#so what's the point in acknowledging her at all?

[worldoshaking]

I find Y’shtola so interesting; I think she exemplifies some very fascinating dilemmas, but what’s unique about her is that they’re externalised as ways of seeing the world rather than internal emotional states. Her perspective is also a really important aspect of the story and the world.

The most fundamental thing about her is that she’s a scientist. It’s not just what she does, it’s who she is. It represents her strengths, her ambitions, her temperament, and the way she interacts with the world.

Unlike the other scions, she’s a scientist who grew up outside of Sharlayan’s academic structure, and is unbounded by its strictures and politics. She represents unbounded theoretical curiosity, independent of institutions and all their dampening considerations. It’s a beautiful, idealised vision of what science could be, if unbound by considerations like institutional approval and funding. It’s something Y’shtola learned in part from Matoya, who rejected the confines of Sharlayan academia and accomplished stupendous things in her cave.

I think this complements G’raha Tia, who represents an idealised vision of what academia could be: he explores the limits of what people can achieve together if they can throw aside clout-chasing, nepotism, petty politicking, biases, and the other things that cloud the idealism of academic institutions. G’raha is someone who fell in love with what Sharlayan represented, and came back to point out how they fell short of their own ideals. G’raha is someone who works to reform institutions; Y’shtola simply works independently of them, pushing the limits of what one person can accomplish.

Another very scientific characteristic of Y’shtola is her refusal to acknowledge limits: when she finds a thing that can’t be done, she hammers at it until it budges. She is convinced that there are answers to everything, and that science can find them. This is really something that’s fundamental to the scientific method: the idea that there’s always an answer to the question of ’why,’ and that that answer is something we can find and comprehend. What are atoms made of? Why are there only so many fundamental particles? Why do voidgates form? What is the fate of the universe? There is an answer, and she’ll find it. This is part of her initial clash with G’raha; she is insistent on the truth, and doesn’t like his keeping secrets.

She is also committed to seeing the science through, no matter what she’ll learn from it. She was ready to hear the Ea’s answer about the fate of the universe, no matter how terrible it was. And when she finds it, she’ll greet the unknown with delight; when she meets Zero, she looks the void in the face and smiles.

She’s also just a little remote, in the way of one who has spent too long staring into the heart of things. This doesn’t change the fact that she is a brave, steadfast, loyal companion to her friends, and a staunch champion of what’s right in the world. It’s something very personal; she sees things beyond the others’ sight, and her heart is preoccupied with things that are very removed from the considerations of everyday.

The Sharlayans’ performance of scientific objectivity is shown to be rooted in their very human prejudices, something that’s very true of institutional science in our world too. Y’shtola’s objectivity isn’t that sort of cold, inhumane objectivity; it isn’t a pretext for bigotry, or an abdication of responsibility. It’s something much more remote and whimsical, a commitment to a way of approaching things rather than a badge of superiority.

These are all, in a way, things that characterise the WoL, and I think they underlie the curious solidarity that builds between them post-Endwalker. The WoL, in a different way, is someone who doesn’t acknowledge the limitations of common sense, someone who looks truth in the face without flinching.

It’s also a delightful contrast, because the WoL is someone who repeatedly defies the limits of possibility, and that makes it even more interesting that they’re drawn together. Y’shtola is someone dancing at those very limits; the point where the preposterous becomes fact is where scientific discovery is born.

It’s also a very fun way of seeing science. Science as an institution is actually preoccupied with a kind of individualism - with the performance of individual merit, with the idea of the lone genius. (As we see in post-ARR, Alphinaud is misled by their accolades of the Studium to disastrous hubris.) Y’shtola might be fiercely independent, but she also isn’t that lone genius. She is utterly preoccupied with finding the answers, and not at all with any idea of personal success. The thing that lets her transcend her limits, the thing that lets her accomplish more than Matoya could, is friendship. When she works with the Scions, or Nidhana, or Zero, she can accomplish more than she ever could on her own.

I also think it’s very relevant that she’s a woman; in both our world and theirs, academia is largely male-dominated, and a lot of its flaws have to do with upholding that hegemony and not being open to more diverse perspectives. The ideal of the lone genius is overwhelmingly associated with men.

