#if you couldn't tell this is satire

[mushroompoisoning]

ULTIMATE GUIDE TO REBLOGING TUMBLR POSTS FOR A NEW USER

see a post where op is addressing a group of people? negative or positive? doesn't matter! the post is definitely about you, and you should reblog and respond accordingly. make sure op knows that you read their post, think it's about you, and don't particularly like that! bonus points for being passive aggressive for no reason

not sure what a post is about? doesn't matter! interpret it however you want and make sure op knows exactly what you think they meant! death of the author, right? every interpretation is valid! go wild and critique that stranger based on what YOU personally thought they meant!! and make sure to block anyone who corrects you

see an informational post that you're not sure is true? don't look for a single source and if the post has some linked, do not click any! just believe whatever the last reblog believes and you're set! you're so smart! also, if it's misinformation it isn't your fault for spreading it because you simply didn't know! this is tumblr anyway, and everyone knows that the spread of mass misinformation doesn't matter on here!

Now you're all set it explore Tumblr! Feel free to add more to help new users!!!!

[domlolabunny]

The first sign of me being a dom was that I'm an ass girl. Mens asses are fucking hot and I will not be supressed any longer. I should've known right then and there what I truly was... I was destined to peg dudes

[lemonxlimee]

happy birthday fuckass

[steakout-05]

*clenched fists, head on the table, white knuckled, seething, hyperventilating, visible veins showing, sweating, about to burst into tears, shaking violently, going to explode*

it's.... spelled........ JON.............. arbuckle........

[sisterdivinium]

@halobearerhavoc By this tag, you signed up for what I am posting here now (I couldn't help myself, even if it's not a digital game!) Based on John Harper's excellent Lasers & Feelings, this is:

Warrior & Nun

You are members of the ORDER OF THE CRUCIFORM SWORD. Your mission is to protect humankind from demons, preserve your dignity while serving in the Church and finding your own faiths. The HALO BEARER has been sucked by an interdimensional portal, leaving you to fend for yourselves while on leave on The Other Side.

PLAYERS: CREATE CHARACTERS

Choose a weapon for your character: Sword, Staff, Shotguns, Crossbow, Pure martial arts, or Gadgets.

Choose a trait for your character: Proud, Discreet, Outspoken, Eager, Bubbly, or Sombre.

Choose your number, from 2 to 5. A high number means you're better at WARRIOR (fighting, strategising, athletics, strength, passion, etc). A low number means you're better at NUN (diplomacy, academics, social abilities, rituals, calm, etc).

Give your character a cool saint name or something like it.

You have: a regular habit, armour, means of communication with other OCS members, a Mother Superion.

Player goal: get your character involved in crazy demon-hunting and women-kissing adventures and try to make the best of them.

Character goal: choose one or create your own: Prove yourself to your shitty family, Become next in line as halo bearer, Find yourself a new family with your sisters, Forgive yourself for your own sins, Be loved, or Keep Being Awesome (you have nothing to prove).

PLAYERS: CREATE YOUR OCS CHAPTER

As a group, pick two strengths for your convent: Handy connection to a rich, brilliant scientist woman; Ties with a powerful cardinal, Highly competent sisters, Gadgets galore, Large library on demonology, Easy access to vehicles.

Also, pick one problem: Most of the sisters are aggressive, undisciplined and possibly sociopathic; The press is on to you, The Vatican is unwilling to spend another penny on you, Mother Superion is always having a bad day, You only have ammo and fuel for another week, Your house priest might or might not have been compromised by a being from another dimension and is secretly working against you...

ROLLING THE DICE

When you do something risky, roll 1d6 to find out how it goes. Roll +1d if you’re prepared and +1d if you’re an expert. (The GM tells you how many dice to roll, based on your character and the situation.) Roll your dice and compare each die result to your number.

⬇️ If you're using WARRIOR, you want to roll under your number.

⬆️ If you're using NUN, you want to roll over your number.

0 - if none of your dice succeed, it goes wrong. The GM says how things get worse somehow.

1 - if one die succeeds, you barely manage it. The GM inflicts a complication, harm, or cost.

2 - if two dice succeed, you do it well. Good job!

3 - if three dice succeed, you get a critical success! The GM tells you some extra effect you get.

!! - if you roll your number exactly, you gain a moment of REVELATION. You get a special insight into what's going on. Ask the GM a question and they'll answer you honestly. Some good questions: what are they really feeling? Who's behind this? How could I get them to _____? What should I be on the lookout for? What's the best way to _____? What's really going on here?

