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hina-has-no-life · 6 months

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Dark Era: Dazai and Akutagawa

The Scene in Dark Era where Dazai shoots Akutagawa was abusive and messed up, but sadly justified on Dazai's end.

Now this may sound harsh but let's take a step back from the emotions the scene causes and look at it purely logical and analytical. (No I am not excusing the abuse Akutagawa went through. Dazai had no right to abuse him but this scene is more than abuse.)

What happens in this scene?

Per Dazai's orders as an Executive within the Port Mafia agents from Mimic were captured to be taken to Kouyou for interrogation, as is her department. Akutagawa then kills the hostages in retaliation for the casualties the Mafia suffered at the hands of Mimic. Dazai proceeds to punch and shoot Akutagawa.

In essence this is what happened: Akutagawa disregarded direct orders of his executive in front of multiple people and said executive. Plain and simple, this is insubordination.

We know, due to Stormbringer, that insubordination of the Boss and his executives (who essentially work as extensions of the Boss within the BSD Mafia) is a death sentence. It's at the same level as betrayal.

So, while messed up and abusive, Dazai's reaction can be classified as a mercy. Had it been another executive or Mori, Akutagawa would be dead. And no, you can not use that Chuuya cares for Akutagawa as an argument against Akutagawa dying here were it Chuuya. Chuuya's loyality is to the Mafia and Mori in a situation like this. We saw this at the end of the Guild Arc when Chuuya asked Mori what punishment Akutagawa should face for disregarding Mafia orders and going on to the Moby Dick. Since the moment in Dark Era is a similar case, it is safe to assume Chuuya would have asked Mori for the punishment and then delivered it.

Now here comes the much more interesting part about this scene I sadly do not see talked about. (If you find posts talking about it please send them my way!)

This scene shows us, in a very subtle way, how the dynamic between Akutagawa and Dazai works.

But how? Let's count it: - Akutagawa is very self assured in his insubordination. - Dazai gives him a chance to speak up about his reasoning, to defend himself and ask for forgiveness for his blatant insubordination. - Akutagawa in turn arrogantly doubles down on his decision. - Dazai punishes him.

While Dazai framed the moment at the end as a teaching moment with his comment about Akutagawas use of Rashomon, it is mostly a punishment. Yes there are 2 moments that can be seen as a teaching moment but what Dazai does is in fact nothing more than a punishment in his eyes.

(Giving Akutagawa the chance to think about his rash action was the first teaching moment btw)

Now the way the scene is handeled with it's framing tells us something interesting about the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa.

Dazai actively favours Akutagawa with his treatment.

But how? It's a good question because the answer is very much hidden.

Both characters treat the situation as something usual. This in turn tells us that Akutagawa often commits insubordination against Dazai. And only Dazai, since Dazai takes him under his wing as his direct and only student. (This is made clear in the short where he actually recruits a younger Akutagawa) This means that Dazai does favour his student above other subordinates rather openly. We know he would not let this slide with other people under his command. The scene at the beginning of the Dark Era LN with Hirotsu shows this.

Akutagawa's reaction to being shot also tells us that this is the first time Dazai points a weapon at him. While not expecting, but accepting, the punch he did not expect to face a harsher punishment than this.

He is visibly surprised. But not just him.

In the Anime adaption (which is the best LN adaption in BSD) we see that even the other subordinates around them only become surprised when Dazai draws the gun and shoots Akutagawa.

Did Dazai think Akutagawa would survive being shot at? 100% yes. He even says as much after the fact.

(This is actually what makes teaching moment number 2, since he remarks that Akutagawa "finally" managed to protect himself with Rashomon. This tells us that they were actively training this and Akutagawa was failing at it for some time already.)

In short: - Akutagawa feels very much secure in his position at Dazai's side, despite the regular abuse. - Dazai favours Akutagawa openly enough within the PM that other subordinates are surprised when Akutagawa faces an openly harsh punishment. - Akutagawa, in committing insubordination, regulary disrespects Dazai as his superior and Dazai let's it slide. This is something that mirrors the relationship between Dazai and Mori, as Dazai does disrespect Mori in private and Mori let's this slide. (The biggest difference in this relationship mirror is that Dazai never disrespects Mori in front of other people.)

In my eyes (and I hope we learn more soon) this also shows that Dazai's abuse of Akutagawa has multiple reasons. - Dazai sees himself in Akutagawa. Dazai also hates himself and blames himself for shortcomings so he projects this onto Akutagawa, who he then abuses because of it. - A warped sense of care. In his own, very fucked up, way Dazai does care for Akutagawa. Is he good at showing it? Absolutely not. He wants Akutagawa to be stronger than Dazai himself is, he wants him to be better. So he favors him but also abuses him. - He favors Akutagawa so Akutagawa needs to get strong extremely fast to avoid a conflict within the ranks of the Mafia. - Dazai tries to get Akutagawa as strong as possible as fast as possible since Akutagawa effectively went from joining to third highest rank in 10 seconds and needs to prove himself in front of everyone else, not just Dazai's eyes. In this he ends up abusing Dazai because he himself is a child with a very limited understanding of teaching. What he does know, through Mori as his teacher, is that cruelty and abuse are effective teaching methods that work faster than proving patience and taking things slow.

(am I saying that Mori physically abused Dazai? No. But he, as shown in Beast and Fifteen, honestly answers to the questions his students ask him. It is entirely possible that he simply told Dazai different teaching methods and Dazai decided on the fastest one instead of the best and most effective.)

and thank you @sorcerersandskillusers for sending me the LN parts I mentioned above!! I didn't have the energy to look them up when I initially posted this and he did me the favor of getting them for me!

To summarize: The scene is a punishment for direct insubordination and shows us, the viewer, a deeper look into the relationship between Akutagawa and Dazai.

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Undertow

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine. But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do. Only the finest for their eldest daughter. Besides, you two were friends, after all. Neuvillette/Female Reader; in which the Chief Justice can no longer deny his heart on the day of your wedding. AO3 Story Link

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

At least for you.

As long as you were happy.

Or so Neuvillette told himself. Duty came first, after all. He had a whole nation to keep from setting itself aflame, be it from Focalors’ whims or the people’s fury. In serving everyone, he was, in fact, serving you.

And in turn, you, too, served the people. Few were so generous with their time and their skills, especially those in your social standing. Fewer still went on to study law, as you had; as heir, you needed to understand property laws and taxes and the words that bound your family to its estate and your place in parliament. Neuvillette would never let it be said that you did not know the meaning of long hours and hard work. Amid the vain and the greedy, you were pragmatic, and not without the wit to prove it.

That was what drew him to you. So many in your position used their wit as sharp daggers to stab others during conversation in a clever, charming way. You flipped the conversation back on perpetrators so often that he wondered why you never pursued certification exams.

“For one, it benefits my station far too much,” you said. “My ambitions are to be able to make life sustainable for all I’m meant to govern. Naive, perhaps. But I think those in my rank need to earn their keep, prove they’re worthy of their legacy. We owe it to the people of Fontaine.”

You were certainly not without a vision, even if you were Unblessed. It was better that way. You didn’t deserve the eyes of the island above on you anymore than they already were.

Neuvillete adjusted his cuffs as he glanced down at the book in his hands. A book you’d given him, annotated with your favorite passages and thoughts. He’d stayed up far too late trying to conceptualize anything other than his legal obligations for the ceremony.

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation. Focalors had rolled her eyes when she caught him getting ready but even she had made herself scarce for once after mumbling to just get it over with. Funny. And here he thought she might be present to laugh in his face and call him a fool.

A fool who took an hour to painstakingly braid his hair in a fashion that mimicked an Oceanid’s tail, as you had once shown him.

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do.

Only the finest for their eldest daughter.

Besides, you two were friends, after all.

You would have settled for far less; or rather, you would have been happier with his presence in another capacity. He knew as much. His estate for the ceremony and party. A speech at dinner. A dance. Your smile had been so forced throughout the entire exchange about an officiant that Neuvillette was certain you might snap right then and there.

And yet you remained rooted. Dedicated.

If only the finest would do, why did they even consider the dolt standing before him to be eligible?

Hardly remarkable in accomplishments. The family coasted on interest earned through their holdings but were not without the occasional cousin who ended up with a debt record as long as one’s forearm. Neuvillette couldn’t even justify an excuse for a pedigree; bloodlines couldn’t, shouldn’t, be about trying to maintain whatever purity they claimed to hold.

No one could make that judgment.

Celestia might try, at any rate.

And the Chief Justice could hardly see your future husband comforting you should such a thing happen, let alone caring for the people. Neuvillette could only stare when the nobleman’s eyes caught his; your fiance looked away first and Neuvillette smiled briefly to himself. No. There would be no comfort in this relationship, no challenge, no ambition.

This man would snuff your flames with his own self-importance.

Neuvillette should have offered his hand instead when you’d told him. You seemed so resolute, so determined, to carry out your duty. And he was so patient that he might as well be a coward. Time would wait for him, not you. Instead, he’d pulled every string he could to find every shred of information for you, for your parents, approved the match with as much grace as a ruling.

Mulled over every file with a glass of brandy, trying to convince himself things would be fine.

Wouldn’t they?

Nearby, a musician began the song you had chosen to walk in with and the gallery rose in unison, like the sea, to watch.

The only thing you’d had control over was the dress, you’d admitted one night after dinner. Repurposed, you’d mentioned; all lace and fashionable lines, practical but elegant in its shape. He couldn’t pull his eyes away and he tried to remember to breathe as you made your way down the aisle. In all his years, he had seen many things, including the stunning shimmers of the previous Hydro Archon, but all of them paled to you.

Likewise, it seemed you couldn’t look anywhere else but straight ahead, Neuvillette realized: most looked towards their future spouse but your gaze was fixed on Neuvillette himself. His grip on the book tightened and he was thankful for the swell of the music to hide the squeak of leather.

You weren’t making the stabbing knife in his chest any easier.

The words came quicker than he liked as he began the usual spiel. Welcoming guests, reciting the names of the parties involved, and starting off with a brief speech on the strength of a union. He could read the passage from the book backwards if you asked him.

As a judge, he was meant to be the impartial interpreter of the law. There was no place for bias, for emotion.

His eyes would give him away to any discerning onlookers. Neuvillette was no stranger to rumors and gossip columns and no doubt someone could already see the questions he couldn’t keep from surfacing. It would be obvious, he realized. He kept looking at you and not the crowd, not the man with eager eyes who held your hand the same way one held a horse bridle: too tight.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and pushed away the anguish. It had no place here.

As the Chief Justice asked you to repeat after him, to recite the vows all Fontaine citizens gave on their wedding day, something inside him cracked. Couldn’t you see this would lead to nothing but misery? Weren’t you worthy of more? If you must marry for duty, then at least commit yourself to someone equally committed…

Your lips, painted to perfection (unnecessarily so, for you were already beautiful without such coloring), opened but silence followed. Neuvillette swallowed. Your eyes left his long enough to stare at the man holding your hand before you thrust your bouquet at him, gathered your skirt, and dashed back up the aisle.