I think there’s something deeply idealistic and joyous about this unfettered spirit of scientific curiosity persisting through and after the events of Endwalker. We met the god of everything and defeated her in a duel; that doesn’t mean we know all the answers, or even all the questions. We cross paths with a far more technologically advanced civilisation, and Y’shtola is still able to have interesting scientific conversations with them. Even if many things about our world are arbitrary and uncaring, Y’shtola holds to her belief in the scientific method, and is still wholly, exuberantly committed to seeking out truths.

[cookiethebirdthing]

This post contains more spoilers than the previous one.

My brain is fucked right now, so this may be a bit rambly and not saying as much:

Sayaka, Kyouko, and Homura all dedicated themselves to another person. All three of them have lost the person closest to them, but Homura's situation is significantly different in that regard. Kyouko moved on by learning to live for herself rather than others. She rebuilt herself into something new.

Sayaka, on the other hand, lost herself. She felt she had to make the most of the situation even if it meant destroying herself, and this meant she had to turn to what drove her to become a magical girl in the first place. She feels that she must maintain some sort of moral superiority to make it all worthwhile. Unfortunately, she thinks living for herself is immoral. She doesn't think that you can be both selfish and caring. She sees the tenants of society as the ultimate moral good.

You can see some of this in how she doesn't understand how Kyouko can be happy after everything or in how she virtue signals by scolding her for stealing food. She feels like she's a monster because her thoughts are not always kind and her motivations not always pure.

Her motivation for becoming a magical girl was entirely out of a need to feel morally righteous. She spent her wish to heal her favorite person without asking him first because it was virtuous, and she feels she deserves gratitude for doing so. She can't reconcile the fact that she is trapped in an inherently exploitative industry that demands she either let people die or be destroyed herself. Her need to be morally pure — to absolve herself of guilt — does not allow her to acknowledge that.

This leaves her only one reconciliation: to sacrifice her happiness and her life in order to achieve that purity. If she ever loses sight of that — if she ever thinks about herself for even a moment — she will feel as if she has fallen from grace. Perhaps she already feels she has. Her connection to being human was forcibly removed from her, and so she has already been tainted. There is no way back to the light or to a world in which she is happy. To her, dying would be losing nothing of worth because she is nothing. Maybe if she suffers enough, it will offset the evil she has committed by being a part of this system.

I'm not at all saying she's a bad person for feeling this way. I'm pointing out how she differs from the other magical girls and the extent of her self-destructive drive to be morally good. This is not too dissimilar from moral OCD that is maid worse (likely caused) by catholic guilt.

i wrote up a whole argument for it, but i think that what madoka suffers from in pmmm is significantly more similar to catholic guilt than homura. perhaps growing up around catholicism as homura did, she can see how poisoned madoka is by self-hatred

[littelovelunette]

sevika and reader with babies/children?

through the power of the hexstrap (or adoption) sevika and reader have kids and fluff ensues

thank you🫶

Sevika's Little One (2)

Even though the childbirth wasn't exactly thought through and planned, you and Sevika still vowed to love her every step of the way no matter how hard life got.

You were in the delivery room, panting heavily after you'd given birth.

You felt a little light headed due to the loss of blood but the thought of holding your baby girl was enough for you to fight to stay awake.

“She's a beautiful, healthy girl.” The nurse said and handed her to you. You saw her, the tiny red face all scrunched up trying to adjust to the lighting of the hospital room, fists clenched tight in the towel she was in.

“O-oh, hi…” you said weakly, “She's so… she's so beautiful.” You said, trying not to sob in happiness but you couldn't help it.

Sevika was next to you, even though she had tears in her eyes although she refused to acknowledge it.

“What do you want to name her?” Sevika asked, her voice a little shaky, as you passed her to Sevika's arms.

She was careful, holding her in such a way that her flesh arm was in contact with her little bundled up body, instead of her mechanical arm. “She looks like me.” Sevika said, voice weak as she watched the little baby in her arms intently.

“Heather.” You suddenly said, “Let's name her Heather.”

Sevika, not really paying attention, because she was still locked in her baby's trance, took a minute to respond. “Heather… it's soft. Like her.”

“Mhm, that's why it's perfect.” You said with a little giggle. Heather, it would be. Your daughter's name.