With your Revelation, you can change your action if you want to, then roll again.

HELPING: If you want to help someone else who's rolling, say how you try to help and make a roll. If you succeed, give them +1d.

GM: CREATE AN UNHOLY ADVENTURE

Roll or choose on the tables below.

A threat...

A possessed cardinal

A demon-worshipping cult

An eurotrash would-be prophet

A Vatican ex-archivist

A mad scientist

A renegade sister warrior

Wants to...

Destroy/corrupt

Steal/capture

Bond with

Protect/empower

Build

Occupy

The...

Pope

Divinium

Vatican

Quantum tunnel

Tarask/wight demon

Holy artefacts

Which will...

Destroy the halo

Brainwash the masses with a new dangerous religion

Enslave humanity

Start a war/invasion

Rip a hole in reality

Fix everything

GM: RUN THE GAME

Play to find out how they defeat the threat. Introduce the threat by showing evidence of its recent badness. Before a threat does something to the characters, show signs that it's about to happen, then ask them what they do. "The Firstborn Children guards run toward you, what do you do?" "Your undercover tactical nun partner pours you a glass of lemon drop and slips her arm around your waist, what do you do?"

Call for a roll when the situation is uncertain. Don't pre-plan outcomes — let the chips fall where they may. Use failures to push the action forward. The situation always changes after a roll, for good or ill. Ask questions and build on the answers. "Have any of you encountered a nun who to all intents and purposes was dead but is now alive and kicking whilst in the process of becoming some sort of demon hybrid before? Where? What happened?"

[zackieboyo]

Tumblr polls be like

[clownhoodieguy]

You roll your tube of toothpaste up to reduce waste and get your money's worth,

I roll it up because I'm too lazy to bend over and get another tube from the cabinet.

We are not the same.

[soleminisanction]

speaking of popular ships and jaytim specifically. i wanted to love this ship so badly since it has so much content and so many talented authors but a lot of the fics are so fanon-y? i would love a canon-adjacent jaytim fic where tim isn't sacrificed at the altar of jason todd? making him support what is essentially death penalty too lmao and honestly i think i'm now allergic to tim saying "jason was my favorite robin" no tf he wasn't, please go read some comics and learn about dick and tim's relationship

I'm with you, that's pretty much my problem too. I won't exactly back out of a good story if it starts in with the "Jason was Tim's Robin" stuff but it does get an eyeroll. Doesn't help that that stupid little tidbit was only introduced to (New52) canon to make Damian and Jason both seem like the specialist widdle boys who each had a pet "good" Robin to vouche for them against the mean ol' haters.

I get the emotional appeal of like, the Titan's Tower Incident AUs where Jason realizes he's whaling on a kid who looked up to him and snaps out of it, but the fact that they all lean so hard on Tim not standing up for himself against "his hero" and Jason getting off scott-free because "The Pit made him do it and he realized he was wrong" is just, ugh.

Y'know the ones I do actually really like, though? There's been a couple recently exploring a post-Titan's Tower, post- BftC status quo where Jason tries to reintegrate into the family only to find that Tim is low- or high-key terrified of him because he's still, y'know, a teenager heavily traumatized from being hunted down, tortured and nearly murdered by this grown-ass man who often makes it very clear that he could snap again at any time.

Neither of them really go into exploring how the situation might be resolved but that's a concept I could get behind exploring.

[vampirepiss]

not to get all edgy and political but i hope a certain politician gets [redacted] and [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] OH NO NOT THE FEDS- 👮‍♂️👮‍♂️👮‍♂️👮‍♂️👮‍♂️🚓🚓🚓🚔🚔🚔🚔🚨🚨👮‍♀️👮‍♀️👮‍♀️👮‍♂️👮‍♀️👮‍♂️👮‍♀️👮‍♂️👮‍♂️👮‍♂️🚓🚓🚓

AH SHIT NOT THE HAMMER RAIN AGAIN 💥🔨🔨🔨🔨💥💥💥💥💥🔨🔨🔨💥💥🔨🔨🔨💥💥🔨🔨🔨💥💥💥🔨🔨🔨

NOOOOO GOAT STAMPEDE 🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

[jennytwosheds]

I am nobody's mother. I don't have any kids. I do live with my sister & help parent her 2 kids. Motherhood is a club I am not admitted to & have always felt excluded from. I tried & failed, & honestly thank god. I was lucky enough to see immediately that if I was not Going to have kids then I must embrace & affirmatively Choose a life without kids. For my own sanity. Anyway, my mother stop referring to me as the dog's mother or the kids' second mom challenge.

