away. Everything you ate tasted like it.

this too!! like hello?? memories stippling so hard into one that it affects the other senses.. i can, like, feel the torment beaming off this little paragraph; the torture of a vision, and now an abnormal taste no one should know. jesus..

She finally changed out of the socks that were partially soaked with blood.

THIS!! JUST LIKE THE FIRST PARAGRAPH! it's so simple but put so oddly that it creates this whole other background.. it's like a storm slowly brewing. it does accentuate and ascend to ellie deciding that she wants revenge (Hah. Like the band), because she is finally lifting herself from the rot that leeched. nothing can motivate a person besides an idea. a desperate, destructive idea.

It’s like a release that you have been waiting for. She starts to cry, the air escaping her lungs as she heaves to let out another sob.

whenever i hear that someone is releasing what they've "bottled up" i tend to view it as a purely emotional thing and not a physical thing that you see besides crying. but it's everything that makes up the cry. the air, the breath, the upwards movement of extrication, the squeezing of warmth in your eyes. truly an art in itself to nail crying in a written form. makes ellie feel so much more human.

She grips onto you like you're the axis to keep her world spinning.

jesus cunt.. jiminy christmas.. what else am i supposed to say but JESUSSSS.. POETRY..

Her malicious and unhinged behavior was beginning to frighten you a bit.

THIS IS SO REAL THO?? IT JUST IS?? i'm so finitely sure this is a part of what dina felt at times. like, oh my god. to not watch your lover transform—but to watch your lover transformed, and to have missed this change in the blink of an eye. when had this monstrosity begun, and how deep does it go? thank you gracie for having such a blessedly perfect understanding of ellie from a lover's perspective!!

You watched her twist it and rip it out the side, their blood splattering all over the wall. When the man collapsed, she simply tucked her weapon into her sheath and kept moving. It was so brutal and unnecessary, but she kept telling you they deserved it.

same as this one. to see this twisting of a woman, and understand immediately that she is wrong; she is not correct nor incorrect, but she is in the tooth too deep, rotting it to a point of loss, what she needs the least. she wants to find and serve justice, but she will only drive it away. you can't push hard for anything.

“Els?” You snap her out of her trance-like daze. She has not said anything in about an hour. Your voice is soft and so is your touch on her shoulder. You want to try to pick her brain, something you have been unsuccessful at doing the last couple of weeks. She winces.  “Yeah?” She utters. A bit of phlegm in the back of her throat makes her sound hoarse.

AGAIN. WITH MAKING ELLIE A HUMAN. YOU DO IT TOO WELL I CAN'T ACTUALLY FATHOM ANY OF THIS.

You wished you could read her mind. It would make your relationship with her way easier. After two years, you would think she would be better about sharing her feelings, but she mostly left you to interpret her body language.

canon relationship with tlouuniverse!ellie good god (By Korn).. something about this insecure, or in better words, inherent depiction of ellie makes me love her more. i think ellie would love to tell her girlfriend everything that runs on in her mind. i think it always sits in the base of her throat. but, she can't. there is no reason. she just can't. I LOVE YOU GRACIE.

“I think we need to surprise them at night,” She states, her voice a bit robotic. You just bite the inside of your lip and nod. She was making all the plans, you just had to go along with it.

more canon behaviour breuh.. literally this happened right after reader tried to get in touch with that hidden inside, that true ellie. yet, it was masked over. this alludes so well to a metaphor of possession, which.. they aren't always spiritual. i would even argue that possessions were never meant to be. i think these possessions that come from within, from a bud of despondency, or rage, are true possessions that happen often. it's disgusting to see the one you love taken by it. ergo, Good Job!!!!

You never saw her eyes change when she took a life.

i don't even need to say anything at this point. it speaks for itself.

She heaves and you know tears are spilling from those beautiful green eyes.

"AND YOU KNOW TEARS ARE SPILLING FROM THOSE BEAUTIFUL GREEN EYES." I REPEAT. "AND YOU KNOW TEARS ARE SPILLING FROM THOSE BEAUTIFUL GREEN EYES." UGHHHH I'M KILLING YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. I'M ANGRY WITH INFATUATION.