A symbol that you and Sevika were a married couple, a little sign of your love for each other.

Sevika was extremely careful with the child and although her one hand was big enough to hold the baby without having to use her mechanical hand, she still preferred the baby stayed in your arms.

It was a little sad, Sevika thought her own baby wasn't safe in her arms but slowly the tension began to loosen and one day, when you woke up, Heather wasn't in her crib.

You were instantly in a panic but then you saw it— Sevika walking around with Heather in her arms, holding the baby up, showing her around the house and introducing her to everything with a baby voice you've never heard before from Sevika's mouth.

“And this is the kitchen, where I'm gonna be cooking for a while.” Sevika said to Heather who's big grey eyes were gazing around curiously, “Because mama needs rest, mhm?”

You leaned against the doorway, watching her bond with Heather. “You cooking, hmmm? Well, I guess I can expect to be poisoned first thing in the morning then.” You joked.

Sevika rolled her eyes, “I cook just fine.” Sevika held Heather close to herself, “Look at her.” She said holding the baby side by side to her own face, “She looks like a complete copy of mine!” There was more shock than awe in her voice that made you laugh.

“I think it's evident.” You walked upto the pair of them, taking Heather in your arms, “But she has my lips.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah, they're not asymmetrical.” You said as you held the baby up, smiling at the little face that seemed so shocked to be there. “I wonder what her first words will be.”

“When's her feeding time?” Sevika asked.

“In an hour.” You replied, sitting down at the dining chair, cradling Heather.

“Want breakfast?” Sevika asked and you nodded, “Only if you wear the apron.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please? For Heather?”

Sevika huffed a sigh, picking the pink frilly apron from the counter and wearing it silently. You had to choke back a laugh at the sight. The big mighty Sevika dressed in a frilly pink apron was a sight to behold.

“Look, Heather!” You said and pointed to Sevika. Heather's big eyes looked around and locked on Sevika's face, a very toothless grin appearing on her lips.

“Oh, she's a gremlin.” Sevika said in an uninterested voice as she prepared the batter to make you some pancakes.

“You weren't saying that back when I gave birth.” You muttered before looking at Heather who was outstretching her small hand up as if wanting to go to Sevika. “Looks like Heather already has a favourite parent.” You laughed and got up, walking to where Sevika was, with Heather in your arms.

Sevika glanced up, smirking slightly. “Oh yeah?”

After breakfast and feeding Heather, you were already tired for the day. Sevika was fawning over Heather as per the usual, dolling her up and saying the same thing every now and then, “I can't believe she's our daughter.”

“Sevika?” You called and she hummed looking up.

“She looks exactly like you, save for the lips, right?”

“Mhm…?”

“You were this cute as a kid? Awwww!”

Sevika flushed a dark shade of red, using Heather's body to hide her face. “I hate you.” She mumbled against Heather's back making Heather give another wide not so toothy grin. They were all you needed.

[killerlittlerejects]

Why I No Longer Support Anton Morrow Or Blessed Be The Wicked

Okay, we're finally doing this. As always: Do NOT harass anyone involved. This is not what this post is for.

So, this has been a long time coming. I know I keep repeatedly saying that I don’t wanna cause drama but at this point? It’s not even a drama anymore. There’s a glaring issue that’s been circulating the fandom for a while, and up until now, people have either been ignoring it completely or are too scared to say anything at all — which is understandable. I’m frankly scared to be finally making this post. But with most of the fandom beginning to speak up on this, now is a better time than ever. 

You’ve all most likely seen my latest, very angry, Jeff rant post, and some of you might have already put together as to who it was about: Anton Morrow, the creator of Blessed be the Wicked.

If any of you remember the whole “mistype” situation that happened in 2024 revolving around BBTW, you already know I have gotten into a bit of a spat with him before. Then it was all cleared up, and we were chill. But now, with all that’s been happening, I’m starting to question that situation as well.

When it comes to creepypasta, you gotta acknowledge and respect both sides of the fandom, because more often than not, they tie together. Anton, however, doesn’t do this at all, creating a space where people feel unsafe and uncomfortable like they have to walk on eggshells. 

