#like there's a difference between “i happen to be in this fandom and only like these characters bc they're part of a story i like” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baccarry · 1 day ago

Text

The Scarlet Ribbon

Summary: Boromir, heir of Gondor, journeys to a small village on the borders of Rohan, where the winter silence hides a warmth he hasn't felt in a long time. What draws him to this snowy corner? A humble goods shop, or a girl with a scarlet ribbon in her hands, who becomes something far greater to him? The mysteries of the Yule festival, the game of "snow shadows," and moments that change destinies—all await in this tale of seeking a bond stronger than duty and the winter's chill. Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (crossover) Pairing: Boromir x Reader Rating: G Note: While writing this text, I fully embraced the Christmas vibe, and the story seemed to come together on its own. Let it become a cozy episode for a winter evening. Yes, I know I’m a little late for Catholic Christmas, but better late than never, right? All parts are written and will be published weekly. Sorry, but English is not my native language, so if you notice any mistakes, please correct them. I would also appreciate beta reading services. 4152 Words.

***

Boromir was heading north, toward the border of Rohan and Gondor. Officially, his journey was motivated by the need to inspect the condition of the border posts and ensure that caravans passing through these lands encountered no delays. Yet, for months now, he had been finding new excuses to return to this small village nestled among the hills.

The road was winding and coated in slushy snow, marked only by the rare passage of carts and horses’ hooves. The further north he traveled, the colder the air became, biting at his face and hands. A light frost clung to his chainmail and traveling cloak, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were occupied elsewhere—on the village where Torken's shop stood.

This shop seemed ordinary enough, like many others in Gondor or Rohan: shelves stocked with fabrics, furs, dried herbs, and other goods. Yet, for him, it had become something more. It wasn’t the wares that had imprinted on his memory but the person behind the counter. Over the past months, he had devised countless reasons to visit again and again: to inspect the quality of fabrics for the garrison or to purchase rare furs, supposedly needed in Gondor. And, of course, to see you.

Each time he entered the shop, he found himself freezing momentarily when his gaze met yours. Your smile, bright and simple as it was, filled him with a warmth he seldom felt during his arduous campaigns. If your father happened to be away and you were the one assisting customers, Boromir always found a reason to linger just a little longer, watching the deftness of your hands, and perhaps, accidentally brushing against your fingers as you handed him a pouch tied with a silver cord.

Now, as he approached the village, he felt a familiar mix of anticipation and joy. The closer he drew, the more pronounced was the sense that this snow-covered corner of Rohan held something special for him. Here, there were no marble arches or broad streets like in Minas Tirith, but there was something more genuine: a simplicity and comfort he hadn’t known in a long time.

The village appeared as a tiny oasis amid the white hills. Wooden houses with thatched roofs were lightly dusted with snow. The streets were quiet, with only a few figures moving between the buildings, cloaked against the chill. Thin tendrils of smoke curled up from chimneys, carrying the scent of burning wood, and faint glimmers of light shone from some of the windows.

Torken's shop stood at the corner of the central square, as unassuming as ever. Its entrance was shielded by a rough fabric to block the wind, and wooden crates filled with straw and furs surrounded the doorway. Everything here was simple, yet somehow this simplicity drew him more powerfully than the grandeur of Gondor.

He pulled on the reins, halting his horse. For a few moments, he simply sat there, letting the cold sting his face. His gaze swept slowly over the village. Everything looked different from Gondor. The houses were modest but inviting, their thatched roofs now blanketed with soft snow. Though the streets were deserted, they felt lived-in: faint boot prints marked some doorsteps, left just moments ago. On one window hung a small wooden sun-shaped amulet adorned with snowy rowan branches. Outside another house, overturned barrels were draped with fur coverings, as if someone had recently set them out to air.

His attention was drawn to the evergreen wreaths adorning several doors. Some were simple, made of branches and pinecones, while others were more elaborate, with ribbons or berries. It was a detail unfamiliar to his eyes: in Minas Tirith, ordinary homes were rarely decorated, save for special occasions. Yet here, it seemed natural, a part of life imbued with warmth and care.

His gaze stopped on the shop. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and a figure slipped inside. Boromir leaned forward, trying to discern who it was. Moments later, the figure reappeared: it was you, standing in the doorway with a wreath in your hands. The wreath was neatly woven from fir branches and adorned with small pinecones, though it looked rather austere.

He watched as you lifted something, realizing it was a ribbon. Bright red, vivid like a drop of blood on the snow. You began to skillfully weave it into the wreath. Your movements were quick yet precise. Knot by knot, you wrapped the branches, unfazed by the sharp needles occasionally catching on your fingers. Your concentration was so complete that it seemed the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

You murmured something under your breath as you adjusted the ribbon, and Boromir noticed your glance briefly flicker toward the doorway. Perhaps you were thinking of your father’s recent remark: “The wreath is fine, but it’s too somber. A festival calls for brightness. Here, take this.” He had handed you the ribbon—a rarity in such a place, but surprisingly beautiful.

You worked with such focus that you hadn’t noticed him yet. And he, feeling that he was overstepping all bounds of propriety, continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away.

The impropriety, of course, wasn’t in the act of observing you. It was in the fact that he, heir of Gondor, had once again found an excuse to be here. That he lingered too long on the sight of your hands, and that questions crept into his thoughts: “Who are you to me? Why do you command my attention every time I’m here?”

Boromir finally dismounted. He knew he shouldn’t. Perhaps even his mere presence at your door could be misconstrued. But something in your absorbed movements compelled him to draw nearer, so quietly that even the snow beneath his boots seemed complicit.

He stopped a few steps away, but you still hadn’t noticed him, so engrossed were you in your task. He thought he heard you softly humming to yourself, checking how the ribbon lay.

A sudden gust of wind rose, swirling snowflakes from the roof and spinning them around you, as if inviting you to dance. Your hair was slightly tousled, and you instinctively tucked a loose strand behind your ear, never breaking your focus on the wreath. In that moment, the sun broke through the heavy clouds, and the red ribbon in your hands blazed like living fire against the cold snow.

And then you saw him. Your fingers froze, still clutching the wreath, and your eyes widened in surprise. The red ribbon you had been weaving slipped from your fingers, swaying gently in the air as if hesitating.

“My lord,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Your hands, sticky with resin and covered in tiny scratches from the fir needles, trembled slightly before you quickly hid them behind your back. The wreath wobbled, a reminder of your task. You hadn’t expected to see him here, amidst the quiet and simplicity that seemed to shield you from the world. “You weren’t supposed to be here…”

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the trees.

“But I am,” he said quietly. His voice was low but warm, as if this moment had been long anticipated. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand, tentative, as if afraid to shatter the fragility of the moment. You felt the warmth he made no effort to conceal.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his question catching you off guard.

You looked at him, allowing a light, almost shy smile to touch your lips. Your eyes sparkled with gentle surprise but not embarrassment. You didn’t falter, though something inside you beat faster than usual.

“Decorating for the Winterwood Festival,” you answered calmly, lifting the wreath slightly as if to justify your activity.

Boromir’s eyebrows rose. He tilted his head slightly, as if scrutinizing either you or the wreath—or perhaps both.

“The Winterwood Festival?” he repeated, as though hearing the name for the first time. “We don’t have such a thing in Gondor. What is it?”

You squinted slightly, as if pondering whether he truly didn’t know or simply wanted to hear your explanation. His tone was sincere, and you decided to tell him.

“It’s an old tradition of ours. We welcome winter to honor it and remind ourselves that spring will always come. We decorate our homes with fir branches to protect them and add bright colors to show winter that she’s a welcome guest—but only for a time.” You nodded toward the red ribbon. “Red symbolizes life, warmth, and joy. Without it, everything else would be too bleak.”

Boromir thoughtfully ran his fingers along a fir branch, oblivious as a few needles fell onto the snow. His gaze was fixed on your hands still holding the wreath. He couldn’t understand why this simple ritual stirred such a strange mix of warm longing and curiosity within him. The ribbon in your hands seemed to be a connection between your world and something unattainable for him. He wanted to ask more, to hear just a few more words from your lips, but at that moment, your father’s voice rang out from the shop:

“Well, how much longer? How long does it take to weave a ribbon into a wreath?! Night’s coming, and we’ve got plenty to do!”

You flinched as if snapped out of a trance. Quickly tying off the end of the ribbon, you grabbed the wreath and tossed it over your shoulder.

“Come to the lake at midnight,” you said without meeting his gaze, then disappeared into the shop, leaving him alone.

The day in the village was lively. Festivities began as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Villagers spilled into the streets despite the snow and cold. The village came alive: children played in the snow, laughing loudly, while adults bustled around the fires, setting up large cauldrons with steaming drinks. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, smoke, and herbs.

By evening, large bonfires were lit in the central square. People gathered around to sing old songs, leap over flames, and dance in circles. Every villager seemed to find their place in the celebration: some danced, others stood aside, quietly chatting, but all were swept up in the festive spirit.

Closer to midnight, things became particularly intriguing. This hour marked a special ritual, where those seeking connection could gather by the lake, hidden from prying eyes by trees and a light mist. There were no large bonfires or bright lights here—only the faint glow of lanterns and the shimmer of stars on the dark water.

It was believed to be a time for hearts searching for bonds. Girls and boys gathered by the lake to leap over small fires together, join in dances, or simply talk in the semi-shadowy light. Anonymity was part of the ritual: faces were barely discernible in the flickering firelight, voices were hushed, and time seemed to stand still. This ritual allowed those who were shy or afraid to confess their feelings to be closer, even if only briefly.