Before you knew Ellie, you knew Joel. You did not understand their relationship, but you knew it was fractured. Joel never talked badly about her, only reminding everyone around him how proud he was of her. Whenever he caught you around the stables, he would ask if you were still hanging out with her. You would always blush and reply quickly, “Yes, of course”. He would smile and tell you how grateful he was to see she had a friend like you.

i love this too much.. joel proud father no matter what.. this adds such a layer to this little universe in this little fic.. i could hug that old man if he wasn't a. fictional and b. 6 feet under.

“How am I supposed to live with that?” She was hurting so badly. Her violent heart has finally had enough.  “You learn how to manage it.”

You stand up so you can face her. Her gaze has softened now and she almost looks like the same girl who confessed her feelings to you at the Harvest Festival two years ago. A little bit older, aged with the falling away of time, but still beautiful and vulnerable. Her green eyes sparkled differently, but your Ellie was still there somewhere.

Girl I'm killing myself in the middle of TjMaxx how do you write such beautiful things.. sabrina carpenter would arrest your Writing.. ugh

The silence tells you the answer but you just look over at Ellie. She has blood pouring out of her nose and it trickles down her neck.  “She got away.”

the one that got away.. stop because that song actually puts tears in my eyes. i will never ever get over this scene of ellie in-game and now. in fics. man you were right about this fic HURTINGGGGGGG.

Every time she would touch you in that way, she was meticulous and very generous. You would try to return the favor and she would shrivel up and tell you that she was okay. It made you feel some type of way, but after the fifth time it happened, you realized it was because she did not feel in tune with herself in that way.

broken ellie who is broken during sex.. most realistic depiction of sex with farm!ellie (from a fully canonical plot) that i've seen on this app. like omg it's so disgusting and heartbreaking to read.. stop this right neow..

You told her that she was beautiful every day. No matter what she was doing, or how she looked, whenever the thought entered your mind, you would say it out loud. Her response was always, “No, you.”

Alright.. you got me kickalicking my feet with this one HUEEHAUHHUEUHEA

She looks at you, tears already welling in her eyes.  “Babe…” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Where are you going?”

NO.. GO BACK.. NO.. DON'T DO THIS.. BJORK HELP ME..NO..NO!!

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.” And now she would be.

You sick and twisted bastard you're going to receive 100 kisses by post mail I hope you ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS and SIT WITH THIS and realize how great of a writer you are no matter how deep in the depths of listlessness or demotivation you are.. please continue writing for ellie oh y god

i bet on losing dogs

pairing: ellie williams x reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

description: a slow progression of how you lost ellie.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader is in a relationship with ellie, only angst, small mentions of intimacy, descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, ellie is grieving big time, ellie trauma dumps, ellie gets hurt, reader is described to be scarred and disfigured after seattle, reader is scared of ellie, dark themes in general.

author’s note: just know this was sitting in my docs for a while cause I had a hard time sticking with the grief I felt writing it. I finished it a couple weeks ago and just kept rereading it. I can't keep looking at it anymore. have it. i'm sorry in advance.

Her bed was made. 

That’s the first thing you noticed when you crept into her space. The snow had been piled in front of the door, indicating that no one had come or left. Your boots dusted snow across her old oriental-looking rug. Her back was turned to you.

She looks so small. Her hair is greasy, tousled up in a small bun at the base of her head. She was wearing the same clothes you left her in the day before. 

“Els?”

She turns to you, not stunned, just a bit disoriented. Her eyebrows are furrowed the second her eyes meet yours.

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.”

The statement crushes you. You inhale deeply, trying to relieve the heaviness on your chest. 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I can’t watch you rot in this room anymore.”

She's quick with her rebuttal. “If you would have listened, you wouldn’t have to watch. Just leave me alone.”

But you physically cannot. You have spent days pacing your house, thinking about her withering away in her detached garage. You try to sleep, but you know she’s not, so how could you? 

And you had this bitterness in your mouth all the time now. After walking into that room in the ski lodge and seeing her and Joel bloodied and battered, you cannot get the metallic taste to go away. Everything you ate tasted like it. 