We are not mad at the fact that you are trying to make BBTW horrifying, grotesque, and realistic. In fact, a LOT of people were hyped for your project. No, we’re mad that you have to be an asshole about it. Shaming anything that doesn’t fit into your view of what a character SHOULD be, hating on the fandom way more than you claim to love it, villainizing characters that should not be villainized, like Jane, who’s a VICTIM of Jeff, not doing proper research (apparently not knowing that Clockwork was an SA victim despite her being your “favorite character”), being a fucking hypocrite (hating shock value yet using it in your work as well), and most of all, claiming to be bringing back the old roots of Creepypasta when you don’t even understand or know what those roots are. 

This fandom has ALWAYS been cringy, weird, and unrealistic. I mean, we have a tall faceless man in the woods, a magical black and white clown, and a guy whose skin turned completely white because of BLEACH. This fandom was never realistic! 

You can only use the “I mistyped” or “you all misunderstood me” excuse so many times.

Are you telling me you didn’t mean ANY of this?

Like, if I recall, David Near’s, MBK’s, Pastra’s, AND Ekatlani’s Jeff’s are NOT soft boys at all. But you refuse to acknowledge that, don’t you? Because even if they are closer to what you claim to be looking for within a Jeff rewrite, you still hate them because they weren’t what YOU THINK the character could be. 

But somehow, that’s not even the worst part. No, the worst thing has to be what you’ve done to Leech. Characters change, I understand that. My personal gripe with her not being the character I initially was excited for anymore is just my personal bias. What’s NOT, however, is the relationship you’ve put her in with Tyrant. 

Now, I’m all for toxic relationships. I’ve written them myself, but this? This is straight-up fucking grooming. It’s non-consensual, and you straight-up called Tyrant PREDATORY. 

And the fact that you tried to edit your post to hide what you said first tells me all I need to know.

Not to mention, you continuously like to bring up how much YOUNGER she is than the other two (Context: She's in a poly relationship with Tyrant and a character named Marc)

This goes past a toxic relationship, this is straight up fucking CREEPY. You admit that Tyrant is using his VICTIM, cause that’s what she fucking is, as a way to feel like he’s not all the negative, that “he deserves love.” No. Just no. 

I’m disappointed. Tired, angry, and disappointed. I thought you were a cool guy, Anton. I thought all of you were cool. I was genuinely excited for Blessed Be The Wicked, as I’m sure a lot of the fandom was. But you showed your true colors the moment your project began to get popular. 

Not so politely, fuck you. And if all you can do is complain about is the fandom having fun, fuck off. 

[ohmybueckers]

Never Strangers: Chapter Four

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: binge drinking, that's basically it

Authors Note: happy game day! we're still in the "its so over" portion of paige and maya's story but dw we're making our way to the "we're so back" section. lesson of this chapter do not try to have a serious convo with your ex in a bar. also shoutout to anon who said they had a dream about chapter 4 being posted, here you go bby <3

“You said they weren’t coming!” I hissed to Adria. My eyes were focused on how Paige looked accepting a shot from one of the mens players, going eye to eye with KK before tilting her head back and letting the liquid rush down her throat. I knew I should look away - no, had to look away - but there was something about seeing Paige in the flesh after all these years that made it so I physically couldn’t. 

Adria appeared just as shocked, alternating between looking at me and the two players. “That’s what KK said!” 

The music echoing through the bar all became too much. The shots taken earlier in the night evolved from a warm buzz to an uncomfortable heat blazing through me, making me sweat in my jean shorts and black tank top. I needed a break, needed some time to think of a game plan. Surely there was time to sneak out of a back window or something. I just needed to be somewhere quieter, somewhere where I wouldn’t be seen. “Um, I’m just gonna go to the bathroo-“

Before I could finish my sentence, a loud voice broke through the crowd, “Adria!” 

Both Adria and I watched as my window of escape vanished before my eyes in just a few short moments: A girl with a bright smile, wearing a baggy white tee shirt with a silver chain, barreled through the sea of people and towards my friend, whose jaw had not left the floor. KK Arnold. And who else would be behind her than Paige, whose eyes met mine before I could avert them.