[antis-hell]

Yo does anyone know what happened to that did-is-not-real guy?? Pookiebear I miss you🥺 don't let this newbie "fakeclaimer" (they're nothing like your fakeclaims😒) squash all the fun times you had<33

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[catscidr]

// genshin men as podcast hosts //

i don't have anything to say for myself i just thought this was really funny LMAO suddenly thought about this in the shower like a week ago nd i couldn't stop giggling to myself ( ´艸｀) cw: crack, wrote this with a modern au in mind (unless there's podcasts in teyvat.......) includes: alhaitham, ayato, pantalone, tartaglia, kaeya, albedo, cyno, heizou, lyney, venti, dottore, itto, kaveh, kazuha, wriothesley

the satirical Chad Alpha Sigma Male ↳alhaitham, ayato, pantalone, tartaglia, kaeya

Whether they’re giving ridiculous financial advice, telling people how to get women to like them or spouting absurd political takes, they somehow have a loyal fanbase. They’re always playing up the Sigma Male persona for the sake of satire but, because this is the internet, people take them seriously.

They'll say something nonsensical like “you should treat women like you treat your nonstick frying pans” and their listeners will eat it up, praising them for such a smart analogy when, in reality, their podcast setup consists of their laptop and a mic set up at their kitchen table and they just laid eyes on a skillet while they were rambling about nothing in particular. Doesn’t matter how they speak either; they could have a typical, exaggerated youtuber accent or always speak in a deadpan tone- people will still take what they say at face value and miss the irony and satire.

Seeing people argue online entertains them, though. Plus they make good money

the one that always has homoerotic tension with their guests (no homo tho) ↳albedo, cyno, heizou, lyney, venti

Their podcast isn’t organized, they kind of just ramble about whatever topic comes to mind. There’s no theme, no plan when they start recording- they basically just have a conversation with whoever they’re recording with and see where it goes. Sometimes they could be cracking jokes about the corniest things (___er? i hardly know her!) or they’ll be having deep conversations about their childhood and why they turned out this way.

OR. They’ll chat with their guest and turn what they say into a dumb sex joke, even if it’s a stretch. Podcast episodes with them are always hilarious to listen to, the kind that you can’t listen to in public because you’ll end up holding in your laughter and making yourself look like a Fool.

They have the best vibes, too; listening to them and their guest makes you feel like you’re a part of the recording session, even if you can’t respond to them 

has THE most outlandish storytimes ↳ dottore, itto, kaveh, kazuha, wriothesley

Every single podcast episode with them is absolutely unhinged. They’ll start the recording with their intro, and then they’ll hit you with the most insane storytime opener. There’s no line to cross either; it doesn’t matter what kind of story they have in store, they will talk about it (and make it funny, even if it might not be). One time when they uploaded one of their podcast episodes to YouTube it ended up getting age-restricted in the first five minutes.

They’re the kind of host that can captivate anyone when they’re telling a story, whether they’re speaking in an extremely animated manner or in a convincingly serious tone. Whenever they have special guests over, they make it an unspoken challenge to one-up eachother on who has the craziest story to tell (most of the time they’re the winner).

Their podcast is the kind of thing you listen to while you’re getting ready in the morning... though it might not be the best idea because 9 times out of 10, you stop in your tracks to stare at your laptop screen in disbelief to listen to them talk about the time they accidentally set off the fire alarm in a retirement home and what happened in consequence to that 

[ckret2]

I sympathize with you wholeheartedly because of how disappointing it is to have to change around the flatland-inspired lore of the fic because bill's homeworld doesn't seem to follow it. I will however say that as someone who was forced to read the book in high school geometry and hated it entirely for its powerful sexism, I'm kinda glad that it's not exactly the same thing, even if I do think a lot of the lore is cool. It was just such a male-centered book and seemed so smug about it, it was really hard to ignore.

The book is satire & critique of Victorian era social conventions, including the rigidity of its class system and how people defended it by saying the nobility were inherently "better" than the commoners (number of sides); the abuses of the poor & disabled, including euthanasia, and how they were written off as inherently stupid & criminal to justify their low position (isosceles triangles & irregulars); and, the way women were trapped, talked down to, treated like unthinking irrational animals, ignored when they spoke so they couldn't prove their rationality and dismissed when they got furious about this as just being too emotional.