When midnight arrived, Boromir made his way to the lake. The path leading there was narrow and covered in snow, but he knew he would find you waiting. Remembering your voice, he quickened his pace, feeling the cold air fill his lungs and his heart beat faster with anticipation.

As Boromir approached the lake, he saw the dark water reflecting the glittering stars. The faint glimmer of firelight from a bonfire on the shore illuminated the trees and the faces of those already gathered. He was cautious: the celebration, filled with laughter and merriment, felt like something unusual for his austere world. Yet, drawn by your invitation, he had come.

But you found him first.

Hiding among the trees, you watched as he approached the firelight, then deftly slipped behind him, stepping so silently that even his keen ears didn’t catch your steps. When he stopped, you moved closer and gently touched his shoulder.

“By Eru Almighty!” he started, spinning around and instinctively reaching for his belt, as if grasping for a weapon. “I could have harmed you by mistake!”

You laughed softly, lifting your head slightly so he could better see your face, hidden behind a mask. Like the other girls, your mask was made of thin bark and adorned with fir branches and snow patterns. It gave you an air of mystery, and even the faint firelight didn’t allow him to see you clearly.

“It’s not so easy to scare me, my lord,” you replied, raising a hand to stop him as he reached to remove the mask. “No. Tonight, you must earn it.”

You smiled and handed him a simple men’s mask made of dark cloth. Its decoration was minimal—a few embroidered threads and a sprig of fir, to distinguish it from the women’s masks.

“Do you see the bonfire?” You pointed to the fire at the very edge of the lake, where pairs were beginning to gather.

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, though his gaze remained wary.

“That’s the center of the game. The girls hide among the trees at the edge,” you began to explain, slowly adjusting the ribbon on your waist. “Their goal is to escape and remain unseen for as long as possible.”

You paused to let him grasp the idea, then continued, watching his reaction:

“The boys, in turn, try to catch us—‘snow shadows.’ If you touch my ribbon—on my waist or wrist—I’ll be considered caught and must return to the bonfire with you.”

Boromir raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully running a hand over his mask.

“And then? Caught—then what?”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly.

“It’s not that simple. At the bonfire, you can try to guess the girl’s name or offer to exchange gifts. Usually, these are ribbons, nuts, or small carvings.” You paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “But if you guess correctly… you can ask for anything you want.”

“Anything they want?” he repeated, a light smile in his voice, which might have seemed mocking if not for the warm gleam in his eyes.

“Anything,” you confirmed with a subtle nod, but your gaze was steady. You knew what “anything” usually implied: a quick kiss in the shadows, a granted wish, or something that pairs already close to each other might allow themselves on such an evening. “You must be careful, my lord; all our girls are swift. Don’t be fooled by their delicacy.”

You laughed, stepped back, and with a graceful wave of your hand, disappeared among the trees, leaving him standing by the fire with the mask in his hands. The wind once again swirled snowflakes, and as he watched your retreating figure, he realized this game would be more than just an amusement.

“I don’t need ‘all,’ I need one,” he said softly, almost to himself, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth curling his lips into a smile. His fingers brushed the fabric of the mask before raising it to his face. The mask fit perfectly, concealing his features and leaving only his eyes visible—attentive and now slightly cunning.

Boromir joined the group of young men standing across the fire from the girls. They laughed loudly, tossing quick remarks to each other and shifting impatiently. Some adjusted their masks, fiddled with ribbons tied to their wrists or belts, or nudged each other playfully. Boromir stood quietly among them, remaining in the shadows, and scanned their partially hidden faces.

His gaze swept across the fire and found you. You stood slightly apart, rocking lightly on your toes as if preparing to dash away. You wore a simple but warm dress of deep green, belted with a thin leather strap to which a crimson ribbon was tied. Over your shoulders was a fur cloak for protection against the cold. Your mask, adorned with snow patterns and fir branches, concealed half your face, but he would recognize you among a thousand.

You looked directly at him, and a soft, teasing smile played on your lips. That gaze was a challenge—it seemed to say he would have to earn every second spent near you. Boromir smirked to himself, feeling a spark of excitement ignite within him.

The bonfire flared brighter, as if heralding the start of the game. One of the young men shouted a signal, and the girls simultaneously darted away like a flock of birds taking flight. You were no exception, slipping gracefully into the depths of the forest. The young men followed, their loud footsteps and laughter echoing through the clearing.

Boromir didn’t rush. He waited, watching as the crowd dispersed among the trees, keeping his eyes fixed on you. You moved confidently, your crimson ribbon flashing briefly among the shadows of the trees before vanishing from view.

He followed, stepping carefully to avoid revealing himself too soon. The forest was dark, but occasional glimmers of light from the bonfire or the moon illuminated the path. The air smelled of pine and frost, and around him, he could hear footsteps, laughter, and whispers. In the distance, he noticed one of the young men catching a girl and pulling the ribbon from her wrist before the two headed back toward the fire.

But not everyone was in a hurry. Venturing deeper into the forest, Boromir suddenly spotted two figures near a tree. In the faint light, he discerned a young man and a woman. She was leaning against the trunk, and he was bent over her, cradling her face in his hands. Their lips were pressed together hungrily and passionately, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. It was a sight he rarely witnessed in Gondor, where strict morals dictated restraint and decorum. There, emotions were concealed behind polite glances and cautious gestures. But here, in the forest, this couple kissed as if every moment could be their last.

Boromir paused momentarily, turning away to grant them their privacy. Something in that scene stirred a strange feeling within him: a mix of envy and wonder. Perhaps this festival allowed people to shed the masks they wore in daily life. He wasn’t sure, but he understood one thing—tonight was different from his world. And this evening might change not only those playing “snow shadows” but him as well.

He continued onward, catching a glimpse of the crimson ribbon flitting ahead. You were still out there, and he decided he wouldn’t let himself be distracted again.

She moved like a flicker of flame among the trees, and he immediately gave chase, certain it was you. His steps were confident, his gaze focused. He was accustomed to pursuit, to tracking a target—it was part of his life. But this wasn’t a battle; it was a game, and he realized there was something special, almost sweet, about this hunt.

He quickened his pace, the distance between you closing, and soon the ribbon was within his reach. Boromir reached out and grasped the edge. The girl stopped abruptly and turned.

“Was it so easy?” she said, laughing. Her mask hid her face, but the voice was unfamiliar. It wasn’t you.

He froze, slightly bewildered, then released the ribbon without a word. The girl simply smiled and, turning, headed back toward the bonfire.

“I thought you were more attentive, my lord,” came a teasing voice suddenly behind him. He turned to see you standing by a tree, your head tilted slightly as if assessing him. In your masked eyes, mischief sparkled.

He didn’t hesitate. He took a step forward, but you immediately darted away with a grace that could rival any dancer.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” he muttered with a smirk, starting the chase.

You wove through the trees as if the forest were your home. Your figure flitted here and there, the crimson ribbon catching his eye like a beacon. You laughed, glancing over your shoulder, and that laugh sounded like a challenge.

Boromir knew he could catch you at any moment. His height, stamina, and trained body—everything suggested he needed only to quicken his pace, take a few long strides, and you would be in his grasp. But he didn’t. He let you slip away, savoring the game. Your breathing grew faster, your laughter more breathless, yet you didn’t stop.

You hid behind a tree, peeking out and casting quick, teasing glances. He drew closer, each step louder than your light movements. You laughed again, trying to wrap yourself around the tree trunk to escape to the other side. But this time, he was closer than you thought. His hand suddenly appeared from the opposite side of the tree, deftly catching your wrist.

“Tired?” he whispered, his voice low but warm. You felt his fingers, strong and warm, tighten gently around your hand, preventing you from breaking free.

You feigned a scoff, tilting your head.

“Never, my lord.” And boldly meeting his gaze, you slipped out of his grasp, sliding down into the snow and dashing off again.

Boromir laughed, his laughter echoing among the trees. He took another step forward, his hand carefully brushing against the crimson ribbon at your waist. His fingers, strong and warm, grazed the fabric, lingering for a moment. You were breathing heavily, your unsteady rhythm mirrored in the trembling shadows cast by the moonlight on the snow.

“Do I need to guess your name?” his voice was low, with a hint of amusement, but his eyes carried a flicker of something else—curiosity, expectation.

You shook your head, barely noticeably, and licked your lips, dry from the cold and the chase.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with such confidence that it almost sounded like a challenge. “You may claim your prize.”

You stepped back slightly, and your back touched a tree. There was nowhere left to run, but you didn’t intend to. Your gaze never left his face, almost entirely hidden behind the mask. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, you raised your hands and let him approach, so close that your fingers brushed the tree’s bark behind you.

“What do you want, my lord?” you whispered, your voice quiet but full of meaning.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze traveled slowly from your eyes to the mask you wore, then back again. With one hand, he gently lifted the edge of your mask, barely touching your skin, as if afraid to disturb this fragile moment. Your mask slipped away, and the moonlight illuminated your face.

He froze for a moment, captivated by the way the moonlight caressed your face, creating a delicate interplay of light and shadow on your cheekbones, as if outlining each feature with the precision of an artist painting the most beautiful portrait. In this silvery glow, your skin appeared almost translucent, your eyes sparkling as they reflected the starry sky. His fingers, barely grazing your chin as if to lift your face, trembled slightly. In his gaze, there was not merely admiration—there was something much deeper, more sacred than fleeting infatuation or the thrill of the chase. Something that made his heart pound faster.

