#only a work of fiction based on what might have happened of course...

[cellarfulofnose]

Sack of Potatoes

John's harmonica overdub session for Thank You Girl.

At the sound of an engine approaching and idling, every head in the room went up. The studio looked like a house full of dogs. Beside her, Geoff swallowed, and Reggie thought he might start panting.

The main attraction had arrived, she guessed. In her year as a technical assistant, the most outrageous Beatlemania Reggie had ever seen came from men in jackets and ties. They didn't shake and cry like the girls, didn't scratch policemen and piss themselves. But they would go deathly quiet and ramrod straight, tidying this and that in the room like it was the bloody Queen they were expecting.

Of course, Reggie harbored all the same complaints against monarchists. From an early age, she'd truncated Regina, as much to distance herself from Her Majesty as to foil boys' attempts to make up vulgar rhymes about her. Besides which, she'd needed a snappy androgyne nickname to get ahead in the mod crowd, like her girlfriends Bobbi and Blake.

In any case, she didn't care for this quasi-holiness that her colleagues bestowed on rulers and rockers alike. Grown men, peering out the window over each other's shoulders like babes at the behest of the Good Humor man's chime, all for one lousy Beatle of the bunch.

That, to Reggie, was the kick in the pants. It was only John coming in. They were all gathered here, inhaling each other's cigarette smoke and nervous sweat, so that a school dropout her brother's age might record twenty-eight seconds of harmonica. And she wouldn't even get to see Ringo.

Malcolm had made a sort of huffing noise earlier, when Mr. Martin announced they were to hold a special session for John's overdubs. Reggie confronted him, and he merely shrugged. John was all right, he admitted. Just a bit crass. Made off-colour jokes when asked to be serious.

"He'll like you," he assured her. She hadn't asked.

Geoff snickered. "You'll know if he doesn't."

So he wasn't a politician. That, Reggie could respect. But she found out the previous night's show had been cancelled at the last minute. John, it seems, wasn't feeling well. What terrible ailment could have struck him down in his prime, forced him to shatter the dreams of ten thousand girls (and more than a few men)? Reggie hardly dared ask. Yellow fever? Scarlet fever? Dengue?

A cold.

"Bloody awful cold," Mr. Martin had appended, probably in reply to her incredulous expression.

Reggie said nothing. She didn't recount the time he had called her to work when she was soaking her sheets with fever, then tutted disapprovingly when she asked for a paracetamol. There wasn't much she could do but grit her teeth and bear it. If John was truly as miserable as the legend held, he was sure to be a fright to work with. She gave it five minutes before he started shouting at people to bring him a hot water bottle.

A car door slammed. The boys by the window turned their heads, watching John's path. Reggie poured tea.

She didn't hear the studio door open, but all the breath seemed to go out of the room, as if John had changed the barometric pressure.

"How are you feeling, John?" asked Mr. Martin.

A brief silence and scattered laughter. If Reggie had to guess, she'd have said that John pulled some amusing expression, or horrific gesture. She glanced up out of sheer annoyance. Her eyes started to drift away, but just as soon, her gaze flitted back.

John was ghost white. That was the first thing she noticed. Next in her study of colour contrasts, his formidable nose. Reggie tried not to gawk, really tried, but it was glowing. It was that bad.

There was nothing to say about his hair, really. Only it looked like a normal man's hair, leading Reggie to wonder if he'd really been wearing a Beatle wig all along. His small eyes...she couldn't see what colour.

Before she could spend any more time lamenting the sight of his nose, John wrapped a fist-size wad of facial tissue around it and blew feebly. Reggie's stomach flipped. There was half a second of sound, and from that brief static she knew the fresh tissue was spent beyond any future use. What's more, she knew John's sinuses were no clearer than before. What a sound—what a sight. As with a train wreck, she felt compelled to look despite her stomach's protest.

John rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a clean tissue. A small avalanche of balled-up sheets bounced to the floor as he freed them. Too busy abusing the next tissue, he didn't seem to take any notice of his loss. Reggie's throat tightened to see the discarded tissues linger on the floor like tumbleweeds. No one moved to pick them up. She curled her fingertips into the safety of her palms. That duty couldn't possibly fall to her.

Reggie searched the room for signs that she wasn't going crazy. Every eye was trained on John. She wanted to scream at the hungry way they stared at him, a band of hunters watching Diana bathe. Only Malcolm seemed to notice the tissues had fallen, and he was probably calculating how much they'd go for on the art market. It made Reggie—well, sick. Only one person here could know how she felt, and she half believed he deserved it.

"You've a harmonica in there somewhere, I hope," Mr. Martin said.

John listed his head toward Mr. Martin, ear first. He was stuffed to the gills, it seemed; could have hardly heard his own name in a dead silent room.

"Harmonica," Mr. Martin repeated. "Mouth organ."

John gurgled something into his tissue muffler. Judging by the way Mr. Martin chuckled, it was a single blunt curse. "Quite all right. We're very resourceful. Say," he addressed the room, "has anyone got a spare—"

"hh'tSchfh!"

John turned inward and buckled with a sneeze. Reggie jumped nearly out of her skin.

"...harmonica? Bless you. Anyone?"

Another sneeze rattled out of John, and another, caught fast and muffled to dull thuds in his tissue-paper muzzle.

"Bless you, John." Reggie didn't know if it was sheer professionalism or some kind of paternal instinct, but Mr. Martin looked so unaffected by his proximity to a sneezing John. Not that she was filled with sympathy for him. Nothing of the sort. But she was beginning to see the wisdom in postponing the last night's show. If he was anything like this yesterday, the front row would have needed rain slickers. The Beatle bug was bad enough when it was just mania. It wouldn't be right to expose half of teenage Britain to something this bubonic. Even as an autumn-leaf rustle of Bless yous began to fill the room, she couldn't bring herself to join in the ritual. It would be like condoning it. It would be like worship.

"Bless you. I have." Malcolm forked his over to Mr. Martin, who thanked him and waited patiently for John to finish sneezing.

"ha'tsCHgh!"

"God bless you." Malcolm's harmonica sat perched between Mr. Martin's fingertips as John tucked away his ruined tissues, yanked out another handful, and blew his nose. Reggie's eyes watered. God, the noise! More than one man turned away.

"How are we supposed to get anything recorded?" she whispered to Geoff.

He frowned. "Cold gone to your heart?"

Reggie rolled her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't care about John's suffering. She just didn't want it to spread.

John gave the harmonica a testing honk, and coughed. Mr. Martin cued everyone to retreat behind the glass and flipped the Recording light. Wheels of tape began to whir.

"Thank You Girl," said Mr. Martin, king-like, "track two, take one. Whenever you're ready, John."

There were only a few chairs, so most men sat on equipment. Reggie stood, arms folded.

"I'll give you a four-count, and you come in right on beat one." Mr. Martin held up his left hand in preparation to cue John, as his right hovered over the Play button.

"Have we started?"

They were the first clear words Reggie had heard John speak all morning. Perhaps clear was stretching the imagination too far—he sounded like a goat, thick and bleating. It was a much deeper, rougher voice than she expected to come from him. She'd heard his speaking voice before; just never fresh from bed, she supposed, and phlegm-wrecked.

"Start any time you're ready."

John looked pained, so Mr. Martin continued, "Need a moment?"

"I've gotta sneeze." John's eyes screwed shut.

A murmur rippled the room. Mr. Martin said, "That's all right."

Reggie was so busy watching the roll of tape diminish, it took her a few moments to consider that she might actually have heard "I'm gonna" mangled by congestion into "I've gotta". But that would suggest that a sneeze was imminent, and this one seemed shy about making an appearance.

John slowly covered his open mouth with a tissue. "Get on with it," someone muttered, and was immediately shushed.

Mr. Martin kept silent until John blinked dazedly and his shoulders lowered. "Whenever you're—"

The indecisive sneeze snuck up on all of them. Even John could barely cover his nose in time.

"ah'tchhuh!"

"...ready..."

"hh'SSHhyiw!" John's hair tossed as his head whipped forward.

"God bless you." A sage grin could be heard in Mr. Martin's voice. It put Reggie off a bit to see a man so committed to patience, a professional Sisyphus. She wondered where all that frustration went.

"Should I tape that over?" Geoff whispered.

Mr. Martin paused, then shook his head. "Everything's of some value." He raised his left hand, and after making sure he'd caught John's eye, he counted up four fingers.

At the press of the Play button, the harmonica note joined the instrumental backing like a handshake. Reggie's eyebrows went up. John's timing was seamless. She hadn't been expecting much from his tone, but it was positively blue.

Then the hiccup. A short off-key wheeze, a snatch of breath between long, smooth notes. He'd sniffled too hard and brought out an extra note, beyond the two he'd been tasked with playing. Malcolm sighed softly as Mr. Martin gestured to stop the recording.

John lifted the headphones off his ears, still sniffling. "Could you hear that?" The sound of his voice made Reggie's chest hurt. She swallowed dryly and resisted the urge to clear her throat.

"We'll try it once more," Mr. Martin purred. "As soon as you're ready."

Half a minute (Reggie counted) and two rounds of tissues later, John raised the harmonica to his lips. There was a drooping heaviness to his eyes; Reggie had heard he tended to squint when he scorned his glasses, only now it looked like he wanted to open them but couldn't quite. His thick brows met in a slight furrow. His nose was red as a drunk's, giving the overall impression of a sad Emmett Kelly tramp. As a matter of fact, he had clearly missed a shave.

"Thank You Girl, track two, take two."

John took a huge breath in preparation and sneezed it back out, exactly on his cue. This time, the sigh was collective. Reggie only flinched a bit. Malcolm met her gaze curiously and she looked away.

"Bless you. Take all the time you need," said Mr. Martin. Then, as an aside, "Reggie, darling."

Reggie unfolded her arms.

"Some tea with honey, I think?"

John coughed wickedly, holding his throat with each awful bark.

Reggie nodded at her feet. "Yes, sir."

---

In the time it took her to procure honey and serve tea, John had ruined seven more takes. No matter how quickly they tried to breeze through it, no matter how much time Mr. Martin allowed for John to blow his nose scarlet and raw, he couldn't go long enough without sneezing, coughing, or trying to catch a breath through his snuffling nose.

Reggie's face felt hot. It grew horrible to listen to in the isolation of the kitchen, having to guess what was going on. Occasionally Mr. Martin's soft rumble, or the sharp cry of the harmonica, would break up the monotony of John's weary ah-choos. They hadn't seemed so loud in the booth. But they cut through to the kitchen as if the walls were made of paper.

The opening notes rang out again, indicating the previous take had been unusable. Poor man, Reggie thought, then caught herself. Just because he was in agony didn't give him the right to inflict it on everyone else. Besides, she wasn't paid to care.

She tried to let her indifference show as she approached John later with the tray. He was hunched over in a chair, head in his hands, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"With honey," Reggie said. It came out softer than she intended. John gave no sign that he had heard.

She took a breath. "John."

Still ignorant of her presence, he sniffed, and something in his head squeaked. In a fit of impatient nerves, she nudged his foot with her own.

He looked up with a start, blinking severely against the light and the sudden change in altitude. A small cough escaped his lips, and he drug the back of his hand under his nose.

Reggie acted like she hadn't seen. "With honey," she said plainly, offering him the cup and saucer.

John took it without thanking her and began to slurp loudly. Reggie winced. She'd heard they had perfect manners; she'd heard they were swine. Nevertheless, she supposed it was hard to sip tea politely without being able to breathe through one's nose.

She wanted with all her might to leave him to it, but Mr. Martin had insisted that John drink it all in one go, and it was Reggie's job to see to it. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Luckily, John didn't seem to need encouragement. He sipped and sipped, pausing in between each to steal a few increasingly heavy, sniffly breaths.

The teacup shook in his hand.

"Are you cold?" Reggie blurted. The studio was notoriously drafty. She didn't even like to wear miniskirts to work in the summer, never mind early March.

John looked at her, right at her, and shook his head. "Too hot," he rasped, then cleared his throat in one gruff blast. "'M fucking sweltering." He sniffed wetly and swigged his scalding tea.

For the first time, Reggie noticed the light grey half-circles of sweat under his arms, the dew gathering at his hairline, a very slight flush on his pale cheeks. Her hand twitched—she tucked it to her side and froze before it could get anywhere near his forehead. Embarrassment like fever coursed through her, scorching her face. Had she already contracted something fatal? Some disease of the brain?

"Ah fuck."

He looked at her desperately, his eyes filling with tears. When he shoved the cup and saucer at her, Reggie was too baffled to do anything but take them. She opened her mouth to relay Mr. Martin's orders. He was to finish it in one sitting. She had to make sure he—

John threw an arm over his mouth, but a gasp sliced through. He turned as far away from her as he could. She heard him pull for air, making his shoulders lift once. Her stomach fluttered in fearful anticipation.

Nothing happened.

He heaved a disgusted sigh. Reggie's flutters had turned a bit sour themselves, the sickening swoop of missing a step on the stairs. She felt her palms begin to sweat. She closed her mouth.

No sooner had he faced her than he cruelly grabbed his nose, crumpling in on himself like a fist to keep from letting out the wayward sneeze. The sound was an arrow in the heart.

"ah'knxgghh!"

Now Reggie couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Mr. Martin says you ought to drink the whole—"

She didn't know how he summoned the air for what came next. By all accounts, he'd sealed off his mouth and nose to keep the sneezing under control, but his body wanted it badly enough to override his defenses and force a quick gulp of breath. It was his downfall. He trembled terribly and fairly exploded with the second sneeze, all the more violent for his efforts to strangle it.

"haH'NGcshhew!"

Reggie hissed in pain as a rivulet of tea spilled, piping hot, over her hand. She hurriedly straightened the cup and looked around to make sure no one had seen. Her speech was long forgotten. He was holding back, she realized, on her account.

John muttered something vulgar, just as easily Bloody hell as Fucking hell behind his hand and oppressive congestion. He threw out a "S'rry" as well before disappearing into a bundle of tissues.

"Bless y—"

Her whisper was drowned out by the first crackling blow. John barely had to expel any air to do it, his head was so full to bursting. He blew once more and coughed, coughed and coughed.

Reggie couldn't remain there a second longer. She spun around and retreated to the kitchen, hot tea sloshing dangerously in the cup. When she realized she was still holding it, it was far too late to backtrack and return it to John. Instead she splashed it down the sink, then washed the cup until she was sure her fingers would blister.

---

Mr. Martin was pacing.

"Have we got enough tape?" asked Malcolm.

"Hm?" Mr. Martin looked up from biting his nail. "Yes, of course."

Malcolm and Reggie looked over to Geoff, who gave them a shrug and an uneasy expression. Depends.

"Only I wonder if it wouldn't be..." Another tech shifted anxiously as he searched for the words. "...kinder to send him home."

"Kinder to whom?"

"Well, he's...Look at him, George, he can hardly stand up."

John's cough could be heard through the glass. Reggie squirmed.

"He's already had to miss one show," Ken added.

"Yes." Mr. Martin stopped pacing. "I'm going to ask Mr. Epstein to keep him from tonight's show as well."

"Ah, George, the girls, think of them, eh; you'll break their hearts—"

Mr. Martin put up his hand for silence. "If we drag him back here again tomorrow, he'll be bed-bound for the duration. Better we get it finished now and send him home when he can rest."

His steely eyes fixed on each of them individually. "Good. Thank You Girl, track two, take fifteen."

Reggie was sure she wouldn't be able to listen to this song when it debuted. By now, the first wailing note of the harmonica doused her in a cold sweat. Like the deathly click of a pistol's hammer, the sound was a portent of disaster. She couldn't even look out at John. Any minute he'd...

"Got it?" Geoff said softly.

Mr. Martin nodded. He held his fist out to John, counting him into the next section.

The control room scarcely breathed as they watched John play. The loudest sound behind the glass was Malcolm swallowing beside her. Outside, something very strange was happening. John was making music. His notes were a little sluggish, but they came uninterrupted. Not so much as the tiniest sniffle.

Malcolm tapped his foot—impatiently, Reggie thought at first, but his head was bobbing gently to the dull rumble of Ringo's recorded back-beat. They were necktied deer in headlights, all somewhat mystified by this truth universally acknowledged, though hardly spoken aloud: the boy could play.