“Ellie-“

“Please, I don’t want to talk.”

Her voice is shaky. You notice she’s picking at her cuticles again, they are red and irritated. She finally changed out of the socks that were partially soaked with blood. 

It had been three days since Joel was taken from her. 

You try to hold your ground, blinking back some tears that slip when she approaches you and takes your arm. She’s guiding you to the door, grabbing the handle. When the door creaks open, you snatch your arm away. You are trying to be patient, but this was the second time she was trying to throw you out. She had done the same to Maria and Tommy the day after Joel died.

“I thought you were fuckin’ dead, Ellie.”

You promised yourself you would not burden her with your emotions. But you could not help it anymore. 

“What?”

She shuts the door, letting more cold air seep into the frigid room. She shifts onto her other heel, crossing her arms. It’s a physical way of blocking out your emotions, a gesture that is so subtle and probably absent of intention. 

“I can’t lose you, too, okay?”

Her eyes finally find yours, “You’re not gonna-”

You reach out to her, pulling her hand out of the crook of her arm. “I am here, okay? I am right here.”

She uses the leverage of you grabbing her hand to reel you into a hug. As soon as your chin rests on her shoulder, she’s dead weight in your arms. It’s like a release that you have been waiting for. She starts to cry, the air escaping her lungs as she heaves to let out another sob. You just hold her, the anxiety of leaving her alone for the last three days now escaping you. You finally felt like you were doing something for her. 

She grips onto you like you're the axis to keep her world spinning. Her whole life depended on the feeling of your body around her. 

You sat with her for a whole day in silence. Not saying anything; just waiting for her to say the word. You knew what was next for Ellie.

She was going to get revenge. 

-

Your shirt was stained with blood and sweat. You told yourself the next department store you saw, you would hunt down a 20-year-old shirt to replace it. 

You were exhausted. You could hardly keep up with Ellie the last mile back to the theater. It was only the second day of trying to hunt down this crew Ellie was hell-bent on destroying. Two days in Seattle and you two have discovered a lot without having any initial leads when you arrived. 

And you did not fault her for being so aggressive, but after the things you saw today, you’re starting to wonder if this was really what she needs. Her malicious and unhinged behavior was beginning to frighten you a bit. 

It started when you entered an abandoned hotel. A couple of infected got taken down by your bullets, but when other non-infected people came running your way, you hesitated. You saw the looks of confusion on their faces when they saw you and Ellie. While you stood and held their gazes, Ellie raised her rifle and executed each one of them without even flinching. The shots were louder than you remember, echoing off the walls peeling of wallpaper. 

Then today, you both arrived at an old elementary school. You were caught up with holding off a couple of people in a long hallway. You yelled for Ellie to wait it out, wanting the people to charge you so you could take them out, but instead, she lit up the entire hallway. When the last person came running at her with a baseball bat, she dodged them and shoved her blade right into their necks. You watched her twist it and rip it out the side, their blood splattering all over the wall. When the man collapsed, she simply tucked her weapon into her sheath and kept moving. It was so brutal and unnecessary, but she kept telling you they deserved it. 

She found who she had been looking for. A girl named Nora. You were in charge of keeping watch while she got intel from her. You heard most of the conversation, but when you heard the sounds of metal clinging, you stepped away from the door. You had to resist the urge not to run in there and stop the torture, but your feet were stuck to the concrete. You did not move, you did not dare. 

She is now digging dirt and blood out of her fingernails with her blade, trying not to accidentally knick herself. Her auburn fringe covers her forehead, greasy from sweat. She is still covered in blood, but you two have not said much since you arrived back. 

She went too far and she knows it scared you. But frankly, she did not care. This was necessary. 

“Els?” You snap her out of her trance-like daze. She has not said anything in about an hour. Your voice is soft and so is your touch on her shoulder. You want to try to pick her brain, something you have been unsuccessful at doing the last couple of weeks.

She winces. 

“Yeah?” She utters. A bit of phlegm in the back of her throat makes her sound hoarse. 

“Can you please let me check on you? Just take off your coat.”