I had seen more recent photos of Paige, sure, but getting to see her in person - the way her hair texture had changed from the pin straight style she kept through high school to a more natural wave, the way her arms had grown in definition, and the way her eyes widened as she was taking me in at the same time - that was a completely different ball game. KK moved to embrace Adria, her hands lingering on the other girls waist in a way that was just noticeable enough that anyone who bothered to look would raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been texting you!”

“What happened to Teds?” Adria asked, leaning into the other girls touch. Through my panic, there was a brief moment of recognition of just how good the two of them looked together. If KK is half as great as Adria makes her out to be, they would make a good couple - as long as KK doesn’t fuck it up.

“Some emergency maintenance thing with the plumbing, they kicked us out.” KK grumbled, leaning one arm against the aforementioned table. As if she just noticed there was another person with the girl (wouldn’t be the first time tonight), she gestured over to me. “Is this your friend?”

Adria nodded, looking over to me as if she was seeking permission to acknowledge the elephant in the room. There was no use trying to be invisible now: in just a few moments, I had become very, very visible, and the pair of bright blue eyes staring at me in shock from my peripheral vision were proof of that. “KK, this is Maya. Maya, this is KK”

I smiled and gave a wave, which earned me a sudden side hug in return. “Hi, I’m KK,” the shorter basketball player gave me an intoxicated grin, giving no indication of knowing who I was. KK pulled away, turning to face the blonde who had kept a few steps of distance until this point. Whether this was to allow KK to have her moment with her girl or to avoid me, I didn’t know. I didn’t really care to know. “Adria, I’m not sure you’ve met Paige - Adria, Maya, this is my designated driver of the night.”

I forced myself to make eye contact once more, letting myself get washed away as Paige looked me up and down as if she was somehow still unconvinced I was there. It was only after I heard Adria introduce herself through the muffled haze that I remembered I was still around others. With a voice crack I am not proud of, I managed a, “Hey Paige.”

Paige bit her lip, nodding as if to bring herself back to the present as well. “Long time no see.”

KK, who had appeared unaware of any tension between us while her girl stood next to her a little too aware, shifted her grace between Paige and I. “You two know each other or something?”

Paige let out a loud cough, her eyes like saucers, leaving me to answer the loaded question. “Yeah, um, old friend from high school.”

KK’s reaction to this information was akin to a kid at Disneyworld. “Oh shit, so you got to see Hopkins Paige in action then?” 

“Sure did!” I force a smile, feigning joy so well I almost believed it myself. Inside, images of nights nearly losing my voice as I stood out of place in the Hopkins section of the audience and post-game meals with the Bueckers family came back to me like a plague.

“Well, looks like I need to catch up with you guys. Your drink is almost empty!” KK shouted, turning back towards Adria and gesturing to the glass in her hand which had been reduced to a watery brown substance, the Captain and Coke long finished. KK grabbed her hand. “Come with me, I’ll buy you another.”

With a speed and energy that was truly impressive (athlete stamina, I guess), KK managed to whisk Adria towards the bar, leaving Paige and I alone as Adria shot one last apologetic glance my direction. And then there were two.

--------

How do you introduce yourself to someone who once knew everything about you? I don’t think. either of us knew the answer to that question, but Paige made an attempt. 

“Hey,” she said, her voice almost cautious, unlike the interview clips I had seen where she had been unapologetically confident.

I can’t say I’m much more confident when I squeak out, “Hi.”

She makes a stab at breaking the ice first, asking the obvious question. “Had enough of Minnesota, huh?” 

I felt myself rock on my toes, the stickiness of the bar floor not making my typical anxious tick easy. “Just… looking for a change, I guess.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She nods, looking around the bar of UConn fans before smiling. “Made a good choice at least.”

I pause at that, opening my mouth before giving it much thought. “Not sure I’ve been making too many of those lately.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tell Paige the truth, something I had hardly accepted myself after years of it being my identity. Being in front of Paige for the first time in three year must have reminded me of the times where telling Paige everything felt like a given, back when there were no secrets between us. I guess old habits die hard. “I quit mock trial.”

Paige’s eyes widened, her lashes blinking as if that was the last thing she was expecting me to say (in which case I am concerned which “bad decisions” she deemed more likely for me to make). “What? When?”