Behind you, the courtroom ignited with all of the shock and drama as a high profile murder case as you threw the doors open and dashed into the lobby and eventually out of sight.

The only trace you’d been there at all was your veil as it floated to the floor silently, forgotten.

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

And yet you shouldn’t shake the knot in your stomach and the claw clenching around your heart. Sleep eluded you for the better part of the night and your maids tutted, pressing cold spoons to your eyes before you were allowed to eat. Food tasted no better than dirt over the last few months and all anyone saw was how careful you were watching your figure.

How you wished things were different. The ring on your finger felt heavy, clunky; a ball and chain around your ankle would have been easier to manage.

It hadn’t been so burdensome at first, of course. Things took time. Perhaps, eventually, you might enjoy your betrothed’s company for longer than a few hours. The potential was there.

But was it enough?

Your maids fixed your makeup, did your hair, swatted your hand away when you reached for just one sip of water.

They all gushed about your fiance, how handsome and charming he was, how well conversation seemed to flow. Every single one of them forgot that the conversations were nothing more than surface level discussions that made you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon.

You’d almost begged Neuvillette to forge something, anything, that would make this arrangement null and void. Every meeting since the engagement had been heavily supervised under the guise of protecting the Chief Justice’s reputation and your honor, whatever that implied.

Expectation had been there for years, lingered like a ghost. Not from you but from everyone else who cast their eyes on your station. One rarely, if ever, captured the Chief Justice’s attention, after all. Your family had hoped, as others had, but you were content to simply converse over dinner, at parties, exchange books and philosophies and see the man’s smile reach his silvery eyes. He spoke of opera and art in a way so few of your contemporaries could. You tried to control the flutter of your heart when he locked eyes with you across the courthouse foyer after parliament adjourned and you swore you saw his eyes glow.

He was engaging, enthralling, and it was easy to see why the nation considered him such a celebrity.

But your friendship was more than the attention, than the allure of the Chief Justice and all that he encompassed. Some might not call his rulings fair but he saw all of the trappings that Fontaine itself was guilty of pressing onto all of its inhabitants. When you came up with ideas for proposals, it was him you went to for proper language and legal references, always attempting to stay within his schedule, of course. More often than not, he would continue to prompt you to think the proposal through, consider scale and the impact and the precedent.

Never once did he give you an opinion, naturally. Just a different perspective.

“You can be dazed tomorrow,” your mother said as she snapped her fingers in your face. “Your flowers just arrived and the photographer is insisting on family shots here, at the house.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you were dressed by deft hands. It had been something of a game with your maid to pass time when you felt like trying your dress on; little had you known how the practice would backfire.

Something tugged at your gut and you fought the urge to vomit at the thought of the hands (the wrong hands) that would undo the buttons.

No, you made your choice, you reminded yourself. The guilt would fade. The love would fade.

You were closer to thirty than you cared to admit. What your family took for a phase they realized would be a dangerous precedent for your siblings.

Everything you did was for the betterment of the people, you would argue.

What good was the betterment of the people when you were neglecting your duty to your family, was often the retort thrown back with as much acid as your grandmother’s strong tea.

Family.

Duty.

Honor.

All of it was bullshit if the common people were unhappy and left to fend off wolves from above and below.

You’d never subscribed to these notions and they were content to let it be until it was inconvenient. Rather than let you advise on financial planning, to grow an endowment that could take care of the yearly costs of the estate, you were to be cattle in exchange for financial and political support.

Or you would be cast aside, disowned and dishonored, your position taken from you as if it were a rug underfoot.

And so, you accepted all of it with a smile.

You endured.

Just as you endured the flash of the kamera, the fussing over your flowers and your veil during the carriage ride to the courthouse.

The press were eager, as they always were, for gossip and fashion and for a glimpse of the Chief Justice presiding over the ceremony. They weren’t here for you, not truly. Why, of all things, had your parents insisted he be the officiant?

Wasn’t it enough that you were giving up parts of your life, parts of your soul, for a person who would never appreciate them?

Your feet already ached from your heels. A wave of dizziness slapped you across the face as you entered the lobby and you pushed through it. Music began, the doors opened, and your body moved of its own accord, just as you had practiced the night before.

Neuvillette had declined the rehearsal dinner. The one time you were glad not to see him. If you had, you wouldn’t be here now, you were certain.

You gave a cursory glance to your fiance but your attention whipped back to Neuvillette almost instantly. He’d done his best but you could see the faded dark circles under his silver eyes. How late had he stayed up, you wondered. And how long had that braid taken him?

He’d let you style it once, and only once, in the privacy of his library. Waterfalls of silken fabric couldn’t compare to the beautiful blue and white locks between your fingers. He’d been attentive when you showed him the technique, pausing his case review to do so, but…

An ache from your feet ran up to your heart and sat, heavy with longing; it hurt to breathe.

The music swelled to a close and your father kissed your cheek before he passed you along to your fiance. He smiled and you tried not to be disgusted at the sweaty hand that held yours. You held your flowers in your other hand tighter, glad that the florist had missed a thorn in trimming your flowers.

Before you could blink, Neuvillette was already speaking.

And although he was addressing everyone as he read the passage you read aloud to him on a particularly gloomy evening, his gaze never left yours. The man witnessed and knew of the cruelest things the nation allowed, worked under Honorable Focalors Herself, and yet the expression on his face (such as it was, for he was known for his unreadable countenance) was as if…

It was gone in all but a moment as he cleared his throat and prompted you to recite your vows.

It was the subtle raise of Neuvillette’s eyebrows, the way his eyes widened just enough for emphasis that did you in.

Doubt. Anguish.

Was this what you wanted?

You turned your head, every intention to get the words across your tongue and past your lips in mind, when your voice simply wouldn’t comply. All you could see was a life shackled, compromise after compromise and always made against your favor. Concessions that eventually wore down to wondering why you ever bothered.

Did you want to throttle yourself, your spirit, your drive, for potential that wasn’t even there? When the man you loved would be forever kept out of reach?

If not this, then what did you want?

The answer was literally staring you in the face.

You shoved your flowers into your betrothed’s hands and pulled away, not caring if your dress carried sweat stains as you gathered the skirts and ran as fast as your legs could carry you out the door. Commotion behind you roared to life as you haphazardly made your way through the lobby, down to the entrance, and then dashed to the side garden to avoid the headline-hungry press.

There were few options to hide, all of them easy enough to locate. Your family would drag you back if they found you. Assuming they weren’t bickering and that the wedding was even still on from your fiance’s point of view.

A single drop of rain plopped on your head, sudden and cold. Followed by another. And then there was no sun left in the sky as rain came down in sheets, heavy and frigid. Thunder rumbled through your entire being. You couldn’t stay here. Over the roar of the rain, you could hear your name. You wouldn’t heed.

You were tired of coming when called, of giving your loyalty and love to those who sought to keep you from your happiness. No better than a hunting dog.

Soaked, your hair and dress now destined for the Abyss, you slid off your heels and made your way towards the one place you might be able to wait out the rain in peace.

Over the chatter of the crowd, the rumble of thunder was unmistakable.

Of course it would rain. It wasn’t like he’d done a terrific job of hiding his own bias.

The speed at which you’d run back up the aisle was a feat, given the shoes you wore. No doubt those wouldn’t do you any good in this weather. You were probably cold, overwhelmed…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Neuvillette’s hand shot out. He grabbed the nobleman’s arm before he could move, already poised to go after you.

“Leave her be. These things happen. It is best for a neutral party to resolve these matters. Wedding planners, family, or friends are usually equipped for these situations,” the Chief Justice said matter of factly.

Fight back, you absolute–

Your betrothed’s arm relaxed in Neuvillette’s grip and it took everything in the Chief Justice not to summon his power and drown him there and then. If there was one person deserving of being reduced to their primal element…

Neuvillette’s voice cut above the crowd as he called for order, requesting that guests remain where they were and that, no doubt, everything would resume shortly. Your parents were already doing a poor attempt at damage control with your supposed-in-laws. Your siblings were casting looks at the door, half-debating if they should go after you; they weren’t like you, not as headstrong, not as independent, and one look from your matriarchal grandmother sent them further into their seats.

He intervened, diffusing arguments with ease, all the while wondering if you were okay. Your parents wanted to use city resources, send out police. For once, your fiance chimed in that such a thing might scare you and you needed help, not to be dragged back kicking and screaming.

“You should go, sir,” the young nobleman said quietly as the bickering picked up again. “You said it yourself: family or friends, and her family doesn’t seem keen to fight for her.”

The man’s smile was shaky but the Chief Justice appreciated the sentiment. At least he had a brain in there somewhere.

“Be sure to keep them from saying too much to the press. Should any ask, Her Honor is also behaving…in her usual fashion.”

Neuvillette was certain his absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and the fact that the press were still clamoring at the front stairs despite the downpour wouldn’t help matters. He paid them no mind as rain pelted him, drenching his robes and suit jacket underneath. The rain did nothing to affect his vision nor his drive to find you; he was unbothered by the chill but you…you always did love curling up right next to a fire and being bundled in winter.

There was one place you might go, he pondered, that few knew about and fewer had access to. Short of you running through the city in your dress (which would not be like you), you had little options to avoid the press but to stay near the courthouse.

He found you as he expected to, under a pavilion tucked away into a quiet garden on the property, wringing out your skirts and pacing, feet bare against the wet stone. You were never still when your mind was lightyears ahead of you, be it from following trains of thought or when you were attempting to force a filibuster. Your thoughts were likely half-way to Inazuma by now and just as tumultuous as the storms he heard so much about.

His breath caught when you jumped as you caught sight of him, eyes wide and anguish carved into your face. Neuvillette stepped under the cover of the pavilion, his robes and braid dripping unceremoniously and you immediately reached to wring his hair out gently, without so much as a second thought.

The Chief Justice took off his gloves as he let you finish before he took your hands in his. He could feel the bump on your finger where you held a pen, the tender spot where your flowers pricked you.

“I can’t do it, Neu,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You don’t have to if it’s going to make you unhappy, if you cannot see a future with the person standing at the altar.”

He worked in rulings, evidence, facts; managing Focalors emotional outbursts was a terrible part of his job description but they never teetered into this territory. He was used to fleeting whims and de-escalation.

This? This was a decision that would change the course of your life. Not immediately, of course. But the future was a terrifying, uncertain thing, and you had expectations to contend with.

Expectations that did not involve him.

The pall of fear lifted from your face slowly, the same way morning dew disappeared from the grass. Something else blossomed in its place, like a sweet flower pushing through the cracks in the cobblestone streets, resilient and resolute.

“The thing is, I can. Just not with the man I was about to marry.”

Shooting him would have been less painful. Such an admission should have, as with all things today, been enough to make a heart soar, even manage to turn bitter water into sweet ambrosia. Your lips parted again before he could speak.

“And I understand you feel differently; you’ve never given me reason to believe otherwise and I am not asking for more than what you have to give. I would never do that to you. If I marry the man in there,” you nodded your head in the direction of the courthouse, “it will always be a lie. Maybe I’ll grow to tolerate him but I will never love him. Not like I love you. As I do now, I will spend the rest of my life looking into his eyes, wishing he was you.”