Your hand is still on her shoulder. She does not respond or move, so you take it as she’s submitting to your request. You grab the collar of her rain jacket and slowly start to drag it down her shoulder. She’s still not saying anything. 

You wished you could read her mind. It would make your relationship with her way easier. After two years, you would think she would be better about sharing her feelings, but she mostly left you to interpret her body language. You got good at reading it for a while. But then Joel died. And now she is a silent and bitter ball of rage. Anything you thought you knew about her has fallen to the wayside. 

You slowly take off her layers of clothing, being sure to avoid touching the wounds that have made her skin their new home. 

The one on her shoulder was pretty bad, you think to yourself, she better let me stitch her up. 

“I think we need to surprise them at night,” She states, her voice a bit robotic. You just bite the inside of your lip and nod. She was making all the plans, you just had to go along with it.

“Okay,” You whisper, grabbing a medical kit nearby. You made sure to pack it back in Jackson and it came in handy more than once already.

“Do you even want to know what happened earlier?”

Your heart sinks. You do not want to know what happened. You knew she got what she needed from the girl, but you truly did not know if you wanted to hear the details. The idea that Ellie did more than just beat her makes you physically sick. If she could do that to a stranger, what was she going to do when she got her hands on her? You were not innocent in the chase. But your heart always skipped when you had to pull your trigger at another human being. It was not easy to watch life leave someone’s eyes. But for Ellie it was different. She acted like they were just things. Inanimate objects that needed to be pushed out of the way. You never saw her eyes change when she took a life. 

You grab the needle from the med kit and a nearby lighter before settling on the couch beside Ellie. Her shoulder blade is covered by all the blood creating new dark maroon freckles. 

You tilt her shoulder back to better look at it before finally responding. 

“Didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.”

You know that’s not the answer she wanted. Her shoulders fall forward and she places her face in her hands. She lets out a long sigh, disregarding you as you try to patch her up. She quickly turns around to look at you. 

Her eyes are dark, her lips pursed. 

“I got her to talk. She paid with her life.”

You want to see your Ellie, but whoever sits before you is a stranger. 

You did not want to think about Ellie killing a girl by violently beating her. It seemed so personal and evil. You decide there’s no answer worth saying to her confession, so you just turn her back around and begin your slow, tedious stitching.

Once you finish off the last suture, you stand and bring over a bowl filled with rainwater the night before. You were going to use it for drinking, but you decide it’s better to use it to clean around Ellie’s battered body.

You grab a rag from your pack and dip it in the chilled water. You ring it out and bring it to your stitch work. She is shaking now, but you are so scared to hold her in your arms. 

“The night before Joel… we got into that big fight. I was so fuckin’ mad at him. I went to his house to confront him again.”

She heaves and you know tears are spilling from those beautiful green eyes. “Ellie-“

“I told him I was going to try to forgive him for all the shit he did. I should’ve…” 

You drop the red-stained cloth into the bowl and pull her back into your chest. She’s sobbing, her entire body shaking as you finally accept her into your space. 

Before you knew Ellie, you knew Joel. You did not understand their relationship, but you knew it was fractured. Joel never talked badly about her, only reminding everyone around him how proud he was of her. Whenever he caught you around the stables, he would ask if you were still hanging out with her. You would always blush and reply quickly, “Yes, of course”. He would smile and tell you how grateful he was to see she had a friend like you. 

You loved Ellie. You loved her with every fiber of your being. She helped you through a lot of your grief when you arrived in Jackson. She held you through countless nights when you cried about losing your dad. You never thought you would have to do the same for her. Everyone, including you, thought Joel Miller was indestructible. 

“Ellie, how were you supposed to know?” You ask softly before gently pressing a kiss in the middle of her back. You had never kissed her there before.

“How am I supposed to live with that?”

She was hurting so badly. Her violent heart has finally had enough. 

“You learn how to manage it.”

It was the only way you pulled through. Grief is love expressing itself through other means. When you lost your dad, it was not violent. He was sick and his body was so beaten down, he had no chance of surviving the disease taking over his body. Your grief was managed by reminding yourself that you had to keep living for him because if not, you would be disappointing him. You did not know if heaven was real, but you did believe in energy, and you felt him sometimes especially when you needed him the most. 