“Last spring, when I was still at Minnesota.” I looked down, unable to handle her gaze on me much longer after dropping this on her. I had dealt with enough disappointed looks and people scolding me like a child for this choice in the past few months - I don’t know if I could handle it from her right now. “I loved it in high school, and then I got to college and it just didn’t really hit for me anymore. I think I was just scared to leave for a while because it was so comfortable. But now I’m… just figuring it out. Opening myself up to everything.” 

She nodded, eyes trained on me like she was really trying to understand what I was saying. Finally she shrugs; not in a dismissive way, but almost as a method of reassurance. “Well, as long as you’re doing what you think is best, I don’t think that’s the worst decision you could make.”

I found some relief in those words. I think it may have been the first time I had heard them since I sent my resignation in. Paige was always good at that in high school, reassuring me that I didn’t need to have it all figured out and that the world wouldn’t implode if I didn’t have my life planned out through my thirties. Surely if she were feeling this way about basketball, I knew she wouldn’t take her own advice, but it didn’t make the sentiment matter less. Even if I didn’t know it, I think I may have needed just one person to tell me I wasn’t about to fuck my life up. Even if it was coming from someone I never thought I would speak to again.

In the back of our conversation, some Nicki Minaj remix faded out. In some absurd twist of fate that can only be explained by my absurd luck this past week, a couple of chords caused a visible reaction in both of us, my back straightening and head cocking as if I hadn’t heard it correctly. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) I had: the opening chords to Exchange began playing over the speakers.

 I tried my best to play it cool, staring at my sneakers so as to not blow my cover immediately, until I peered up and saw that Paige was thinking the exact same thing, an amused grin plastered on her face. “Is this-“

I couldn’t help myself - I started cackling, because if I didn’t laugh I was pretty sure I would find the nearest hole in Storrs and bury myself in it. My laugh was followed by Paige’s, ours harmonizing in a way that was all too familiar and caused an unnecessary tug at my heart in a way I preferred not to think about.

Rolling my eyes, I exclaim, “Exchange in the bar is crazy.”

We look at each other, clearly both thinking about that night in the Culvers parking lot, how the Fanta float tasted on her tongue. Maybe it was the flashing lights, but I could have sworn I saw a spark in her eyes, which grew in intensity the longer she looked. Maybe there was one in my eyes too.

Before we could let the moment linger, a familiar voice calls out. “P Boogers, Maya! We got a shotski, come on!”

------

KK and Adria stood at the bar, Adria laughing as KK pretends to stretch her arms in order to prepare for the shot in front of them - a wooden ski painted white, with four blue shot glasses on it. How fitting for a UConn sports bar. 

Paige and I join them, assuming our positions as the bartender aids in lifting the ski. Out of all the things that have felt foreign to me at UConn, this does not feel unusual - it reminds me of tailgates with my friends as we prepared to cheer on the Gophers. 

You would think having experience with shotskis I would know the mechanics better, particularly mechanics involving height. But it is only as we tilt the board back and I recognize that I am standing next to two tall athletes that I have made a grave mistake, one that I am unable to correct before the glasses meet the other girls lips and I am met with a shower of strong liquid splashing down on me, my eyes shutting just fast enough to avoid any true catastrophe. 

“Oh shit,” I hear them notice what has happened as I bend over, attempting not to gag as I realize KK has purchased rail vodka, which smells not unlike Everclear. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I manage to say, though I know I am fooling nobody. Opening my eyes, I see the guilt on the three of their faces as KK attempts to flag down the bartender who is currently helping a group of six girls all on different tabs. “I’m gonna just run to the bathroom and clean up a bit.”

I only make it a few steps before I sense the blonde jog up beside me, her face concerned. “Can I help?” I am beyond embarrassed, all too aware of the people surrounding us who noticed the incident, some of whom elbowing their friends upon spotting Paige. I don’t really have it in me to argue when Paige identifies a single stall restroom, pushing us inside. 

It’s wild to me how just one locked door can feel so much more secluded and safe, even though from the disheveled appearance I can tell this bathroom has likely seen unimaginable horrors. Paige gets to work quick, wetting a paper towel on the sink and turning to assess the damage.