Neuvillette’s hands dropped yours to cup your face of their own accord. Before he could process anything else, he’d tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours as if he was a man deprived of air. You were warm, despite the weather, and he could make out the familiar scent of your perfume amid the fresh flowers in your hair. He felt you relax, curve yourself into him, hands finding purchase on the soaked lapels of his robes.

He broke away, his face hot as he admired your swollen lips. Mixed in with your slight daze was that inquisitive expression he would never tire of, one you often gave to silently encourage him to continue speaking.

“Then no more wishing, mon amour,” he whispered, brushing away the stray tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. “Marry me.”

“Don’t just—”

“I should not have let it get as far as it has. What good is duty if your heart is elsewhere?”

“And where will we go, my Chief Justice? The people of Fontaine and our Archon might enjoy this scandal a little too much…it would be quite a spectacle.”

“Qiaoying Village is nice this time of year. I have an acquaintance in Liyue I can persuade to be a witness. Beyond that…we’ll let the current decide.”

His words shook something in you as you reached up and tugged at his cravat to pull him into another kiss. Longer than the last, smooth and steady like a morning tide, passion dancing like an undertow.

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette/reader #chief justice neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #arranged marriage #angst with a happy ending #fluff #romance #love confessions

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kitthenameless · 5 months

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Something that I think about a lot when I see arguments about the Emperor, especially in regards to what happened with Ansur, is---

No one offered Balduran/Emperor help. Not really. Ansur tried to cure him at first, but that didn't work, and that was where Ansur's help ended. Whether or not he was or is still Balduran is irrelevant here. He had his own mind away from the Elder Brain, he accepted that his life would be different now, and he still wanted to live. And I don't think he wanted to be evil or go around eating the brains of innocent people. He tells you that he ate criminals (if he's telling the truth), which is not ideal but was probably the best solution he was able to come up with. He wanted to find an ethical way to survive as a mindflayer.

I don't know DnD lore, but in the game, we learn that brains from already dead bodies are a viable option, since you can give one to the mindflayer in the mill. Karlach found a way to get brains from consenting people. Omeluum is trying to make a synthetic food source. There are ethical options and possibilities for freed mindflayers. But no one wanted to help the Emperor figure it out or make it work.

In real life, so often the reason people hurt others or turn to crime is because they just didn't have help or support. Which doesn't make every harmful action excusable. But I can't understand how people can think Ansur was justified in trying to kill him instead of helping him or even just giving him a chance. It hurts me to think how alone Balduran/Emperor must've been in the beginning. And I can't help but wonder if he'd have turned out differently if he'd had any support.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 emperor #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 emperor #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 the emperor

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

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If you're currently taking requests, can you please do yandere dorm leaders + Jamil with a demigod reader like from Percy Jackson the readers godly parent can be your choice. If you're not currently taking requests feel free to ignore this

Percy Jackson Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Child of one of the big three, water bends to your will. And in the oddest moments, your father gives his two senses. Nonetheless, your power earns you a lot of respect and a lot of scorn from the average student. Of course, those interested don’t mind all that much until your powers seem to be an obstacle to your love for them:

Malleus Draconia

“I see. Your mastery of the sea is impressive. I wonder if we spar who would fare best?”

He wants to engage with your power because it gets him an excuse to take your time

This also helps him gauge your power against his own

He doesn’t cease his repeated sniping of people that hang around you

Even if you actually challenge him seriously

He thinks you’re just the cutest

“Fine, my love. If you wish to challenge me let's have a wager. If you win I’ll stop my…warnings. But if I win you will forfeit all rights to speak to others. This is more than fair.”

Idia Shroud

“I feel we’re connected in some odd way…”

“Yeah….”

“Do you want to play COD?”

There’s a weird synergy that has you both respecting one another

He thinks its cool how you can heal up with magic

But his excuse for prying creepily into your privacy+ is justified by his constant experimentation to measure your powers

“W-what this camera? Ha, it’s only to track what you’d do in such a harrowing situation! I-it w-wasn’t b-because your wearing j-just a white shirt.”

Jamil Viper

“You’re a lot like Kalim, I’m sure your just as susceptible.”

“...I uh…get the feeling you’re capable of something…manipulative.”

“Wow, how insightful.”

Your dear old dad is probably the only help your getting with him

He’s often finding himself befriending you

Despite being caught trying to hypnotize you

He makes a point to use his usual tactic to leave you alone

With plenty of time to come and hang out with him

“Scarabia’s the perfect setting, not a whole lot of water for their father to stay anything.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Yay! Twinsies!”

He’s so happy that you have an affinity for water just like him

He can’t make weapons like you do or heal yourself with it

But he thinks it's pretty cool

It's even cooler that you get really cuddly weak if you stay in Scarabia long enough

“Awww why don’t you stay! I promise I’ll bring the water as soon as we finish our carpet ride!”

Vil Schoenheit

“I doubt that. If you really were the child of Poseidon I doubt he’d let you walk around with skin as dehydrated as yours.”

“Gee thanks, Vil.”

“Yup that’s what I’m here for.”

He knows he’d never be able to overpower you

But he’s not all that hurt

Where you can pride yourself on your strength it doesn’t do anything against his finesse and intellect

Which he prefers

because what power couple doesn’t complement one another with their flaws and strengths

And while you may be willing to entertain these invasive welps bold suitors

He’s not so lenient

“Where you wish to merely scare them off, I wish to punish them. It’s only a given that we mirror one another, in the method.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Join Savvannaclaw, you herbivore. You still have some evolving you can do.”

Strong mates are always fought for in life

And to make his mark he has to sand fight off the competition

The next part will be winning your heart or successfully taming you

Just give him time, he’ll make it happen

One way or another

“Ha let’s exercise I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“With your kind of power…you could overthrow the entire empire within the coral sea!”

“Uh, I guess.”

“You guess? (Y/n), we could bring all of those who laughed at me to their knees. Metaphorically speaking.”

“They…bullied you?”

“...”

“Aww Azul…”

“S-shut up! Let’s just put them all in their place beneath you”

He loves you immensely

And while he may seem that he’s always aiming to slip you into a contract for ‘sea conquering’

He’s after something more

He’s after you

His pearl, his angelfish, he wants to be your plus one as you right the world

“Ho ho what a predicament. Why don’t we negotiate the subject of payment, after the broken china incident with Grim, we wouldn’t want you to fall into debt.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I hardly believe your dyslexia is attributed to such a trait.”

“Bet. Write something in Greek I can do it.”

“...I stand corrected.”

“Ha see?!”

“Nonetheless you’re in desperate need of my studying prowess. Come to Heartslabyul.”

He is enamored by you

The powers and heritage just add another layer

But he finds you are lacking for someone so kind

Or rather that you don’t have conviction

In your studies or in your boundaries

You don’t need to worry he’ll do that for you

Collaring anyone who gives threatening looks and any look in general

“Off with your head! I decree that you will be punished for the breaking of the Queen’s law: that no one touches the Ramshackle prefect but you’re queen!”

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brucewaynehater101 · 4 months

Note

All of this is just so. Chefs kiss. I do have another layer of angst and a layer of comedy. After all, the angst stops hitting as hard if you don't have something light hearted to compare it to. After all, how can you know what darkness is if you have never seen light?

I said at the start that Tim gives discounts for secrets. He always seems to be able to tell when people lie and those that do tell him lies well. Bad things happen to them. Nothing can be directly traced back to Jane Doe, but everyone knows. Of course this does lead to some rouges and GCPD pigs trying to intimidate Jane into telling them what she knows. Everytime, Jane offers to play a game with them. 5 rounds, whoever does the rounds gets to ask the questions and no one else but others can listen. Should the challenger win a round, they get to ask one question and Jane promises to answer truthfully. If they win two, he will answer two and so on. They only get a 30 second break between each round and the Playlist is set to shuffle.

Tim lays out these rules and once the person agrees, thinking it's either a fight or sex, only then does Tim reveal they will be playing Dance Dance Revolution that Tim "upgraded" so it has the four diagonal pads too instead of the usual just 4 pads. He sets it to max difficulty for Rouges, second highest for everyone else. The most anyone has ever gotten is when Harley managed to ask Jane to questions.

Of course there are rules about the questions, like you can't ask Jane for any of their own personal details, and if Jane doesn't know the answer to a question you get one do over question. Joker has never threatened to hurt Jane over the way they sell secrets back with DDR because he thinks it's the funniest possible way to humiliate people who demand answers. Sometimes he has his henchmen challenge Jane knowing they'll lose just to laugh at them as they fail.

But on the flip side. Do you think any of the Rouges, before they knew Jane was Robin ever hired Jane? Tim would *hate* it but... those he goes on dates with are often very loose lipped about things and one time he got paid to just hang off a drug dealer's arm all night and look pretty while the guy drank. The guy was a *very* talkative drunk and after he passed out Tim was able to look through his shit with the potential excuse of "im just looking for the bathroom sweetheart~" of course none of the Rouges would ever hire Jane if they knew how old he was but Tim doesn't advertise that. Especially if he's been on the street for a few years at that point and has a reputation. He has to be at least 20, right? Right? Plus the mask and the fact it has a filter to obscure his voice he's just... there was no way for them to know, right? They can justify it to themselves all they want but if a Rouge did, they would definitely feel Really Gross.

Yeah! You've got to have some light-hearted or happy moments to really drive in that angst.

For Jane's age, it definitely depends on the Rogue and their characterization. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure Black Mask was a bit creepy to Steph when he was torturing here. So, whether or not they would feel gross/horrified depends on who it was.

I can see how they wouldn't have known (especially if Jane refused to answer questions about themself including age).

As far as the Dance Dance Revolution? That's a brilliant idea. I wonder if he's ever practiced that with YJ or Dick. I could definitely see then doing that. It would be a cute bonding activity (until they learn he used it as a form of protection).

#tim drake #dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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leezlelatch · 8 months

Text

There seems to be some discourse lately about content, the kind of content, and the community as a whole. Now, the last thing I want to do is stir up anything, but I had some thoughts that I'd like to type out, and I appreciate whomever decides to read it.

The purpose of this band is to make us happy. You've heard it time and time again, as long as we go home at the end of that show feeling just a little better, then TF is satisfied. And it seems like lately that happiness is hard to achieve here, on twitter, or wherever else one is active.

On Headcanon

Were you sitting at work today? Home? And suddenly that thought popped into your head, a little scene playing out about Copia, or Terzo, or Secondo, or Primo. A thought that filled you with excitement, butterflies dancing in your belly, which had you smiling because yes, in the world that makes you happy, that is what they are like. That is what they do. That is what they say. It's an amazing thing and it's good and okay, and you should be excited about it. Because you just added another chapter to the amazing story in your head. And you decide to post about it, but...someone left you an anon. Someone left you a comment. Someone vague posted. And it hurt.