He leaned closer, so near that his breath brushed your lips. The deep look in his eyes, no longer hidden by the mask, revealed a whirlwind of emotions—admiration, doubt, desire, but above all, a reverence for this moment that seemed eternal.

“I…” he began, but the words seemed caught in his throat. Everything he wanted to say couldn’t express what he felt inside. Instead, his lips parted as if to continue, but he only held your gaze.

A distant horn sounded, echoing deep and long through the forest. It signaled the end of the game, but it seemed so far away as to be irrelevant. In this moment, nothing existed but the two of you. His fingers tightened gently around your chin, still tenderly, and he hesitated for the briefest instant, as if seeking permission, before closing the remaining distance.

You felt the warmth of his lips before they touched yours. It was a light contact, almost imperceptible, like the first snowy kiss of winter’s wind. But behind this gentleness lay strength—not the force of passion, but a deep, almost instinctive recognition that this moment meant far more than just a game.

The wind rustled the branches above, lifting a few snowflakes and swirling them around you. The previously noisy and lively forest seemed to hold its breath, bearing witness to this encounter.

P.S.

I genuinely believe that the people of Gondor, with their refinement and formality, are likely more restrained and calculated in matters of "romantic pursuits." Gondor, which may draw inspiration from Byzantium, likely shares similar characteristics. Their festivals, if they exist, are probably more centered on revering the Valar and observing rituals rather than expressing "human emotions."

The Rohirrim, on the other hand, are more open and sincere in their approach to love and relationships. They honor traditions, but their lives are enriched by simple joys that they weave into their customs. Their festivals, like their entire culture, are more grounded, reflecting the joy of the seasons, fertility, or prosperity. The Rohirrim likely see love as a manifestation of strength, sincerity, and courage. Their rituals are simple yet rich in symbolism—songs, dances, and ceremonies by the fire that allow people to open up to one another, breaking down social barriers. This brings their way of life closer to nature and human emotions than that of Gondor's reserved and grandiose society.

#boromir #boromir fanfiction #boromir lives #boromir lives au #boromir x oc #boromir x reader #boromir x you #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #christmas

30 notes · View notes

mercars-musings · 14 hours ago

Text

Market Memories

Fandom: Dragon Age - The Veilguard

Pairing- Emmrich Volkarin x TransMan!Rook {OC in particular}

TW- depicted: anxiety, anxiety attack, arguement with manipulative ex, self doubt; referenced: to childhood trauma, childhood abuse, shitty ex, manipulative ex; genre: hurt/comfort, angst, angst with happy ending, fluff.

Description- Emmrich convinces Az {OC Rook} to show him around Minrathous a little more, so he decides to take Emmrich to a small market not too far from where he grew up.

Rook's revisited these markets a few times since he moved to Dock Town and he hadn't ran into... nothing bad had happened.

So, by all means, it should have been a fun little trip! Emmrich gets to learn a little more about Rook, Rook gets to spend some quality time alone with his adoring paramour and maybe even impress him with an adorable piece of jewellery he found while he's at it!

Unfortunately, during their excursion Rook's reminded that every visit home is another visit tempting fate.

Word count- 5.4k

Read on AO3: Here!

~ ♡ ~

“I still don’t really get why you want another tour,” Rook laughs, as he guides the elder man through yet another winding back alley of Dock Town. “Neve’s already dragged us all over this place thousands of times-” Before he can continue, Rook is cut off by the feeling of a gloved hand gently being placed on his arm.

“As I’ve said before Dearest,” Emmrich starts, smiling earnestly at the Shadow Dragon. “Neve may have already shown us all there is to see of Dock Town but, I want to see what you love about this place.”

Still getting used to being the clear subject of someone’s affections, Az begins to feel a warm glow forming on his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he glances away momentarily as he tries to not feel too embarrassed.

“I… really appreciate that Em. I really do, but… well apart from missions I don’t really go out much.” The Qunari waves vaguely towards himself, particularly his horns as he lets out an awkward laugh. “I wasn’t exactly raised to be much of an outside person.”

Emmrich nods solemnly.

“My apologies, Rook.” Emmrich began, shifting his attention down to his hands in an almost embarrassed fashion. “I was hoping to learn more about you during this rare lull in our escapades, though… I’m beginning to suspect that I didn’t quite think it all the way through.”

Rook lets out a slight, awkward laugh in response though, this is quickly replaced by a frown once he notices the genuine disappointment & guilt starting to creep their way onto the necromancer’s features.

“Well…” He pauses to think for a moment, trying to figure out the best course of action to remedy the awkward turn their conversation seemed to be taking. “I suppose there may be one place that may have fallen off of Neve’s radar.”

At this, Emmrich raises his gaze and meets Az’s eyes once again, quirking an eyebrow suspiciously.

~ ♡ ~

The pair made their way into a part of Minrathous that Emmrich indeed hadn’t seen before. It was just a little outside of their usual stomping grounds, perhaps a 10-20 minute walk if Emmrich had to estimate.

As the small distance between the two towns would suggest, there was almost no observably clear difference apart from different stalls and establishments lining the streets. Though, something about it does seem to make Rook perk up a little, he seems a little more in his element here. Albeit a bit more reserved than he is in Dock Town.

“Okay so… I know it doesn’t exactly look like much…” Rook says, turning to the professor. “But… well…” pausing, he glances down briefly as he pats an imaginary crease out of his shirt trying to plan his next words carefully. “Did I ever tell you why Neve and I hadn’t met before Varric?”

Emmrich tilts his head very slightly, trying to puzzle out where this conversation was going, but instead of saying anything he simply opts to shake his head.

“I only moved to Dock Town recently,” turning slowly Rook begins to walk towards a stall that seems to be selling some assortment of baked goods. “About… oh Gods, at this point I guess it would be about… five-ish years ago?”

Stopping at the stall Rook looks over at Emmrich. Noticing that he seems to have the man's undivided attention, he smiles & continues, “I was actually raised in a nearby town not far from it… not far from here actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my dad…” Rook pauses momentarily, as if thinking something to himself before seemingly shaking it out of his head. “My dad commanded legions in Ventus, and uh, found me on one of his jobs.”

“He… found you?” Emmrich asks, the surprise of the statement helping to drag his gaze away from a very delicious looking Nevarran Torte and back to Az.

Rook lets out a chuckle as he nods, “I know, it sounds weird. I still have no idea what a little Qunari runt was doing in the middle of a battlefield! I always asked but he never…" The sentence wanders off unexpectedly, replaced with a heavy silence that fills the space between the two men.

It was happening again, Emmrich realized: one of Rook’s quiet spells.

Most days Rook was so cheery, always putting on a happy face for the crew & cracking jokes faster than Emmrich could even register the lull in a conversation. Though, at what seemed to be utterly random moments, Rook would suddenly become lost in thought. He’d stop himself before he finished sentences as if he were trying to stop himself from saying the wrong things or saying too much perhaps. Emmrich always wondered what quiet disagreement was taking place in his lover’s mind to leave him looking so conflicted… so forlorn.

Alas, there would be time for that, once their fight against the Gods was over & they could both retire from the daily life or death scenarios.

Eventually, Rook seems to shake himself out of the thought and looks back up at Emmrich sheepishly. “I… never did quite get that story out of my parents.”

“If you don’t mind me asking my Dear,” Emmrich starts, gently taking one of Rook's hands into his own, rubbing circles into the back of it. “What were your parents like?”

Rook snorts, “Stubborn, overbearing, controlling…” the young Qunari pauses briefly, as if reassessing something. “But… I suppose they were all I had really. The only ones who truly cared. Even if they showed it in one of the worst ways possible… even if it made me hate them.”

Emmrich nods somberly, taking Rook’s other hand in his as they stay standing at the dessert stall together. Instead of pushing further, Emmrich decides to leave space for Rook to think, and to potentially lead the conversation into whichever route feels most comfortable. So, for a while, neither man says anything & simply stand in a comfortable silence together.

Rook, as usual, is the first to break the silence between the two men.

“Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to listen to my sad shit,” Looking up at Emmrich with a large {albeit half fake} grin, Az turns around to continue guiding his paramour into the rest of the market. “There’s this stall I think you’ll really like! Y’know, if it’s still here…”

“Oh?” Emmich asks, curious as to what the man could have planned to show him. It’s not as if they hadn’t already perused many Tevene establishments for magical tomes & items dozens of times prior.

Rook doesn’t answer, instead he continues to scan the stalls that surround them both with such dedication you’d think he was hunting an enemy in the middle of battle.

“Aha!” Rook exclaims abruptly, rushing over to what seemed to be a small jewellery stall towards the back of the row. Hanging from the top of the stall are long rows of necklaces, all adorned with various jewels that were no doubt enchanted with some form of warding magic or glamour spell. Though, instead of setting his sights on those, Rook’s eyes instead scan through the display cases of rings and brooches on the table below.

After a few more seconds, Az picks up something small and presents it to Emmrich excitedly. Attracting the attention of the stall owner as he does, suspicion clear in her gaze as she watches the exchange cautiously. Probably to make sure the pair don’t run off with the item.

“I… I know it's not as fancy as your Nevarran stuff,” Rook mumbles, “but during our dinner the other night, something you said reminded me of this.”

Presenting the piece to Emmrich, Rook's hands seemed to shake lightly. It wasn’t so bad that it obstructed the item but it was enough for Emmrich to notice. The sight of Rook’s nerves simultaneously warmed & pierced Emmrich’s heart. It was endearing to see that his Dearest cared so much about Emmrich’s opinion of him. Though, the frequency of the nerves did always leave him wondering: What in Thedas had this poor boy been subjected to previously? For him to be so nervous at any attempt at a genuine display of true affection?