John played a lick so bright and bluesy, Reggie felt he must be improvising. She jumped to feel Malcolm's hand on her leg. He was staring with barely contained excitement, not at her, but at Mr. Martin.

With a chunk, the whirring of the tape stopped.

Mr. Martin took a deep, controlled breath, and spoke into the microphone. "Well done, John. Well done."

"Did you get it?" John muffled a cough into his shoulder.

"We got it," Mr. Martin smiled.

Engineers whistled and cheered. Mr. Martin shook Geoff's hand. Malcolm stuffed a cigarette in his lips and offered her the pack. She reached a hand out, then drew it back and shook her head. She thought of asking him not to light up. Smoke couldn't be conducive to a speedy recovery.

Recovery. A sudden stab of unease struck Reggie when she thought about how careless she had been today. How close to John had she stood while serving him tea, breathed his air, touched his fingerprints on the cup? All the soup in the world wouldn't deliver her if she caught this father of all colds.

Then of course, the other Beatles didn't have it. Brian Epstein wasn't down with it, and they were closer to him than anyone she could name. Perhaps John was more than usually susceptible—or more than usually careless. It wasn't hard to imagine him going out with wet hair, neglecting to button up his coat. His poor girl, pleading her case to deaf ears, promising to withhold her kisses if he should come back with a chill...

John went digging through his pocket. He paused suddenly before sticking his hand in the other one. After another moment of hunting, it was clear he hadn't found what he was seeking. His eyes widened, his brows tented with fear.

Reggie craned her neck to investigate what he was doing. She'd seen some people turn to fiends when their cigarettes were scarce, but she had a hard time believing John was short on those. Had he misplaced his wallet? God only knows where it would fit, packed in with all those tissues.

John's fear turned to a watery daze. "I need..." A sneeze was coming. "I need—"

"Yes, perfectly all right, John," grinned Mr. Martin. "Go ahead, we're finished."

John shook his head once, briefly, almost as if to cast out what was ailing him. "I—" he began, but muzzled himself with a large hand before he could get the rest out. Before one more breath could find its way in.

Reggie saw the litter at his feet and realized why.

"He's out of tissues," she lamented.

Mr. Martin did a sort of double-take glance at John, then snapped to such alertness, his hair seemed to move back on his head. "Right, who's got a handkerchief?"

Several people, including Mr. Martin, looked at Ken. He was mopping sweat from his temple with a pale purple square.

"Thank you." Mr. Martin held out his hand.

"Surely you can't be..." Ken laughed nervously. "I mean, I've...It's dirty!"

"As God is my witness..."

While they argued, a small noise from John made Reggie turn around.

Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw him. Instead of the cruel stranglehold he'd used earlier, he now cupped his nose gingerly, cradling it as though it were a new baby bird. Rapid, hiccuping breaths made his shirt buttons dance as his chest swelled.

"For God's sake!" Victorious at last in his hunt for a clean handkerchief, Mr. Martin blustered through the door of the booth.

John's body went fully tense. There was no more slack, no further for his lungs to expand. He couldn't hold it. Reggie caught a quick glimpse of his miserable expression as he went for a Hail Mary, employing both his hands to yank his collar up over his nose.

"John."

Mr. Martin boasted the longest legs and arms in the studio, with the possible exception of the local talent, but even he didn't make it there fast enough.

John shuddered with a heart-stopper of a bottled-up sneeze. Then the gates were open. He sneezed wretchedly over and over, no pause between. He sounded like a tape loop, stuck in a rut, a worn-out groove in a broken record, hitting the same grating note time and again.

Around Reggie, murmurs of "God" and "Jesus Christ" cut through the noise. Mr. Martin stood over John as his sneezing fit petered out, allowing him to catch his breath. A strong hand on his back told John he needn't worry.

"God bless you. There you are. Get it all out," Mr. Martin said after John sputtered out a final, subdued sneeze, the saddest sound Reggie thought she had ever heard. John's hand shook as it closed around the pocket square, blindly led by Mr. Martin until he found his purchase. When he started to pull his collar down, Reggie hurriedly looked away. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

It wasn't pity. Reggie wasn't about to weep for him, like Magdalene with her camphor and eucalyptus oils. But there was something so wrong-feeling about this whole mess, the uncanny sense that the world had been turned upside down. She'd seen the Emperor with no clothes on. And now she was expected to go about her business as usual? Was she the only sane person in the building? Was she the only one who wasn't?

She was in such a fog, she didn't notice that the sounds of hacking and nose-blowing had stopped, or that everyone was standing. Or that John had made his way into the booth.

A path cleared when he stepped forward, but the engineers didn't throw any palm leaves to pave the way. Reggie suspected they would have parted just as hastily for a leper.

God, he looked terrible. There was no question that he had a fever. It was cool enough indoors to eat ice cream without fear of it melting, and John was drenched in sweat. No longer sickly pale, he was now ruby red in all the wrong places. His poor nose looked like it might fall off.

With a sullen expression, he held out Malcolm's harmonica and grumbled something.

"Like what?" Malcolm asked.

"Tastes like dirt," John snuffled. Then he was gone.

The crew began to chuckle as they saw how Malcolm was holding his recovered property. As if the harmonica were a small dead rodent left on his pillow by the cat, he held it at arm's length between his finger and thumb, wrinkling his nose in mild revulsion. No wonder. After that much time in John's cold-ridden mouth, singing with air from his infected lungs, it wasn't a musical instrument but a bio-weapon.

"You'd better disinfect that before you play it," Geoff laughed, to snickers of agreement. "You'll end up with one hell of a cold."

"I'll do it," Reggie heard herself say.

Mr. Martin tilted his head, his gaze softening into a grateful "You're an angel" sort of look.

Reggie ducked her head low as she went to retrieve the harmonica. She couldn't be further from that.

"I'm goin' home and bathe in Listerine, me," she heard someone grumble as she slipped out the door.

Once she was out of earshot, Reggie took off down the hall as fast as her penny loafers would carry her. As usual, she had the ladies' lav to herself, but she locked the door behind her nevertheless. With hands that were beginning to quiver, she lifted the poison apple to her line of vision. It was a fine instrument, in her layman's opinion; silver with black accents, a dozen fine teeth all in a row.

She wet her lips and wrapped them around the mouth of the harmonica.

The warmth of the metal made the breath kick out of her chest. A wheezing song whispered out the other end, soft as a dying wish. Reggie stopped breathing. When nothing came of the noise, she allowed herself to inhale: slowly, slowly, inviting only the faintest buzz of another chord, then deeper as she got used to it. She let her air out her nose. The metallic taste flooded her tongue like blood, but there was something else too, the crude organic taste of breath. She hummed weakly. The little organ harmonized with her.

Reggie pushed her tongue into the space between keys. She touched her mouth to every part of the harmonica, until her lips couldn't map the heat anymore, until it was all warm, all wet, until she confused its steady heave-ho with the whistle and strain of her own lungs.

She caught her breath. Haltingly, she raised the instrument once more and gently ran the length of it under her nose. One clean sweep.

Then she stopped the drain, switched on the hot tap, and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[sagesolsticewrites]

Kiss It Better (pt 2) 💋

That lipstick mark leads to a surprising turn of events 👀

a/n: Y’all didn’t think I was gonna leave it like that, did you? Ask and you shall receive: Kiss It Better pt 2! (Also! I’m having sooo much fun with these MOTA requests 🥹 feel free to send more in, or request other characters y’all think I should write for!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Read pt 1 here!

Masterlist

You stopped into sickbay early the next morning, to catch up on paperwork.

The fact that you’d be able to see Buck was just a bonus; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But when you stepped inside, there was already someone sitting at Buck’s bedside.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief once your surprise had faded, “Should’ve known you’d stop by sooner or later.”

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Bucky asked, and you could just make out worry lining his face as you approached.

“He’ll be fine,” you assured him, “The scrapes will heal up in no time, and after a week or so of rest he should be cleared to fly again.”

“Good,” Bucky nodded, shoulders visibly relaxing, “That’s good. Now, uh…”

A smirk appeared on his face. “Wanna tell me what this is all about?”

He tapped his forehead, and after a moment of confusion glancing between him and Buck, your eyes finally landed on the bright red outline of your lips somehow still visible on Gale’s forehead.

You felt heat flood your face, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the same red lipstick that you had painstakingly applied only an hour earlier.

“Oh. Oh! That. Well, um…” You tried to look anywhere but at Bucky and his sleeping friend as you explained, “Buck was a little out of it when he was brought in yesterday, and when I was explaining the protocol for his head wound he asked me to, uh… kiss it better.”

You silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow you as Bucky just barely held back a snicker.

Noticing how uncomfortable you were, however, he quickly said, “No, sweetheart, it’s not you, it’s just…”

Bucky shook his head, seemingly in exasperation, “Of course it took a head wound to get this guy to ask you for a kiss.”

Your mind seemed to have trouble processing this, and for a moment all you heard was ask you for a kiss before you were able to reply with a confused, “I’m sorry, I— what?”

Bucky let out a soft laugh.

“I was really hopin’ I could get him to tell you himself, but at this rate we’ll be well into old age before that happens, so…” He took a deep breath.

Sensing that you should probably be sitting down for whatever he was about to say, you perched on the edge of Buck’s cot, trying very hard not to think about the mere inches between the two of you.

“I don’t know how you haven’t seen it, but Buck’s been head over heels for you since the first day he saw you, sweetheart.”

“I— But he’s never—”

“He was always goin’ on about being worried what telling you might do to your friendship,” Bucky explained with a shrug, “That’s just how he is. Tends to keep things bottled up inside. But seein’ you two just dance around each other for the past three months has been absolute torture, so this is me puttin’ an end to my misery once and for all.”

Bucky stood, giving you a friendly pat on your knee, “Tell him how you feel, sweetheart. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He left with a wink, a smile, and a quip about not getting too handsy — “This is a hospital! People are trying to heal!” — that left you blushing.

And just like that, you were left alone with a sleeping Gale Cleven.

Unsure what to do, you simply stared at him for a moment, taking him in. He was so… unguarded in his sleep, despite the scrapes and bruises, and your heart went soft at the lack of worry lines that seemed to be ever-present when he was awake. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his dirty blond hair, still mussed from the battle and from sleep, instead choosing to run your fingertips over the slightly faded lipstick mark on his temple.

You just barely managed to stifle a gasp when he stirred, but it was too late.

“Y/N?” Your name slipped drowsily from his lips, and a small thrill ran through you at the sound— until he seemed to wake more and corrected himself hurriedly. “I mean, Nurse L/N, um. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Major,” you replied, once again falling back into the safety of professionalism.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, neither of you wanting to disrupt the rare quiet of an early morning on base.

Buck eventually cleared his throat, looking determinedly at his blanket and nowhere else as he spoke.

“Yesterday… After the battle’s a bit of a blur, but unless I’m misremembering I might’ve asked you to, uh…”

His hand drifted almost automatically up to his forehead, and you couldn’t help a small laugh as you tracked the movement.

“Kiss it better?” You asked teasingly, hoping to get ahead of the inevitable embarrassment, “You did.”

You couldn’t help your eyes flicking to the imprint of your lips on his forehead, and Buck, observant pilot that he was, noted it instantly.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

And here you were once again wishing the ground would open up and swallow you as you wordlessly handed Buck a small mirror from your pocket.

“Oh, you actually…” His face turned beet-red, and he scrambled to apologize; “I’m sorry, you didn’t have to— you know I would never—”

“Hey,” you lowered the mirror, gently removing it from his grasp so his focus was on you, “I know. You were a little out of it, it’s alright. And you never know, it might’ve helped.” You couldn’t help but add with a teasing grin before asking with genuine concern, “How are you feeling now?”

He seemed to take stock of his condition internally before answering “A bit better, all things considered. I’ve got a friend who’s one of the best nurses on base, y’know.”

“Please, Major, I’m just doing my job,” you replied, avoiding his gaze as you waved away the compliment.

“No, really. I honestly—” He seemed to steel himself for something, his expression as he took a deep breath not unlike when they were called for a mission — pure determination.

“It got… pretty bad up there yesterday. And at first I was thinkin’… as long as we get the mission done, and the other boys get home safe, I don’t particularly care what happens to me. And then…” His fingertips edged towards yours, just as they had yesterday, “I got to thinking about you. About wanting to make it back to you, to tell you I—”

His voice faltered as his soft blue gaze met your own, and there was a beat of silence. Your own eyes were welling up with tears, but you blinked them back as best you could.

“Buck…”

You couldn’t quite form the words, so you decided to show him that you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

Taking his face in your hands, mindful of his head wound, you pressed your lips to his as gently as you could.

He froze, and for a moment you thought you’d made a horrible mistake. Was Bucky wrong? Was this his idea of a joke?

But then Gale was sitting up, leaning into you, pressing his lips to yours with a fierce tenderness. One scarred, callused hand came up to cup your cheek while the other — Gale Cleven, ever the gentleman — rested just above your waist, pulling you closer.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there in that small bubble of bliss. It felt like an eternity that ended all too soon as the two of you parted for air.

“I never thought—” Buck let out a soft laugh, almost in disbelief, his nose brushing against yours, “I mean, I loved being your friend, but…”

“This is probably a good time to tell you that I’ve been absolutely head over heels for you since the moment we met,” you said, fighting back a blush.

“Finally!” A familiar voice came from the entrance to the hospital, “Only took you three months, but I’m happy for you two—”

You buried your face in Buck’s neck as he tossed a pillow at Bucky.

“Get outta here, Bucky, I’m trying to have a moment with my girl!” He called good-naturedly.

“I want all the details later!” He called back as he retreated to the safety of the hallway, “Congrats, sweetheart!”

You assumed that last part was aimed at you, but you were preoccupied with a different pair of words.

“Your girl, huh?” You said, meeting Gale’s gaze with a shy smile.

“Yeah,” he grins down at you, the scars doing nothing to diminish the joy on his face, “That is, uh… if you want.”

You briefly pressed your lips to his once again, the smile on your face all the answer he needed.

Pulling back to take in his smiling face, an idea came to you.

You leaned up to press a kiss right where the stain of your lipstick was still visible on his forehead.

Then again to the scar just between his eyebrows.

And again to the bruise just below his right eye.

You scattered kisses across all the scrapes, scratches, and bruises on his face. Buck spoke up as you pressed kisses to a series of shallow scrapes along his jaw.

“Not that I don’t, uh…” he began in a slightly strangled voice, “really like this, doll, but what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You said, pulling away to meet his gaze for a moment before you pressed your lips to a scratch on the bridge of his nose, “I’m kissing it better.”

Buck let out the loudest, fondest laugh you’d ever heard from him, and your heart felt like it filled with pure sunshine at the sound.

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite nurse,” he grinned, pulling you in for yet another tender kiss.

Buck our beloved 🥰 This was so much fun to write, I hope y’all enjoyed! 😊 Tagging a couple friends just for fun 🤍: @sassy-ahsoka-tano @mpmarypoppins @austinbutlermischief @austin-butlers-gf @dontbesussis

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

This is complaining day because I realized there's more than one thing that got on my nerves lately and it's not just about the treatment of a kpop idol's mother. Let's begin.

Please, stop refering to Jungkook's mother as mama Jeon. I know the tendency is to ignore so many of the cultural differences that exist, but in SK, people don't change their surname after marriage. It just sounds idiotic and westernized in a ridiculous way.

So, Jungkook's mother loves all BTS members. She LOVES them all. How does army know that? How? I'm genuinely curious and genuinely asking. Because they say it as a certainty. Or, forgive me if my memory is faulty as well, but the only instance that we as outsiders were privy to in which we heard that woman speak for the first time, it was in early 2021 on another phonecall with Jungkook when she said I love you to Jimin.

Of course, the same ot7 narrative came as a buldozer at that time too. Damn, does that mean Jimin = BTS? Sometimes yes, but only when Army wants to diminish Jimin's importance and doesn't allow him to stand out individually too much. Musically or otherwise. But back to this Big Love that Jungkook's mom is supposedly feeling for everyone and which has been invoked once again when that woman mentioned Jimin twice while talking to Jungkook on the phone. Cause she already knew they were in Jeju. I bet she didn't have to find out randomly from a schedule group chat.

So what happens? An assumption is turned into certainty because of small people being extremely insecure. Because they see that one person is once again given more importance on a personal level and we can't have that. No sir! So in a panic, they tweet, they post on tumblr, tiktok, youtube the old age, boring af, sounding like a broken record sentence: "Mama Jeon loves all seven". Fuck me gently with a chainsaw cause that sounds a lot better than the feeling of throwing up I get whenever I read such things.