This is happening far too often across tumblr, and it needs to come to a close. I understand that we all have vastly different ideas of who the Papas are and how the Ministry works, but that does not give a single one of you an excuse to say anything untoward or foul to anyone else on this platform. And this isn't talking about any particular group because more often than not, posts like this are used to justify the actions of others. You do not have permission to use this to further your agenda. Be kind. Choose to ignore that fic. Choose to stay off that person's blog. Stop making posts at the expense of others just because you don't like a particular aspect of their world.

I promise you'll still be able to sleep at night.

On F! Reader and x Reader Fic

I have seen many posts since I joined tumblr to write for the Ghost fandom that express a dislike toward reader fics, and in particular f! reader fics. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'd like to just reflect on my own thoughts on the matter, and once again, I appreciate the time taken to read and perhaps understand where I'm coming from, and know that it is a place of care.

I am a woman. When I write fic, I am writing it to satisfy my own little world in my head. So naturally, I am going to make the reader female, because the universal you is not only the friends I share it with or those kind enough to read, but the you is me. Every sweet word whispered, or gentle touch from a Papa is something I wish would happen to me.

I do not have the right to invade someone else's perspective. I do not understand what it is to be a gay man. I do not understand what a trans person experiences every day, and therefore, I do not feel like it is my place to write these perspectives in an x reader fic, or more so than that, in smut. And otherwise, I'm just not comfortable in doing so. I know my experience, and isn't the first step of writing, writing what you know?

I want there to be inclusivity in writing, but that doesn't start with attacking other authors for writing from their own perspective. It doesn't start with making hostile posts about reader fics, because what's the outcome? You just end up with some people very hurt and unwilling to post their stories because they think it's unwanted.

If you feel comfortable exploring these topics, talk to your mutuals. Say hey, what can I do to gain a better understanding of the content that I'm writing? What can I do to ensure that I'm not fetishizing due to my lack of knowledge? Be a community, and help each other out.

On Notes and Reblogs

A note is not the value of your writing. Whether you receive just a few or hundreds, you have impacted someone. Someone loved your story. Someone is thinking about your story all day. Someone was able to make it through because that one thing line you wrote spoke volumes to them.

We put so much of our energy into worrying about notes that the reason we started writing in the first place is lost. It becomes a chore. There are a hundred WIPs sitting in our folders because it becomes so goddamn painful just to work on one.

No one owes you a reblog. No one owes you a like. And even though it's nice, and it's gratifying to see nice comments on something you worked hard on, notes cannot be used as a currency between followers or mutuals. It just becomes a poison. Your entire tumblr experience is going to be marred by the constant worry that you aren't good enough just based on a number.

Learn to appreciate the ones who do read. Allow your story to make you feel good because there it is! That thing you've been thinking about. It's written down. You brought it to life. That is far more valuable than a tumblr note.

If you've reached this point, thank you. Everything you're feeling is good, and okay, and we're gonna get through. Because even now? When it feels like things are more hostile than happy? You still have Ghost. And you still have everything.

#the band ghost #the band ghost community discourse #discourse #x reader fic #f reader fic #ghost headcanons #notes and reblogs #thoughts

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qweerhet · 1 year

Text

i do think that the abolitionists who cling to the "it's simple, just kick abusers/assaulters/rapists/murderers out of the community" line are just... usually people who have never had the experience of someone they deeply, deeply care for, someone they have committed their life to, committing serious and egregious harm. (that, or they have, and like anti-abortion folks who get abortions for themselves when push comes to shove, they come up with narratives about how their situation was the most singular and special situation in the entire world, and nothing else like that could ever happen to anyone else.)

but like... when you run into that situation IRL, you generally find it's not ever as simple as kicking someone out, or rolling up with your crew and beating them until they promise to move somewhere else. they have complex relationships within the community, some of which aren't going to be willing to cut them off entirely no matter what they did. family relationships--regardless of biology, "family" in the broader sense of "chosen bonds of unconditional love and lifelong commitment"--are notably often capable of weathering severe strain, and that can include shit like "you're still my sister even if you murdered someone."

and people who commit harm IRL have complex and multifaceted reasons for committing that harm, some of which can be systemic in nature. this isn't to say that the harm doesn't exist, or that their actions are excused or justified by those reasons, but when you have an intimate relationship with someone and are privy to the complexities of the situation, those reasons do often materially complicate situations beyond just "beat the villain up and save the victims." if the serious harm someone is enacting is materially pressured by systemic factors, it's incredibly unlikely that it will change or stop if they're forced to move cities and cut off from their former relationships. in fact, when we're talking about abuse and trauma that's partially enacted due to material systemic pressure, it's more likely that someone will become even more unstable and volatile when forced to rebuild their life, and continue to enact even worse harm due to their decreased supports and increased vulnerability.

like... we're all damn well aware that when we, as abolitionists, talk about this shit, we're not talking about jeff bezos. we're not even talking about joe smith two neighborhoods over with a six-figure salaried position and a 401k that he started in the 70s. we're talking about the people in our abolitionist communities, who are victim to generational poverty, who are usually disabled, trans, nonwhite. we're people who don't have the option to just find a new job and start over in a new city one day. and we're people who exist at the nexus of intense, violent societal pressures pushing us to harm one another, to use what little hierarchical power we can get against each other, to commit real and lasting violent harm. that shit is complex in reality. that shit isn't addressed by a pithy "kill your local rapist" patch or a tweet questioning why anyone's still talking to [insert transfem who abused someone here].

and like. it's hard! it's upsetting and difficult and miserable to get into the weeds of "why did someone do what awful thing they did and how do we actually materially reduce the likelihood of that happening." because the answers usually don't involve forcing them to move or forcing everyone who speaks to them to cut them off or beating them, in reality, and even though those answers feel good and feel like real solutions, they're not only unrealistic, they also usually actually make future harm of the same kind more likely. and it's hard to wrap our heads around the fact that people will continue to hurt each other in profoundly horrific ways until we learn to dismantle the systems enabling that harm and heal the dysfunction within individuals that makes them feel like that harm was justifiable and necessary. that sucks. but in the end, i think it's the only... realistic way forward? because the ~just kick em out~ ~just kill em~ line is so, so ungrounded in reality.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months

Note

Am I (33, f) the asshole for bringing up a childhood story that made my cousin (36, f) uncomfortable in front of others?

Obviously based on the title alone, I'm an asshole, but I think I might be justified and would like a second opinion.... thanks!

So a little back story for context....I love my cousin. I truly do. We all grew up together so all of us are more like sisters than cousins. my cousin is beautiful, loud, and boisterous. She's loves to get attention and will try to get it anywhere she can. She posts on FB multiple times a day about her job, kids, or relationship. She's the golden child and she tries her hardest to live up to that reputation. She's the type of person who will get out of her car after a good song dancing and singing at the top of her lungs, especially if there are other people around to watch her, much to her kids dismay lol. She just knows how to have a good time and I honestly love that about her. I tend to be more reserved and relaxed, so I get a kick out of our differences.

But with that, she tends to be.... disingenuous... when someone steals the spot light from her, even when it's unintentional (which is the majority of the time, like they will just be sharing a story from work or something). She will act unbothered by it, but then her attitude will totally change. she will be fake nice and then bring up something that will make the person either embarrassed or want to retreat... then go right back to being content when the attention is back on her again. She does it so often, I kind of expect it to happen every time we hang out.

So here's the part where I may be the asshole... we're at a playzone for one of our other cousins kids' birthday and we're in a good handful sized group of adults chit chatting. A few people I've never met before but she knows them and we were all getting along just fine.

People tend to naturally be drawn to me because I try to be open and get along with most people, so I've been on the receiving end of my cousin's attitude a handful of times and this was one of those times lol. I'm typically not bothered by it because I'm a pretty confident person for the most part and I know my cousin well enough not to take it personally, but this time annoyed me because this is now the 5th time she's bringing this story up. It was like she didn't get the reaction out of me that she wanted the first 4 times, so now she really needed to land it this time. So I gave her a reaction....

A few minutes before I was sharing a story that the others were impressed by, I guess, but we moved on from it and I didn't think any more of it. Then while we were all talking, I believe I excused myself because I let out a small burp. So she goes, loudly so the group can hear, "do you remember when you were 6 and you were crying to your dad because your butt was itchy and you wanted him to scratch it? I don't know why, but your burp reminded me of that". So I'm like "ok? So?" Kids cry for stupid shit all the time and I was a stupid kid lmao. So I brushed it off but she decided to keep pushing it! And was like "yeah you were crying because you didn't want to scratch your ass and you sat there crying until it went away"

I was and still am unbothered by the story she brought up but I was more than a bit annoyed that she wouldnt let it go, so without much thinking I said "no I don't remember that as clearly as you do.... But I do remember my sister slapping the fuck out of you for saying something racist (we're half Asian) and out of pocket. Then you cried to your mama then she told your mom that you were lucky that all you got was a slap to the face... do you remember that?" She went ghost white, looked around the group and said "family is funny like that, huh?"

So am I the asshole for bringing up a story that made my cousin uncomfortable?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sixhours · 3 months

Text

i know you by heart - chapter 4

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Chapter notes: Y'all, this whole story is easily the smuttiest thing I've ever written. You're welcome. Look for the ++++SMUT+CUT++++s if you want to avoid it.

Here's some happy stuff before things get a li'l rocky.

He justifies it by telling himself it was a one-time thing.

When it happens again three days later, this time pinned to Ezra’s bed by his dark eyes and mouth moving over him, he tells himself it’s just sex.

And when it keeps happening with a certain regularity–not frequently, but enough to establish a pattern–he tells himself he’s doing her a favor, not complicating their lives with…whatever this is.

But something in Joel has woken from a long slumber. He and Ezra keep a friendly distance in public, but it’s easy to give in to the want that’s always simmering, and more than once he finds himself pulling Ezra into a secluded alley or the darkness of the greenhouse shed, frantic as teenagers among the rakes and buckets and bags of soil. He feels like a kid again, new and fumbling and overeager. If Ezra notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.

They don’t get much time. Once a week, twice if they’re lucky, on the days when patrols and work assignments line up and Ellie and Cee are otherwise occupied. Ellie has friends now, a group to hang out with after chores and school. Some days it seems like he only sees her as she’s walking out the door. It’s a natural separation that’s healthy for a kid her age…is what he tells himself. But her pulling away from him is almost a physical pain, necessary as it is.

The loneliness needs somewhere to go.

They meet at Ezra’s place more often than not. Cee’s room is in the attic, Ezra tells him, and she likes her privacy. When she’s at home, she spends most of her time with her headphones on. She’s a writer; he says this with more than a note of pride in his voice, and Joel thinks Ezra downplays his fatherly inclinations.

He learns Ezra can wax poetic about everything under the sun. Joel usually isn’t much for conversation, but he finds the constant chatter soothing. He rarely needs to do more than nod or grunt in acknowledgment while the other man listens to himself talk. It’s a lot like being with Ellie…in some ways.

But Ezra likes to use his mouth for other things.

Sporadic days of furtive touches and meaningful glances soon turn into weeks, and eventually, Joel can’t even make the excuses sound legitimate to himself…but he still doesn’t tell her.