In the book itself, the Sphere openly looks down on the Square's society for its disregard of women.

The book isn't smugly sexist; the book is mocking guys who are smugly sexist by exaggerating it to enough of an extreme that even Victorian era men would be able to see how messed up the system is.

And it apparently worked, since in a later edition of the book Abbott had to add in the intro that he doesn't believe those things about women, perhaps Mr. A Square has absorbed too much of his culture's propaganda about women? (Which means it succeeded in riling up readers—and also it sounded similar enough to the extreme end of real Victorian-era attitudes that some readers thought it was the real thing instead of satire, which tells you what kind of culture Abbott was up against.)

The book is openly advocating for increased respect for women's intelligence and autonomy by pointing a light on how horrible their treatment is.

[umbralsong]

Racism in Astarion's Writing

There is a fascist takeover happening in Europe. Again. With pogroms targeting racialized and marginalized groups. Being at all silent about how media affects our perception of reality would be irresponsible of me. I stand in solidarity with you all. I will polish this as I go along, but this is for anyone who wants to understand.

Block, report, and move on from the inevitable racist shitheads. We have work to do.

Donate to Gaza here: https://gazafunds.org/ Support good causes with a click here: https://arab.org/ Ceasefire Now: https://ceasefire-now.com/ Donate to the [Sidewalk School] [Pay your rent], settlers. [KOSA Resources]

There is a... let's be charitable for a moment and call it "knee-jerk" reaction to discussions of racism in fandom. To call it character assassination, exaggeration, slander - anything but to acknowledge the dehumanizing system of power that underlies every part of this imbalance. It's only scary if you don't understand it, and as part of another group under siege for half a millenia, I am intimately familiar with it.

There are Romani perspectives on Astarion's storyline I would encourage everyone to read before mine. I don't wish to link them in case this post gets targeted. Please lend them your kind support and sincere gratitude for their contributions.

I do not "forgive" a character for questionable biases. I wonder why the writers put it there. I question its purpose in the narrative and the effect it has on the story and audience.

Let's discuss the effect:

The racism in Astarion's storyline serves no purpose, but the effects are harmful.

I've played evil (poorly). But I also have a very fucked up sense of humor and understand the appeal of a well-written fucked up little dude. Take, for instance, this Warlock from a BG3 playthrough:

Absolutely vile, but a clearly theatrical/satirical look at a classist piece of shit, you know, that sort of character. Take it as a palate cleanser after reading, and then gather your strength.

This is not a post about liking flawed characters. Please take your strawman, dust behind you, and move along.

I often find the trouble with depicting racism is the inherent unfamiliarity with the subject in a majority-white writer's room and company. There is an idea of what it entails, but not its purpose, and not its day-to-day application.

There is a veritable treasure trove of knowledge out there that I've ended up having to take in small parts. It is not easy hearing about the ways people have hurt others, systemic and otherwise. I genuinely want us to learn from this and be better for one another.

So when I see depictions of people who are Indigenous and Romani and Sinti, I wonder... why? And why were these writers chosen for this character/storyline?

In Astarion's storyline, from what I can tell, he makes light of stealing the Gur children. I can tell this is meant to be a depiction of guilt and deflection. What sucks is the fact that he's ultimately a white man making light of the fact that's... historically what they do.

The point, I believe, of him "following Cazador's orders" is to invoke the Nuremberg Defense. The tragedy is that Astarion, by D&D logic, literally couldn't do anything but follow his command. It's implied because he's defensive as hell, but he feels exceedingly guilty regardless. For all we know, it's earned.

Is Racist Magistrate Astarion still canon? If so, his "grudge" against the Gur is motivated by racism. Is that something we are prepared to confront with more than a line? Was he just a (maybe recently?) privileged asshole exercising his newfound power? In that case, his use of systemic power over the Gur may be read as a parallel to his storyline. But then the Gur need autonomy as well.

There is something to be deconstructed here, but I would not know its intimacies from my perspective. Others would. They may restructure it altogether so that it makes sense for their experience.

Here is what I know, and it should not be on this group alone to point it out: The inappropriate misuse of these tropes has encouraged racism in the fandom at large.

Performing a script well is not the fault of the voice actor, nor is the twisted logic of fans the fault of the writers. I am pointing out that reckless inclusion of certain ideas can have very unfortunate implications:

So stealing their children, expressing little remorse, and then "sparing" them the pain of executing stolen marginalized children is a good ending? I'm adding some untagged comments here for emphasis:

I find it interesting the game recognizes the complexity of the situation regarding the spawn and doesn’t punish the players or Astarion whatever the choice as long as they aren’t doing it for selfish reasons. Some good, thoughtful writing there.