Ellie’s grief was different. It was forceful and unyielding. She could not let the hatred go and you did not particularly blame her. She watched Joel get beaten so badly that his face was almost unrecognizable. She had to watch a random woman take him away from her, forever. You could not compare your grief, but you did know that with time, she would know how to better manage it. She just could not get over the contempt for others who wronged her. It was embedded within her to seek out retribution. 

She cried a bit, letting out a long sigh. “The only way I see it is if I give those people an ounce of violence they showed Joel in his final moments, I will be at peace.”

You knew the truth. There was no peace in situations like this. But were you going to tell Ellie that? No, you were not. You traveled hundreds of miles for her to do what she felt was necessary. And while you did not agree with all of her actions, you had been complacent. You were no better than any other person with a violent and impulsive lover. You enabled this journey to come to fruition, so you had to take accountability. 

You stand up so you can face her. Her gaze has softened now and she almost looks like the same girl who confessed her feelings to you at the Harvest Festival two years ago. A little bit older, aged with the falling away of time, but still beautiful and vulnerable. Her green eyes sparkled differently, but your Ellie was still there somewhere. 

“Okay, baby.” That is all you could say. “We will finish it.”

-

When you come back to consciousness, your vision is fuzzy. You are completely disoriented, but you know you are face down on the concrete. You start to feel around for something familiar, not sure if your gun or knife is nearby. You felt defenseless.

“Ellie?” You croak out. As soon as you talk, you can feel blood dribbling down your throat. You hear stirring beside you and your blood runs cold. Is that her?

You lift your hand to rub whatever is in your eyes out. Dirt? Mud? When you look at your hands, you get confirmation that it’s blood. You’re covered in it. 

The movement gets closer and you look to your right and see Ellie’s battered body slowly stumbling towards you. Panic rises within you, unsure if she was mortally wounded or not. She collapses beside you, sitting up partially. She reaches for your hand and you realize that you can hardly move your foot to try to push yourself upwards. Everything hurt. 

“Baby, I’m here.” She finally says. Your worry subsides for a moment as you try to sit up. 

“Are you hurt?” You cry out as you press yourself upwards, the pain in your foot shooting up your leg. It’s almost the worst pain you’ve ever been in. You can hardly breathe once contort yourself to settle next to Ellie’s practically limp body. 

“Yeah, but I can walk.”

You finally remember why you’re in this room. You try to scan the room, but the dimmed lighting and blood in your eyes isn’t helping. “Is Abby dead?” 

The silence tells you the answer but you just look over at Ellie. She has blood pouring out of her nose and it trickles down her neck. 

“She got away.”

-

Every day after Abby got away was completely different. When you arrive at the farmhouse on the hill, you hope to see your old Ellie again, and sometimes you do. 

When the golden light trickled between the leaves in the forest and you two bask in the rays as you forage for berries, you tell a stupid joke and her laugh is guttural. She belly laughs and tells you that you’re so “dumb” before she wraps her arms around your waist and presses a kiss into your temple. 

But then there was nighttime. When she finally fell asleep and you would stay up with a candle burning to read, she was ravaged by nightmares. She usually couldn’t escape them, so you would throw your book on the side table and hold her tightly so she could come back to reality. 

The day would break and she would bring you up some breakfast in bed. She was terrible at cooking, but no one can really mess up scrambled eggs. She would serve them to you with a big goofy grin and long kisses. 

Intimacy was few and far between, but you knew not to press it too much. Every time she would touch you in that way, she was meticulous and very generous. You would try to return the favor and she would shrivel up and tell you that she was okay. It made you feel some type of way, but after the fifth time it happened, you realized it was because she did not feel in tune with herself in that way. 

You told her that she was beautiful every day. No matter what she was doing, or how she looked, whenever the thought entered your mind, you would say it out loud. Her response was always, “No, you.”