The creek on the far side of the south quadrant is calm and warmer than usual for this time of year; perfect grounds for Ellie to learn. They trod a well-worn path through the overgrown park, past the south fields and grazing area, their towels slung over his shoulder. He’d found a pair of swim trunks and a rash guard for Ellie at the trading post, and he’s wearing the swimsuit of his youth, an old tank top and jeans cut off at mid-thigh.

The air is warm, lush with the scent of green things, early summer temperatures setting everything to bloom. Sun filters through the trees and dapples the ground as Ellie skips ahead.

Last night, limbs heavy and sated and tangled together with Ezra’s, he’d mentioned the creek in the south quad, the swimming lessons, the hope for good weather. He might have set down a time, and if Ezra and Cee happened to join them for an afternoon swim, all the better.

“It’s fucking freezing,” Ellie remarks, wading into the water up to her calves. “Why do I have to do this again?”

“Swimmin’s a good skill to have.”

What he doesn’t say: There’s a museum on the outskirts of Yellowstone. Someday he’ll take her to see the dinosaurs, and she’s gonna need to be able to swim to get there.

What he definitely won’t say: He’ll take any chance to spend extra time with her.

“On your back,” he says, now waist-high in the water, and Ellie scowls.

“You’re gonna drown me, aren’t you? Finally had enough of me. Gonna leave my body in the river and let it wash out to sea to cover the evidence.”

“You seen any oceans around here? No, I’m gonna teach you, if you’d stop yappin’. C’mon, lean back. M’not gonna let you go under.”

One hand behind her shoulders, the other under her thighs. “Take a deep breath. Put your arms out. There ya go.”

She lays back, squints up into the sky, winces and flounders to put her feet down when she feels him pulling away.

“You’re floatin’ already,” he grins. “Stop flailin’ around and you’ll stay up.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You will,” he says. “Try again.”

She does. She’s on her back, gentle current lapping at her prone form as Joel’s hands slowly retreat, leaving her buoyant.

Footsteps on the path, a familiar tuft of white hair and tan skin emerging onto the pebbled beach.

“Hello, young prodigy…and just Joel.”

“Hey Ezra! Look, I’m–”

She turns her head and raises her hand to wave, upsetting the delicate balance, immediately plunging beneath the surface of the water. She’s sputtering and swearing as Joel pulls her up.

“Told you to stay flat,” Joel says mildly. “Hey, Ez.”

Ezra peels off his t-shirt and tosses it on the shore, then dives under, coming up and shaking the water off his hair like a dog.

“How do you even swim like that?”

“Jesus, Ellie,” Joel sighs.

“Quite easily, gem,” Ezra says, turning on his side and gliding through the water, moving toward the deeper part of the creek.

Ellie wrinkles her nose. “Show off.”

“If I can do it one-armed, I suspect you can best me with two,” he says, flicking water in her direction, making her giggle.

“You ready to try again?” Joel asks her.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, but she’s on her back and floating within minutes, grinning up into the bright blue sky.

Joel shows her how to backstroke, then she gets brave and turns to her front. Joel keeps one hand under her belly at first, but soon she’s kicking away from him with a laugh, pulling herself through the water without touching the creekbed.

Eventually, Joel excuses himself to the pebbled beach, spreads his towel out, peels off the wet tank, and lets the sun beat down on his bare shoulders while he watches Ellie practice her dog paddle. Ezra swims alongside her like a seal, encouraging and–though she insists it’s not necessary–spotting her. Sometimes he meets Joel’s eyes and his smile is warmer than the mid-summer sunshine.

Ezra joins him a few minutes later, sprawling wet and dripping on his towel with a satisfied grunt.

“Cee couldn’t make it?”

“She’s an introverted sort. Likes her solitude and quiet.”

Joel arches an eyebrow. “An’ the poor girl ended up with you?”

Ezra pulls a face. “I can’t deny, the fates have a peculiar sense of humor.”

“Joel, look!”

Ellie dives under and the water churns around her, then pops up a few feet downstream.

“Told ya you’d float, kiddo. Keep your legs straight when you kick.”

“I do believe your young prodigy has taken to the water like the finest of aquatic mammals.”

“You could just say she likes to swim, Ez.”

“I scrimped and saved my hard-earned pay for the use of these academic adverbs, songbird, and I intend to get my money’s worth.”

“Y'know those student loan assholes are all dead, right?”

Ezra grins. “And a well-deserved death it was, the bastards.”

Joel feels Ezra’s hand slip gently over his and squeeze. Joel squeezes back before pulling away reluctantly, nodding toward Ellie.

“She, uh…she don’t know…yet.”

“All in good time, then,” Ezra says easily, tucking his arm under his head and closing his eyes. Joel tucks his chin on his shoulder, watches the man’s chest rise and fall as the water makes little tracks down his sides, feels a gentle tug of longing in his gut.

When he looks back to the water, Ellie is nowhere to be seen and the creek is quiet.

“Ellie?”

Look away for one goddamned second…

“Ellie!”

He’s up and waist deep in the water when her head breaks the surface to his left.

“Gotcha, motherfucker,” she crows.

Joel’s heart restarts in his chest. “Christ, kid, don’t fuckin’ do that to me.”

She giggles. “Got you back in here, didn’t it?”

“Shaved a few years off my life, y’mean,” he growls, hands darting out to grab her around the waist before she can get away. He lifts her up as high as he can and tosses her unceremoniously into the water to the sounds of her shrieked protests.

“You jerk!”

A small tidal wave slaps him in the face, leaves him swiping at his eyes and making for the shore. She tackles him from behind, arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist, leveraging herself onto his back like a baby monkey.

Joel catches Ezra’s eye, head rolled to one side, watching them with a smirk. Joel throws him a wink before turning his attention back to Ellie, hooking his hands under her knees and easily tossing her off his back.

“Dude, it is on ,” she says when she can speak again.

And if the swim practice eventually dissolves into a splash fight, well, that’s alright by him.

“Are you, like, seeing Ezra or something?”

Ellie meets him at the stables after patrol to help settle the horses. They walk home together, Joel achy and tired from a full day on the trails, Ellie talking about the latest drama among her friends, when she asks the question.

Joel has to force himself to keep walking and not trip over his own feet, finding it suddenly hard to make his mouth formulate a response and move his body at the same time. “I don’t–we aren’t–”

“I mean, it’s fine if you are, dude,” she shrugs. “You’re just over there every week.”

“How did you–”

“He’s good to talk to,” she continues, kneeling to examine something on the road; a caterpillar. Joel watches as she picks up a nearby leaf, carefully scoops up the critter, and carries it safely to a patch of grass.

“You don’t…you’re okay with that?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Why would I care if you’re talking with him?”

“Right,” Joel rasps, tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. “Talking. Right, yeah. We…talk.”

It’s not a lie, Joel decides, because they are technically talking.

In bed.

Naked.

After all the not talking.

Fuck.

He needs to tell her. He’s going to tell her.

“Ellie, I–”

She spins on her heel, walking backward to listen to him, head cocked. “What?”

Before he can figure out what to say, she stumbles on a large rock, flailing. He’s just barely fast enough, grabbing her by the arm before she falls on her ass. She laughs as he pulls her close to steady her, keeps her there in a one-armed hug.

“Watch where you’re goin’, kid.”

When she looks up at him, her eyes are bright with affection. There’s color in her cheeks and she’s filled out with three square meals a day and a routine and she looks so…happy.

Maybe it’s the way her head tips back against his shoulder, reminding him of how it laid almost that way when he carried her from the hospital. His throat closes with shame at the thought.

Swear to me.

He can’t do it. Can’t tell her, not yet. Not when she has something–someone–stable for the first time in her life.

“S’nothin’,” he mutters, gently dislodging her from his arm, steadying her on her feet. “Let’s go home.”

Joel returns home from a late-night patrol shift exhausted and ready to fall into bed. He trudges through the door to a note on the kitchen table.

“At D’s, Tommy said was OK - Love Ellie”

Love Ellie.

He smiles at that, feels the warm fuzzy grip of it resonate in his chest.

Suddenly not so tired, he takes a quick shower to wash off the day and goes to Ezra’s. He lets himself in, tiptoeing up the stairs, undressing in the dark.

“Songbird?” Ezra murmurs just as he’s slipping under the covers, curling naked around his lean body and nuzzling the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Joel whispers. “Was tryin’ not to wake you.”

“On the contrary, mon cœur , I’m glad you did,” Ezra mumbles, reaching behind them to press the length of Joel’s body closer. Joel lets his hand trail up and down Ezra’s stomach and chest, firmer than his own, not as softened by middle age. His finger grazes the pebbled skin of one nipple and Ezra sucks in a breath.

“Mmm, I do hope you’ve crept into my bed tonight with less than gentlemanly intentions.”

“Think we can make that work,” he grunts, letting his fingers travel further south, slipping beneath the waistband of Ezra’s boxers.

“Ahh, delightful,” he groans as he takes him in hand.

+++++++++++++++++++++SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++++

Joel growls in wordless agreement as he cups the velvet-soft skin of Ezra’s growing erection, holds him, traces the line from the tip of his head to the base of his shaft. He plants open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, the planes of his shoulderblades, tasting the salt and sweet of him. He drags the rough of his stubble against the shell of his ear until Ezra’s hips jerk forward of their own volition. With his own arousal aching and nestled between Ezra’s thighs, he sets a steady, easy rhythm with his hand, relishing every little moan and gasp of pleasure as he whispers nonsense and filth into his ear until he spills warm and sticky into Joel’s palm.

+++++++++++++++++++END+SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++

After, he falls asleep with the younger man on top of him, Ezra’s cheek pressed to his stomach, fingers threaded in his curls.

He wakes some unknown time later, momentarily confused. The sex is familiar but the staying after is new. It takes another few seconds to get his bearings. Ezra is gone, and somewhere a girl is crying. Ellie? No…Cee.

He catches faint sounds overhead; Ezra’s baritone, low and soothing. Cee’s voice fading to quiet. Eventual footsteps.

Joel is still sitting up in bed when he returns. Ezra looks surprised to see him.

“I hope the little bird didn’t wake you.”

Joel shrugs. “Nothin’ new. She alright?”

Ezra nods and bites his lip. “She’ll make do. Fragments of the past come back to haunt us in dreams. We do our best to banish them, but…”

He trails off, lingers at the side of the bed, troubled.

“Ellie has ‘em,” Joel says, settling back against the pillows. “The nightmares. Not as bad now, but it was rough for a spell.”

“Mmm. The child suffers the sins of the father,” Ezra murmurs, as if lost in his thoughts.

“Thought y’said you ain’t her father,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m not. But I knew her father…in a different life. And his sins were none too dissimilar to my own...”

After a pause, Joel puts out a hand. “You gonna stand there and sulk or are you gonna get over here and tell me about it?”

“Shall I regale you with the tale of your favorite one-armed scoundrel and his trusty sidekick?” Ezra sighs, allowing himself to be pulled into bed.

“Who says you’re my favorite?”

That draws a dry laugh. “I wasn’t aware Jackson had another such resident traipsing about to compete for my affections.”

“Y’don’t,” he mutters, kissing the bridge of Ezra’s nose.