No, she doesn't love all of them. That is not a fact. It could be true and it's not impossible. But it is not a fact based on the knowledge we have at the moment.

Also, it shows once again that an entire fandom is actively creating a reality of their own which is not even like some sort of simulacrum of the reality they must live through. In Army world, the mother of one member of a k-pop group must love all the members of such group. It doesn't matter than irl, our mothers a lot of the times don't even like all our friends, besties or partners. We might have the most incredible connections and it would mean nothing to our mothers.

In that same vein, another narrative that makes me want to pull my eyes out is the "awww, their bond is to die for, they are (like) siblings after all". Do any of them never had any siblings? Never saw other people and their relationship with their siblings? Or with their family?

I also had to read (which was followed by me blocking it immediately) how Jimin and Jungkook's relationship is the sum of the other relationships they have with other BTS members. I mean, why would I have any sort of expectations from any of these people when they are completely incapable of looking at JM and JK as actual people. As persons with individual minds and an intellect of their own. Let alone the fact that their world does not stop with the presence of 5 other men. In what realistic scenario does this translate in real life? That's not how it works. Yes, we are social creatures and a product of our surroundings, but it is not in the way in which these stans believe it to be. They think that living in a dorm for a few years and working together with other people, it means that those experiences are the only ones that actually shape the personality of a person. They are real people, not fictional characters. I've never heard such ridiculous theories in my entire life, to be used as talking points about someone's behavior or relationship with another person.

Maybe the need to create this elaborate fantasy comes from the lack of love in their life, which then gets projected into this Disney, kumbaya, capitalist heaven narrative in which everyone is a big family and they love each other so much and equally and all the parents of all the children love every single member and thus, harmony is created. Love is always platonic and ever present. The complexity of human relationships must not exist.

[joenotexotic99]

Hello Doll! New fan here! You're so precious! 🥰 we NEED pt 2 of BoB "Sleeping with them for the first time", my request: Speirs, Toye, Eugene, Webster, Buck. AND pls wrote more Lovetropes! I've read it so many times, that I can quote from memory! xoxo

A/n this might be dirtier than pt1. Will do a pt 2 of love tropes ofc. Lmk if you have some people in mind for that

<3

-this is a work of fiction based on the actors portrayal only. Every ounce of respect to the real heros-

Warning: NSFW, plain sinful smut. Lots of language. Minors dni

Masterlist

Ronald Speirs

- this man will change your whole perspective of sex afterwards. You've both been pinning each other for a while and decide to go on a date. Yet the whole time you both have been practically removing each other's clothes with your eyes. Lingering touches, flirty behavior. Lets just say that you didn't quite make it through all the courses before Speirs asked for the check. You make it back to his place before he immediately kisses you. You start removing clothes while grabbing and feeling any skin you can both get your hands on. He turns you around to unzip your dress, taking it off your figure. He spun you back around to pick you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. You remove his belt and tug at his pants and boxers until the both of you are head to toe naked. He gives you a looks off 'are you sure' you nod yes before he lifts you legs up and fucks you. Praise after praise, surface after surface. It's a wild ride.

"Fuck you feel so good you know that princess?"

Joe toye

-he's sweet and spontaneous. It's a similar experience to George luz where it happens after a few dates. It starts slow, careful almost. But eventually you melt under him. He kisses you harder, Backs you to a wall. You remove each other's shirts. His hands unclips your bra. He makes hickies after hickies up and down your neck. He picks you up and brings you to the bedroom. Kisses down to your skirt to take that off as well. This man would love to praise you. And his voice!? He will mutter the most downright bad into your ears. He could make you come from just that alone. I feel like he's big on moaning you know. Your make him feel so good he's going to let you know that. Will do anything you ask him to do. You want him to touch you. He's instantly rubbing your clit, you want him to suck you Titts, he'll do that too. Fuck you harder and faster. He'll break the mattress. Will make you finish at least twice. Once on his cock. Then he'll clean you up with his tongue. But he is sooo sweet with the after care.

"God I wish you could see yourself right now doll. Getting fucked properly"

Eugene roe

-he's honestly a little nervous. He doesn't want to hurt you. It starts back at your place. Some wine after a good home cooked dinner. The alcohol helps with confidence. It's slow and passionate. He would be completely fine with kissing you for hours on end. But you've had one too many dirty dreams about this man so it's now or never. Eugene will be so great with foreplay. Makes you feel worshiped like no man has ever made you feel before. Always checking to make sure you're ok. When it gets time to really dance if you know what I mean he's super scared that something is going to go wrong. This poor man. You are so worked up from his touch that you have to tell him to just shut up and fuck you. It's like a switch goes off in his head. And the only thing he can suddenly think of is you. He fucks you until the only thing you can think of, only thing you can scream is his name. He robs you of every last breath in your lungs. It's dirty, passionate, sweaty and oh so good. Best God damn orgasm of your life. When you both finish and clean up. He definitely raps you up in his arms.

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"Giving me the best dick of my life"

David Webster

-HERE ME OUT! One bed trope. But it's not at a hotel or anything. You head to his place, have dinner, watch a movie, whatever. Oh no it's dark and raining. How about you stay the night? Oh crap this is a one bed apartment. You get the point. He offers you the bed and he'll sleep on the couch but you say that's silly and to just share the bed. Webster already had a huge crush on you so his ears turn a bright red, but how can he turn down the offer to share a bed with you? You get ready and both go to bed. It's awkward at first until he breaks the silence with one of those deep questions and you start talking for hours. One thing leads to another and he's on top of you. He kisses you until you lose your mind. You run your hands up his bare chest until you reach the stubble on his face. You slowly remove each article of clothing on the both of you. The air is thick and warm. Can you imagine how feral this man will go if you praise him. This man just wants some love ok? He asks you how sure you are about this, not wanting to cross any boundaries. You agree enthusiastically. You tug at his hair. Run your hands down his back. He kisses your neck, holds your waist. He's so gentle with aftercare too. From here on out you stay the night more often.

"Just like that web don't stop, so good, you're so good"

"Fuck sweetheart you're gunna make me come"

Buck Compton

-I know this is sorta cliché but fire sex. It's around the holidays. It's cold, snowing and dark outside. Inside it's warm, cozy and comfortable. You are still in puppy love faze. It's sweet. You are both on the couch blanket on top. Fire crackling. Buck reading you a book. You have thought about it a lot, sex. Yet you've never really got there. Steamy makeout sessions. Been there and done that. But it hasn't made it farther than that. But gooood you want it to. Your hands wander over him. Getting more and more close south each time. You rub his thigh, testing the waters. You can tell he notices by how his adams apple moves. You slowly undo his belt as he continues to read the book. He lets you pull his jeans down and slowly remove him from his boxers. You move your hand tauntingly slow. Not moving any faster in hopes of riling him up. He puts the book down and pulls you up to his lips. He removes your shirt and bra. Flips you over to remove your pants and underwear. He's sweet and confident in each move he makes. He kisses up and down your inner thigh until he finally makes it to the center. He gives you a taste of your own medicine. Slowly keeping you on edge with his tongue until you beg him to fuck you. And he does just that. It's better than you could have ever imagined.

"For fucks sake buck if you don't get up here and dick me down"

[licorice-and-rum]

On Fascism, DEs and Dumbledore - the actual essay lol

Hey, guys! Sorry it took me so long to write this one, I really had some themes to mature before I could put all of my thoughts in writing but I finally feel like I’m ready to talk about what I want to. Before I begin, however, I want to point out a few things:

First of all, I ask all of you to enter this with an open mind because not everything I’ll say here is exactly popular opinion in the HP fandom. And, although I recognize that my perceptions and interpretations are frayed by my own background and way of thinking, my literary analysis is still based off, on some level, of academical knowledge. It doesn’t make it true, of course, but I believe it’s a solid base to have.

Second, this is, in no way, an attack on people who like the Death Eaters (Barty, Regulus, Rosier, Draco, and so on). These people are not the problem I’m talking about here because, to begin with, the characters they like are not exactly the Canon version of them, and then, because a work of fiction doesn’t determine a person’s character.

It's completely normal for popular works of fiction — and that’s especially true in Literature — to have their characters remodeled to fit a better narrative to the time they are inserted in. It happens with Fairytales, it happens with classical books — Sherlock Holmes is one of the greatest examples I can give —, it just happens. And the new interpretations are an attempt to almost self-insert: is a mirroring of our interpretations and experiences in those characters we like so much.

That said, I still have a problem with how normalized it has become in our society to make a sad backstory to fascist-like villains and that’s where I would like to start this rant/analysis. This issue is not focused on the Harry Potter characters, however: it has happened in Star Wars (both with Anakin and more recently with The Acolyte), in The Hunger Games (with Snow, although it wasn’t the intention) and many other big films/books/series in the industry.

It has a reason: we’re living through late-stage capitalism, which means capitalism is in shambles and it needs a “emergency button” of sorts, something it can use to establish some kind of control back. That’s why we’ve seen so many far-right parties win elections lately: it’s a normal thing for people to be attracted to fast and simple solutions when things are bad, even though they might not be solutions at all.

Anyway, I digress: the point is, when fascism (capitalism’s emergency button) arises, it needs to have a cultural support so that people can assimilate it better, accept it better so it can maintain itself. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not, by all means, saying that a bunch of men sat down on a white room and decided that now they would start creating Art that endorses/romanticizes fascist narratives, of course not.

This is a natural process, it happens because we, as a general rule, already lean into right wing theorical thinking by living into a capitalist mode of production. So, when capitalism collapses, many of us pull our values farthest into capitalistic mindset because that’s what we understand as secure, as stable. And this translates into art through some favored tropes or classical narratives, such as the Chosen One or the “the system is not corrupted, the people running it are” narrative.

Both of those tropes fit into the Harry Potter series in obvious ways, of course. But lately, I’ve been noticing a really particular characteristic of these narratives/tropes that are used to endorse fascism, which I believe has to do with the time period we’re at right now and who the target-audience is, and that is what I called the “individualization of narratives”.

I’m not gonna be arrogant here and say that I’m the only one who noticed this, of course not, but I haven’t found any works on that, so I’m gonna describe, in my own words, what I think this phenomenon is:

The individualization of narratives, as I call it, refers to the details some characters’ backgrounds have when they are into the “dark side”, the side that is supposed to be the fictional version of fascist-like groups. And those details — or lack thereof — are done in a way the reader can fill in the gaps in such a way to identify and empathize with them.

Again, that’s is not the problem, this happens to every character ever, it even happens with celebrities. Our brains are wired to fill in gaps in a person’s personality or character when we don’t have all the information, it’s a natural reaction. Problem is that, as it’s becoming popular to write a villain with a purpose, a “morally gray” character if you will (although I take issue with how that’s portrayed, which I’ll treat more carefully when I talk about Dumbledore), the fascist-like narratives that became so popular with post-war people, gain a new meaning.

That’s not the doing of the Art itself, it’s just a reflection of political issues that are already here but that are also perpetrated and continued by Art and material cultural production, just like anti-socialism dystopian books were in the Cold War scenario, for example. However, it’s undeniable that this movement serves a purpose, a political purpose, and that is to endorse fascism and fascist narrative. Let’s not get over ourselves here: again, this is not the evil doing of some unknown entity, it’s just a natural process of the current political climate reflecting in cultural production.

But it still serves a purpose, and what I aim to do with this essay is to demystify a bit this movement in Harry Potter. But first, we have to understand what fascism is:

Capitalism, which begun more or less in the 1600s, is a mode of production (a mold to which our society fit to work within capitalism’s needs of existence). It is based on profit, which means our society is shaped to produce that profit, everything in a society is shaped to serve this purpose, from the industry to our perception of reality — it’s all a capitalism-based ideology.

Again, reminding: that’s not a secret plot to convince people, it’s a natural process of building identity within reality. It happened in feudalism, and before that with Ancient Empires, and so on and on. There’s nothing inheritedly evil in this process.

However, capitalism is a mode of production that demands, in order to continuing to exist, more than society can provide, so it collapses from time to time. The Stock Market Crash of 1929 and the following Great Depression is one of the most striking examples of capitalism collapsing, and it’s not by happenstance that fascism arose right after this collapse.

As I said before, fascism is capitalism’s emergency button: when systems collapse, that’s where they get more vulnerable to radical change, and the extreme hardships the masses had to endure after its collapse in the 1930s could easily signify a chance for a change in the modes of production throughout the occidental countries of Europe — something that couldn’t happen if capitalism was to survive.

What I mean by bringing all this to the essay is that I want to be very clear with what fascism defends and what it means: it’s the supremacy of not only a country, or exaggerated nationalism, it is also the management and upkeeping of a society’s very structure. And, to be even clearer: that society is white, rich, and patriarchal-based.

There’s a reason why fascism is considered a white-supremacy political movement: because it defends capitalism. And capitalism was built over the need of cheap work force.

Many of you may have thought slavery when I said that, and you’d be correct.

However, with the times progression, that changed into a new form of exploration: because of the past with slavery and exploration of resources of colonized countries, it became easier — and also a natural progression from the dehumanizing of non-white communities to justify slavery — to just cheapen the work force by making non-white communities poorer, more vulnerable and more desperate to fulfill their needs.

That forces those communities — and third world countries as a whole — to accept the money and the exploration of not only first-world countries (colonizer countries) but also big corporations. I could go on and on about all the effects this policy has in non-white communities, from police brutality until the banalization of the violence in large scale (such as the Palestinian genocide) but I want to stay within the scope here.

This justification of slavery, the dehumanization of non-white peoples, is one of the main pillars of capitalism, and as such, it’s the main pillar of fascism. In Harry Potter, the intention is that those characteristics don’t present themselves in race but in blood — not that Rowling is very successful with this, considering the amount of veiled and not-so-veiled racism in her books but whatever.

Now, as I see it, Harry Potter is not a good portrayal of fascism and that has a very clear cause: Rowling’s lack of understanding of what fascism is to begin with, or how the root causes of it affect the system of the wizarding society.

As someone who have studied it, I can say that the blood purity issue wouldn’t be present only in some rich people’s minds, it would be structural to the wizarding world, in a way that would present itself in hardship for muggleborns to get jobs, in jokes that are not funny, in opinions that are degrading, in isolation and discrimination in a day to day level. And of course, there is some of it in the HP books, but it’s not treated as a structural issue — it’s treated as an individual problem.

And that’s where the real problem begins: if we treat fascism as a problem that stems from a person’s own choices instead of a political and collective movement that elevates to a highest level the structural issues that are already there, we fall into the trap of minimizing the problem because, if someone is a fascist because they’re evil, the next question to make is: why are they evil?

Currently, what we’re doing with our villains becomes a problem in these situations: in an attempt to individualize our villains, we make them human. Human in the sense that we can empathize with them, we can understand them. And, for a fascist-like narrative, that’s extremely dangerous because it makes us unconsciously start to endorse their trajectories and choices when we absolutely shouldn’t.

Fascism is not equivalent to rebelliousness.

“Oh, the good side is not so good because they treated this character bad and now he had to turn to a fascist group and decimate people because he’s traumatized.”

See how, when I say it like that, it sounds ridiculous?

But of course, you probably know that. Again, I’m not accusing people who like those characters of endorsing fascism, what I am saying, however, is that the political climate of today is doing it and it’s reflecting on our art production. What I am calling for is for people to recognize that their view of those characters as they really would be if they were anywhere near reality is not only flawed, it’s entirely wrong.

Snape, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Draco, Bellatrix, the Blacks as a whole — they are not the abused little teenagers who had no choice but to join the Death Eaters. They are fascists, they have always been fascists, even when they suffered. And sure, to some of them, there is more to their characters than this but the truth remains that they, in some capacity, not only endorsed a fascist narrative, they actively perpetuated it to the detriment and the suffering of marginalized peoples.

And none of them had a good, believable, and more importantly, complete redeeming arc.

Our interpretations of them are cool, I love it, I prefer them to many HP characters, to be honest. But that doesn’t change the fact that, if HP was a little bit more real, a little bit closer to reality, those characters wouldn’t be bullied teenagers forced into fascism as a means to become powerful enough to escape their abuse — as if that makes it so much better —, they’d be incels, they’d be bullies themselves.