The questions stung Emmrich every time they surfaced in his mind, so as usual he pushed them away for now. Instead of ruining the current moment, they would be something else that would keep him awake on particularly reflective nights. Until he could coax the answer from Az once their relationship wasn’t so… new and nerve wracking that is.

Once the thoughts subsided, Emmrich took a closer look at the piece of jewellery. It seemed to be a small collar pin, not so dissimilar to the skull one that Emmrich already frequently wore but there was something different about it.

Upon realization, Emmrich could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat: the collar pin was a tiny metallic lilac.

“Now - I know favourite colour isn’t exactly the same thing as favourite flower, but Lilac still is a type of flower! And to be fair to me - you still haven’t exactly told me what your favourite flower is! So I tried for the next best thing - Of course, If you don’t like it then that's fine! I can just find something in the style of your favourite flower instead! If you tell me what that is, I mean! - l um…” Rook pauses for a second, realising he’s starting to ramble. He takes a moment to take a deep breath & tries to refocus the conversation. “Anyway, sorry this is probably pretty silly isn’t it?”

Rook lets out a small, nervous laugh as he glances away, embarrassed. Though this is abruptly stopped by Emmrich’s free hand which has seemingly made its way to his chin at lightning speed.

“My Darling Boy…” the necromancer begins, guiding Rook’s eyeline back to his, a large & genuine smile on his face. “This is absolutely wonderful, and it truly warms me to know you brought me all this way to see it.”

With that smile, Rook feels the warm fuzzy feeling that always seems to sneak up on him whenever Emmrich’s around. His shoulders relax, his head begins to feel oh so free of the ever crushing stress, his eyes soften and he feels his body begin to feel lighter. Every time this happened, Az felt like he could lose himself in his beloved’s eyes for centuries. Seeing the warm, genuine care and affection within them could, for just a second, make him forget who he was, where they were… the fact that he was always one misstep away from utter heartbreak.

He felt this way during every conversation, every flirtation, every amazing night they spent together. He adored it, he reveled in the way it made him feel like maybe, just this once things could finally be different, be lasting.

Though, the joy always swiftly dispersed once he walked away from these encounters. Without Emmrich in view, he couldn’t stave off the doubts any longer… nor the memories. These moments were when the truth of the world came flooding back & he was reminded of the inevitability of betrayal which always plummeted him back down to earth harder each & every time.

So naturally, to avoid this inevitability, there’s lines, limits that Az wouldn’t… couldn’t ever cross. There always had been and there always would have to be. For if he strayed away from the usual dance, his usual script…

“Az?” Emmrich’s warm, familiar voice pierces directly through Rook’s thoughts, the large smile still evident on his face if not now featuring a small bit of concern. “Are you alright, my love?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry! Not sure what’s got into me today.” Rook laughs half heartedly as he pulls the collar pin back from Emmrich, “So you like it?”

“Why of course-”

“Great!” Rook turns to hold the pin back out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy this please.”

Before Emmrich can even fully process what's happening, Rook places a small black box into Emmrich’s hands & smiles brightly at him.

“A gift… if you’ll have it.” Rook offers, smiling sheepishly.

It takes a few moments for him to catch up, but once he does the older gentleman’s cheeks begin to burn a light shade of pink. He was flattered enough that Rook had brought him all this way just to show him something that reminded him of Emmrich! For his beloved to buy it for him as well…

“You needn’t have my Dear truly, but thank you all the same… I shall cherish it deeply.”

With that, Emmrich swiftly places the small box into his waistcoat pocket for safe keepings.

As he stands back up, he takes Rook’s hand into his own and stares lovingly at the man, wondering how he could soon return the gesture in kind. Though, before he could say anything else, the moment was abruptly cut short by an unknown voice from beside the pair.

“Az?”

Rook turns towards the source of the noise, his blood running cold the second he notices a familiar pair of eyes.

It’s amazing how a day can turn from wonderful to awful, at the drop of a hat.

“Maker, it really is you!” A young, extremely well groomed man yells as he stands before Rook and Emmrich.

From what Emmrich can make out he seems to be Tevene, upper class if his outfit is of any indication and about Rook’s age. Unfortunately, his examination of the interloper was cut short when the man excitedly threw his arms around a clearly very uncomfortable Rook.

“Get the fuck off me.” Az hissed, shoving the man off of him.

The stranger stumbles backwards slightly, shock painting his features as he stares at Rook incredulously. Though, only a few seconds pass before he seems to compose himself enough to begin nonchalantly brushing a crease out of his sleeve.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re not much of a hugger.” He laughed, a tinge of bitterness coming through.

With his feet firmly planted in place, Rook glared at the man. His jaw clenched momentarily before he seemed to muster the words that would stun Emmrich more than anything they had experienced together thus far had.

“I’m. Not. Az.”

Now, It wasn’t the aggression that had caught Emmrich so off guard. Was it was unlike Az to be so immediately hostile? Why, of course it was! But as the stranger had just pointed out: Az was quite touch averse {except for when it came to Emmrich it seemed} so this part was somewhat explainable. What had truly thrown Emmrich was that Rook had just lied about who he was.

During his time in the Veilguard Emmrich had grown to see that Az was a man who, despite all of his self doubt and anxiety, always seemed so proud of his identity. To see him suddenly reject his name & pretend to be someone he wasn’t.. Now that was the most perplexing and unexpected thing.

“W-what?” the stranger sputtered, leaning back for a second as he re-examined Rook’s face. After a few more moments of this he finally lets out another small, albeit uncertain laugh, as he shakes his head.“C’mon stop messing around. It’s me, Ren, remember?”

Rook stays as irritated and on guard as prior, crossing his arms as he glares back at the man. “Don’t know a Ren. Like I said: you got the wrong person.”

“Kaffas, don’t be ridiculous.I just heard him call you Az!” Ren gestures in Emmrich’s broad direction, irking the professor, as if the way he had been treating Rook hadn’t already vexed him enough. He hated being spoken about as if he wasn’t even there.

“Look… Az, please.” Ren’s tone softens as he lets out a slightly exasperated sigh, “I know we didn’t leave off on the best terms but, surely it’s been long enough now? We were kids-”

“It’ll never be long enough.” Az snaps back with more venom in his voice than Emmrich would’ve ever thought possible of the man. Then, seemingly dropping the wrong person act entirely, Rook steps away from the mystery man & a little closer to Emmrich.

After a moment of silence from all three of the gentlemen, Az speaks up again, with the righteous conviction Emmrich’s only ever heard him use on the likes of the Venitori sneaking its way into his tone.

“I don’t talk to traitors, or blood mages.”

“Venhedis! Will you lower your voice?” Ren hisses back, stepping closer to Rook.

However, before he can get too close, Emmrich instinctually moves forward. Not enough to stop their conversation, but just enough to force the gap between Ren & Az to stay as it is. He may not be much of a confrontational man but Emmrich would rather die than allow Rook’s boundaries to be trampled over. Even if he is lacking an alarming amount of context for this conversation at present moment.

Ren looks up at Emmrich properly for the first time, irritated, with a hint of confusion painting his features. After a few moments of seemingly trying to assess the situation, it looks as if he returns to his original plan.

“I am not a blood mage.” He insists, focusing his attention back on Rook, “Nor am I a traitor Az-”

“And I’m not Az!” Rook retorts, glaring daggers at the man, though seeming to be a little less unnerved with Emmrich now acting as a physical buffer between the two of them. “Now kindly fuck off before this has to turn into a scene. I know your kind don’t like that.”

Ren seems to bristle at this comment, his jaw clenching as he glances away from Rook to make sure nobody really had noticed. Luckily for him, there were only a few eyes glancing, though that was still a few eyes too many for his comfort.

Without another word Ren turned and started to walk away. Only briefly pausing to glance back at the pair, almost as if trying to figure out an angle to continue the conversation. Thankfully, he eventually gives up and simply continues to walk away.

~ ♡ ~

The two men travel home in silence together, Emmrich had tried to broach the subject but Rook just insisted that they continue their conversation back at the lighthouse. So, after what felt like the longest, most uncomfortable journey of their lives, the pair finally arrived back home.

“Rook,” Emmrich tentatively begins as he slowly closes Rook's bedroom door. “I hope it’s not too soon but I was really hoping we could talk-” before he could finish his sentence he heard a quiet broken sob from behind him.

Shocked, Emmrich’s whirls around, his eyes shooting up as he begins searching for the source of the noise. Only to find Az, standing in the middle of the room frozen, as quiet yet intense sobs continue to rack through his body. What parts of his face Emmrich can see are completely flushed red {well as red as a Qunari’s face can get}, tears streaking down his cheeks as he covers his face in a mixture of distress & shame.

“Rook, Darling? Are you alright?” The older gentleman asked as he rushed up to Az, making sure to not crowd his lover. He did, however, stand just close enough so that, spirits willing, Az could reach out to him with ease if he desired physical comfort.

Unfortunately Rook remains completely unresponsive to anything and after a few brief moments of this, it all seems to become too unbearable for the poor boy as his knees practically give way. Dropping to his knees, Az continues to keep his eyes shut tight. The only real noise that can be heard coming from the man is a mixture of the sobs and short, quick breaths.

Seeing his Love like this shook Emmrich, more than he’d expected seeing the man upset would. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t explosive, it wasn’t anything Emmrich was used to helping comfort in students, friends or previous lovers alike. If Emmrich was to be honest, it wasn’t clear at all what was going on. It was simply as if the charismatic, funny, intelligent, strong man that he knew had completely shut down.