“Very well. But I’ll warn you, this story doesn’t paint me in a respectable light. In fact, I do believe it might cause you to–”

“Ez,” he says pointedly.

This earns him a side-eyed glare. He clears this throat.

“Cordyceps certainly brought out our baser instincts, and I was no different. We’re all apex predators underneath this…gauze of societal finery. Some of us are just better at it than others,” Ezra says, leveling his gaze at Joel. “Do you understand me, songbird?”

“Yeah…I hear ya.”

“No clinical text can prepare one for the end of polite society. I have, perhaps, walked the hair’s breadth of a line between lawful and not, but the end of the world turned a new page in the story of my life. Eat or be eaten, kill or be killed…and I knew which side of that equation I preferred.

“I fell in with a rough and tumble crowd after I found the overbearing drudgery of the Atlanta QZ…not to my tastes. At times, I could perceive my life as an observational case study in human behavior. I could separate myself from the…humanity of it. It was almost too easy to detach.”

His eyes have gone cold and pensive, his jovial, boyish mask forgotten as he speaks.

“There were a number of us…mostly men, a few women. The leader of our group was a man named Damon, and one of the women bore him a daughter before she passed. No doubt you see where this is going.”

Joel absently traces the lines and ridges of his hands, their warmth and softness in stark contrast to his words.

“That young girl’s name is Cee. And though the life of a raider was no place for a child, Cee was afforded a certain degree of…protection. But her father was a self-obsessed fool, too concerned with holding onto whatever meager power he could lord over the rest. Textbook narcissist, if you’ll allow me to don my psychotherapist’s cap for a moment. Cee was but another resource he could use to his advantage, and when he couldn’t…he didn’t give a shit, if you’ll pardon my French.

“He didn’t see the way the other men looked at her, or if he did, he didn’t…care to see,” he says, swallowing hard.

“I feel I should clarify before I continue that I’m not a good man, songbird. I was party to some abominable acts of treachery. I sat idly by while our women were used as toys, as bait…often worse. I had no interest in the fairer sex, but I was hardly their knight in shining armor.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a controlled rush.

“I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. She was cornered. One of the brutes clearly intended to have his way with her. So I disposed of him…my knife found the socket of his eye,” he says coldly. “To this day I harbor no regrets, but I knew we would both regret the punishment when it came.

“I admit, I wasn’t in my right mind. Or perhaps I was. I was seeing clearly the man I had become, the lows to which I had sunk, and I…couldn’t fathom being at my own mercy any longer.

“So I stood at the precipice of a new life and I…I offered her a choice. Stay with her father and his ilk to suffer the same fate, or come with me. And though I still don’t pretend to understand why…she chose yours truly.

“We all have our lines in the sand, songbird. Cee was mine.”

“I dunno,” Joel murmurs. “Think she did alright.”

Ezra offers a soft, sad smile. “It was winter. We were unprepared. We left what little we had behind and stole away that very night. But Lady Luck has followed me most of my life, and we always seemed to find a little extra, my birdie and I. We made it further than we had any right to.

“When the fine citizens of Jackson stumbled upon us, your esteemed sister-in-law among them, we were in a very sorry state indeed. I was ready to succumb to whatever whimsies they fancied. I suspect they might have preferred to put me down like a rabid dog, and I could scarcely blame them. But then…Cee protected me. Threw herself in front of a cocked gun and begged for my life.

“And so I remain steadfastly in her debt, songbird. I can’t claim to understand how to…to care for a girl like Cee, not in the way she deserves to be cared for. Truth be told, she’s wiser and more courageous than I could ever hope to be. But I have to try. She’s brought out something better in me, something…something I hardly know what to do with. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Joel whispers.

“I know you do. When I told you I sensed a kindred spirit, I didn’t just mean this,” he whispers, bringing Joel’s hand to his lips, brushing the faintest kiss along his knuckles. “I see the same in you and your young prodigy. Am I wrong?”

Joel purses his lips. “No.”

He nods. “Then I suppose the question becomes, how much good must one do to make up for a lifetime of atrocity? And will they understand when it’s time for us to pay the piper?”

Joel thinks of the long hospital hallways, the easy dependability of his hands as he fired round after round, each shot an echo of his own steady heartbeat, every one bringing him closer to Ellie. He tries and fails to find a shred of remorse in it, even now.

“We did the worst so they don’t have to,” Joel says softly. “If that ain’t a kind of forgiveness…I don’t know what is.”

Ellie’s 16th birthday is a barbeque in the backyard. Her friends come over–Dina and Jesse and Cee and a couple others, all of them clustered around games of horseshoes and cornhole, sneaking sips of beer when they think the adults aren’t looking.

Joel gives her her present the morning before the party when it’s just the two of them; a refurbished guitar upon which he’s carved twining vines and butterflies. He’d spent hours that winter in his workshop, sanding it smooth and coating it with stain and replacing the strings.

He ties a piece of ribbon around the fret and presents it to her with a shrug, her eyes shining as he holds it out.

“Offer still stands. I’ll teach you if you want–”

She wraps her arms around his neck before he’s even finished talking; not that he could with the lump in his throat.

“You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiles into her shoulder.

She wrinkles her nose, pulls back to look at him. “What?”

“Y’know…pinky promise…?”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sometimes he forgets there are so many things she never knew; pinky promises and Christmas presents and birthdays in the backyard.

“Oh…it’s, uh, somethin’ Sarah used to do. It’s like a handshake. But…I dunno. Here.”

He takes her hand, pulls at her pinky finger to extend it, then wraps it around his own, tugging lightly. “See? Pinky promise.”

“That’s…so lame,” she says, but she’s giggling as she says it, still holding on.

Sixteen , he thinks later, dazed by the sun and the sound of her laughter. Sixteen means patrol training. Sixteen is two more years than he got with Sarah. It’s both too much time and not enough.

Ezra shows up with a flat square of a package, something on vinyl that Ellie unwraps and fawns over. When she hugs him, his look of frank surprise catches Joel’s from across the lawn. Even Tommy didn’t get that treatment, and his birthday gift was probably the favorite–he’s chaperoning an overnight camping trip outside the wall.

“Now that’s a sight I never expected to see when I signed off on mandatory counseling,” Maria says, sidling up to him at the grill. “Thought for sure she’d fight him tooth and nail.”

Joel rumbles a quiet acknowledgment, poking at the venison sausages. “Not the only one.”

“She’s a good judge of character, though,” she says quietly. “Present company included.”

“That your way of sayin’ sorry?”

“It’s my way of saying I’m glad you’re both still here.”

Just a year ago, he and Ellie had crossed the threshold into a whole new life. There were times when he was sure Maria would have preferred he turn around and go back to Boston and stay there. As many times as Tommy tried to convince him otherwise, it’s still a shock to hear it from the source.

He clears his throat. “Heard Tommy’s takin’ ‘em camping tonight. Can’t tell if that husband of yours is crazy or stupid or both.”

Maria laughs softly. “He’s desperate to make your kid like him, Joel. I swear, sometimes I think he’s more invested in Ellie than his own daughter.”

“Dunno ‘bout that. Izzy has him wrapped around her little finger,” he says, reaching for his beer. “Ellie’s just a little harder to win over.”

“Worth it, though,” Maria says.

He watches as Ellie successfully makes a ten-point shot with a beanbag, pumps her fists in the air and lets out a crude, “hell yeah!”

“Yeah, I reckon she is.”

Later, he’s trapped in a stilted conversation with one of the neighbors–a woman he doesn’t know but he’s pretty sure Maria invited on purpose if the way she’s hanging off him is any indication–when he sees Ezra head into the house.

Relieved to have an excuse to get away, he says a terse goodbye and makes his way inside. He finds Ezra at the kitchen sink.

“Songbird,” Ezra murmurs.

“How’d you know it was me?” Joel leans against the counter, arms folded, getting as close as he can without being too obvious. He watches Ezra plunk a handful of plates into the soapy water.

“You have a very particular tread.”

“I do, huh?”

“Mmm. I apologize for ducking out. I would have said something out there but it seems you were otherwise…preoccupied,” Ezra says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he says, frowning at the floor. “Think Maria keeps tryin’ to set me up.”

“Maybe you should tell her you’re already spoken for.”

Joel swallows hard. “That right?”

There are moments where Joel has imagined something more. Moments when they’re tangled up and sweaty and soft in a way he thought he’d forgotten how to be, where he thinks they could have…something. The kind of something he hasn’t felt in decades.

“I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t enjoy a more exclusive arrangement. I fear we’re both getting too long in the tooth to keep sneaking around like a pair of star-crossed lovers.”

“Who you callin’ long in the tooth?” he mutters, bumping his hip into the other man’s side.

“I do believe you have a solid few years on me, songbird,”

“Haven’t heard you complainin’.”

“And you most certainly will not,” he grins. “I like my men fully fledged.”

“Christ,” Joel says, biting back a smile. “So, uh…you think I invited you over here to do my dishes?”

“Is that a euphemism, cher ?”

Joel rolls his eyes, suppresses a shiver of pleasure at the endearment, usually spoken behind closed doors.

“No, I realize you haven’t solicited me for my housekeeping services,” Ezra continues. “But I thought you might appreciate a hand.”

“Ain’t that a euphemism?”

“Depends,” Ezra lowers his voice. “Will I have the pleasure of your company tonight?”

Joel looks around, suddenly self-conscious even though they’re alone. He chucks Ezra gently on the chin, eliciting a soft grin. It’s not a parting kiss, but it will do.

“I’d like that.”

That evening, he and Ezra stand at the gate to see Ellie, Cee, Tommy, and their crew off after extracting multiple reassurances that they’ll stay within radio distance and be back before noon. Joel swallows a healthy dose of fear, claps Tommy on the shoulder, and gives Ellie a side hug that goes on for just a beat too long.

Sixteen. Christ.

But then Ezra is by his side. They walk down Rancher Street together, anticipation blooming in the early evening glow. The door has barely closed behind them before clothes are divested, and a shared shower quickly devolves. They don’t bother drying, just fall into Joel’s bed wet and naked and pliant.

+++++++++++++++++++++SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++++

Joel’s cock hits the back of Ezra’s throat, and he barely restrains himself from lifting his hips to push himself deeper. It’s too good, the hot, wet silk of Ezra’s mouth sliding over him. He brings Joel to the brink and back again, and again, and again, drawing out his pleasure until he finds himself making sounds he’s never made before.

Whining. Whimpering. Pleading.

At one point, he’s braced against Joel’s cocked knee, hand cupped around Joel’s shaft as he laps hungrily at his head, taking him in as deep as he can before pulling back and swirling his tongue. Then one slick finger presses in, curls up deep, and Joel’s groan is a full-throated animal cry. Caught in the throes, he shifts his knee and Ezra loses his balance, pitching forward, nose to Joel’s stomach.

“Shit,” Joel hisses, contrite. “Shit, Ez, I didn’t–”

But Ezra is laughing, righting himself and leveraging Joel’s shoulder to crawl up the length of his body until they’re chest to chest.