And that’s not an opinion: we, as a fandom, tend to forget that the DEs are the ones with real societal power in the wizarding world. Most of them are purebloods, most of them are rich, most of them are friends with rich and pureblooded wizards, and they are privileged. They are not ostracized as we like to imagine, they are royalty.

For them, to fight for blood purity is to fight for their own benefit, is to fight to maintain the pillars that keep them unaccountable for their behaviors and privilege whilst at the same time, pushing marginalized people — muggleborns, fantastical creatures, even half-bloods — to a dehumanizing condition. And they don’t feel sorry for this.

Now, the truth is that this is partially Rowling’s fault: her lack of understanding of how deep the issues she’s portraying really run makes it possible for her to interpret her own characters as redeemable because they somehow exchange sides when it fits them.

That’s mostly seen with the Malfoys: neither Draco, Narcissa, nor Lucius ever change sides because they see the suffering of others and think of it as wrong. They change sides when Voldemort’s cruelty starts to weigh on them — their change of loyalties are not coming from empathy for marginalized peoples or decency, it comes from self-preservation.

Kind of the same thing with Snape (I wrote some essays focused on Snape, so if anyone is interested, here’s the first, then the second).

Now, of course, that’s not to say those characters weren’t abused on someway or suffered but that’s the thing: no abuse in the world justifies the persecution, torture and killing of innocent people. To offer a counterpoint, the marginalized peoples the Death Eaters persecuted are also traumatized in some, they also can have had abusive parents and/or families but that is not taken into account when we talk about the Death Eater’s own traumas.

The narrative that the Death Eaters were abused their whole childhoods is so strong today in fandom that most people don’t stop to think that those teenagers probably were horrible people. Yes, maybe horrible because some of them were abused, I’m not denying that, but still horrible, which means they wouldn’t accept help. To hold them responsible for their own doings and their own privileges would seem for them as a persecution against them — just like fascist-like narratives often portray pro-LGBTQ+ or non-white policies and/or narratives.

It is also one of the reasons I take issue with the Slytherin portrayal of abused kids ostracized by the rest of the school. It’s really just isolating fascist narrative and only partially based on truth but I don’t think I want to stretch this conversation now (I can write more about it later if you want though).

So no, respectfully, I refuse to accept that those people — mostly men and rich people, I am forced to point out — would be anything but disgusting, and that’s where I take issue with some behaviors within the HP fandom. Because we’re being influenced by almost two decades of fan fiction and the current political climate, it’s very often that I find people who are sincerely incapable of dissociating fandom to canon.

Hence, the actually infuriating villainization of Albus Dumbledore.

Now, that’s a topic that makes me impatient AF. Not only because it is based on a strong fetishization of who Dumbledore really was, and what he could and couldn’t do, but also because it is a clear example of most people’s inability to differentiate between what they’re reading for fun and what they are internalizing from that media.

Let’s begin with that: Dumbledore is not some evil mastermind, and he is not equivalent to Voldemort. He is a flawed character, that’s true, but he is not a villain. And to think so is to play into the narrative that, because the “good side” fails, or makes wrong decisions, or even actively makes bad decisions, or immoral decisions in times of war, that is somehow equivalent to the “bad side”.

It is not.

That narrative is the same narrative that allows Israel to build an equivalence between Hamas’ violent acts and their own when in truth, as reproachable as some Hamas’ decisions may be according to various perspectives, their violence is a reaction to heavy and even more violent oppression.

What I mean is, even if Dumbledore failed in some of his decision-making in the Harry Potter books, even if we may believe we could do better, Dumbledore is a true morally gray character. But first, to make the point I want to make, we have to understand him:

For this, I will first separate his two identities as they appear throughout Harry Potter: as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Dumbledore plays a role as a leader and role model, but he is also a person with flaws and mistakes like anyone else. These are the two main “faces” of Albus Dumbledore for this defense post, so now let's analyze them more closely:

The first "face" we see of Dumbledore is that of the leader, and this is primarily because of Harry who, at eleven years old, sees Dumbledore as the kind of man he would like to emulate. This also happens with many other wizards throughout the story: it's clear to anyone that most of the people within Harry’s personal circle like and admire Dumbledore, while those who despise him are often the “bad” characters (Lucius Malfoy is probably one of the earliest examples of this).

Although that doesn’t mean they are somehow starstruck by the headmaster: Sirius, Snape, the Weasley parents, Moody, even James and Lily, they all question Dumbledore and his decision making at some point in the books. They end up following through more times than not, that’s true, but trust in someone is different than blind-faith. Those characters accept Dumbledore’s leadership because they trust him, not because they think he’s some type of a god.

However, we see things through Harry’s point of view, and Harry is a child who has no parents, no model figures, no one who really supports that role to him until his eleventh year. It's easy, then, to see how the leader face Dumbledore presents is one of someone the characters (and readers) can trust not to fail, and even easier to view him as someone with great power. This is the fandom’s biggest mistake in viewing him.

Shall we now remember a bit of Dumbledore’s history and delve into his personal side?

As a young man, he met Grindelwald and, according to J.K. Rowling, fell in love with him, as well as with his goal of seeking the Deathly Hallows and becoming the most powerful wizards of all time. 

In the last Harry Potter book, in the King's Cross chapter, Dumbledore himself confesses to Harry how the desire for power blinded him to what was truly important, how power was his greatest weakness, and therefore what made him unworthy of it. This is why Dumbledore remained as the headmaster of Hogwarts when he could have so easily become more important in the wizarding community (besides, of course, his love for the students): to keep himself away from power.

Here's the quote (It might be a bit different in the original, considering I’m translating it from Portuguese):

“‘I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory... Invincible Masters of Death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore!... The years passed. There were rumors about him. They said he had obtained a wand of immense power. Meanwhile, I was offered the position of Minister for Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I learned that I could not be trusted with power.’

‘But you'd have been better than Fudge or Scrimgeour!’ said Harry.

‘Would I?’ asked Dumbledore heavily. ‘I am not so sure. I proved as a very young man that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.’”

This is what the fandom most fails to understand: the admiration of wizards for Dumbledore makes him influential, but not powerful, and this becomes especially clear during the end of The Goblet of Fire and throughout The Order of the Phoenix.

One of the first signs of this in the fourth book is when Fudge refuses to believe Dumbledore about Voldemort’s return: let's remember that, until that point, Fudge sought Dumbledore’s advice for his decisions as Minister of Magic precisely because the headmaster had the respect of much of the wizarding population. But when Fudge, who has the actual power, puts his foot down and says that Dumbledore no longer has influence over the Ministry’s choices, Dumbledore lacks the power to deny it, to stop it.

If he did, it would be safe to say that he would have used his power over the Ministry to convince everyone that Voldemort had indeed returned, and more, to mobilize the Ministry against Voldemort. But none of this happens simply because Dumbledore does not have that power.

Thus, it becomes easier to differentiate power from influence.

It’s Fudge’s power that causes the Ministry as an organization and the wizarding media to turn against the Headmaster, and Dumbledore doesn’t have the power to stop it, but he has enough influence to still be heard by part of the wizarding population. It’s Fudge’s power that leads to Harry’s expulsion from Hogwarts at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, but it’s Dumbledore’s influence that convinces the Ministry to agree to a trial, and it’s his influence that moves the people present to listen to his defense of Harry during that trial. If Dumbledore had power over these events, Harry wouldn’t even have had a trial — something the Headmaster categorically calls an absurdity.

Therefore, Dumbledore doesn’t have power; he has influence, and there’s a difference between what he can actually do and what the fandom seems to believe he can do. Dumbledore has no power over the Ministry; he can’t boss anyone around except, perhaps, the Hogwarts staff and the Order of the Phoenix, a group whose members agreed to make him leader.

What he really has are people willing to listen to his advice and thoughts, as well as inclined to follow him, but that doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily do everything Dumbledore says (Sirius, anyone?).

It’s important to separate these two concepts for this analysis to continue because it will make Dumbledore’s actions make much more sense in this discussion. That said, let’s now begin to analyze “The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore”:

The main criticisms I see regarding Dumbledore revolve around Harry’s life and the decisions the Headmaster made concerning him.

Before I begin, however, I want to point out that, despite Dumbledore’s flaws, he is still a leader (just like Harry), and as a leader, he bears responsibility for the lives of the people he has chosen to protect (just like Harry). It’s important to keep this in mind so that I can highlight a few things later.

So, let’s start with when the prophecy is heard and Voldemort begins hunting Harry instead of Neville. It’s important to emphasize here that, once a prophecy is made in the Harry Potter universe and the people the prophecy is about start acting according it, it’s going to happen; there’s no way around it, or at least that’s what we’re told as canon. That’s why, as soon as the prophecy is made and Voldemort actively choses to hunt them down, everyone knows that Harry (or Neville) will be the one to face Voldemort, and one of them will die — hopefully Voldemort.

Although he’s the one to whom the prophecy was made, Dumbledore has no control over it: there’s no way to avoid the fact that Harry (or Neville) would face Voldemort at some point in their lives once Snape overhears it and tells Voldemort. All he — and everyone else — can do is give the Chosen One the tools and knowledge necessary to face Voldemort with the best possible chance of winning — which he does later on by becoming Harry’s primary mentor.

Then the Potters are “chosen” and go into hiding in Godric’s Hollow, making Peter the Secret Keeper. Some more information on this choice: Dumbledore offered to be the Secret Keeper, but James and Lily refused and preferred to choose Sirius. However, they switched to Peter without telling anyone, not even Dumbledore. This is another thing I see the fandom complaining about a lot, but it’s explicitly canon that no one besides Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter knew about the switch.

This wasn’t because they didn’t trust Dumbledore, but because Albus was in the middle of the storm as one of Voldemort’s biggest targets. The Potters didn’t reject Dumbledore as their Secret Keeper because they didn’t trust him (they wouldn’t even be in the Order if that were the case, don’t you think?), but because they were thinking primarily of Harry’s safety, and placing their family’s safety in the hands of the second biggest target of Voldemort in that war simply doesn’t seem like a wise move.

So, there’s no reason, even up to the third book, for Dumbledore to suspect that Sirius is innocent and try to intervene to get him some kind of trial or chance to explain himself. There’s no indication that Dumbledore had contact with Sirius before he was sent to Azkaban, so how could the Headmaster be blamed for that?

Again, it’s important to emphasize that Dumbledore has influence.

Even if he wanted Sirius to have a trial, there’s no evidence that he could make it happen, since everything pointed to Sirius as the culprit — remembering that there’s a big difference between a trial for underage magic and the murder of thirteen Muggles, plus the whole Secret Keeper and high-profile situation. In fact, it’s also good to remember that as soon as Dumbledore learns the truth, he does everything in his power — even sending Harry and Hermione back in time — to save Sirius from being kissed by the Dementors.

But going back a bit, a week after Peter becomes the Secret Keeper, he reveals the Potters’ location to Voldemort, and on Halloween night in 1981, Voldemort goes to Godric’s Hollow and kills James, then Lily, then tries to kill Harry but fails.

This event needs to be broken down into two parts. The first is about Lily’s protection: when she chooses to die even though Voldemort gave her a chance to live, Lily protects Harry, and that’s the reason he survives that encounter with the Dark Lord, who also “dies.”

Since the fourth book, there’s a very specific characteristic of this protection that’s seen many times but never explicitly stated, which is the fact that Lily’s protection has a blood-related nature. In other words, Lily’s protection is especially tied to blood, which is why Voldemort chose Harry’s blood to resurrect himself: because in that way, he also “has” Lily’s blood and, consequently, her protection, which frees him to harm Harry in a way he couldn’t before.

And this is the point I want to reach: Dumbledore chooses the Dursleys to raise Harry not because he wants him to suffer, but because Petunia is the only one who carries Lily’s blood and, therefore, the only one who can ensure that Lily’s protection — the thing for which her sister died — continues to work. The blood Petunia shares with Lily even prevents Voldemort, even after the resurrection ritual, because her blood makes Lily’s protection even stronger.

And it’s good to remember that this measure ends up saving Harry in The Philosopher’s Stone — Quirrell and Voldemort couldn’t touch him because of Lily’s protection, guaranteed by his living in the same house as Petunia — and keeps him safe in the Dursleys’ house for sixteen years, until Harry turns seventeen and the protection finally stops working, even though he still lived with Petunia.

Once again, people overestimate Dumbledore’s ability to act: he had no control over the nature of Lily’s protection; he acted to keep Harry as safe as possible within what he could actually control.

Unfortunately, the choices presented in that situation were either to leave him protected from Voldemort’s assassination attempts or spare him the suffering of growing up with the Dursleys.

Neither choice was ideal, but this is where Dumbledore’s leadership character comes in: Harry’s responsibility to face Voldemort was no longer a choice, even though he was only a year old, because of the prophecy. So, it makes much more sense for him to protect Harry from the greater threat (Voldemort) while ensuring that Harry would have more time to develop and grow before having to face him again.

Dumbledore didn’t make the choice to give Harry to the Dursleys joyfully, wanting him to suffer, but thinking about giving him more time and more opportunities to be a child than he would have had if Lily’s protection weren’t ensured. Obviously, this doesn’t work out very well because the Dursleys are especially cruel to Harry in a way that Dumbledore hadn’t really foreseen, something he himself admits in The Half-Blood Prince:

“‘[...] Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already tried to kill on several occasions, is in much more danger than on the day I left him on your doorstep, fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining that his parents had been murdered and expressing the hope that you would care for him as a son.’

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and did not betray his anger, Harry felt a certain coldness emanating from him. He also noticed that the Dursleys huddled together almost imperceptibly.

‘You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. In your care, he has only known neglect and often cruelty...’”

But it’s important to note that Dumbledore didn’t have good options regarding Harry’s custody; he didn’t have the power to change how Lily’s protection worked; he was working with what he had, which wasn’t much.

The second part of this event focuses more on Voldemort and Harry and is probably the most controversial regarding Dumbledore: the creation of the Horcrux inside Harry and how this is somehow seen as Dumbledore’s fault — hence the famous phrase about being “raised like a pig for slaughter,” but... let’s be honest? What, exactly, could Dumbledore have done against the fact that Harry became a Horcrux?

Once again, here’s the exaggerated view of Dumbledore’s power that the fandom seems to have: he had no control over what happened to the Potters in Godric’s Hollow on Halloween night in 1981. He had no power over Lily’s protection or the Horcrux in Harry. He has no power over Lily’s protection, nor over the Horcrux in Harry. The only thing he has the power to do is to act in a way that ensures his plan guarantees Voldemort’s ultimate defeat and thus saves the entire wizarding world.

I hate it when people say Dumbledore “raised Harry like a pig for slaughter” simply because he knew that Harry would have to die for the Horcrux to be destroyed, as if he had any other option in the matter. Harry’s fate was sealed as soon as Lily’s protection saved him and a part of Voldemort’s soul entered him; Dumbledore bears no responsibility for what happened that night.

So what Dumbledore can do regarding Harry having to die is exactly… nothing. He literally has no power to change this fact, no matter how much he wants to — and he does, because he loves Harry, as he himself says in Order of the Phoenix. But Dumbledore is still a leader, and he still needs to think about the best plan of action to ensure that people continue to have hope and that they can truly see that hope — of being free from Voldemort and his reign of terror — come true. And if that meant Harry had to die to destroy the Horcrux, then that was it. Period.

But it’s also important to point out that Dumbledore didn’t force Harry into anything: by the time Harry receives the information that he needs to die to ensure the salvation of everyone and Voldemort’s mortality, all the people who know this — Dumbledore and Snape, in this case — are dead and unable to do anything if Harry decided to simply run away and leave everyone to fend for themselves because he didn’t want to die.

But, as I pointed out before, Harry is a leader. And he fully accepts the responsibility of this role the moment he decides to face death: he goes to Voldemort willing to die by his own choice, wanting to save those who matter to him, those who trust him to end Voldemort. Not because Dumbledore ordered him, but because he — Harry — is a leader, and a leader sacrifices himself for his cause when necessary.

Saying that Dumbledore was the “cause” of Harry’s death, besides being wrong, also takes away from the greatness of Harry’s choice in that situation. Harry is the protagonist of his own story, and he is always making decisions based on his own mind and beliefs (going after the Philosopher’s Stone, entering the Chamber of Secrets, sparing Pettigrew, going after Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, pursuing the Horcruxes, etc.), so it’s completely unfair for people to place the responsibility for his choice to die on Dumbledore’s shoulders just because the Headmaster gave him the information that Harry was a Horcrux. Harry always acted according to his own mind based on the information he had been given — why would it be any different with the Horcrux inside him?