Wow, even as a dedicated Astarion romancer, I was beginning to feel like it was a little unfair how much more recognition Neil is getting over the rest of the cast, but now I’m reminded of why. I’ve finished the game 3 times and never even considered not sparing the spawn, because if he deserves a chance, why don’t they? But the conviction he has behind his words in this makes me think I’ve been making the wrong choice.

Person 1: I really dislike Ulma. She’s such a judgmental Monday morning quarterback. Person 2: same, no matter what you do she'll blame Astarion for things that were outside his control

Spawn Astarion sparing their children as spawn is better and in line with his story, but for some reason, that isn't acknowledged through commentary, dialogue, or mechanics... thus, again, unfortunate implications:

To the spawn Astarion, Greetings from the family of Ulma, hunters of monsters and keepers of peace across Faerun. We know this letter finds you well, for although we hunt you no longer, we do sometimes keep a watch. Your restraint and control over your bloodlust has been admirable. Indeed, it has been an inspiration for our children, who have struggled with their own hunger. These last months have been a difficult time for our people. We have protected and nurtured our children as best we can, and we have learned much. Herbs we once used to dull our foes' minds are now sedatives to ease hunger and pain, restraints built to hold the undead now protect them from themselves. There has been a lot of pain, but a lot of progress too. Our children learned discipline and control, while we learned compassion and patience. There was a time when we would have destroyed any undead creature, our own blood or not, and called it a mercy. But then we met you. Wer saw that redemption was possible. Difficult, yes. Painful. But possible. You saved our children first from Cazador, and then from us. For that, we thank you. We will watch you still, but with more admiration than fear. Walk in peace, Astarion.

And, according to these commenters, it's better to kill them because the marginalized Elder is never satisfied with the man who stole their children?

It sounds so casual, I think. Perhaps they don't know what stealing children from a community really means.

60s scoop/residential school/reeducation camps trigger warning:

(The Scream by Kent Monkman. Alt text in link.)

Look at this painting.

Take it in with me for a moment. It is a scene taken from many memories and one. Look at how these families fought to stay together. Look at how they fight priests, nuns, and state officials - ones who my friend assured me are very friendly - how they grasp at their children with such painful desperation on their faces. It is a way for one to bear witness to unfathomable love and heartbreak.

When genocide deniers play their games, this is what they want you to pretend never happened. Don't mind the tens of thousands of child graves, or the stolen land. Just pretend these people are criminals out to swindle you, or steal your wives.

Growing up, listening to survivor testimonies, and the sweet reverberance of the remnants of survivors of slavery, you appreciate what you have. You remember every kindness. You love what you lost, and what you gained through gritted teeth.

And, you remember the unfathomable pain. It's why you promise to stop it from ever happening again, to anyone.

It is very sad. A heart is a heavy burden. Embrace it. To love is to live again, and to live again means you understand Never Again. Because people deserve to be happy. And that's worth a fight. That's why it's worth depicting with care and love, even when the subject matter threatens to choke you.

Let's get into Cazador Szarr.

I've played the game and understand that he has a backstory and some depth. What disturbs me is that an Asian man has the bloodiest, most brutal scene in the game with a white man killing him.

I can't let this be undiscussed as sinophobia rises in a pandemic. I am no authority, but I'm not ignorant. These posts are found in discussions of racism in BG3 and I would, again, prefer not to put a target on their back. Instead, show them support.

In terms of diverse storytelling, casting, and roles, I would only ask that a historical and sensitive look be applied. Hire people from these communities to act, direct, and write for that role. Writing is never easy. There is a weight and responsibility to it, but it's worth it to touch as many souls as possible.

I respect this history. That is why it is not something I believe should be thrown in as flavor text. It's why history needs to be respected as a great backstory to everything we create. We need each other, and we need art we create together.

The debt is yet to be paid.