In response, the necromancer moves a little closer and kneels in front of Rook, still not touching the man but merely ensuring that his presence stays known to his Beloved.

“Do you remember the breathing exercises I shared with you and Ballara a few weeks ago Dearest?” Emmrich asks in a quiet, gentle voice as to not distress Rook any further. Once he notices a glimmer of recognition in what parts he could see of Az’s face he continues, “Could I bother you to try to re-enact them with me now?”

Over the next few minutes, Emmrich slowly takes Rook through the simplest of the routines that the trio had discussed previously when trying to encourage some self care habits in Bellara: Breathing in 3s.

Breathe in for 3 seconds, hold said breath for 3 more and then let it out slowly over the course of a final 3 seconds. As the exercise progresses, Emmrich counts out each second that passes. Once Rook seemingly masters the current allotted time for breathing, he then encourages him to increase the length of each action by increments of 1.

This continues until, together, they are able to stabilise Az’s breathing. This development gives Emmrich the push needed to speak up once again.

“My Dear, I am so sorry today has distressed you so…” after a brief pause, “if there’s anything more I can do… I’m right here and will continue to be so until you dismiss me.”

The room remains quiet for a few minutes as the men sit in silence, though eventually one of Az’s hands begins to lower from his face. Slowly & shyly he looks back up at Emmrich, eyes bloodshot from crying and face still a little red,

“Darling,” Emmrich starts, heart and voice swelling with pure concern & affection before he’s abruptly cut off by Rook.

“I- I’m so sorry…” Az whispers, “I thought it would be okay… I didn’t think… Venhedis I’m so sorry.”

Taken aback by the man’s words, Emmrich wonders why in Thedas Rook could possibly be apologising. Of course, an explanation would be appreciated but an apology? He would never expect it from a situation like this, especially when his beloved is so clearly and intensely distressed.

“Rook… Dearest… you have nothing to apologise for.” The professor coos as he raises his hand to cup Az’s cheek, tilting his head to look him in the eyes. “I am merely worried for you, My Love.”

Rook sniffles slightly as he looks up at Emmrich, welcomed back into the eyes he was so happily, so ridiculously, losing himself in just hours before. He could almost lose himself in their endless comfort once again if he wasn’t interrupted by his lover a few moments later.

“Please… if you could. I would greatly like to understand what happened today.”

Rook’s breathing stills a little at the request, it’s as if his whole body freezes yet again at just the idea of answering what on the surface seemed like such a benign question. But… it wasn’t truly benign was it?

Prior to this, Rook had always been able to brush off the questions he’d received from the handful of lovers who had just happened to stumble in on him like this before; they all had quickly accepted that Az wasn’t one to talk much about these types of things. Anything too intense, too real, that was a no go. And frankly none of them cared enough to try again after asking once. But Emmrich… Vashedan.

That man cared too much and saw too much , Rook knew he couldn’t lie to him.

He didn’t want to lie to him.

“I…” Rook starts, before he’s even figured out where his sentence is going. “You don’t understand… you don’t realise what you’re asking.”

Emmrich pauses momentarily, taking his time to really think through his next steps. After a few seconds, he gestures to the empty spot next to Rook. Once he receives a tentative nod in return, he sits himself down next to his lover.

“Then tell me; help me understand, Az.” With that Emmrich places one hand in Az’s, holding it tight as he places his other hand on top.

They stay like this for a few minutes, both men leaning into one another in that comforting silence that Az loved so damn much.

Rook spends the time trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Wondering whether he should even say it at all or if he should just grin & bear it as usual. Lying through his teeth to his partner in the process. Would it allow them to continue exploring what they were to each other? Or would it destroy the small amount of trust that they had been able to foster while Rook had still been desperately trying to keep the other man at an arm's length?

The fear of the latter seemed to be the thing that finally broke through to Rook. He couldn’t go on like this if he ever wanted something real… and no matter how many times up until this point that he had told himself otherwise… Gods did he want something real.

So, Az finally decided to be brave.

“Okay,” he started through a shaky breath, “I told you, I didn’t live in Dock Town till recently. And that I grew up not far from it or that market...”

“Yes,” Emmrich responded hastily, hoping to encourage his companion to continue his train of thought.

“Well… turns out everyone likes to revisit the places they used to frequent from time to time. Whether they’re a common asshole… or a Magister's son.”

At this Emmrich’s eyes widened slightly: sure the young man that had so rudely interrupted their lovely day out was immaculately dressed but surely he wasn’t… Rook loathed most Magisters almost as much as he loathed all Venatori.

Rook let out a slight, self deprecating chuckle as he noticed the look on Emmrich’s face.

“I know… a Magister's son and a random Qunari Laetan… How could those two be friends, right? Well, contrary to popular belief: some Magister’s kids aren’t born with hate and greed in their hearts.”

“Rook… why did you…” Emmrich starts, uncertain of exactly what he wanted to ask first.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you view the situation, before he could give it much more thought Emmrich was abruptly cut off by Az again.

“If I admitted who I was… if I said ‘Yes Ren, it’s me, I remember you!’ I wouldn’t have been able to… We wouldn't have gotten out of that market without me killing a Magister's son… and us needing to avoid Minrathous again… that’s not an option.” Rook pauses, breath growing a tad shaky, “I couldn’t do that again. Not when there’s so much at stake. Not just for Minrathous, not just for my home… but for the world…”

The elder gentleman let out a slight hum of understanding, starting to rub circles into the top of Rook’s hand again as he continued to leave space for Az. Not daring to interrupt the flow of vulnerability that he had honestly never thought he’d ever witness from the man.

After a few more moments of this, Rook speaks up again.

“If it’s alright with you Emmrich, I don’t quite have the energy to go too deep into it tonight… I can give you the short of it though… for now?”

Emmrich simply nods, pushing his questions aside for tonight as he instead continues to focus all of his attention on Az, leaving the Qunari trying not to burn up again from a mixture of embarrassment & shyness. Though after withstanding a few seconds of the intense concentration that was being directed at him, Rook seems to be able to refocus on his own words.

“Okay, so… Ren and I were friends when we were younger… and well… I suppose at one point we were something more to each other than that. Though it turns out, the apple really never does fall that far from the tree.” Az lets out a small, bitter laugh before continuing. “Anyway, thousands of lies, 1 dead close family friend of mine & of course 1 blood magic ritual later and… well let’s just say it took me a long time to even think about going near that market again. Nevermind…”

Another heavy, still silence fills the air, though this time it’s one of shock.

Emmrich knew Rook didn’t talk about his past much, as someone who also didn’t talk about his own a great deal, Emmrich had assumed it was for similar reasons. There were probably some painful things Az didn’t want to talk about in fear of resurfacing past upsets but… this was just a snippet and it was already so much more than the necromancer had expected the poor boy to have been subjected to.

“In any case,” Az starts again, wiping a stray tear from his cheek as he moves away from Emmrich slightly, “I suppose… as a result - I don’t really do relationships anymore… not really anyway. It’s a lot harder to have something real with someone when they realise you’ve got way more baggage than you’ve been letting on.” Rook fails to stifle a self deprecating, harsh laugh. “Even harder when you have to keep all your shit weird bottled up, pretend you’re not constantly on the edge of a panic attack and now I suppose lead the fight against a pair of Elvhen gods while a third is in your head.”

A few moments of silence fill the room as Emmrich stares incredulously at the man before him.

Rook, Az, the unfaltering leader of the Veilguard as Emmrich had come to know him… the man who faced every single horrific, dire situation head on since the men had met. His Darling Boy wasn’t infallible after all. In fact… he was almost just as bad as Emmrich at avoiding all of his problems till they came crashing down on him in one fell swoop.

“So… I guess what I’m saying,” Az begins again, this time in a much quieter voice. “Is, I understand if this is a bit… much. I’ll try not to hold it against you if you wanna call this off now.”

It’s as if those final words immediately snatch Emmrich out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping back up to Rooks somehow even more full of shock and concern than before.

Surely Az couldn’t be suggesting…?

“Joking,” he quickly continues, “Sorry, I wouldn’t hold it against you at all… I couldn’t if I tried really... Y’know, If you wanted to call it quits here I mean… I- I’d get it.” He finished with as big of a smile as he could muster, turns out it wasn’t much of one and by the Gods did it look like it would break at any moment.

Without saying anything else, Emmrich simply steps closer to Az, grabbing his beloved’s chin to tilt it back towards his gaze.

“Dearest,” he begins, staring deeply into Az’s eyes, “nothing could keep me from your side.” The professor takes one of Rook’s hands in his free one and grips it tightly. “Especially not something as natural as history, as ‘baggage’. Spirits willing Az… I will stay by your side into the afterlife, or at least for as long as you’ll have me.”

A few seconds of silence pass as Rook tries to process the words that had just left his lover's mouth. Never in a million years had he expected to find such genuine care and affection… someone that would not only see him collapse in a heap of distress but someone who would also stay with him the entire time and then accept him… with all of his ever growing pile of weird Vashedan.

Overcome with relief and an overwhelming sense of acceptance, Rook steps closer to Emmrich, crashing his lips into the necromancers. His free hand worms its way around Emmrich’s back to pull them closer to one another as the kiss is returned just as eagerly. Emmrich leans into it, releasing rook’s hand only to wrap his own arm around the Qunari’s waist, tightening the embrace further.

And they stayed like that. For as long as they could, they stayed like that.