It simply wouldn’t be. Dumbledore gave the information, but it was Harry who decided what to do with it.

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Dumbledore didn’t tell Harry about having to die to destroy the Horcrux inside him earlier because (a) Harry was a child, and (b) Dumbledore didn’t want to take away Harry’s hope. Additionally, after the fourth book, there was still the possibility that Harry could survive because, by performing the resurrection ritual, Voldemort intertwined his life with Harry’s, thus giving Harry a chance not to die when allowing the Horcrux to be destroyed. So why would Dumbledore tell a teenager that he would have to die at some point in the future… if there was a chance Harry might come back? It seems (to me, at least) like an unnecessary cruelty to place that burden on someone for so long.

So the biggest issue I see with the fandom in relation to Dumbledore is the belief that he had power over things that were completely beyond his reach. Dumbledore was a leader doing the best he could with what he had, within the limitations presented to him and his own experience.

Moreover, it’s admirable that Dumbledore had such a dark and flawed past and acknowledged each of his mistakes, always acting to ensure that he wouldn’t repeat them. It was the events of his adolescence that led him to always remember to value what truly mattered: love and people. He grew through his own pain, through the consequences of his own mistakes; he never forgot or repressed what happened to Ariana — which would certainly have been much easier — but instead, he used that painful event to become a better person.

That’s a morally gray character, that’s someone who had been stuck between a rock and a hard place and did what he thought was best, that’s a character who did the best he could with what he was given. And I really don’t like how fascist-like characters are more often than not considered more complex because of trauma than characters like Dumbledore.

But I guess that’s a bit because we can actually empathize with them better by being convinced that they didn’t have a choice, or that they were somehow forced into those choices even if they really didn’t want to and that might be the case, but to be honest, after seeing what fascist narratives do to marginalized people, I can’t say I care much about it. Anyway, be my guest to comment on my analysis but please be kind, I won’t engage in rage baits nor Zionists, Free Palestine loves <3

[everlasting-rainfall]

So for a request what about a Imu and Gorosei (together or separate) in the Fiction into Reality AU or Time travel AU, I think it would be a intresting concept and with the way you write I know it would be awesome, also I hope you get better l

Hey, thank you so much for this ask! Honestly oddly enough, the Gorosei are kind of comfort characters for me which probably sounds weird, but that makes me really happy to receive this request!

I don’t think anything will ever surpass Figarland Garling in terms of romantic comfort character though. The only one who’s close enough to surpassing him is probably Joyboy honestly.

Anywho, I’m starting to ramble, but I genuinely do want to thank you for sending this in so thanks a bunch! And thank you so very much for the compliment as well!

Now let’s get into it, shall we?

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Celestial Dragon Bullshit, Removal of Rights, Implied Mass Death, Being Accused of Cheating, Reality Changing around You, Gorosei being the Gorosei, Time Travel Stuff, Rainfall Probably Sucking at Time Travel, Forced DNA Test, Becoming Someone Else Against Your Will, Fusion

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

I HAVE NEVER, AND WILL NEVER CONDONE THE ACTIONS OF ANY CELESTIAL DRAGON

📜-Gorosei (Fiction into Reality)-📜

Genuinely I’d like you to imagine for a second, the five Gorosei of all people coming out of the One Piece world into the real one. Imagine how absolutely horrifying that would be.

Like imagine that you were like reading the latest chapters of the manga, or watching the latest episodes. You’re pretty tired so you decide to pause it, and leave it for tomorrow.

You go to bed, and in the middle of the night, you wake up to sound. Of course you probably assume burglars, so you pick up the nearest object to use as a weapon and peek out of your room. There are five well dressed men in your living room.

They’re all absolutely gigantic too like if you don’t have high ceilings, they probably have to bend over a bit or a lot. Let’s not forget how big these old men are… Seriously… Rob Lucci is 6’11, and only comes up to Shepherd’s waist…

Anywho they’re more than likely talking about where they are, and what happened as they don’t know how they got here. I feel like the first one to notice you would probably be Ethanbaron, he spots you and points you out to the others.

Saturn probably demands you come out. If you do refuse, and lock yourself in your room out of panic then I hope you have five seconds of peace of mind. That’s how long it will take for them to get in. What door? You had a door? There’s no door anymore…

Proceed to being dragged to the living room, and now you’re being questioned by the Gorosei themselves. I feel like either Marcus or Warcury would be the ones asking most of the questions. Once everything is all figured out, and they realize that they can’t get back on their own plus you can’t send them back. Your home becomes their base of operations while they work on finding a way back to their world.

Living with the five of them definitely isn’t the best thing… They’ve completely taken over your home like Warcury straight up tells you one that all decisions about the household are to be run by him, if not all of them before they’re made…

You might think that means like “Oh the window broke? I need to talk to Warcury before I have it fixed”, and that would be ideal. But nope. You need to ask before you do literally anything…

Need to go to the store? Talk to Ethanbaron so he can set a budget, and tell you what to get. Heading to work? Talk to Warcury so he can tell you what you can’t tell your boss. Going on a walk? Talk to Marcus so he can tell you where you’re allowed to be. Gonna go for a drive? Talk to Saturn so he can join you for research about your world. Need some alone time? Talk to Shepherd so he can decide if you can have it.

Really the only things that you can do without talking to them about it first are housework, and basic human functions. It’s honestly exhausting, and you wish they would find the way home already…

It’s already bad enough that they’ve taken over your bedroom, and anytime that they demand to come with you when you go outside. You get stared at because of how tall they are, and how they won’t let you get too far away.

Like seriously, you took Shepherd shopping with you once and while he was looking at something. You wandered off thinking he was following you, the man proceeded to hunt you down and threatened to put you on a leash if you ever tried to leave him like that again.

That threat became a reality when you got too far ahead of Marcus while on a walk… The next day, you were wearing a makeshift collar with a leash attached to it…

Trying to explain that you couldn’t go out in public like this didn’t do any good. The only thing that they allowed was that you could cover it because it could be seen as very sexual.

It’s safe enough to say that living with them is an absolute nightmare half of the time. The other half is migraine inducing, but as time goes on. They almost seem to start rewarding you.

You get your bedroom back, you get the privilege of having an hour of uninterrupted alone time, Ethanbaron allows you to buy one or two things that he didn’t tell you to get.

Now this might not seem like much, but considering what you’ve been putting up with? These little rewards might as well be a dream come true…

Continue on with this life for a good long while, and you might even notice that the five of them might be trying to court you in their own subtle ways. It definitely doesn’t seem like much though.

It’s things like holding the door open for you, offering you an arm while you’re walking in public together, joining you whenever you’re indulging in something that you enjoy like a show or book or game, and listening when you talk.

It might not seem like much, but they are interested in you… For them, they can’t figure out why you aren’t noticing their advances… They’re doing things they don’t normally do…

Eventually the five of them will start to become frustrated, and even trying to show far more of this behavior in hopes that you’ll notice.

Honestly as well, they have found a way home by now… They just refuse to leave you, and are giving you a chance to come willingly…

Of course you don’t, and simply continue on with what you’re doing. Maybe even talking to someone over the internet in a romantic sense.

None of them have any idea how your phone works beyond that you use it to talk to people, and this thing called the internet. So you might be able to hide it from them for a good while.

How they’d find out? I can imagine that would go one of two ways…

One is that Ethanbaron tracks you down when you’re gone longer than allowed from the home which causes to be caught. I’d hope that you aren’t kissing the other person either… Immediate death…

Or the other is Saturn reads your messages on the screen while sitting next to you. All he needs to see is one hint of romance, and you’ve got a pissed off Ushi Oni who is demanding you explain…

Either way though, a meeting is called and you feel like you’re being interrogated for a horrific crime. They’re demanding every single detail about this person.

You can try to lie, but I don’t think it’d work in all honesty… You’d have an easier time achieving world peace than lying to the Gorosei…

Once they have sufficient information, one of them will remain behind. I can imagine it might be Warcury to ensure that you go absolutely nowhere. Meanwhile the other four leave the home.

Proceed to a breaking news broadcast about the four others wreaking absolute havoc on the area where you claimed the person lived. They’re describing it as a real life Godzilla or Cloverfield movie as they show no mercy.

You can try to plead with Warcury to get the others to stop, but he isn’t listening. Telling you that you’ve brought this on yourself for committing adultery, now you must watch.

”Adultery? We aren’t married!” “Enough of this nonsense… Yes, we are… Nothing you say can change that…”

So you’re forced to watch this news broadcast, Warcury might attempt to provide comfort if you begin to cry. But it’s probably just a hand on your shoulder, or forcing you onto his lap.

Either way, you’re still forced to watch until it’s all over. The four leave, and return home now that they’re sure they got the person.

The television will be turned off, and they’ll probably talk for a bit before it’s time to go. You’ll be dragged through the television with them into the One Piece world. Your body changing, and warping to fit the One Piece art style.

There’s no way back now, and as you sit in the room of authority with your partners. You’ll watch as the One Piece world changes things to make you fit in, your outfit changes and five different rings appear on your finger.

None of them will come off, no matter how hard you try. And you’ll soon notice as well that each of the five has a matching ring to go with one of the rings on your finger.

For example. If a ring has gemstones formed to look like a wing pointing right, Marcus has the same ring but the gemstones are a different color and the wing is pointing left.

The five of them will be pleased as they know that there’s likely no chance for you to escape. They were just in the room of authority doing average everyday things for them when they got transported.

So unless the same thing happens to you which they honestly doubt it will. You’ll be here forever, and there’s nothing that these old men like more…

I’d honestly recommend that instead of thinking of a way to escape, you should start bracing yourself…. With the way they’re looking at you, it’s safe enough to say that punishment is imminent for your “adultery”…

🖤-Imu (Time Travel AU)-🖤

So there is actually a good few ways that Time Travel AU can go, as I play around with it quite a bit in my head. You travel back to the actual One Piece world, you travel back to some kind of warped caveman or some other warped time period version of the One Piece world, or the first one but the character follows you back to the future and won’t leave.

For conveniences sake, let’s say it’s the first one. Now let’s get into it for real.

So let’s say that you’re someone who’s been working on building an actual real life Time Machine. You finish it, you test it with like a random object or something, it works! Now why not try it out yourself?

When you do, you wind up in Marie Geoise. You’ve never read anything about this sort of thing in the history books, so you start looking around at everything and documenting what you can.

Maybe you run into a problem with a few Celestial Dragons who think that you’re someone’s slave. Proceed to what’s probably the biggest headache of your life dealing with these guys…

Celestial Dragons being Celestial Dragons will probably try to punish and/or kill you for disrespect. And of course, it’s very much an “Oh fuck…” moment with you trying to reach for your return to the present device.

Don’t worry though! Because before anything can happen, you’re suddenly being arrested… These people are far from gentle with you as they drag you off.

Proceed to having all of your items confiscated especially whatever item you could have used to return to present day. Once you’ve been sufficiently searched, the interrogation begins.

Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get here? How long have you been here? What was your intention in coming here? All sorts of stuff like that…

But then there are the weirder questions… Are you a natural (hair color)? Do you wear contacts, or have modified your eyes in some way? Do you have a birthmark in this specific shape? Do you enjoy wearing clothes of this style? If I say butterfly, what do you think of?

You might feel like you’re being watched during this interrogation as well, and not by the people with you. Trying to ask if they feel the same thing gets you nowhere as you’re simply told to quiet down, and answer the questions.

Once the questions have finally ended, they take a few things from you… They cut your hair, they make you fill a tube with saliva, they take some blood from you, they even have you bite something to leave an imprint of your teeth…

And then you’re left alone in the interrogation room for an incredibly long amount of time… They do feed and water you, but that’s really it.

You might think that this is a prison sentence, but you’re just being held while they check your DNA… If it doesn’t have the results they’re looking for, they’ll dispose of you.

But when it does result in you having a match with the other person. That’s when they’ll come back to you, they’ll haul you off somewhere but much gentler this time.

You’re brought to a restricted area, and you’re left in a room with a lot of greenery. There are a few butterflies going about, and some flowers. Alongside a sword in the floor.

What you don’t notice at first is the dark shadowy figure watching your every move. Bright red eyes watching how you do every single little thing from sneezing to just turning your head.

This is Imu, and they’re conducting their own personal test to see you’re really who they think you are… So far, you’re passing…

You’ll start to feel that same feeling of being watched so you’ll look, and finally spot Imu. Of course, you have the only normal reaction to seeing Imu… Fear…

And honestly the way that you react to them is all that Imu needs to see to know that it’s you. They’ll come close to you, and reach out a covered hand to almost lovingly caress the side of your face.

They’ll touch their forehead to yours in contentment, and welcome you home in their own scary Imu way.

Proceed to living with Imu, and them refusing to let you out of their sight for even a moment… It’s downright unnerving especially when they watch you do simple mundane tasks like you’re a movie or television show…

Imu blames your behavior towards them on memory loss so they’ll do their best to remind you. Recreating moments the two of you shared, allowing their skin to touch yours in hopes that’ll bring some memories, occasionally speaking to you.

They’re honestly doing more right now than they ever have when it comes to you. Imu believes that they’ve already lost you, and they’re not intending to have lost you for even a moment longer. They intend to do whatever it takes to remind you of who you are.

From telling you about “yourself” to far more extreme things. Did Imu have an island wiped from existence before they seemingly lost things? Imu will find a reason to wipe out another to hopefully click something in your head…

The entire time that this is going on, you’re likely trying to find a way back to your own time. You can try to ask Imu for your things back, but I’m unsure if Imu will let you have them.

Can you use them to leave them? What are they for? Why do you want them so bad?

Your relationship did start off quite rocky in the beginning with you being terrified of Imu until Stockholm Syndrome set in… “They could use these items to leave me forever this time” is what Imu tells themselves… So no… You can’t have your things back…

And just for good measure! Imu has them destroyed!

So now that your way back to the present no longer works, time is all out of whack for you… You’ll become sick as time destabilizes for you, and it tries to figure out what to do with you…

You’ll look and feel like you’re at deaths door until time figures things out, you won’t die but Imu will be convinced that you are going to.

Imu will probably pull Saturn away from his duties as a member of the Gorosei to identify what’s wrong with you, and hopefully fix you. Of course, he can’t figure it out.

This is the most stressed that Imu has ever been, and it shows… Saturn’s inability to fix you is stressing, and angering them… If Saturn wasn’t so useful, and also your one chance at survival then Imu might off him out of sheer frustration…

Imu doesn’t leave your side for even a minute during this either. Does Imu need to sit on the throne, and address the Gorosei? Not now… They can wait, and if it’s really important then they can come here…

Imagine the visual of that scene where the Gorosei bow to Imu as they sit on the throne, but instead Imu is sitting on a bed with you.

Eventually though, your illness passes when time finally figures out what to do with you. You rapidly recover, and Imu is so happy that they could kiss Saturn. They won’t, but they could…

As you can probably guess, the reason that you’re recovering is because time has decided what to do with you. It’s decided to completely cement you into this time, and turn you into the person Imu thinks you are.

Where Imu is so happy to see you picking up old habits of yours, you couldn’t feel more horrified as everything is changing. You can’t stop it either.

Imu simply thinks that you’re recovering from your memory loss finally.

They watch in absolute joy at how you’re picking up mannerisms that they claim you used to have, you start to want dress in the clothes that you apparently used to wear, all that sort of stuff.

If you realize as well what’s going on with you, there’s probably only way to fix it which is going back to your own time. Which can only be achieved by telling this terrifying being the truth.

So you work up the courage, ask Imu to talk, and once you’re sitting down with them. You’ll try to explain everything.

It’s definitely no surprise that Imu likely doesn’t believe you…

But if they do? I can imagine that Imu reaches for you, takes your hands, and looks directly into your eyes. You can probably feel your soul getting sucked out the more that they stare until they speak…

“You may not be them… But with your explanation, you will be soon… And I shall have them back…”

Imu doesn’t care at all as if time is truly cementing you here, and turning you into their partner. That’s just a blessing in Imu’s opinion.