[gorgeys]

heyyy i've been thinking about this specific scenario w our queen for a while now and id love to see you writing about it if possible bc ur amazinggg

so basically ive been thinking about maeve and reader being in the beginning of their relationship but maeve is still very closed off and hates any sign of vulnerability so when reader notices that and tries to help maeve process her emotions in a healthier way than w drugs or just bottling up like she always does she gets really defensive and fight w reader about it but then maeve realize that it was a shitty thing to do n apologize to reader because she really wants this to work its just that old habits die hard

basically angst w happy ending bc im a sucker for hurt/comfort

never let me go ★ queen maeve

Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Maeve has her walls up, but you help her break them down

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2960

Note: thank you sm for the great request! i'm not the best at writing this hurt/comfort stuff but i really tried!! i hope you enjoy!

you stuffed shredded chicken into a searing pan of sauce.  if someone had walked in, they would have assumed you were cooking for a family of six. but no, the pan was piled high just for your girlfriend who had a never-ending appetite and claimed she'd rather eat your food than the meals at any restaurant.  that boosted your ego quite a bit considering maeve had literally dined at the most expensive and renowned restaurants in America.

some nights she'd come up behind you while you whipped up one of your classic dishes and wrap her arms around your waist.  she'd leave little kisses behind your ear and tell you how much she missed you, leaving a stupid smile on your face.  then she'd rest her head on your shoulder and ask you to tell her everything about your day because her day was "boring as usual."  you didn't consider being a crime-fighting superhero boring by any means, but you got the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

but then other nights you wondered if the meal was all she came for.  it was nights like tonight, where she sat silently at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and an empty bottle beside her, that left you worrying. whenever you glanced back at her, she always seemed to be blankly staring off into space, as if complicated thoughts were clouding her mind.  you had tried giving her space but you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.

she only makes her presence known when she gets up from her chair, opens the fridge, and reaches for another beer.  upon noticing, you release a tired sigh that catches her attention.

"maeve, do you really need another?" you ask without turning around.  "i mean, you're gonna finish the whole case."

she closes the fridge behind her.

"i can just go out and buy some more," she says with a simple shrug.

"no, maeve, that's not what i mean," you say.  you half turn to meet her eyes and just look at her for a moment, wondering if she'll catch on.  from the little twitch of her eyes, you think she does, but she still doesn't say anything.  she just stands there and stares back at you, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle.  you sigh once more.  "is something going on?"

"what? no," she quickly says with the slight furrow of her eyebrows as if it's a stupid question. she doesn't sound one bit convincing.

"right," you say, fully turning around and dropping the wooden spoon into the pan. you lean your back against the edge of the counter.  "so you just sit in silence, drinking like a fish for no reason at all?"

she scoffs and laughs as if you're being absurd.

"since when do you care how much i drink?" she asks with her usual satirical smile.  you know that smile well.  it's the one she always displays when the conversation is teetering on something uncomfortable.

"since you started drinking like a middle-aged man going through a divorce."

"oh, come on, y/n" she says, waving you off.  "it's just cause i can't really get drunk like a normal person.  i need a few more."

"a few more?" you ask with raised eyebrows.  "maeve, you drink enough to kill a couple racehorses.  i mean, the only people i've seen drink that much are people trying to forget things."

her smile falters and you take it as a sign that you're headed in the right direction.

"if anything's going on, i want you to know that you can talk to me about it," you say sincerely, taking a step toward her.  "i'm always here for you, no matter what."

you catch her rolling her eyes before she turns away from you.

"god, stop with all the sappy shit," she says sharply.  she slams the beer on the tabletop rather hard.  "i'm fine, okay?" she says, borderline shouting.

"then talk to me, please," you say, placing a hand over your chest.  you know you sound a little pathetic as you plead but you hope it gets through to her.  "because it's so hard to guess what you're feeling when you just sit there not saying anything.  i can only imagine the worst."

she audibly groans before she sits back in her chair.  her eyes lock dead onto yours and she ignores the desperation written all over your face.

"i have shitty enough days already, the last thing i wanna do is come here and talk about my fucking feelings like i'm in kindergarten.  i deal with enough children at vought already," she says, crossing her arms and staring daggers into you.

you press your lips together out of frustration.  she's a grown woman but she's acting like an immature teenager.

"well you can't just keep everything to yourself," you say, matching her posture and crossing your own arms.  "i know it's a lot to carry between the seven and vought and having to save everyone in this whole shitty city, so don't feel like you have to carry it alone."

she laughs at you and it only feels like a punch to your gut.

"god, i didn't know i was talking to my fucking therapist," she says, overenunciating her words and practically spitting at you in the process.  "do you come up with these lines yourself or do you steal them off inspirational pinterest boards?" she asks with a derisive smile.