“I’m pretty sure there’s vodka in my hair.” I laugh, head leaning back before somewhat suddenly hitting the cool tile wall behind me, which only prompted more giggling. Paige gave a hum of concern, fingers tracing the back of my head to ensure I didn’t hit it too hard, though I saw her swallow back a laugh of her own. She trails her fingertips down, examining my styled wavy hair to see if my suspicions were true. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the fact that Paige was doing this right now, touching my hair so tenderly with her body so close I was surrounded by the musk of her cologne.

“How much did that bartender pour? Goddamn,” Paige clearly was not given as pleasant of a smell, visibly wincing as she was faced with the smell of rail liquor.

Paige removed her fingers from my hair, unable to find any excessive liquid in my tresses. Her eyes traced a couple of inches down before stopping. Noticing how the grip on her damp paper towel only tightened, my eyes trailed down my own body before realizing what caught her attention - a huge splash of liquid on the point where my top met my breasts, the cheap vodka giving my cleavage a sheen under the hum of the cheap bathroom light. Paige’s lower lip was caught in her teeth, biting down before clearing her throat which seemed to break the spell on both of us. 

With haste, I grab a paper towel of my own, dabbing at my skin and attempting to make it look as decent as possible. This could not happen again. I know what she did the first time, I remind myself. “You didn’t need to help me, I’m not going to die from a little liquor on my skin,” I crack a joke, escorting the both of us out of the bathroom and back into the crowded bar. “Thank you for doing it though.”

Paige looks at me with an unreadable expression, almost appearing as if she wants to say something before setting on,“You know it’s really good to see you, right?” 

I can’t help the flush that reaches my face, though perhaps later I would blame it all on the alcohol. The truth was that seeing Paige tonight was far less scary than I was envisioning. Some parts of it - the reassurance, the laughs, her touch - it felt like old times. Maybe that was the scariest part. At least it was the scariest part until her face fell serious, taking a cautious step forward before beginning, “Been wanting to talk to you for a while. Actually talk to you.”

I felt my heart rate accelerate, feeling out of breath even though I was simply standing there. Licking my lips, I manage an, “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this here.” I dismissed, feeling pressure accumulate at the base of my throat at a speed that was starting to scare me. When Paige and I were alone, all outside noise muffled, the bar felt more manageable. Now, as the other girl had unknowingly cornered me as we were surrounded by sweaty bodies, I felt trapped. “I promised Adria I’d be here tonight, and she is…”

“Gone, probably left with KK.” I look around, realizing her assessment is right. Reaching for my phone, I find her message. “KK wanted to leave and talk. So sorry. Good luck.”  

So much for my lifeline. “It was years ago, we don’t need to…”

Paige cuts me off, an old habit that until now she had refrained from falling back into. “Need to what? Maya, I’ve waited years because it’s what you wanted. And I respect that, I do. I just have shit I needa say. Give me two minutes, please.”

Paige sounded downright desperate, her eyes wide and pleading. I would be lying if I said I never pictured this happening, and what I would do or say if I ever got the chance to see her again. I can’t say I ever pictured it happening at a crowded bar, covered in vodka. Then again, I never pictured going to UConn in the first place. Sighing, I gestured her to follow me, moving us to an area with slightly less people. Not that it was necessarily secluded at all, but drunk me couldn’t find it in me to care. “Say what you need to say,” I say, feigning confidence despite my arms remaining crossed.

“I was a dick in high school, okay. I do not blame you at all for acting how you did after… everything.” She didn’t need to say it for both of us to know. “I miss you, though. I never stopped missing my best friend. Nobody could ever take your place. I need you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then.”

I’m not sure if it was the two last sentences she said, or if it was the alcohol hitting me like a fucking mallet, but it was as though any listening I had been willing to offer to Paige had evaporated in just a few seconds. “Really? Because last time I heard, you had no issue forgetting everything happened the second you got here.”

One of Paige’s eyebrow raised as she stepped forward, reaching an arm out in an attempt to touch mine. “Maya, what are you talking about?”

I jerked away. While Paige’s touch felt warm and welcome earlier, it certainly did not feel that way now. “I hear you got pretty popular with the girls of UConn, didn’t you?”

Paige’s mouth shut and her eyes closed, as if she realized she had been caught in some form of a lie. Nearby, I hear a beer bottle shatter on the floor, and I am made aware of just how much I do not want to cry in here, surrounded by a bunch of drunk students who clearly know the person causing my tears. “Please let me explain. We weren’t together, you know I wouldn’t have done anything if we were.”