Whatever took Imu’s S/O in the first place is being wiped away by time as it does what it thinks is best. It’s making it so that you become Imu’s S/O.

Was there some sort of memorial, or wanted poster out there for Imu’s S/O? There isn’t now… It completely disappears…

With you being turned into said S/O, there’s no reason for that to exist. And if the S/O is still out there somewhere? Time might just fuse you together, and let you melt completely into one person.

Freaky, I know. But it’s the only explanation I have.

During this time as well, your memories might even start to be altered as well. The present will become harder and harder to remember as they’re all replaced with memories of your time with Imu.

A memory about relaxing on the couch, and watching a movie? Now it’s a memory about lounging on the couch with your head in Imu’s lap as they play with your hair.

Imu will watch as you try to fight these changing memories, and remind yourself of who you truly are. If you make any reminders then Imu will personally dispose of them.

They probably wont be too aggressive with you during this time honestly… They know that you’ll be “back to normal” soon, and everything will be exactly how it should be…

Imu gets their sweet dear S/O back. All they have to do is comfort you, and prevent you from making this take any longer than it needs to.

All will be well soon… At least in Imu’s opinion…

[sunnywalnut]

As someone who *was* a Helluva Boss fan for a really long time because of the obvious love and care that was put into the show by the animators and voice actors.... I really can't overlook the kind of things that Vivian has done.

And honestly?

Knowing that all of the money from views, likes, media, merch and so on goes into her pocket (and NONE of the people that actually put in the work to CREATE the show) just horrifies me to no end.

I know that all of us have heard about her tyrades on Twitter, or her tearing apart critics and cursing them out, or just her all around messy and rude attitude towards everyone and anyone who pokes even a LITTLE fun at her(like that one video of "The Amazing Digital Circus If It Was Written By Vivziepop). I know that we've all heard about it. And a lot of us have already made up our minds about her. Good or bad.

But the fact of the matter is that a lot of us don't have the full story. And for me, it was because a lot of it was either conspiracy, treated as a one off thing, or just an assholeish thing that happened years ago. And her fans defending her poor behavior and claiming she's apologized for it or that it's "okay" because she's been through trauma haven't really helped.

Plus. I'm a firm believer that you shouldn't have to put that much extensive research into figuring out if the person you are supporting(through watching videos, buying merch, etc etc) is a good person or not.

Which is why I want to share with you all a link to a post I found on Twitter. A compiled list of evidence of things that Vivziepop has said or done without additional commentary(besides simply just labeling what the screenshots consist of) so everyone can make their own decisions on what they want to believe or not.

I for one am not the kind of guy to care about what kind of things you do with fictional characters(or at least. What you write with them. All of us are capable of writing shitty stories and posting them online) and honestly? I don't care about what personal things you have going on in your life.

A lot of people do.

And that's not wrong, of course. Some people believe that it is a way to see what kind of person you are based off of how you treat your fictional characters or the ways that you interact with sexuality. Which has some truth to it. To some extent.

However. It holds a problem when that is the ONLY evidence you find against a person.

Making a shitty joke 3 years ago doesn't condemn you to hell. Or at least. It shouldn't.

Making a sexualized character? I mean. Who doesn't?

But running a hierarchy where you are running your friends mental health into the ground for the sake of a show you aren't even animating for anymore? Now that is something that I would like to educate myself on.

And this thread does just that.

I definitely recommend you read. Or at least bookmark for later. Because it has a LOT of new information that people might not know yet.

[grandmother-goblin]

Okay, I’m gonna share some thoughts about Astarion in regards to sex and sexuality now that the full game is out and I’ve played through his romance twice at the time of posting this!

Now, I will say this as a preface: THIS IS MY OPINION ABOUT A FICTIONAL CHARACTER! My own experience colors my interpretation of the character, just like your experiences colors your interpretation. I’m not saying any interpretation is wrong or right, and if you happen to disagree with me, that’s fine! I’m not fighting you. I just wanted to share my thoughts because I enjoy this character and I enjoy writing him in fanfiction!

First, to me, Astarion is pansexual. The voice actor and game developers have confirmed this from what I know, and I’m not about to disagree with them. With all the attention to detail that the developers and writers put into the story, if Astarion was meant to be anything other than pansexual, he would be. I firmly believe that. He expresses interest in men and women both in game, so to me, he’s pansexual.

This is probably just a personal ick for me, but it feels pretty bad when someone says they are (or in this case, a character is) bisexual or pansexual and others respond with “We know what you really are 😏.” Yeah? People have literally been told and taken it upon themselves to draw another conclusion than the one given. I feel like it’s dismissive and it makes me sad that I see it all over the place.

On to his attitude towards sex in general, I’ve seen a popular post saying that he is “sex-adverse”. I don’t agree with that. At least, not with the definition I’m working with which puts “sex-adverse” on the same spectrum as asexuality such that it’s just a trait someone has rather than a state of being. Someone can not want to have sex, or not want to have sex for a long time, without being sex-adverse. (Now, my definition might be wrong, Google may have lied to me, and if that is the case I am very sorry. I’m not a smart woman but I try my best lol)

I think sex is something he used to enjoy, and it’s something that he wants to enjoy again, but it was tainted after everything he went through. I think he craves the emotional intimacy/closeness that can come with it rather than just the purely physical sensations. With what he had to do for Cazador, separating his feelings from what he physically did seems to have become second nature to him. I think this is apparent when the narrator or Tav noticed that he’s “not all there” when it comes to intimate scenes. It’s something he had to do, and the ramifications of being forced into something like that is not something that can be undone overnight.

He wants to take some time to figure out how to reconnect physical intimacy with his emotions. He needs time to build a relationship with a partner and know for certain that it’s not based on sex alone. Of course he’s gonna want to step on the breaks for a bit. It makes sense. If Tav really wants him, Tav won’t push it. This is confirmed when Tav pressures him into sex after he confesses his feelings towards it, Astarion decides immediately afterwards that Tav only wants him for “the one thing he’s good at” and breaks things off with them.

Astarion craves a romantic relationship built on something more than just the physical. But he just doesn’t know how to go about that anymore! Feeling close to someone, or showing genuine compassion or care for someone, is something that was turned against him in the past. The fact that he feels anything at all for Tav is probably terrifying to him!

Is Tav the first person to genuinely care for him since he became a vampire? I don’t think so. Not by a long shot. But I think Tav is the first person that he got to spend enough time with that he realized that they cared. I’m sure plenty of his victims actually cared for him, but he couldn’t open himself to care back. He needed to kill them anyway, so what was the point?

Tav is potentially the first friend he’s had in centuries. I am of the odd opinion that he actually kind of liked Tav by the time he first tried to seduce them, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t manipulating them. After the bite scene, especially if Tav lets him feed on them, it has to register to him that Tav can be more than just another one of his victims. He can use Tav, and ally himself to Tav for protection so they don’t turn on him, but he also has an opportunity that he hasn’t had in a long time: the chance to actually get to know someone.

And once he gets to know a Tav who actually has his best interests at heart, and he realizes this, Astarion doesn’t know how to act. He was used for his body for centuries, so surely that has to be all Tav is after as well, right? I think this ties in with his confession and what I said earlier really nicely. If Tav still wants him for him after he confesses that he was trying to manipulate them, if Tav forgives him and still wants a relationship regardless of whether or not they have sex, then he knows for certain, for the first time in centuries, that someone isn’t using him for his body.

That probably needs time to sink in. Not only that, but taking a break from sex altogether would help reaffirm to him that Tav likes him for him. Now, this is where the Halsin/polyamory thing kind of bugs me. If Tav hooks up with Halsin, and asks Astarion’s permission, he gives permission but also says something like “is this because we haven’t done it in a while?” IT IS STILL ON HIS MIND! That’s why the polyamory route with Astarion bugs me because Tav hooking up with someone else, especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, probably just tells him “well, we stopped having sex and now I’m not enough for them.” Now, I think Astarion is perfectly capable of having a healthy polyamorous relationship, but I think he would have to be close with everyone involved in order not to feel like he did something wrong.

I can probably keep talking about this topic for a while, but I’m gonna leave it here. Again, these are just my opinions about a fictional character! Your opinions may differ and that’s totally fine! Don’t yell at me, I'm fragile.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Ok I am in rant mode again, sorry, this blog just happens to be a place where I dump all my thoughts negative and positive both, unfortunately for all who follow me. But I have seen some bad and incorrect takes from anti darkling/darklinas. So here’s just a few things I want to say.

Firstly LB has never stated that she based the darkling on her ab*sive ex. This is misinformation that was spread by antis. The only thing she has ever said about an ab*sive relationship was that she wrote the first book, Shadow and Bone, at a dark time in her life right after she had got out of a bad relationship. She has said in the past that the darkling was inspired by every bad boy she’s had a crush on in fiction including david bowie’s the goblin king. 

So it seems from these comments like the character was supposed to emulate those types of characters that woman find attractive, the ones you would fall for. 

I’ve also seen the argument that LB clearly wrote the darkling as a villain, well LB might disagree with you there as she herself has said on multiple occasions that she doesn’t write villains: 

LB says that the darkling believes he is doing the right thing and that ‘you can make a case for most of the choices he makes, even the despicable ones.’ So if LB says that she doesn’t write villains and that you can make a case for his actions you can’t really blame darkling fans for doing the same. 

The truth is LB promoted the heck out of both the darkling and darklina (or as it was known back then Darlina and Alarkling) when she was writing the og trilogy, even admitting to ‘fanning the flames’ when talking about people shipping m*lina and darklina and was clearly encouraging the shipping of both ships: 

She also put out teases for the darkling and darklina:

And promoted darklina fan edits even using the ship tags: 

It was only post the release of book three that she changed her tune, likely because of all the backlash she got about the ending of the books. So no LB wasn’t always against fans shipping darklina or liking the darkling. All of this information is easily found with a simple google search, I wasn’t even in the fandom back then being a show watcher first and yet I was still able to learn all of this with minimal difficulty. 

Which brings me to the whole darklina being an allegory for a older man manipulating a younger girl and how the darklina fans ‘missed this’. Well if they did miss it then it was for a very good reason, but the truth is darklina’s didn’t miss it, we just didn’t think it made sense within the narrative, the darklina fandom have talked about it, myself included, in fact I’ve already posted a whole pretty much essay on the topic. But let me explain why some people may have ‘missed it’ and why it doesn’t work in the story or with darklina as the allegory. The first is because LB chose to use an immortal/immortal couple for this allegory. The thing with immortality in fiction, especially as love interests, is it makes age pretty much meaningless. The whole point of immortals is that they are ageless. Immortal ships have always been accepted within fiction and this whole age gap issue has never come up before. Nobody was going omg but the age gap yuck with Bella and Edward when twilight came out, or when Magnus and Alec got together in Shadowhunters or with any of the ships in Vampire Diaries. Yet now anti’s are trying to use the argument that the darkling is 100s of years older than Alina and that’s creepy all of a sudden. Sorry but not in my book, an immortal is always going to be significantly older than anyone else what’s the alternative they spend eternity alone, never knowing love? At least with darklina they are both immortal. Another reason why it doesn’t work is because of how the darkling is described in the book, he is said to not look much older than Alina, so in the books he looks like a teenager. So of course people weren’t going to pick up on the older guy/younger girl allegory because the darkling isn’t presented in the books as an older guy. He’s described the same way every other immortal being in every YA book at that time was. It’s also worth noting that I am not sure if LB ever actually said that darklina were supposed to represent a older guy with a younger girl or whether that was something the fandom came up with. I’m not saying she didn’t just that I myself have never seen a direct quote from her that I recall and I wasn’t able to find one. I think the first time I heard of it was when someone sent me an ask about the topic. I know that she has said it was meant to serve as a warning of attractive and charismatic men being able to manipulate young girls but I don’t know that she herself has ever talked about an age gap or specifically mentioned older men? 

Another thing that I have been seeing alot of are comments like darkling/darklina fans only like him because he is hot. What bothers me about this is firstly even if that were true and the only reason people liked him was because he is hot, so what? There’s nothing wrong with that, its fiction and fiction is used to escape for a bit, its for enjoyment and entertainment, so if that enjoyment and entertainment comes in the form of staring at the hot guy irregardless of whether they are the hero or villain, let them be. Why are you criticising the way someone enjoys fiction? Sometimes a gal just wants to look at the hot guy. Secondly its just a really irrelevant argument because the darkling is not the only hot, charismatic character in the books or show. M*l is also described as being attractive and charismatic with no shortage of friends and girls, Nikolai is another character that fits that description, so by this argument the only reason M*l fans like him is because he is hot, and the only reason Nikolai fans like him is because he is hot. Thirdly its just plainly not true, whilst I am sure there may be some fans who only like him because he is hot, again nothing wrong with that, most fans like him for a variety of different reasons because he is an interesting and complicated character. As someone who spends a fair bit of time in the darkling/darklina tags the most common reason I have seen for fans liking him is because of his dedication to the grisha, his willingness to fight for the grisha something that he has dedicated 100′s of years of his life too. Personally I like Aleksander/the darkling because he has a sympathetic backstory, because he is fighting for the grisha and when seeing that they had no place to go where they could be free from fear he vowed to make them a safe place, a sanctuary, of course I am going to root for that goal too. I like him because he is complicated and complex and despite being an immortal being who has become deeply effected by past traumas there is still something beautifully human about him, particularly in the show. I also like the connection he has with Alina, the whole yin/yang of it and them being each others balance. I love the complexity and angst of them having this deep connection and pull to each other but also having this anger and sense of betrayal, how they have to try and navigate around having different points of view and seeing the world in a different ways, it makes for a very compelling story and their chemistry in the show is electric. The fact that he is hot is merely a bonus, but even if he wasn’t a conventionally attractive person I would still like his character because of those complexities, because of that connection he has with Alina. But one thing this rant has done is make me curious as to what my other fellow darkling/darklina fans like about the darkling? What drew you to the character? Anyway that’s enough ranting for one day, again my apologies, I am going to go and rewatch season 1 of shadow and bone in preparation for season 2′s release tomorrow...sheepishly shuffles off my soapbox, waving awkwardly.   

[natasha-in-space]

Thank you for your previous work. I was wondering if you could write a headcanon of RFA (excluding Saeyoung, as you have already done him) and Saeran with MC. In this scenario, chaos follows MC everywhere without any logical reason, but REMINER IT DOESN'T HARM MC, ONLY THE PEOPLE AROUND HER. This ability also runs in her family, so if they have a gathering, chaos happens without fail. Additionally, I have a funny scenario in mind where Saeran kidnaps MC to Mint Eye, and as a result, chaos ensues, but MC casually escapes. I search Kofuku and I see some similarities but the idea of MC having this "ability" is actually come from an Disney Show called Milo Murphy's Law

Yoosung

I feel like the poor guy will get rather spooked by this strange ability of yours. He's already prone to getting into some very embarrassing situations without any external force pulling the strings. Do you mean to tell him that he'll have to deal with even more disasters in his daily college life!? It's more humorous than serious, though. He may act a bit startled by it at first, but he's definitely the type to get very curious despite his initial reservations. It baffles him how such a thing could actually happen in reality, and not in fiction. Is it appropriate for him to call you a superhero...? He'll also probably want to try and use this ability of yours for his advantage. Not anything bad... But, hey, maybe, just maybe... you could make his professor miss his bus today? He has no desire whatsoever to study for the philosophy test tomorrow morning.

Zen

Zen is able to take it all in stride. He won't be shocked by this revelation of yours, as he has a few unique abilities himself. It's actually kind of exciting for him to meet someone in a somewhat similar situation to his own. Though, your little quirk is far more chaotic than he would expect. It's a good thing he has supernatural healing powers and prophetic dreams on his side! He will be able to avoid most adversity coming his way, and, even if he does get injured, he will probably be strutting down the street without a fuss after a day or two. He'll also be very fussy about you not blaming yourself for anything. He actually finds your bad luck kind of cute! At any rate, that's what he asserts to you.

Jaehee

To put it simply, she is stumped. Since she's the most logical person in the group, she'll have trouble believing you at first. Not until she encounters the undeniable proof of your ability with her own two eyes. Out of everyone in the RFA, having bad luck following this poor overworked woman will probably make you feel especially bad for her. Much like Yoosung, she'll get rather spooked once she accepts it as reality. I could see her beginning to steer clear of you even. She's already so incredibly stressed... the last thing she needs is even more trouble on her hands. She does mellow out once she sees that you are a genuinely good person, though. She'll even apologize to you for acting rashly with you. It's possible that you and Jaehee could find ways to overcome this cursed quirk of yours.