"maeve," you sigh, growing tired of this game that you're playing.  she's usually awful at these touchy conversations but she's especially defensive tonight.  you take another step toward her. "all i'm asking is that you have a real conversation with me.  i mean, i feel like i'm talking to a stranger half the time because i don't know a single thing about you.  you wanna talk about the bachelor for an hour but can't tell me a thing about your day or what's actually bothering you.  it's like pulling teeth with you."

you take a final cautious step toward her and place one palm on the table to support your weight. you're standing just inches away from her.

"stop shutting me out.  it's hurting both of us," you say, more softly this time.

"you mean it's hurting you," she says, punctuating her words by slamming her fist on the table, causing you to flinch and jump away from her.  you look down and notice she's cracked the wooden surface.

you've never been seriously scared of her strength before, but you are in this moment.

"i'm doing just fine, actually. you just want me to have a break down so you can feel better about yourself and your small, meaningless problems," she says, rising from her chair.

you scoff out of disbelief.

"do you even hear yourself right now?" you ask, throwing your hands up in the air.  "i'm your girlfriend, not some villain you have to fight.  i'm not praying on your downfall.  all i wanna do is help you."

she laughs and shakes her head while you huff.  it boils your blood when she treats you like this, like some ignorant outsider, not someone who cares so deeply about her.

"oh, okay y/n, so let's just hold hands and sing kumbaya and maybe all my problems will disappear," she says, the typical sarcasm dripping from her tone.  it's quickly replaced by venom.  "you can't do anything to help me.  you're stupid for ever thinking you could," she yells, before falling back into her chair and opening the beer bottle with the flick of her thumb.

once again, you just stare at her, wondering if she'll recognize the insanity behind her words and the visible hurt they've inflicted on you.  but no, she just takes a long swig from the bottle, letting you know that nothing you've said has pierced her tough exterior.

finally, you've reached your limit with her.  you know this is going nowhere.

"well fuck me, maeve, for trying to help," you say, spinning around and turning the stove off.  she puts her beer down, a little surprised by the abrupt change in your usually understanding nature.  "you can make your own dinner and go back to your bougie penthouse and drink yourself to death up there, okay?  i'm not fucking doing this tonight."

she only watches as you, with glossy eyes, stomp toward your bedroom and slam the door behind you.  she doesn't make an effort to stop you, but instead sits there almost dumbfounded by the way she's tipped you over the edge.  she had never seen you like this before.

she stays at your now cracked kitchen table for quite a while, downing her third beer and contemplating if she should go in and talk to you or leave like you asked.

even if she did push aside the embarrassment and work up the courage to knock on your bedroom door, what would she even say to you?  that she has blood on her hands from all the people homelander's killed and she can't take it anymore?  that when she closes her eyes, all she can see are those screaming, terrified, innocent people?  that that's why she's broken inside?  no, those are her burdens to carry, not yours, she thinks.  she can't scare you away now, not this soon.

"fuck," she curses as she stands up from the table, eyes locked on your bedroom door.

she wants to be in that bed with you, her head tucked in the crook of your neck as you sleep soundly.  she wants to fall asleep to your perfect, soothing smell and the soft sound of your breathing like she usually does.

but no.  no matter how much her heart hurts, she can't bring herself to your door.  she can't let you see through her like that.  instead, she throws the bottles into your trash can and walks out of your apartment.

xxx

for the next few days, all maeve can think about is you.  she thinks about you opening your apartment door for her, close to midnight, after a long night of crime-fighting.  you're in your cute plaid pajama pants and maybe your oversized queen maeve shirt that she stole for you from vought tower.

she thinks about watching netflix on the couch with you, cuddled under your favorite soft blue blanket.  she thinks about the moment you slump against her shoulder as you begin to doze off.

she even misses your texts.  she misses your "have the best day, baby!!" texts.  she misses all the heart-eye emojis you send her.  she misses the cute impromptu pictures you take, especially the ones you take of yourself kissing random queen maeve billboards or posters around the city.  she misses your "i love you <3" texts.

and it's during a boring seven meeting where she keeps checking her phone, hoping for a text from you, that she realizes that she can't lose you.  she desperately needs you and every day that she doesn't see you feels like a pointless one.  she can't carry on with vought or the seven or saving people if she doesn't have you to come home to.

so maybe, to make this thing between the two of you work, she needs to change.  maybe she needs to open up, because losing you is not an option.

that's the sentiment she repeats in her head as she knocks on your apartment door, waiting impatiently to see you for the first time since your fight.

she hears the pitter pattering of your bare feet from behind the door before you swing it open.  and there you are, in all your glory of messy hair and sweatpants.  you don't say anything, so maeve sends you a weak smile.