16 notes · View notes

dykedvonte · 1 month ago

Note

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

#i also hear the bro code thing in tandem with his comments on saying he knows Jimmy but that is also in a much different context than #if he said it when Anya was actively telling him about the dead pixel or the pregnancy or even when she told jimmy that was about himself #and getting between Anya and Jimmy as in he knows Jimmy and knows he wont try anything when hes around not that he doesnt think hes #doing anything or doesn't believe Anya and Im a bit annoyed people shorthand or try to recontextualize the statements he makes about it #cause even the let me talk to him line is more in concern of what Jimmy could be doing and less wanting to make sure hes okay and #being more worried about his friend than Anya in that moment like removing the context makes the sentiments sound more uncaring #and typically but the context is how they are deconstructed to give the story and themes a deeper nuance because Anya is happy that Curly #says that becuase he leads it under the idea of protecting her as he knows and she has likely seen/experienced it enough that Jimmy #back down/off around Curly typically as we see he does relatively subdue Jimmy's attitude before the eval and it only gets bad once the #scene at the birthday party happens when Jimmy is likely in a mode where hes not going to listen to Curly about anything after cause he fee #personally betrayed in a selfish egotistical way like the game is a deconstruction nothing is supposed to a typical one to one on the #concepts it handles. this also ties to me like getting more and more annoyed everytime is see a post making Curly the most milktoast #no opinions ever sort of guy when he does have a personality outside of enabling Jimmy and has opinions on things like the QnA's #talking about him being snow Tony Hawk flesh him out more realistically than think pieces saying he has no opinions on anything #and would never take stances like this is a immediate dire circumstance with multiple facets I dont think hed hesitate to help if he active #saw like someone getting attacked on the street or that hes a centrist that doesnt care about womans issues like this is the equivalent #of when a character gets dumbed down to their like favorite food and one defining aspect of themselves and even then I feel like everyone #else but the mouthwashing fandom has a better grasp of that aspect before they make it unrecognizable.#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #ask #anon

75 notes · View notes

hazellvsq · 4 months ago

Text

frank and piper are interesting counterpoint narratives to me. both of them have relatively mundane problems compared to the rest of the cast yet their parent's domains represent the heights of human passion as defined by the series, despite piper and frank both being (outwardly) dispassionate and (inwardly) mopey. the good end of these domains is love and protection (selfless), the bad end is heartbreak and bloodlust (selfish), which both of them try to resist. they both get claimed last out of their trios and had beforehand assumed that they were the children of someone else. both also experience perceived rejection from their mortal family directly before the series begins - both express anger and hurt at being "sent away". their rejection and unexpected claiming, back-to-back, results in discombobulation for them both, and feelings of humiliation brought on by both sets of parents.

they also both go through forced physical transformations by their parents to fit an ideal they don't want. all of the characters experience issues of identity and self-esteem but i think its the most pronounced with these two in the series. neither of them really knows who they are, and are pessimistic about their own capabilities. they are also counterpoints in that they feel disconnected from their own looks - both are very self-conscious people, but, based on how they're described by other characters, piper is probably the most beautiful member of the 7 and frank is probably the least. piper is frequently harassed and objectified, whereas frank is teased constantly about his looks. he neither feels as childish as his face is nor as grown as his body is, and he doesn't understand how to move through the world. both of which are common experiences throughout puberty - suddenly being treated differently on the basis of a body that's changing faster than you want or understand.

(discourse alert) i don't have a lot to add to the piper transformation discourse except that i do think its interesting that her blessing was temporary within the book and her love interest actually self-reflected on his reaction to it and realized that he should not have told her that she looked hot in that instance. rick did reverse frank's transformation five years later and i'm curious about his thought process about both writing it in the first place and in reversing it, and what feedback he received, if any. piper's transformation was a makeover whereas frank's was a puberty, which later rick walked back with "actually frank is still going through puberty". piper's was cheesy, sure, but frank's falls so flat bc that's just not how it works. its too much of a stretch. i don't even think it was in rick's og plan for frank, maybe he just watched captain america and was like "hell yeah i should do that" and flipped a coin between frank and leo, bc again frank was already initially described as physically grown in his debut book. and i can't even talk about hazel's reaction to to it bc its not real to me and i can't read suddenly. idk frank's plotline in general was too rushed in that book and he should have gotten another pov chapter set at least bc rick was trying to do too much too fast and relied on idiocy like the transformation to support it in the place of real character work when it wasn't even necessary for anything he accomplished in the book. he could've just walked around with better posture and achieved the same effect.

#very long very rambling post sorry. i wish piper and frank actually got to interact #there's more to say about gender here but idk how to articulate it #you could argue that all members foil each other in some way this isn't the only foil for these characters between the two trios #i just think its interesting especially how their transformations are treated in the text #idk my feelings about both rick and the fandom's reaction to the discourse is complicated #a lot of fans who correctly assessed the fatphobia embedded in the plotline would be foaming at the mouth with rage #if rick wrote that percy or nico gained weight after tarturus #people have different standards for the characters they view as side characters versus the characters they actually identify with #which happens in every fandom. its not really 'problematic' but it does make their takes about 'representation' a little unserious to me #blogs that used to draw biblically accurate frank also drew 16yo percy with eightpack abs and hced frank as a big brother uwu and asexual #its the 'you look like you give great hugs!' condescension in fandom form #although fanon frank is so divorced from canon frank that its not really relevant ig just annoying

23 notes · View notes

lith-myathar · 1 month ago

Text

#people very much want to blame readers for a lack of engagement with fic these days but frankly i think this is.... incorrect #we need to be real about WHAT ao3 is #it is an archive #it is not a space that is particularly conducive to social engagement #the most collaborative experiences i ever had around fic happened on livejournal #it was not on ff.net #like i agree that there is a depressing drop off in like...idk the idea of the social acceptability of leaving comments #and a far more pronounced divide between readers and authors #but this isn't happening bc readers suck now and they're selfish and entitled which frankly is how many posts opining about this issue sound #it's not like lurking or sorting by complete works only is NEW #these are things that have always happened #what has CHANGED imo is that the spaces where fic happens and the spaces where fandom happens are now very different #and isolated from one another #and we can blame readers for not bridging that gap all we want but it's not gonna fix it #especially since we know how well shaming people for Not Enjoying Things Correctly tends to go #like i don't have an answer to this problem but i think this ''you're entitled!'' ''no YOU'RE entitled'' back and forth #between writers and readers certainly isn't going to fix anything either #it's only going to push those two groups further away from each other #to my mind what we need is a) a platform more conducive to collabortive fic writing and fandom interaction #(think LJ or old dedicated fandom message boards)#and b) a cultural shift within fandom spaces away from this idea that authors are like... untouchable or whatever #bc from what I have observed authors who DON'T have this issue are ones who started creating fanworks from within a pre-existing friendgroup #a pre-existing readership really #and these little subsets then grow into larger readerships #the problem is how partioned all these group start #and that i think is a byproduct of an overall more hostile fandom space where people feel like they can't speak or create openly #without being in danger of running afoul of some fandom scold and their lackeys #like fandom has never lacked for drama but i do think in a post-tumblr/twitter fandom space we can all agree that shit jas gotten Buckwild #*gestures at how bg3 fandom recently speedran fandom insanity primarily on twitter*#shit is different these days and blaming each other for that is missing the forest for the trees

7 notes · View notes

mootmuse · 6 months ago

Text

time to vent: can we enjoy male characters who canonically explore dressing fem without deciding as a fandom that they're not men anymore, please? can we enjoy that kind of exploration happening without immediately deciding pretty clothes decide who a character is? or at least, please tag your posts calling them women with something. as a trans guy who even in an ideal world probably wouldn't ever pass, who'd love to be able to wear skirts without being called a woman for it, that shit hurts.

#It's happened in multiple fandoms now!#gender roles aren't more woke just because we're the ones doing it!#like i get that there's a difference between broadly accepted fanon and individual headcanon #and respect that people have very personal reasons for those headcanons #but when these characters are the ONLY ones who get HC'd as trans women I start to side eye it you know #can we just let things be more complicated than dress=woman?#if y'all do this you don't have the right to make fun of any man for being afraid of wearing pink. this is why they're afraid of it!#this kind of conception of what exploring gender presentation means is exactly why people are afraid #this is such a tumblr thing to be annoyed by. but i'm so annoyed by it #tagging for people's blacklists and hoping doing so doesn't get this in any actual tags anyone's searching:#discourse #serious post #gender stuff

9 notes · View notes

pigeonliker420 · 7 months ago

Text

whatevers wrong with this man i like it

#i didnt expect to like touchstarved from what id seen from its fandom but when i finally tried the demo i was pleasantly surprised #i looked at the meta first cos i do things backwards and. man. what a good reminder that the most vocal fans also are the most stupid #girl you are misinterpreting The Text so badly that what you consider the subtext is suspicious #i felt bad for the leaps i was making from a single prologue but i see you people are jumping straight off the cliff with nothing so nvm #anyway leander do you want to fuck all your friends. do you want to fuck all your friends that hate you leander #i fear them making a green character associated with flowers snakes ouroboros masks and 8s was specifically an attack against me.#if only i hadn't found this like a year before official release. got dam #i could and would go on but the nurse has arrived with my sedative #its actually genuinely hard to pick a favourite they all have aspects i really like so far #at first kuras' subdued personality kind of washed off me but then his ending to the prologue was v fun and put him in a different light #wtf a vn with characters that are all hits for me. unfair #i love that u can ask them all about each other at the end there. love how its modelling its characters social fumbles #in particular given everything the promo material says about leander and vere and how they talk about each other #u can get a picture of a very fumbled situation there lmaooo between leanders savior complex and veres inability to set down real boundarie #butttt you know them all for less than a day... i wanna know what happened there

16 notes · View notes

ezralva · 10 months ago

Text

Random morning talk

My man when I showed him proofs of how Choso has become so very popular, particularly after the anime, and slutified at the level of Gojo, Geto, Nanamin, and Toji (mind you, he's a big fan of Nanamin)

V: for real?? Choso? I get when it's Nanami, but this pigtailed big brother?? The guy whose vocabs and brain only consist of Eso, Kechizu, Yuuji, and otouto...? Just...how?