Jumin

Without a doubt, the most enthralled among all. You might think he'll be the most skeptical one of the bunch, but no. This is a man who has a huge infatuation with the occult we're talking about here. Once he sees actual tangible proof, you have a real annoying observer on your hands. Will ask you dozens and dozens of questions, do his own research in his free time, maybe even ask you to provide him some of your blood samples or something. With your consent, of course. It may become too much to handle for you. But, what you don't need to worry about is Jumin avoiding you or treating you as a threat. He makes it a point to let you know that he will not judge your character based on factors that are out of your control. With his resources, you might even come to learn more about your abilities!

Saeran

He'll be anxious. Much like his brother, but in a more subdued manner. I feel like your constant bad luck would be one of the factors that pushed Ray into choosing you, believe it or not. He can relate to bad things happening around you, while all you can do is watch helplessly. He will also take the effects of your bad luck in stride. Almost to a fault. You'll have to remind him to please take care of himself and not put himself in harm's way because of you. Suit Saeran, on the other hand, will curse you and your ability. He'll definitely think that you are doing it on purpose. That you want him to suffer. He'll ensure that you understand your position beneath him. He hates the feeling of losing control, and that's exactly what drives him mad about you and your stupid bad luck that he can't control, no matter how hard he tries. He will apologize to you for blaming it all on you, though. You can expect him to tell you that he has come to the realization that you had no intention of harming him, and that you possess a good heart. A heart that is too great for someone as dark and rotten as he is. GE Saeran will be way more balanced about it all. It'll take you two some time to figure it out, with him not putting too much pressure on himself, and you not worrying too much about harming him. Maybe you could develop a working system between you two that will help you keep disasters to a minimum, while also having a reliable plan for any accidents that may inevitably occur.

[aphroditeslover11]

Exam Shenanigans

Oppie x Reader

Summary: Oppie helps you through a tough exam.

A/N: My first time writing anything so please be kind. Lloyd is totally fictional, as is Oppenheimer in this as he is mainly based on Cillian Murphy’s portrayal. If you like it please feel free to get in touch.

It was just a regular evening, Robert had been working at the university as usual and had just got back to his house in Shasta road, hoping that he’d just be able to have a quiet evening in, maybe get on with a bit more of his current paper or discuss the new book that you’d been reading together. Instead he walked through the door to darkness. The house seemed empty until he reached the living room where he found you, single light on in the corner and hunched over, seemingly heaving.

“Y/N, are you alright darling?” he asked, switching on another light before making his way over to you. It soon became clear that you had been crying, leaning over a book that you had been trying to read through your tears.

“I’m fine Robert, nothing that you need to worry about.” Not satisfied with your response he adjusted the cushions of the sofa, sitting down beside you. He wasn’t always the most sensitive to the emotions of others, but he could at least tell when you were lying to him.

“Love, you’ve been crying, something must be wrong.” He noticed then that you were moving to hide the book down the side of the sofa. “Was your novel sad, unhappy ending?” he pushed a little further. You just shook your head at him, still silent, as if speaking would set you off again. “What is it you’re reading anyway?” With that he gently reached across you, taking the book from your grasp and noticing your brief reluctance to release it. As soon as he saw the title he understood why you were crying: ‘A Comprehensive History Of The Late Western Empire’, a history textbook.

As soon as you knew that he had seen it you started to explain. “My professor set a surprise exam on the Roman Empire and I don’t know anything about it. We were meant to be doing the French Revolution when I took the course, but he changed his mind on units last minute. ”

“I’m sure we can sort it out, you don’t need to be so upset love. Who’s your professor? Maybe I could pull some strings and get you transferred.” he said taking you into his arms, the reassurance driving any tears away. You were a student at Berkeley, having met Robert through friends at a social event and quickly falling for him. After a period of dating your accommodation had fallen through and he had insisted that you move in with him. It was fast, but you stayed over half the time anyway, so it made sense.

“Lloyd, but I don’t want to transfer, he already doesn’t like me and I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up.”

“Lloyd wouldn’t do anything for me anyway, hates my guts, that’s probably why he’s difficult with you.” Although Robert loved it at Berkeley and was friends with half of the faculty, he didn’t get on so well with the other half, who openly hated anyone with his kind of politics.

“Well then, there’s only one other solution, we’ll have to work through it together.”

“Robert, I love you, but the exam’s in a week and I have no idea what’s going on, all the people in that book have the same bloody name. What do you know about the Roman Empire anyway? You’re a physicist.” The man chuckled slightly at that remark, lightly stroking your hair to relieve your angst.

“You happen to be very lucky, because one of the classes that I took when I was at Harvard was history, and I happen to have read all 3,000 pages of Edward Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’. I might just be able to remember a thing or two.” Robert really was unbelievable sometimes, you just had to hope that he had the knowledge to face the challenge as well as the cockiness, though he usually did.

The next week was spent with your head in and out of books. Robert would borrow books from the Berkeley library whilst he was at work, bringing them home to you. He spoke to a friend who worked in the history department who gave you some pointers on what to focus on. By the end of the week you weren’t perfect, but you knew a lot more about Rome than you used to, thanks at least partly to Oppie’s efforts. He drove you in on the day of the exam, smiling at you softly as you went through some last minute notes from the papers sat in your lap. He delivered a chaste kiss to your lips, offering reassuring words as you left the car, ready to face the music.

~

Five days later you came into Robert’s office at the university, interrupting him grading papers, but he would always drop everything for you. He looked up to see you waving an envelope in your hand.

“We got the grades back today, but I couldn’t bring myself to it open without you.” He extended an arm to you, scooting his chair back so that you could situate yourself in his lap.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asked once you had yourself settled, handing you a letter opener. Nervously, you took the proffered tool, ripping across the top of the envelope in one swift motion. Pulling out the piece of paper, your eyes immediately went to the letter written at the top of the page. A.

You immediately jumped from Robert’s lap, squealing in happiness. He was reserved as ever, though his face broke into a wide smile once he saw the piece of paper that you had dropped in your excitement. He stood up to join you in celebration, pulling you into his arms before planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you love, I knew that you could do it.”

“Not without you Rob, you’ve been a godsend this past week.”

“Have a little more faith in yourself love. But forgetting everything else, what do you say to going out to celebrate? Maybe grab dinner and have a couple of drinks?”

“That sounds wonderful Robert,” you replied, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

[pallisia]

hi! i didnt realize you were back on tumblr but im really happy to see you working on a new project with such passion! if i may ask, and i realize this might be an eclectic and difficult question to answer, but what was the process of realizing this project like? I read mentions of this first being conceptualized 15 years ago or so, and im curious how the story evolved and changed over time. I dont mean content-wise of course (since im pretty sure you cant talk about the specifics of what actually happens in the story) but in a more general sense of like, how an idea germinates and how you build it up over time, and what sort of decisions in the writing process leads you to making it more of what it currently is. sorry if this is really vague.

the earliest idea for what would become soulsov wasn't much. i had been vaguely imagining an rpg adventure starring two characters i was drawing a lot at the time: loic's daughter and another guy i have not reintroduced yet. I remember daydreaming about them fighting monsters in class.

back then, it was more of a "look at my collection of ocs" kind of project. the characters had elaborate profiles and everything, but i didn't have a coherent story to go with any of it. this is less because i wasn't trying and more because i was a kid who thought in terms of what a story "had" to have rather than what i wanted to write about.

i made cq and gained some experience actually writing stories. proto-soulsov had kind of a revival around 2017, where i thought i wanted to write YA fiction. it was going to be set ~in a world where writing is outlawed.~ loic got arrested for owning a library and his daughter had to save him. it was completely stupid, and i later realized i was still writing for imaginary film execs. however, the earliest concept of a language-based magic system started there, so it wasn't all bad.

eventually, i took a good look at these characters and tried to figure out what i (me) (myself) (only) liked about them. this led to the realization that, at this stage of my life, i was simply more interested in writing about a dad in sexually-charged peril than a shy teenager saving the world. this was when i threw out basically everything else and tried to focus on the dynamic between loic and the character that became ysme. (if you are feeling sorry for loic's daughter in all this, don't; she is also a better character for the shift in perspective.)

basically i gained a better understanding of myself over the years. soulsov is, in many respects, a story about being selfish, but i had to look at it selfishly to realize this. it is for me, but i hope you can enjoy it too.

[tyrantisterror]

I'm creating a fantasy world of my own, and sometimes I have a hard time deciding between making fantasy creatures based on real biology or straight up fantasy. I love speculative biology and the art of making mythological beings (semi)plausible; dragons that evolved from pterodactyls/maniraptorans, giant rhino unicorns and insectoid fairies but also mountain-sized dragons with fire-breath that live for thousands of years.

Do you also deal with this dilemma, and do you have any solutions for it?

In the Victorian era, there were two incredibly prominent science fiction authors with utterly opposing views on how to go about writing science fiction: Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells. Verne did so much research trying to make every speculative element of his science fiction as plausible as he could, and poured that into his writing so people could see for themselves how his fantastical submarines and flying machines could possibly work if we advanced our technology a bit more. Wells, on the other hand, thought up whatever he felt his story needed, created handwavey explanations for things he/then current science could explain ("this machine flies by a special rock that defies gravity" or "their aliens with millions of years of technological advancement we haven't had yet, of course their stuff is advanced"), and only explained the "how" of his creations when it mattered for the story - i.e. we don't know what powers the martian heat ray, but we know what the martian heat ray does to the atmosphere and the things it hits when it turns on.

The funny thing is that both approaches, as opposite as they are, proved to be 1. compelling to audiences and 2. pretty much equally accurate at predicting the future. Yes, H.G. Wells' "I'm gonna make up some bullshit because it sounds cool and not bother worrying about if it's plausible approach" resulted in some scarily accurate predictions - his martian heat ray is to this day one of the most accurate descriptions of how a laser works in all of fiction, and the poison gas his martians used predicted the creation of mustard gas in WWI by a couple decades. Verne and Wells are still remembered fondly - and have their works adapted time and again - today, even though they're stuffy Victorian authors from over a century ago.

I bring this up because this "dilemma" is only such if you feel one of these choices is objectively superior to the other, which is itself a fallacy. You can be Verne or you can be Wells or you can vacillate between them according to your own whims - it doesn't matter because in the end, both approaches work just as well as each other despite being opposites. Verne's approach worked for his writing because that approach was what gave him passion for his work, and passion is what makes a work of writing last. Wells's approach worked for the same reason. And, ultimately, neither man was the paragon of their path - sometimes Wells did get into the details more than he usually did, and sometimes Verne bent his rules and let some weird bullshit happen in his stories just because.

They followed their desires and passions as artists, and wrote what inspired them the way it inspired them regardless of what peers in their fields might argue is the "right" or "wrong" way to do it. That, ultimately, is the secret to making a story that matters. An audience can always tell when you're writing in shackles, and a story that's written according to the author's muse will always read better than one that was written in chains.

[rileythelonelyalien]

Dottore x GN! reader: Medical ordeals

A/N: Hello! it's been a hot minute since my last post apologies for that, I've been quite held up with all my courses but I have some time off now so hopefully I'll be writing up all the idea I have saved up but for now I do hope you enjoy this fan fiction . This one is in fact based around an experience I've actually been through .

cw: description of a bad medical experience , mentions of blood.

You and Dottore had only become an item a short while ago , although feelings had blossomed much further back it had only become an official thing as of late. 

Dottore being a man of science and arguably medicine (albeit the medicine and ‘cures’ he provides are not orthodox to what a morally sound doctor would prescribe) over the time that he has known you he has done his best to collect medical records of yours so that he was aware what either ails you or what you would be prone too. However, try as he might he could never manage to find or secure your dental records and so he had to turn to his last option, asking you himself. Of course, he had asked you to bring anything concerning the matter to him under the premises that he needed more data for a statistic table that he was drawing up , although this was not the case.

You enter his lab the lights just as blindingly bright as always as you walk further into the sterile environment making sure to not touch anything as you wouldn't want to compromise your boyfriends work because of something so trivial. Tightly clutching you proceeded further into the laboratory. As you make your way to the back which is where your lover is most likely is, you notice a few of his clones working some of them were already acquainted with you and in your presence sent you a small wave before continuing their assigned tasks. However, some of the others who were still in the process of warming up to you snarled at you some even hissing , quote the amusing sight yet still very threatening. Doing your best to pay this unusual behaviour no mind , you quicken your pace once his desk come into view with his back facing you. Cautious to not startle the man you walk around the desk so that he is able to see your figure and alert him that you have arrived. Gently setting down the papers you give him a gentle smile. He brings his head up from the paper filled with many equations and diagrams scrawled on with seeming quick haste , he brings his face to look at yours. Somehow he claims he can see perfectly even with his mask on that looks like it covers his eyes , you struggle to comprehend just how he has managed to do this but knowing his genius this was entirely probable. Beneath his mask you watch his features soften and a sharp toothed smile take over the previous frown that was etched onto his face. Yet before you could point anything out or begin to say anything he quickly picks up the papers you had brought him flicking though them reading them at an incredible pace , although this may have been an adaptation in order for him to reduce time wasted on reading so that he can progress even faster with his projects none the less it was still immensely impressive. 

You decide to sit down on one of the few chairs by his desk and wait patiently until he finishes. A loud slamming of papers sounds thought the lab , Dottore has quickly set down the papers you had brought to him , the abruptness of the sudden sound making you jump slightly. You tilt your head slightly as you gently ask your lover ‘ Is everything okay ?’ you watch his features change from annoyance to a much softer expression at the mere sound of your voice. After a few moments of silence, he offers you a reply ‘ There seems to be some missing parts to your documents , do you happen to know what happened ?’ at the mention of this your expression changes ,your mouth in resemblances of an ‘o’ as you realise what he was talking about ‘Ah, that….’ you hesitate. Dottore leans in closer so that his face is closer to your own and places his hand on top of yours as if to provide some comfort and as a way of reassurance that what ever you say to him will be safe. With this gesture from him you feel much more comfortable in explaining everything to him. 

You take a small breath before conveying what happened in that one undocumented appointment:

You were young and were taken to the dentists in order to get a check up however this ended up with the need of tooth extraction… Unfortunately for you this was not going to be a straight forward as they promised it would be. You were sat in that chair a clear liquid being put onto your gums they were meant to stop any pain form affecting you , yet it wasn't taking effect. Despite knowing this they did not look to find a solution to this and proceeded with the extraction. Metal tools clamping down on your tooth steadying themselves in order to rip it out. Within moments the tooth is pulled out with immense force you could hear your own screams echo through the halls as your mouth began to pool with blood. The throbbing pain echoed thought your mouth and face with tears spilling over and running down your cheeks. This was a moment in your youth you would never forget. The emotionless faces that inflicted such pain on you the lights shining into your face and eyes , the throbbing pain. Everything was etched into your mind. Yet despite this entire ordeal the clinic that you had went to wanted to keep their pristine record of always satisfied patients and so they wiped this appointment and the results clean from any records that would exist. Of course, they are not able to erase someone's memory.

As you finish relating this story to him you noticed how his hand now gripped yours , tight but not tight enough to cause you any harm his face now contorted into a scowl. This was not what he was expecting to hear not in the slightest , although he has witnessed much worse when he conducts his experiments but when it came to you it was … different. You were worthy of being treated like the most precious jewels , so gracefully without bringing you any harm and yet some had the audacity to do such a sloppy job and dare to cover their tracks? Not on his watch. ‘Dottore? I hope this hasn't upset you dear’ You try to bring Dottore back from his thoughts yet as soon as you utter out those few words Dottore quickly proceeds to grab both of your hands with his own. ‘What a bunch of preposterous fools , treating you so poorly have no shame to act in such a way in the name of medicine?!?’ The hypocrisy from him was intense yet you were oblivious to his medical ‘ordeals’ and such his statement seemed comforting. He brings a gloved hand up to touch your cheek staring into your eyes through his mask ‘ My love in my hands you will only be treated with the upmost of care I can assure you with that!’ he vows to you. Being so infatuated with him all you can do it lean into his touch and hum in approval ‘I know my doctor will take good care of me’ you state before kissing his palm. 