After a year of domesticity, you woke up one night to the sound of rustling downstairs and an empty bed. When Ellie did have a bad nightmare, she would occasionally go downstairs and sit on the front porch. But it was a chilly night and you knew better. 

The day before Tommy made an unexpected visit and made an already awkward interaction absolutely deplorable. He had to bring up her and blame Ellie for the outcome of the Seattle event. The entire situation led to you forcing him off the property and telling him to never come back with that bullshit. 

It was a subject you and Ellie never discussed after leaving those city limits. She told you she was done, that it was all over. You would never fight her on it, especially because you knew it was really over. There was no way you would be going after someone who almost killed you and disfigured you. Every time you looked in a mirror, you were forced to see the scars that littered your cheeks and forehead. A sick reminder of the bitter fight between you two. 

You slowly walk downstairs, seeing Ellie’s figure in the kitchen. She has her backpack on the floor, loading a gun into the side pocket. 

“What are you doing?” You ask bluntly. She turns around and you take note of her outfit. A couple of layers. A large brown jacket, jeans, and her Converse. She was going somewhere.

She looks at you, tears already welling in her eyes. 

“Babe…”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Where are you going?”

You creep up to her slowly, your bare feet creaking across the hardwood. 

She’s a foot away when she finally puts her hands out to stop you from coming closer. 

“I… I think Tommy is right.”

If it was possible for someone to rip out your heart without opening up your chest, it was happening to you right now. This would be the worst pain. 

“Right about what?” You manage as a whisper. 

She takes in a long breath, “About Abby. About going after her.”

“No… Ellie, he’s not right.” 

You try to move closer, but she takes a step back. She’s treating you like you are infected. But even that would not matter, she’s Ellie. 

It makes you feel every negative emotion when she says the words, “I need to finish this. I told you… I told you I wouldn’t be at peace until I-”

“So why did we even come back, Ellie? How is this fucking fair to me?”

“You wanted to. We… we were fucked up. We didn’t have a chance.”

“And you think you do now?!”

She shakes her head, almost appalled by your statement. “I wasn’t broken like you were.”

You close your lids tightly, unsure how you could even look her in the eyes. Your fingernails are digging into your palms. You had this feeling for a while. An unsettled force that would occasionally bloom in the pit of your stomach when you watched Ellie. You would remind yourself that it’s over. The plot for revenge was buried deep in the ground. 

So when she stands in front of you, ready to take off, you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Ellie, if you go, I will never forgive you. I will not wait for you.”

She’s silent, contemplating even for a moment. She has this look of determination. She has already made up her mind. “That’s your choice.”

She starts to pick up the bag, but you make one more silent plea before watching your life walk out the back door. You grab her hand quickly, stopping her from taking any steps. 

“I thought you fuckin’ loved me, Ellie. I thought you said we were done.” You sob out,  “You think Joel would want this for you? Do you really think he would want you to walk out that door?”

Deep down, you know that Joel would have gone to the ends of the earth for Ellie, especially if the roles were reversed. But he would also want her to have a life after him. And you were more sure of that than the latter.

She pulls her wrist away from your grasp. A look of pure betrayal playing across her features. You had not spoken his name in months. It sounds like a curse word to her coming from you. “You don’t know what he would want.”

“And you do?” 

“He would have done the same for me.”

And she leaves. You think back to the first words she said to you when you entered her room over a year ago. 

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.”

And now she would be.

-

[nebulamorada]

Please sit with me and listen to me talk about a Marshall Mathers x reader where they deal with an unexpected pregnancy

You had never really connected with motherhood, with any of the ideas and positions that surround the word, of course, you respected women who chose that for their lives, you were in favor of childhoods being cared for and protected, firmly believing that the first step to that is not having a child who could not be given the stability deserved in any case, whether economic, emotional, etc.

Maybe it was the environment in which you were raised, maybe you knew that there were conditions in you that would never be good for you to develop the role of mother, was it how invasive the changes of pregnancy were? or perhaps the social pressure that it all entails. You did not overthink it and, although you did not make any decision lightly, you had everything decided.