Me: old man, that's just how things go nowadays...The young girlies will take one look at the muscular male 2D character and immediately collectively call him a babygirl and then fantasize to impregnate him...that's the norm!

V: ...o...kay

V:....still don't get it but you do you...i guess

Me: trust me...i don't get it either 🤣 but even Higuruma is on his way to be one, when he's not even animated yet!

V: ....i see.

#he's only a year older than me but sometimes act like a grandpa #but this reminds me how different and jarring the pov of fans who mingle in the fandom with its derivative fanworks vs the fans who are #solely for the original work #or to some extents the difference between female fans and male fans #choso #and i told him how according from the recent survey #jujutsu kaisen #has more female fans than males which is quite rare for shun #shounen manga but heh it's self-explanatory of why that happened

5 notes · View notes

galacticlamps · 8 months ago

Text

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

#torchwood soho: ascension #let's start with the most obvious shall we? behind norton - hellfire or divine radiance? whadda we think?#i know one's much more likely for him but also consider: he's been a fairly good boy by norton standards anyway lately #well i say 'lately' like i know when this takes place #idk why but i kinda feel like this starts very soon after unbegotten #comedy is probably why honestly. since that ends with them being like hey! something went right!#i think ever since i first heard that i was like ok cool so the next installment's gonna be something earth shatteringly bad #& it's gonna kick off dramatically literally one second after this scene ends right?#not that it wouldnt be nice to have some (clearly-defined) timeskip there #tbh i feel like that's the one thing that's missing with soho sometimes - those little medium-sized gaps in continuity #where either speculation or even a missing scenes style fic would go #between parasite & ashenden lizbeth was dead and andy wasnt in the right era for soho shenanigans #and norton and gideon went through SO much offscreen (offmic?)#rebuilding torchwood and starting a relationship and breaking up and getting possessed by space eels and destroying torchwood again #that's like... Too Much to analyze/meaningfully discuss without a few more details from canon #and between Ashenden & Unbegotten it's very unclear how much time has passed #norton certainly seems affected when he sees gideon again for the first time but we also know he went there for him so how long was it?#that and we have literally zero explanation for what andy's doing in the 50s in that one to begin with. has he been there continuously?#or did he leave and come back? if so did norton even have to try justifying it to him?#or does andy just accept at this point that he'll be summoned for anything norton feels is noteworthy? honestly either's plausible w him #but also we have so little confirmed about what torchwood looks like at this point in time!#maybe andy gets summoned for all missions bc he norton and lizbeth are virtually the only agents left after gideon quits #there's just a few too many things unexplained/alluded to for me to go total total fandom mode on this #speculating & theorizing about everything that happens off-audio #doubtless this is mainly bc of norton's general untrustworthiness #like im sure a different main character would've left the audience with fewer uncertainties after this many hours of storytelling #but with soho im still left needing just a tiiiiiny bit more before i feel im knowledgeable enough about the situation to expand upon it #in the traditional fandomy 'transformative' way #right now most of my fanning over it is just speculation about what precisely we can be confident in from the dialogue we do have #but i'd like to go further than that truly. these characters captivate me. obviously.

2 notes · View notes

floralovebot · 2 years ago

Text

I talk a lot about how different fanon!Helia is from canon!Helia but not enough but how bad it is for all the characters.

Like you have Riven going from this insecure teenage boy who lashes out at anyone who challenges him to this suave bad boy who could kill the winx. People seeing Stella as a stuck up brat, thinking that she loves Bloom more than the other winx, or that she would ever choose to be selfish in ways that hurt the other characters. Or Flora going from this fairly confident young girl who loves to meet new people and hangout with others to an introverted shy mess who never speaks up and would never say something sarcastic. Not to sound like a bitch but I really do think it's time the fandom stops pretending we're better than other fandoms and don't have Fanon Versions because we do and it's messing with y'alls perception of canon so fucking bad

#theres a time and place for fanon and its not pretending that fanon IS canon #and like listen #there's a big difference between having headcanons and fanonizing a character so badly that theyre basically a different character #im not saying its Bad to have headcanons or to disagree with canon #everyone does that its normal and healthy for fandoms #that sounded SO online good god #but also recognizing that your headcanons are Just headcanons is also necessary?#and recognizing that sometimes headcanons have been disproven by canon or aren't backed up at all #and not acting like your fanon version Is canon or is better than canon?#like genuinely think some of you dont even like canon winx and you just like the fanon versions of them in your head #like no sorry but flora isnt the fumbling shy mess who can't even speak to the others #stella isnt the dumb selfish princess who can't fight and wouldn't protect her friends #aisha isn't the Super Independent Woman who hates all men (also a very racist trope)#musa isnt that I Hate Everyone bitch who would dropkick the winx and physically abuse riven #i could go on and on like im sorry but the fanon versions of them are So Bad rn its so weird to me #like... fanon has always existed but i dont think its ever been this bad? usually Extreme Fanon only happened when someone hated a characte #like people usually only mischaracterize them when they Hate them but now im seeing people who Love them do it #i dont understand what happened why has fanon gotten so bad recently??#also Im Sorry if any of this sounds targeted or extra bitchy i promise im not talking about anyone specific and im not Trying to be mean #i just really hate going into a character tag and seeing post after post of people going 'riven would kill sky if he got the chance'#and i dont mean the clearly joke posts i mean the Very Genuine Headcanon posts like what the FUCK are you people talking about #i genuinely think some of you got your degrees from the fanon university instead of the canon uni #please rewatch the entire first three seasons at your earliest convenience or your degree will be revoked #ajhdglagd #like not to sound mean but i think there was an influx of people who only vaguely remembered the show and got the rest of their info #from random tumblr posts instead of yknow. the actual show #oh i am very complainy today time to do something more productive and less chronically online

18 notes · View notes

tentacletournament · 2 years ago

Note

This is very off topic but- i thought you would appreciate the fact that i'm going to write about the classic to geno to error timeline in my philosophy essay.

IM SCREAMING THEIR TIMELINE IS MY EVERYTHING I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED FOREVER AND EVER IF YOU DONT GET FULL MARKS ILL DIE

#if you ever feel like sending it you know where to find me #no bc im obsessed with the entire timeline of basically decay and tie in lore of the entire thing #the concept of not only the affects of trauma and isolation but also the changing of situation and environment having that big of an impac #is so fun to analyse #the impact of knowledge on this guy and how this relates to the entire concept of timelines is such a good psychological stufy #on top of the environment changes that sans goes through theres also the entire thing with all the relationships in his life #starting with gaster that is clearly a large affect on the sci to classic time until eventually the genocide route changes him again but #more drastic because of his new position stuck in save forever until eventually the void #and then you apply the little typology pseudoscience to his personality and way of thinking throughout this #and then apply the whole multiversal war lore to how he reacts and responds to the creation of aus #and then you consider all the fandom relationships between the sanses and how they react to one another specifically between the main #timeline and aus because of how different their lives weny #AND THEN ADD ON THAT SANS IS HOT???#ive been obsessed for 8 years sorry for the tag essay #also sans is just funny #sci is my personal favourite because of everything listed above like he hasnt even experienced all of that #but in some interpretations you assume that he DOES know all that happens and he still goes on??#also cpau is my yearly christmas ritual best personification of sci not in terms of anything important but like just how he acts and talks #bhc did blue best thats irrelevant but i need everyone to know about it #not a poll #mars talks #mars is talking a LOT

11 notes · View notes

smartzelda · 18 days ago

Text

Sorry guys I gotta speak my truth on this one

I'm not kidding when I say that I think that blaming shit media literacy from fans on shipping/shippers avoids the actual root of the problem to throw people you can easily throw under the bus (simply because it's not unpopular to consider people who post about ships or ship characters in media as having lesser or derivative tastes by default)

And here's why.

I think when you blame people who are "shippers" or "consume media through shipping lenses", the true root of it all is a mindset problem.

In actually, putting on shipping lenses can be helpful when trying to analyze a piece of media. When analyzing media you're supposed to approach it through a number of mindsets and put on different lenses (both to deepen your personal understanding of the media, and to pick it apart and see what you can find there (whether intentional or not on the author's part)), and different ships can be some of those lenses

When it comes to ships between main characters (for those who are genuinely willing to see what the narrative is showing with their relationship and what it's doing), there are times when analyzing it from a shipping lens may be helpful. As someone from KH fandom, I have seen people come to deeper understandings and pick canon apart in the process of analyzing a relationship that is genuinely integral to the story (platonic or not). I've also seen people get into rarepairs of characters who barely interact or who just suffer little screen time, and I've seen them come to better understandings of those side characters and how they potentially fit into the world of the media simply because people are now focusing on these characters and how they fit into the narrative.

Frankly, I resent the idea that the only way to truly objectively analyze a piece of media is by turning off the part of your brain that gets excited over relationships and individual characters. Don't get me wrong, that is a way to approach a piece of media and a valid one at that, but the truth is that we cannot be free of bias.