“Could have just said you wanted a kiss, songbird,” he murmurs, capturing Joel’s lips before he can apologize, making him forget why he was sorry in the first place. Then his fingers are trailing a slow but steady path between his legs and pressing inside again.

“Fuck, Ez, I–I can’t–”

“Shhh,” Ezra whispers in turn, two fingers now working in deeper, deeper. “Relax, cher . All that tension will make it mighty hard to do what I intend to do.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Joel growls, leg thrown over Ezra’s hip. His hands slide over his body without aim, finally settling on his face, pulling him in for another kiss, letting his tongue trace the plush bottom lip, nipping and supping until he’s dizzy and aching for more.

Then he’s suddenly, brutally empty, and he groans at the absence.

“Patience is a virtue, mon cœur ,” Ezra whispers, lining himself up, the hot length of him pressing inside.

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He’s so full he’s forgotten how to breathe. When he opens them, Ezra is watching him with that look, the one that cuts him open and shines a light on all his most vulnerable parts. He groans, lets his thumb wander to the curve of Ezra’s lips, the corner of his mouth. Ezra takes it in, sucking hard until Joel’s cock kicks against his stomach.

“There he is,” Ezra pants, withdrawing and sinking back in. “So tight, songbird. Oh, mon amour , you do know how to treat a gentleman.”

“Ez, fuck–” he grits out, unable to focus enough to form a coherent thought, but Ezra’s mouth is on his again and he doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to breathe, doesn’t need anything except the hot weight of his body rolling him onto his back, grinding into him, cock leaking and aching with the friction.

“Touch yourself, mon amour ,” he grits out. “I find myself lacking a hand with which to do so or I would happily make myself of service to the cause–”

“Ezra,” Joel pants, desperately trying to concentrate on adjusting to the aching, throbbing fullness within him. “Do you…ever…shut…up?”

Laughter, cut short as Joel clenches around him. “I suspect…you already know the answer–ohh yes –to that question.”

Ezra nudges that spot deep inside that makes Joel’s breath catch. He can’t resist any longer, palming his cock roughly as Ezra continues that slick, delicious slide, sawing over that spot again and again.

“Ez, ‘m gonna–”

But Ezra is preoccupied with the hollow of his throat, lips and tongue suckling, so sensitive it makes him keen. Joel lets out a cry as his cock throbs and throbs and spurts of come glaze Ezra’s stomach.

“Oh, oh, oh songbird that’s–”

Three sharp, almost painful thrusts and he’s there, spilling inside, then barely holding himself up. Joel pulls him down, revels in the weight of the other man’s lanky body on top of his sturdier one, stuck together by their shared mess.

+++++++++++++++++++END+SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++

“Fuck,” whispers Joel into the white-blonde tuft of Ezra’s hair when his heart rate has finally returned to a reasonable cadence.

“Words…fail me,” Ezra mutters into his throat, and Joel grins and barks a laugh, full-throated and raw.

“That’s not fuckin’ possible.”

“Aha, so there is a sense of humor somewhere under that brutish demeanor,” Ezra says, audibly delighted.

“Shuddup,” he mutters, nosing at the other man’s cheek until he tips his head up and kisses him with all the tenderness he can muster, which, as it turns out, is a great deal.

#the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #queer fanfic #prospect fanfic #joel miller x ezra

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red-balloon12 · 9 months

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Everybody Hates Lila (And Why It’s Concerning Sometimes)

Lila Rossi is not a stranger in the Miraculous fandom. In fact I’d argue she’s more infamous than Gabriel in some cases. She’s despised by nearly everyone and while some reasons are more justifiable than others, she’s all around not a good person and a mid at best character.

But here’s my deal with it. The fandom hates this girl to I’d like to say an….unhealthy degree. Like the amount of salt this character gets is unmatched. And I feel like the causation of all of this salt doesn’t really live up to the response.

Lila is a liar who causes characters to act out of character very often. And not only that but she also is Marinette’s main rival now and is a jerk to her. She’s underutilized and her lies aren’t that convincing and yet the story wants to convince us she’s more important than she really is pre butterfly miraculous.

This is Lila’s character summed up. At the most I’d expect is frustration mixed in with mild dislike. Reasonable but not over the top. Instead though, I see SEVERAL people make so many salt fics and talk so much shit about her that I just have to sit down and say….y’all need to chill. You all seriously need to chill.

The fandom talks about this character like she’s the spawn of Satan, something we’ve been criticizing Astruc for doing with Chloe, all because she doesn’t have as many redeeming traits as her. Did we forget that they’re BOTH kids? Both of them still have room to improve on themselves.

And I’ll admit it, I was one of those people who kept on saying “Why demonize Chloe when we have Lila” but thinking on it now, neither of them deserves to have that fate. If we REALLY need a character to do the whole “people don’t change” thing, why not Gabriel?

It’s so much better to have this lesson taught to adults to not be like Gabriel, to accept change and loss and to be better. To teach how heavy the impact of a lost love can be and how old age isn’t an excuse to be “stuck in your ways”.

Plus the lesson works better for someone who’s older than for teenagers who’s literally at the stage of their lives where change is everything. And I’m not saying Lila needs to be redeemed or she isn’t allowed to be a villain. What I’m saying is that the over salting on her character, a character that can be easily fixed and patched up, is kinda dumb and kinda annoying to see…especially when some people do like Lila.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened years ago with that one fan that claimed that they loved Lila. That’s what happens when you take salting on a character WAY too far. And I can say that it’s only gotten a little better.

I just don’t understand why people can’t spend their energy talking about how to make a character better instead of salting on them 24/7 and this goes for all of the characters in ML.

I’m gonna be in the minority when I say this but Lila doesn’t deserve to be salted in as much as she does. She deserves reevaluation and a true villain arc. The constant bashing and insulting her at any chance ain’t it.

But you wanna know the thing that frustrates me the most about the Lila salt? How she started getting salted on in the first place. Aka, her being another barrier to Adrienette.

If y’all don’t know already, I don’t like the lovesquare and even back then I didn’t like it. And when I started seeing people hate Lila for this reason, I got very annoyed. It’s the same reason as to why people hated Kagami and it’s a stupid reason (imo). At least the other reasons why she’s hated had some foundation and sense.

TLDR: Lila is a mess but she’s not a mess that’s beyond repair but the constant salting on her and her character isn’t going to do anything. (If you really wanna salt on someone, salt on the writers for making her writing so subpar)

#miraculous #miraculous opinions #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #lila rossi #Lila sugar(?)#ml fandom critical #fandom salt #slight ml writers salt

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katyspersonal · 1 year

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Fandomry tips on hcs.

I've met another user that was afraid to share their cool Maria story ideas out of fear that they'll get shunned as "hating masculine lesbians", so, just a few things:

1) No matter how popular a headcanon is, it doesn't become canon. Fandoms do not abide by majority rule in which you could never have an unpopular idea.

2) With LGBT+ headcanons, the less you justify them - the better. The rude minority might think that Maria "has" to be a lesbian because her hunter outfit resembles male Knight garb and she cares about a female friend, and everyone who disagrees "lack media literacy" and "has bias". What is it trying to say? That bi or straight women could not look masculine? That the only reason a woman would ever dress masculine is to be the 'man' for her femme? Or that women could not care about other women deeply unless they're attracted to them? Even "historical accuracy" excuse is obsolete, because Bloodborne clearly doesn't abide by real world's history Victorian antics. Female vicars/doctors/hunters and people of color being equal to white people is a dead give-away to that.

It is even more confusing with Malenia, who doesn't even look masculine. Not feminine, either. She looks like 'just a person'. So what makes her "canonically a lesbian"? The fact that she is a strong fearsome warrior? Why? Because bi or straight women would not fight but instead latch onto some guy to protect them...?

You see what I mean. Justifications for why an interpretation HAS to be one thing and not the other only make things worse and push people into very narrow, at times outright offensive stereotypes. 'She is this because I think so' is a good enough reason - and that's where you can see that someone else's thoughts will be JUST as valid!

3) Headcanons and fandomry are not activism. No minority will be effected just because in some fandom people ship some character in some ship. EVER. These things are for FUN, lesbians aren't fairies within which one dies every time you say "I don't headcanon X character as a lesbian". What do you think will happen if many, or even majority of people like bi (or even straight) headcanon instead of lesbian? A life essence of a whole demographics will be dried out?

4) "It is not that hard" is not an argument. It is never anyone's business why someone would deny a very inviting opportunity for a headcanon. Freedom and autonomy is the VERY base of having fun in the fandom. In fact, very often, it is this same toxic attitude what makes average users NOT want to celebrate a strong female character as a lesbian. Because they feel like they had no choice! And many people possess contradictory spirit, that might make them choose something as affirmation that they won't be mocked into thinking a certain way.

_______________

Honestly, it is NOT okay that here and there people have to feel afraid to do something as innocent as to share their ideas, and might just end up leaving an interesting character aside because loud and rude people scared them away. Do not let a character you like get "claimed" by some group just because they were the meanest, do not hide your awesome ideas but instead post them and TAG them. Fandoms are free spaces, not a middle school where the popular girls set the trends and decide who gets to be bullied.

And if some people can no longer enjoy a fandom or a character because other people got a different headcanon? Well, then they were not built to be in fandom spaces to begin with.

#fandomry rambles #bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #elden ring #malenia blade of miquella #i mean what i saw yesterday was not as bad as a pointer from a friend regarding 'shipped with a man'#but it still was bothersome #naturally all this applies to MLM enjoyers that hiss at every woman in 10 yards distance from-#-a male character they headcanon as gay #i just do not have consistent examples of that #i know like one person was mad at people not seeing how g3hrman was canonically gay #and even that was half-serious and reaction at haters calling him cishet 'when he loves laurence' xd #really not threatening aura

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redditreceipts · 10 months

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I've been a very staunch supporter of trans ppl for years. I have learned to swallow my discomfort around some of the things said in those circles. When they said it was transphobic for lesbians to not like dick, I bit my tongue. I told myself, "this is just the loud minority" and to be fair I do think that is the minority but still ... as a lesbian I wasn't even able to talk about people who argued that because "it never happens. No one says that. That sounds like a transphobic lie." And I hate the constant assertions that gender is real, innate, and that everyone feels it. I can't describe my own experiences with growing up as a woman without someone telling me that maybe I'm nonbinary ... no thanks I tried that for a while. I respect everyone's gender, or I want to, but apparently doing that also requires me to put that oppressive structure onto myself and act like it's liberating.

The final snapping point for me was a trans woman telling me that I'm privileged for being a cis woman because I've never experienced dysphoria ... except I have. I grew up with intense thoughts about my body and hating my vagina and breasts. It was never that bad but I would often imagine mutilating. I'm in a better place now but I still feel some discomfort over my body sometimes. And when I expressed this to her, she asked me if I was really cis or was still questioning ...

They act like misogyny doesn't exist or something. I just ... I disagree with a lot of radical feminists beliefs or at least I think I do. But for years I have felt like radfems were the only ones even talking about misogyny anymore so idk

Anyway what I wanted to say is that I really like your posts and perspectives and thanks for this blog. I want to learn more and question more and your blog has become a helpful resource to help me start thinking critically about some things

Hey :) thanks for writing to me and sorry for the late answer.