[istherewifiinhell]

IS FLYING GENDERED?

On the masculine default, typifying gender in genre, and women as the other in the transformers cartoons.

question for the ages

once again i said back in the halcyon days of watching g1 (aka 5 months ago) i was like. Nooooo, decepticon is NOT a gender that's Silly. It's funny, but as a Read Of The Text, I thought it largely unneeded. (The concept came about, as a joke, involving dismissing the bad guys using the same language you would abt women (sexistly) that they're emotional [heh, flighty], vain, and shrill) after all. If in the 80s era there are 5 whole named/speaking woman tfs, its only ever gonna get better from here right? (<- booboo the fool)

anyway

Let's consider the axiom that the assumed default gender is male, that maleness is often seen as LACK of gender, and femaleness and gender variance are the PRESENCE of gender. In certain reasoning and worldviews, of course (See Androcentrism). Then add that, for transformers, the assumed default thing a transformer turns into, is car. (Autocentrism, if you will)

(The most general term for what a tf turns into is "Alt mode" as some of them are not vehicles at all. The other mode is "Robot Mode", whether its humanoid or not)

So I will be laying out why I believe the cartoon iterations support: non standard alt modes = non standard genders. This is in spite of the fact that FIRST lady tfs were all cars. Sleek cyber cars, but still. For whatever reason, (possibly, the reason for everything in tf, toys) they might as well not exist for how woman tf characters presence in the cartoons progressed over time.

And, to be clear, this is a reading of how these works of fiction are created, not a new unified bioessentialism but for robots aliens I'm proposing for like. In universe lore reasons. I hate that idea.

That said, alt modes in order of most to least gender: Spider, motorcycle, flying (in general, with rotors, jets), tank, and then FINALLY, car. (water and space crafts are already too marginal to rank, but they too can be assumed in relation to default maleness, AND that in making one a woman, would still qualify as othering her).

The NUMBER one reason for this is the bizarre need to have an ESTABLISHED woman tf character before making new ones. AS YOU MIGHT IMAGINE. With a g1 gender ratio something like.... (counting even the most marginal cases for the ladies) 9:120? (That's a rough count from a quick scanning of the tf wiki g1 char list) Shits dire out here.

The second is, ofc, character design based. cis people [stand in phrase for the hegemonic world view] are not okay, and their opinions about how tf gender must need be depicted visually is. uh? Im not a fan. Size and shape dimorphism in general is a given, and specifically having women tfs as far more humanoid and curvy in specific. Also general cartoon lady face syndrome but, whatever. I think there's exactly one character here who doesn't have "lips" or "lipstick" as a distinguishing factor. I'm so tired.

Third is generally, the idea of The Girl Of the Team. When there's The Girl, she often isn't JUST a normal character, who happens to be a girl. See, of course, the Smurtfette Principle. But in my view there's also a trend to give The Girl "special traits" on top of "Girl", maybe even to directly combat the idea that the Girl Character has no other traits? To stop this from being a General Primer on Woman in Media, my explanatory focus is things specific to the tf franchise.

(A phrase I use for thinking about normative modes [in general, not just the Alt ones] in within the tf universe is "unique transformerdom" or, even more clunkily, "A transformer of unique transformerdom". The excessive verbosity is amusing to me personally. All I mean by it is to have an umbrella term for any of the ways tfs can be made unique from their peers in the non allegorical realities of the fiction).

I could, and do, and greatly want to, speak about this AT LENGTH. But it keeps spiraling away from me. So I'll say for now were looking at ways a character is being depicted different from her peers, not because she is the only woman (which she likely is), but cause she's a different kind of transformer, AND if she's othered for it.

(IN SOME forms of the lore. Being a transformer woman, IS A UNIQUE KIND of transformer unto itself. Let's just say I hate it and move on)

Fourth, is the gender of villainy. There is much to be said about gender presentation of villains, the ways they are allowed to be aberrant. We will get to it. There is also all the tropes specific TO evil women, and the modes of villainy open TO female characters. But a general thing I think impacting the gender ratios of the factions is the how "Good" and "Evil" female characters are written. I'll generalize and call this the "Damsel vs Temptress" dichotomy. (See concepts like the Madonna-whore complex). Transformers, is by and large, an action franchise. Unless special reasons are made, characters who can impact the action– have more screen time, and likely more memorable, and iconic presences. A villainous woman can be unchaste, violent, aggressive. While a heroic woman, even if not a literal damsel are more likely to be in a support role. The secretaries of the action genre: medics and techs.

(Another factor is that tfs are giant robots, and the good guys are often friends with tiny squishy little humans. These make very good damsel fodder, and can be taking up the spots on the roster that might, in a different franchise, go to women. Additionally, while woman characters in transformers overall is an interesting topic. When I say tf women, I'm referring to ones that are in fictionally, transformers.)

SO, now understanding our points of attack/obstacles for getting woman into transformers. (Getting established, gendering the designed, uniqueness of existence, and general villainy). Lets go over those alt modes, and the characters that have em, in more detail.

Spiders

The "Beast Era" (1996) intro-ed the spider ofc. And what don't we have with this one. She's a villain, but shes also misunderstood, the era and design style let to these more organic shapes. And they used them to make sure she was very sexy. She's genre aware, she's quippy, she's an absolute icon. So naturally. She gets ported to other later shows. Which means we just have sexy spider ladies running around when everyone else is a fucking truck and shit.

Her own origin is, well think of her as a "Bride of Frankenstein" to the resident evil scientist, also a spider. She was designed for, and manipulated by him in multiple ways. Her protoform (A blank robot base), was supposed to be one of the good guys (a Maximal), but was reprogrammed into a bad guy (Predacon). Even then, she eventually joins them, for her own reasons. She's not even the first predacon to do so, the difference? Well the characters are a lot more NORMAL about his autonomy. Both of these characters stress that being a predacon is an identity they still see as important. But only the woman is told that really, she is was was always MEANT to be a maximal. And while that's true in a sense. There's also a plot were she's forced (by plot contrivance, not the other maximals) to get corrective robot surgery for it. And when they think she died from, everyone's more sad for her boyfriend than for her. Ouch.

The second spider, in the 2007 show, is now one in a world where she is the only "techno-organic" transformer, hence, she is spider, everyone else is a vehicle. Similar to the first, her narrative is very gendered, but less in the way were, like, I do literally think the first was was experiencing in universe sexism from other characters. Here, they really focus on the "techno vs organic" narrative, and the tragic circumstances on how that happened. In this case its just real world sexist writing.

THIRD SPIDER, (2010), instead of misunderstood and tragic evil, this ones just super mega likes to cause pain evil. She also occupies a strange place between the typic vehicular tfs, and the insecticons. This is because she has a helicopter alt mode, and her robot mode is just, a lady with spider characteristics. And, more than just a passing bug like similarity, she has the power to control the insecticons (you know, cause evil woman mind control). However, she doesn't fit in with them either, as the insecticons are at the most insect like they've ever been, in look, living in hives and that most don't even speak.

They may vary in exact character, relationship to the story's moral conflict, and design. But they stay comfortably established, dimorphised, flirty and flirting with villainy. And bonus points, always, for black widow spider trope.

SO. SPIDERS. Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ (Extremely!) Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ Villainy: ✅️

Motorcycles

Tooooo my knowledge the first bike lady was in 2004, and fairly minor, in the actual plot, but rest assured, they did go the previously established woman route, by being pink, though, which one shes named after varies by language. But neither were previously motorcycles. (And yes, there is also this problem of mixing together or swapping out one woman tf for another. As if we have the ladies to spare). Even though motorcycle men also exist, this one just stuck for a bit. Maybe something to do with Those Movies. I think the Gendered Existence of a motorcycle is pretty evident though, general sex appeal, being smaller, the mode of riding a motorcycle is different, more physical and intimate. Mainly this ranks so high for the level of grossness they can pack in. Just how objectifying it can be, particularly with two instances where the human rider is an annoying teen boy. Naturally, I've also never seen a male and female motorcycle in the same room, but the approach to design tends to be different. And yeah most of em are Arcee, who's first alt mode was cyber car, but it's not just her.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: Depends on iteration, I do NOT like the way one gets called "tough, for a two wheeler". Villainy: ❌(they wouldn't need to be motorcycles if they weren't making them the Special Girl Autobot, after all)

Flying

General: It just tends to stick out when your one girl is only flyer in the group, even she's otherwise tactfully done. Only flyer of the Maximals, a falcon, only flyer of the dinobots, a Pteranodon.

Rotors

I can barely even figure this one. Maybe it's just a general, aesthetics and use case of the actually vehicles, the associations? None of these ladies (and special case) are very connected otherwise. As previously mentioned, the spider helicopter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A big one for this is the preschool demo shows, which are rescue team focused. In the first one the only woman on the human response worker team pairs with the helicopter, they mention she does medical at times. The helicopter is male, like the other tfs. But also he's afraid of flying, and while not the first case of a flyer with a fear of heights, their personalities are, pretty different. As he's both fearful AND effeminate, fine as character traits go but, with the tone of humour used, marks him as Other.

In the second, Whirl (pointing to icon) becomes a girl for the first time, now with standard humanized face. I assume as move to keep with the previous show of having a girl one, as there's no human team mates. She's also the only one who really likes rescue school. Aaaand that's all know of her. What more do you want from me.

Helicopters: Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (milder than some)

But why'd I call this section rotors instead of helicopters? That would be because one of the latest Sole Female TF we just put in everything™ is a VTOL jet with rotors. She'll tend to be the only jet of her type, which is also smaller than the type of jet used for the villains.

And, of course, aside from alt mode, the thing that makes her stand out most in the cartoons? That she's very clearly a comics character. (I find the emphasize that she's "fan created" over done, as it only controlled minor aspects, and irrelevant cause tfs get completely overhauled in new versions all the time). From her design, which is a bit busier than most characters she stars with. And also uses Japanese aesthetic signifiers in ways that I think are a bit misappropriated and untactful. (VERY USamerican comics). Also, when she stars next to a guy, also from comics employing Japanese aesthetic, you can tell its not deployed in the same manner. (E.I she has hair and makeup, he has armor). Either way, her depictions have her either as badass sword lady on mission from god who's constantly getting hit on by an annoying guy. Or have her be from a different planet and has special telepathy.

Do we see how both her gender AND the cultural signifiers are having affects here? That the main woman tf in a series can be a literal alien even among our alien robots, with cultural signifiers they don't have?

Ratings Established: ✅️ (made the comics to cartoon jump) Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (SO SO EXTREMELY, using methods in fiction and real life)

Jets

I think my association of jets with tf gender is stronger, than some of the above examples, even if there's less reason to it. And why is that? Well, lets get socratic. Here's another question.

Is This All Starscream's Fault?

No. He's not real, he can't do things. But. His legacy as THE main stay transformers character that gets to subvert gender? Yeah. (Sure, the G1 autobots have their own effete, but he's not in every single cartoon they ever made now is he? Plus now that I think about it, he is a FLYING car...)

From the get, he's not a Man's man. He's shrill, he's manipulative and duplicitous, petty and emotional, cowardly and wheedling. He is, of course, the Perfect character. Now naturally, the 80s cartoon was not concerned with your paltry logics. Starscream and his ilk are the jets, but every decepticon can fly. The gun, the cassette player, the camera, the cassettes.

And each to a last, more masculine than he is. Vocally or behaviorally, physically. Every one of them fit the gender expectations more than he does. Even being a small time grunt, is a masculine trait, after all, more so than unchecked ambition. So its not femininity from flying, from jets. But direct relationship, reference, and descendancy from Starscream that makes it. I've yet to see female versions of Jet fire and or the aerialbots, for example.

So what to do when an effeminate male villain was less maltese falcon and more that man has effeminate hips? Well. We had to start getting his ass for being effeminate, explicitly. They made the female clone of him, which yeah, is an offensive joke stemming from the various The Gender Anxieties. (Transmisogyny, homophobia and sexism. General relation toxic masculinity. A heady mix of all and more).

But I mean. It's free girl tf... Once given a name in extra canon materials, she start's showing up in other things. Once you're in books, video games, comics, and most importantly, toys, you're real. And then eventually, her first non clone appearance in a cartoon, and how her presence shaped it.

That being, Cyberverse. Which is a cgi show, you need to know this for reasons of production. Making new models is expensive. This has always been the reason you just make recolours of Starscream and name them different things. Chicken or egg on this one, I don't know, But because CV has Slipstream, and the only difference between her and the generic "male" decepticon jet, is a more feminine face; Suddenly, any random decepticon goon can be a woman.

An absolutely revolutionary take for striving to populate a fictional world with gender parity. By at large it also means they're way more lady villains, and specifically flying model of villain. The show has other woman, but none who get the same androgynous body mold treatment.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: Mildly to NO. Unique: By design, no. Othered: Yes for the clone, and Screamer himself, I suppose. No, otherwise. Villainy: ✅️(That's, the whole idea)

Tanks

It needs to be said. Sometimes, when doing things that transgress a norm, anteing up is less subversive. This is another reason why gender variance, female agency and overt sexuality are more common traits of villains. When already defying strictures of society. What's one more.

That's Right. TANKS ARE THE BUTCH WOMAN OF TRANSFORMERS.

Alright. Let me back up. Strika is the stone cold knock out undefeated champ of lady tf designs that, actually has a reoccurring cartoon presence. She is, admittedly, only a reoccurring to minor character.

Her introduction is in another show with techno-organics, this one involved in the struggle between well, the techno and the organic. Strika as we see her, and as the design that will go on to be iterated, is not in her normal transformer body. She has been transferred into a 'vehicon' body. Without a preexisting essence contained in one, vehicons are not considered alive, in the way a transformer is. Visually, they lack the more human body plan, a standard face, feet and hand like appendages.

To further contrast Strika against the two techno-organic woman. Both of them are tall, and slender. Their softer organic shapes designed towards elegance or beauty, whatever your subjective opinion of that result might be. They both have romance subplots too. By the way. Or honestly one subplot and one main plot. Strika. In contrast. Is built like a brick shit house. Her face is. Minimal. And her goal: protecting her planet... by terminating the heroes.

Now, existing as a character that can be referenced for other media, and given the detail that she was a "Famous general", it's off to the races. She makes a wonderful big tank menace that can fill out a background shot, too.

Without her I hardly think we could have Clobber, also from CV. Who is. The true goat. The finest thing, the achievements of all we could ever hope for. A big fuck off woman, gender swapped from a previous male design with minimal faff, with now even more personality and show presence. Friends, wants, desires. Emotions. Thank God for Clobber, Thank Clobber for Clobber. Thank Randolph Heard and Mae Catt for Clobber.

Established: Depends if you want to count that Strika had so much swag they kept drawing/modeling her Gendered designs: FUCK NO Unique: ✅️ Othered: only originally Villainy: ✅️

Cars

So now you have the final piece of the puzzle. In transformers, Autobots are Cars. Yes, there are plenty of autobots that are NOT cars, and there are cars that are not Autobots. But they're exceptions, they're aberrances. They're unique. And Autobots are the norm. They oppose the Decepticons. Decepticons are Villains. And Decepticons can fly. Modal simplified binaries and false dichotomy abound!

And the thing about those original Autobot woman, the one's who largely did not influence all of this? They were cars, it's true, but not like how the men where cars. They've not been designed from transforming car toys, with a shellac of humanoid gender over top. Their designed in the way of human gender. With the car on top.

When the preexisting clause leads to the original designs to be revisited, which, has largely only happened in more recent years. They aren't car woman robots. The cars are literally not part of their bodies, they are additional. Instead of a unifying identity of a robot who is a car, its Arcee and her backpack. Parts of cars get grafted onto their petite lady bodies, and placed anywhere out of the way.

In order to make a transformer a woman, they have to give her a gender, not understanding that that's always been the case. And to give her a woman's gender, she's got to LOOK like a woman, not a transformer. And to look like a woman, she's got to act like a woman. She must be heroic but reactive instead of active, or else, villainous, conniving and or self centered. To be a woman, we must have some other previous woman to explain her presence, or else explain it anew with her unique, strange, or exotic origin. How could she ever be a woman if she simply, existed, looked average, talked average. How could she be a woman if her body is hunks of ungendered car. How can she be a woman if she's everything we expect a transformer to be.

A woman is transgressive, a woman is not normal. Autobots are normal. Autobots are heros. Autobots are men. And Autobots do not fly.