For instance, I was watching House MD with my parents circa last year. At some point I started heavily tuning into what was going on with House and Wilson's relationship. My parents, on the other hand, were largely watching casually. They're not thinking of character relationships or getting heavily invested in most characters, they're watching because they like watching. One of them in particular did try to analyze things that were happening in the show as they happened. However, when it came to the scene late in the series where House threw out Dominika's letter approving her American citizenship, my parents could understand that he was doing that because he didn't want her to leave, but not much beyond that. I ended up explaining to them that House's fake marriage for Dominika was an explicit parallel to when Wilson was living with House in the early seasons. Both situations started with House being none too happy about it but ultimately letting them stay, spending a considerable amount of effort getting them to leave/getting this situation to be finally over so he didn't have to deal with it anymore, and then by the time a piece of news comes through that would mean the person in question actually leaves, House hides this news as long as he can. Because he doesn't actually want them to leave and has grown attached. And by doing this he became a self fulfilling prophecy. By reacting to the truth of Wilson and Dominika leaving him the way he does, he seals his fate and they ultimately leave anyways. Maybe I ship Hilson, but becoming open to how their relationship was handled allowed me to transition to doing character studies and recognizing patterns/parallels that I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't particularly care about the characters or their relationship.

Likewise, I've seen mutuals complain about how people who don't like or don't care about certain characters often overlook these characters (what they're actually like and their place in the narrative), while the mutuals in question (by default) are able to come to deeper understanding of what the writers/story is trying to do because they care about this funky guy

You can't eradicate bias when you're engaging in media analysis, but you can consciously put on a range of lenses and observe the media through different povs with the goal of understanding the media better or bolstering your reading of it. And those lenses/povs can include focusing on specific relationships or the perpective of certain characters

And this is why I say it's actually a mindset problem. Shippers and people who have this one blorbo they like a lot aren't inherently terrible "fandom brained individuals" who are the root of media analysis problems. The problem only arises when people's readings/analysis of a piece of media are inherently restrictive/narrow and self centered. Your problem is with people who view a piece of media through a ship they like but don't keep an open mind about it, and whose "media analysis"/views on canon cannot be split from fanon and their comfortability levels. These are the people whose "media analysis" starts and ends with justifying their fanon as canon, whose views on media revolve around sorting characters and relationships into categories they personally enjoy rather than trying to understand what's going on.

Here's another example.

Here we have a fictional ship we'll call uhhhh...Blanebin. this fictional ship I made up on the spot for characters that don't exist named Blane and Corbin

Person A is super into Blanebin. They're part of the main cast of characters and canonically childhood best friends, so person A (as much as they enjoy fanart and fic) is also enjoying analyzing how narratively important to each other they are. Recently, Corbin started dating another character in canon, but Person A is enjoying watching how Blane is reacting to this. "Is this potentially a tell that Blane is jealous or is having complicated feelings about this? What if he was, how would that contextualize his behavior this season? Here's what I think based on how Blane dealt with explicit jealousy last season in a different situation". It's not impossible that person A is still missing further understanding due to their obsession with Blanebin, but at the end of the day this obsession has allowed them to start picking through the characters both in and outside this relationship. It has allowed them to see potential subtext and theorize on what might happen next with these characters' relationship. Not to mention that with addition of Corbin dating someone else, instead of trying to erase this fact or state that Corbin canonically isn't into that person, Person A is trying to factor in how Corbin's current dating life affects his relationship with Blane (irregardless on personal views on the nature of Corbin's relationship with the person he's dating).

Person B is also super into Blanebin. They really enjoy fanart and fic of the characters, love obsessing over their moments together, and just feel like there's really something between the characters. To person B, every moment between them is just further proof that the writers are ship teasing them. But Corbin getting together with someone else this season? Oh that pissed person B off. They cannot believe that even though Corbin and Blane are CLEARLY gay for each other the writers had Corbin get with someone else this season. Perhaps, they think, it was even a decision specifically made to spite fans. How evil of the writers to tease a perfectly good ship and then have them not get together first? They must have been just doing those teases to get views from Blanebin shippers those scoundrels. To Person B, since Corbin started dating someone when he obviously has some chemistry with Blane (even though the series is far from over) means that Blanebin can never get together now and Corbin x person he's dating is ruining Blanebin by existing. In fact, they think, this is terrible writing for Corbin to be dating someone else because they don't like that relationship and don't see the point. Obviously if the writers were good then Corbin would have started dating Blane instead because this was supposed to be the Blanebin show.

Person C despises Blanebin. Don't get them wrong, they've always enjoyed the character's childhood friendship, but they actually have always thought Blane would have been better off with Victoria. They have a lot of moments too! But they're tired of seeing people ship Blanebin. Corbin just got together with someone else, so obviously that's not gonna work out. Plus Corbin and Blane totally has always given person C bro vibes. In fact, person C thinks, sure Corbin and Blane have a close friendship, but people shouldn't be shipping them. Person C likes Blanetoria and Blanetoria can't be canon if Corbin is in the way of it. So Person C likes to read Blanebin as siblings anyways. Sure they're canonically friends, but obviously their friendship turned into brotherhood. This means that nothing can be in the way of Blanetoria and Corbin can keep dating the person he's already canonically dating. Actually, now Blanebin just straight up makes Person C uncomfortable. Don't the pesky shippers understand that Blanebin are sibling coded because they're childhood best friends and that they're important to each other because they're brothers? It's obvious to anyone with eyes.

Sure, ships are involved here, but is the root of this problem shipping? Character A isn't as knowledgeable of other characters in the plot due to this lens they're using, but at the end of the day they're dedicated to analysis. Their love of the characters is pushing them beyond what they like or dislike to try to understand what might be happening through their lens. Not perfect, but they are slowly broadening their horizons. But Person B and C's problems here are their restrictiveness. What is or should be canon to them is tantamount to what they personally like or find comfortable. Is person C actually analyzing the this fake show when they decide to "read" Blanebin as basically canonically siblings (and this all of their moments are totally a bro thing) just because they don't like Blanebin and the idea of them getting together over Blanetoria makes them uncomfortable? Is person B actually analyzing this fake show when their "analysis" of Blanebin goes only as far as asserting it's being ship teased and deciding anything short of canonizing Blanebin is a targeted attack or "bad writing" because it's not what they wanted personally to happen?

This is what I'm talking about. This is the mindset. Shipping isn't the problem. The problem is when people marry fanon and canon to the point where they have a vested interest in superimposing their fanon over canon as "a reading" and trying to make "collective decisions" on what is canon (or what canon is trying to say) based on what does or doesn't make them uncomfortable. The problem is people being restrictive and centering their own likes and dislikes in the conversation, so they can only interact with canon "analysis" wise by deciding what is canon or should be canon "as obviously agreed on by everyone". You can't simply claim you like media analysis. To be able to analyze media and bolster your views on any given canon, you must be open to looking at it through multiple povs, to studying characters without trying to pretend things you don't like don't exist or do like do exist. There is a balance that must be kept between trying to keep objectivity and putting on specific focus/bias based upon the lenses you're putting on. You have to be willing to try to figure out what a media is doing or saying, not saying you're trying to figure out what it's saying while in actuality trying to define the narrative around what people believe it's saying in ways that suit you.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#fandom wank #on the flip side it really just doesn't all happen with shipping #doesn't this go the same way when someone hates a character so they brand them with terrible terms and act like they're terrible without #actually taking a second to analyze them simply because they dislike that character?#Hell I've seen people get really invested in platonic relationships on the fanon side‚ start labeling them as siblings because the idea of #people shipping them makes them uncomfortable‚ and then when new canon doesn't fulfill their hopes they still act like those characters #being siblings to each other is canon because it makes them uncomfortable if that's not true #I've seen people watch a trailer for a piece of media before it comes out‚ build up an entire story in their head based on that trailer #that they've designated as their perfect idea of how to handle concepts presented in the trailer‚ and then when canon doesn't end up going #that way they decide that it's bad writing simply on the grounds that this wasn't the story they wanted. so they unironically act like #writers can only be good writers if the writers play into their specific wants as the audience or things they as an audience member thinks #would be great #genuinely even if people turn off the ship side of their brain or the side that gets obsessed with characters they can still be one of those #people who acts like they love media analysis but ultimately are shit at it #I didn't put this in the body of the post cause it didn't really fit but I have to say this too #I think that 'There are multiple readings one can glean from a text and no reading is the 'true' one‚ and this is okay' and 'not every #reading is a valid one or a good one' are statements that can and should coexist #There is a difference between genuinely reading into a piece of media based on what is happening in it and purposely miscontruing and #twisting canon in a direction that contradicts text so you can then quell all criticism by saying that it's just 'a reading' and #'all readings are valid'#What I'm saying is that if you see a blue car‚ the way you get 'valid readings is people who are determining what shade of blue it is or #what it being a blue car means or the author's intent making the car blue or even speculation as to why it's blue and not potentially other #color. A case of an 'invalid reading' in this case is if someone pointed at the blue car‚ said it's canonically red and the author obviously #intended it to be red and it's canonically red‚ and then when people point out that the car is very much not canonically red (that you #can see it is a very clear shade of blue) this person doubled down and started saying that the 'haters' are being rude by implying that #their personal reading of the text is invalid (in other words 'no you can't get mad at me for saying the blue car is red because it's my #reading of the text and all readings are valid no matter what!')#anyways sorry for going off there #it just pisses me off when people repeat the argument that people who like certain things as fans are inherently unable to perform good #media analysis and are the root of fandom media illiteracy.

1 note · View note