"hi," she says awkwardly, looking almost embarrassed to be in her current situation.

"hi," you reply, more coldly than she's used to.  though she understands after everything she said last time.

she stares at you for another beat, soaking in every part of your presence.  relief floods her body just seeing you.

"i, um, i bought you a new table," she says, raising the cardboard ikea box she had tucked under one arm.  "i'm sorry about what i did to your other one."

you open the door wider so she can come in and set the box down in your kitchen.  when she walks back to you, you still have one hand on the door edge, holding the door open.

"is that all you came to do or..."

she can't read your blank expression.  do you want her to leave or stay?  it doesn't matter.  she has to be brave right now.

"no," she says, standing awkwardly in your living room, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.  she nervously looks down at the floor for a moment.  she reminds you of a shy school girl that's trying to work up the courage to ask out her crush.  "can we talk?"

you close and lock the door and notice that maeve's already invited herself to sit on your couch.  so you sit beside her, your body turned toward her and your elbow resting on the top of the couch.  you watch as she sits there stiffly, as if she's never been there before, with her hands tightly folded in her lap.

her gaze nervously flickers from your face to her hands every few seconds.  you can see the gears in her brain spinning in overdrive as she tries to find the right words.  although the air is slightly tense and awkward, you would sit there for hours if it meant maeve would finally share herself with you.

"y/n," she finally says, abruptly raising her head to look you in the eye.  your heart jumps a little. "being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.  i've...seen terrible things," she says before taking a deep breath.  "i've done terrible things."

you realize that this is the moment.  this is the moment where she's finally going to let you into her life.  her whole life.  so, you shelve your anger and gently rest a hand over one of her wrists.  you give her skin a soft, encouraging squeeze that tells her to continue.

"and...the guilt is the worst part.  i-" she pauses to take another shaky breath and then press her lips together.  you can see that tears are beginning to prick the corners of her eyes.  "i don't know what to do," she admits, her voice cracking.  your heart cracks along with it.

"and i guess..." she continues.  "i didn't want you to have to worry about that.  i didn't want to scare you," she says, looking back down at her hands.

"maeve," you coo, resting your other hand on her shoulder.  a pout naturally finds it's way to your lips.  seeing her this emotional almost makes you want to cry with her.

"and i'm so sorry.  because...not telling you made everything even worse.  and i just don't want to lose you," she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.  her hand immediately rises to wipe it away.  "i don't want to lose you because of something stupid like this."

"maeve," you say, your hand leaving her shoulder to push a strand of hair out of her face.  "it's okay., it's not stupid.  i get it, you're not used to doing...this. i know it's hard for you."  you gently hold her cheek in her hand, forcing her to make eye contact with you.  "but you could never scare me away.  i promise.  i'm with you because i want to know all of you.  all the bad stuff too."

"but, y/n, it's really bad," she says, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from breaking down.

you're leaning into her and holding her face with both hands now, your foreheads almost touching.

"maeve, you're a good person," you say.  you sound so sincere that maeve can't help the silent tears that start to flow rapidly.  that was everything she needed to hear and more.  "i know that.  you know that.  whatever is going on, it's not something that we can't overcome together.  if you let me in, i'm going to help you as much as i can, okay?  i'm always here for you," you say.

she nods in your hands and feels her body flooded by an overwhelming sense of comfort.

"i need you, y/n.  i need this to work. and i wanna be better.  for you," she says, finally bumping your forehead with hers.

"i know.  and i know it's scary to tell me all this stuff but i promise, it's going to get easier.  if you trust me, there's nothing we can't do," you say, a little smile finding it's way to your face.  you know it sounds cheesy and it's something maeve would have made fun of you for under typical circumstances, but in the moment, it feels right.  "and you know i love you, right?"

she instinctively wraps her arms around your shoulders, engulfing you in the tightest hug you've ever received from her.  she familiarly tucks her head into the crook of your neck, inhaling that smell she missed so much.

"i love you so much," she whispers into your skin and you melt in her arms.  you hold her just as tightly, your fingers rubbing up and down her back.  "i missed you."

"i missed you more," you say.

"i'm never letting you go again," she says, squeezing you to her chest even tighter, and you laugh softly.  she's telling the honest truth.

though fear still lingered in the back of her mind, this feeling sure as hell beat any alcohol.