Finding Marshall was perfect for it, at his age and with years of parenting that included three girls, his share of fatherhood had been more than paid, so in the initial situation of the relationship, one of the things that were raised due to the age difference was children within the couple, both being honest with each other and happy that, although for different reasons, both agreed on a middle point under the same desire. To be just the two of you. Although of course, all plans have a margin of error.

And the blood tests that were positive for pregnancy that you had in your hands were the ones for both of you.

You had been feeling bad the last few weeks, Marshall insisting that you check it out, being dense enough with the subject to convince you to get some kind of check-up. That had led them to this… that and those weeks of vacation just both of you in that place with the spacious jacuzzi, of course.

Marshall, despite his conflicts about the situation at hand, tried to be understanding of whatever decision you chose to make, offering all the support you might need, promising to find a solution to whatever scenario you were working with, without making it clear if he wanted a particular decision. You, on the other hand, felt that even putting forward the option of an abortion was something that would be accepted. Your family had certain concepts that went against it, the press could find out about it somehow, and you had read thousands of articles and comments about how after the process, regret was generated that almost always ended in depression or some disorder. You didn't want that baby, but the idea of ​​not having it was also wrong according to a little voice in the back of your head that you had never heard before.

Marshall was again the voice of reason inside your head, keeping a cool head by laying out all the possibilities, taking the time to develop each one, especially the one that included abortion, noticing the way you avoided the subject. He wasn't going to force you to do anything, but he wanted you to know that it was one of the options you had. The security in his words, the restraint in his touch, and his understanding behind any decision you made, gave you enough confidence to make the option you considered most correct.

And when everything was done, you spent days waiting for a feeling of guilt and regret that never came. The feeling of relief and peace was arriving as soon as things went back to routine, Marshall still had doubts about being away for too long, but assuring him that everything was fine, he was skipping it little by little, still texting throughout the day and sending blurry and out-of-focus selfies, knowing that at least they would make you smile. Obviously, both of them were not unaware of the elephant in the room and although neither felt guilt or regret, accompanied the process with the help of a professional, with whom you were able to ensure that nothing that happened had to generate guilt and that not having it did not make you a bad person.

You liked your life the way it was and it was only fair to give the infant the chance to have a family that wanted and loved him the way he deserved. There is nothing to reproach in that.

[yannisdesk]

Just saw someone say that making Caitlyn feel all-consuming misery over her actions is "misery p0rn" but her not being held accountable for her actions at the hands of any sort of justice due to how Piltover is structured is realistic.

Okay.

The last part is true. I don't expect Caitlyn to be thrown to whatever the Runeterra version of the ICC is (there is none) by the new council she just reinstated that only has its power back because she surrendered her power. I personally have never argued that. I don't even want Caitlyn to serve time in prison or die in battle. By being held accountable I mean held by the people she's personally hurt, such as Vi. Face some tangible consequences from the people of Zaun, who she gassed and oppressed for nearly an entire year. Idk, something.

Maddie doesn't count. Caitlyn never did anything wrong to Maddie to deserve that specific betrayal; it was made kind of obvious that she'd been under Ambessa's yoke from the beginning. Also, that was not "holding her accountable" - that was a spy doing what a spy does, or a jilted lover getting petty revenge if you want to interpret it that way. For all we know, Caitlyn could've rejected Ambessa's offer to becoming the leader of Piltover, and Maddie would've either been placed as a plant to whoever ended up taking that position, or still sent by Ambessa to somehow undermine whatever plans Caitlyn would've ended up having at that point.

But her feeling all-consuming guilt is unrealistic "misery p0rn"? Frankly, that's a load of bullshit. People who commit atrocities like that should feel bad about doing those things. When you become the head of a military dictatorship, co-sign locking up masses of civilians on trumped up charges, and engage in chemical warfare, the realization of what you've done should shock you to your core. You should feel like shit. Coping with what you've done should be difficult. That's a part of growing as a person and anyone that has ever had to face the fact that they've done something to seriously hurt another person, me included, recognizes this. The argument that she should get to walk away self-righteously patting herself on the back because she freed Jinx and sacrificed her eye is absurd, and not even something Caitlyn as a character would agree with.