And yeah, you are totally right. I have also spent such a long time justifying gender ideology because I really wanted it to be right. I’ve excused so much weird behaviour with weird mental gymnastics because I didn’t want to accept that I had been wrong for such a long time.

The entire “that never happens” thing - and then you show them an occasion where it happened, and they say “well, it doesn’t happen that much”. And yeah, people have suggested me being non-binary as well. I mean, by strict gender definitions I am non-binary because I don’t identify as a woman lmao. Just as the “you’re uncomfortable in your body?? what about fucking cutting it up??!!!!” thing.

And for disagreeing with feminist beliefs, the thing is that being a feminist is not a package deal. You are not being some sort of heretic if you disagree with certain things, and I know that I am most probably wrong on a lot of stuff myself. If I wasn’t, I would be the first person who is always right in human history. And yes, even in feminist spaces, there is sometimes some sort of imperative to follow every single belief or you are not a “real feminist”. But being a feminist is not an identity, it is an action. It is an action towards yourself, in the workplace, in interaction with other women and men, in your consumption, in your voting, in how you support women in your personal life and how you do political action. So yeah, I would say that it is less important whether you follow every rule of the radical feminist catechism and more important to support women in your life (which includes yourself). At least, that’s my opinion.

So if you want to learn more, you can look into literally anything Julie Bindel says on Youtube, I really like her perspective. And cool that you’re here!

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thedawningofthehour · 3 months

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Hello. This is the person who talked about the Gothel and song thing. I read your post and kind of sat on it thinking about for the last one or two days.

Now I think I understand it a little bit better. So essentially both Draxum loves Gale and Gothel love Rapunzel. However, Gothel mainly values her youth over Repunzel’s safety and love. But still loves her. While, Draxum actually wants to keep Galois safe and is essentially keeping his plans to keep Galois alive at this point? Also, another difference is Draxum is questioning his decisions more compared to Gothel?

I had not Rapunzel a while until yesterday just to see it, and now I can kind of see how Gothel loved Rapunzel, even if very messed up. I remember when the series came out in 2017 when I was in Freshmen High School. And the whole Cassandra arc, and thinking that was how it was in the original movie of Gothel apparently never loving Rapunzel. So it does kind of give me whiplash a little bit when I watched the movie.

And what reading about how people love something else more kind of is making me realize how some relationships with friends and family were toxic.

I am loving the more complicated inner turmoil with Draxum even if I do not see his perspective in any of the chapters. And really love the recent one.

Thank you for replying to this. It has been interesting.

I mean, yes, the main difference is that Draxum's love for Gale can compete with his own goals, while Gothel's love for Rapunzel was dwarfed by hers. But I think I'm actually going to break down the similarities and differences here, because the Gothel comparisons happen a lot and while I definitely do take some inspiration from how she acted, (Draxum frequently talking over Galois is a big one) I really don't want people to view Draxum through a Gothelite lens.

-Number one, obviously, the isolation. Both Gothel and Draxum literally isolate Rapunzel and Galois from the world, with neither being allowed to leave their home or speak to anyone without their guardian's approval. Fucked up, can't get around that. But Draxum's reasoning and goals differ greatly from Gothel's, and that's where we get the distinction.

Draxum doesn't restrict Galois's communication, for one, actually he openly encourages him to talk to people who aren't his father and wishes that he could spend time with peers his own age. This distinction is important because narcissists isolate their victims to better manipulate them, to eliminate outside influences that might teach their child to stand up for themselves and to keep themselves the center of their child's life. Draxum doesn't want that. He very much wants Galois to have a life outside of him, but for practical reasons he knows he cannot.

Which leads into the second aspect of the isolation, their excuse for doing it. Obviously, the main reason in both cases is the fear of their child learning what they'd done, or being targeted for the thing they themselves kidnapped them for in the first place. (Rapunzel's hair, Galois's brain) Of the two, I think Draxum has a better case for justifying the isolation-but the end result is the same, he's still isolating his son out of his own fear. It's somewhat understandable, and not as bad as Gothel-but still bad.

-Putting down your kid and trying to present yourself as superior. This is just straight-up nonexistent in Draxum. Draxum thinks the world of Galois and tries to convey that to him as often as he can, as he knows Galois struggles with self-esteem and needs that reinforcement. Really, Drax has done a 180 from his original vision of himself saving the Yokai with Donatello at his side-after seeing how absolutely brilliant he is, Draxum now views Galois as the one who will save them all. Draxum's role was to create him, protect him, clear a path for him so he could do what he was meant to do-but he fully believes that he will be just a chapter in Galois's history book, and he's happy with that. Galois will be his legacy and he couldn't be prouder.

-Belittling. Draxum is a little patronizing at times, yes. Talking down to Cass's experience and telling Galois that certain behaviors are beneath him, those are probably the most egregious examples. But in all fairness, Draxum isn't intending to make them feel belittled. In his mind this is actually a compliment, he knows they're so much better than how they're presenting themselves. He is aware that it's a shit move though, and he does apologize when he realizes he's doing it. He's just socially inept.

-Ridiculing. Nope, never. Gothel preyed on Rapunzel's own insecurities, calling her naive, ditzy, fat, and implying she couldn't handle herself outside. Draxum would never. For one, his son is incredible. He'd be lying if he said there was anything wrong with him. And he certainly doesn't want Galois to view himself that way. His son is amazing and smart and badass and Draxum knows Galois will surpass him some day. He looks forward to that.

Some people are under the impression that Draxum doesn't approve of Gale's stimming and info-dumping because he encourages him to act 'normal' with other people, and I would like to clarify-Draxum is perfectly fine with all of that. He actually very much enjoys his info-dumps. But he knows that other people will judge him for it and think lesser of him, and he wants to spare Galois that. As much he'd like to tell them all that Galois is saving their ungrateful asses and they should be kissing his feet instead of making fun of how he waves his hands, he knows he can't. Not yet, at least.

-Shaming. Yeah, he is guilty of this on occasion. He doesn't use it nearly as often as Gothel, but when he gets scared he'll definitely break out the "do you want me to lose my son? They'll murder you and I'll have nothing left in the world!" And he absolutely pulled the 'after all I've done for you' line when Gale was caught talking to Mikey.

-Exploiting or corrupting. Oooooh, yes. Obviously, Draxum doesn't think of it as corrupting Galois-he thinks he's merely imparted the truth on him. But their entire relationship began with exploitation, first when Draxum sought to turn this pancake turtle into a superweapon and then when he kidnapped Donnie to exploit his intelligence. Obviously, their relationship has evolved far beyond that, but it's still a dominant theme that Galois picks up on and influences his own feelings of self-worth more than either of them realize.

But on the corruption bit, in all fairness Draxum has been slightly uncorrupted by fatherhood, and Donnie was kind of a supervillain in the making even before. These two actually reinforce the better parts of each other, ironically in a way that probably wouldn't occur in canon. (at least not right away, but even in good futures they'd probably eventually go "hey we should solve climate change" and their mutual desire to help people through their science would come out) Draxum has softened quite a bit and is more open with his own empathy, which he'd force down previously whenever it bubbled to the surface. So really, net negative corruption has occurred.

-Gaslighting. No.

NO.

For fuck's sake, NO. You guys keep saying this! That's not what Draxum is doing! That's not what gaslighting is!

Gaslighting is a tactic in which someone lies to you about stuff you already know. It's telling you I didn't say X, when I really did say X and we both remember me saying X very well. It's moving the furniture around and telling your spouse that it's always been like this and there's something wrong with them if they remember the couch over there. It was my dad stealing my mom's car keys and trying to convince her she lost them when we'd all seen her keys right where she always kept them the night before. (joke's on him, my mom had a spare set and was still able to go to work, and she kept them in her purse until we moved out) It's a tactic used to exert control over the narrative and make the victim doubt their own perceptions, memory, even their sanity.

Draxum is not gaslighting Galois or Cass. He's just lying to them. Galois didn't have to be convinced he wasn't Donatello and that his memories of Donatello were wrong. Galois doesn't remember being Donatello. Draxum cannot cause him to doubt his recollection because there is no recollection Draxum wants him to doubt. Draxum is simply peddling a false narrative.

Now, what Draxum is doing to Raph definitely counts as gaslighting, as they both know full well that Galois is Donnie and they know the other knows that. But at the same time, Draxum's intention isn't to make Raph doubt his own memory. He's doing it for the bit, essentially, because that's how Galois and Cass and Tigerclaw expect him to act. (and a bit of fatherly roleplay, he really likes gaslighting himself into thinking Galois is his real son) Raph is never going to be manipulated into forgetting what Draxum did or actually believing that Galois is a separate person from his brother, but Draxum doesn't need him to. He just needs him to pretend he does.

But Cass and Gale? No, his ass is just lying.

-Triangulation, telling others you're crazy, aligning people against you, and telling you that everyone is a liar except for them. Nope. He does tell Galois that a bunch of people are lying about his origins, but that's to cover a specific lie and not as a manipulation tool.

-Using something dear to you as ammunition. Absolutely not. He did that a few times when Donnie was on his table, but he felt immensely guilty for it afterwards. And none of it was told to him in confidence.

-Ignoring and neglecting. Man could never leave Galois alone long enough to ever qualify for 'ignoring him.'

That's not to say he's never done it. He neglected Bella when he became her guardian and more recently neglected Cass when she moved down to the Hidden City, but he wasn't doing it because he didn't care. He legitimately thought that 'giving them space' was the best thing to do for them at the time. He was wrong, but he did have legitimately unselfish intentions.

-And finally, terrorizing. Portraying the outside world as dangerous and their inner world as a sanctuary. This is where I'm not entirely sure how fair the comparison is. Because while Gothel's main concern was of course someone discovering Rapunzel's magic/princessness or Rapunzel herself wanting to leave her, she still had legitimate cause to worry for Rapunzel's safety. Considering how much Gothel had lived through herself and how she was perfectly happy to live in partial seclusion, she might legitimately be afraid of the outside world. She is still primarily using this narrative to manipulate Rapunzel, however.

Draxum, on the other hand, completely and 100% believes what he says about the world. He truly thinks that the humans will kill his son if he gives them half a chance, so he is determined to never give them that chance. He does have the secondary objective of minimizing contact with anyone who knew Donatello, but that isn't the driving factor behind his decision. Draxum puts on a tough front but really, he is a man absolutely drowning in fear, and considering the possibility of losing his son after all this, after all the others he's lost, after how far he's come, it paralyzes him. He can barely handle even the possibility. He's terrified of the world above and thinks this isolation is the best way to protect his son.

And the thing is, how much does the intent make a difference? Is it better for Galois that his father's poor parenting practices are well-meaning but misguided? Or is it just as bad as when Gothel does it, because the actions are much the same? It's just...a lot of nuance, and I'm going to say Draxum has never seen Tangled and will not see it at least throughout the duration of this fic because I do not want to write his head exploding as he perceives Mother Gothel.

...Goddamn, I wrote a lot.

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