Am I personally saying there's no way for Caitlyn to move forward? No, I was fully expecting to her to come out of her dictator era, and to have some sort of well-done redemption arc that would make sense and add depth to her as character. But much like Vi, her character just wasn't given that space because it was a lot of moving from one plot point to the other without being given time to breathe.

This isn't even about disliking or liking Caitlyn as a character, I personally have always been fond of her and even identified with her to an extent; it's really about not agreeing with how her arc was handled and the greater implications of it.

Sidebar: And let's keep this a buck-fifty - y'all only make this argument because you like Caitlyn or identify with her in some way. Other characters simply do not get that same grace. A lot of you who make this argument are the same ones that pop blood vessels over Ambessa to the point where people can't even express interest in Ambessa as a character without you jumping down their throats.

[soap-is-an-artist]

gonna ramble about charlie and auron because i just got out the premiere and. holy shit.

if I'm way off base on my analysis i am so sorry, im still processing, these are just my initial thoughts on stuff. and if you disagree id love to discuss it!

okay so first things first i screamed a LOT. I was so relieved when Charlie said he wasn't mad at Cas [i would've cried probably]. Auron made some truly wild comments. case in point: "I would probably slap the taste out of your mouth if it wouldn't mean getting you all hot and bothered just in time for Casper to drop me off at the office, pull into the parking garage, and fuck some goddamn sense into you." I YELLED OMFG auron. you can't just SAY shit like that. Then the Disney princess line. Charlie sounded so weak when he said "can we go back to that part about 'Casper fucking some sense into me'??" And Auron answering with "Not until I'm outside of the vehicle. You'll have to find someone else to watch." AURON. STOP PLEASE IM GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK FROM LAUGHING

alright moving on from that let's get to the serious shit. Charlie is justified to be angry about Auron interfering in his personal life; it ISN'T a healthy way to interact with people, whether you want to befriend them or not. Auron orchestrated this whole scheme because he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, and you know what? I get it. He doesn't know what normal is, and it's not really his fault that he doesn't know. But he can at least try? Wikihow is free, brother /lh

Charlie wanted a fresh start. He wanted to disconnect from the dangerous world that Auron is a participant in, he wanted to earn his own way in the world, earn a bit of self damn respect like he deserves. Auron undermined all that, despite his good intentions. He lied, big time. And that's kinda shitty and not okay!

Was it about control? Keeping a hand on loose ends, like Charlie thinks? Auron just wanted to "protect him", right? Well, as someone who has had much of their life controlled by people who ALSO just wanted to "protect" me, that's a very weak excuse for taking away someone's agency. Now, our situations aren't exactly the same. Auron is not Charlie's parents [THANK GOD] and there actually some things Charlie isn't aware of that he needs to be protected from! But this was not the move. Like.. at all.

What's my solution? I dunno. But maybe don't force all these things to happen. Perhaps send an email rather than getting your guy to hunt down your former employee's childhood friend/crush and sneakily reunite them behind his back? Or at least try the email first, Auron. Charlie calling Auron out on playing pretend, "just writing one of your little stories"... ouch. But does he kinda deserve that? Yeah. I think so.

[Side note: Charlie talking about how if he'd sought out Cas on his own terms, it would've worked out because they fall in love every time? "Because that's where I'm supposed to be." I. fucking. fell over. I had to fucking BITE something omg. Yeah im biased in this argument sorry lol, i definitely have a favorite here]

HOWEVER: Auron admits that he was wrong! He is not an unrepentant man and he DIDN'T double down! That is a big point in his favor imo. He doesn't actually say "sorry" but he uses a lot more words to mean something... similar? I guess that's a fanfic writer's way. I get it, I also elaborate way too much. So, an actual clear cut "Charlie, I'm sorry I fucked with your life behind your back just because I wanted to be friends with you" would've been nice. But this will do for now.

Also Charlie you REALLY need to watch out for Finn that guy is a freakkkkk he will fuck you up big time. Not normal Finn. The magic one.

Okay I'm done typing whatever pops into my head with the barest pretense at organization lmao, I'll revisit this in time once my thoughts marinate a little more