Of course that’s what she leads with, I thought with an eye roll. “I don’t care, Paige.” I stress. “You can hook up with whoever you want. I care that you can’t even be honest with me, and you’re telling me that you magically changed the second you got to Storrs. Because from what I’ve heard, I don’t know if you have.”

“Who’s telling you this, Maya?” She asks, as if I would ever tell her. I trusted Adria and Brooke. More importantly, I trusted my own intuition that screamed at me that there were other girls after me, especially after seeing a few girls give flirty glances her way. Something about the knowledge that I was likely just practice for all her girls at UConn made me want to run back into the single stall and expel all I had consumed throughout the night.

“Doesn’t matter. All I know is that you led me on and made me believe you wanted more when you just wanted to fuck around…”

“I didn’t…” She tries to cut me off again, but I won’t let her. Not this time.

“Let me finish. You ruined our friendship. You ruined us, Paige. And now you’re here, and I just know you’re off hurting other girls in the way you hurt me.”

I noted how the circle of girls next to me looked over, some of their glances sympathetic upon seeing my emotional state while others were downright dirty for disturbing the peace of their night. Though I didn’t feel as though I was in any place to walk, I quickly decided staying in this bar with Paige was far more dangerous. “I don’t think I can have this conversation right now. Hope you get home safe.”

Paige attempted to speak again, but I was already making my way to the door, un-phased by the pouring rain which I had failed to prepare for. I had no plan on how I was getting home, no clue when busses were running and no desire to walk thirty minutes in the dark while it was storming. All I knew is I needed to get out. 

I couldn’t handle hearing her escape accountability, telling me what I wanted to hear instead of what I needed to hear. The sad part is that I almost believed her.

My mom always warned me how rose colored glasses changes the past and makes you believe things were better than they were. She didn’t need to tell me she was referring to dad when she said it - I could tell from the look in her eyes and the tone in her voice. Maybe the same could be said for Paige. Maybe all those memories of ours weren’t actually as real as I thought they were, and that the shameful nights I spent crying in my room all through senior year of high school (and let’s be real, a good bit of freshman year of college) were for nothing. 

Maybe I never actually knew Paige Bueckers at all.

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

taglist: @paiges-1vur @unadulteratedcyclepaper @pboogerswbb

[tuliptiger]

I've been pondering why people are so adamantly hating on Caitlyn. I can't really understand it completely unless, from an audience's perspective, you plug your ears and ignore her when she's on screen completely.

It's so hard to talk about Arcane without talking about the characters like they're people because they're really well written. They're believable with their actions. That's what a normal ass person would do in that situation I'm sure, they'd probably act more maliciously in real life tbh.

Caitlyn does so much. She's not even my favorite and she doesn't need to be for me to acknowledge and appreciate how she was written, her character arc as a whole and her place in the story and the changes she helped usher in. And I don't understand why other people can't do the same.

I'm a 100% Silco hater in a "I think he was well written, compelling and interesting character. He loved with his whole heart. I still think he made awful and bad decisions and let his pain control him and refused to do better." kind of way. People LOVE Silco where they hate Caitlyn and I don't get it.

She did better, she improved the system from the inside out, she lived and got hurt and didn't let that drive the rest of her life. She had a weak moment, Vi also had a weak moment. Vi haters point out her punching Powder all of the time as if one moment of weakness ruins a character.

And this is all over the place but I'm pointing out all of these other characters because the common thread is that they aren't perfect. Caitlyn didn't handle everything perfectly as a person who didn't choose to be born into an incredibly powerful and influential family. She didn't disown her family and fight with the rebels, she didn't personally slit all of the councilors' throats herself. Short of self flagellation or self sacrifice I don't think these people would ever like her and even if she did do all of that it still wouldn't be enough. At least from what I've seen in the past.

I hate rich people as much as the next person because I don't think they are people anymore. I think they're less than human for the path they had to take to get where they are. That isn't Caitlyn though, she's not a real person but if more people acted like her who are in her position we sure as fuck wouldn't be in the world we are in today. She was born and raised into it, with all the ignorance it covered her in, all the misinformation and bias it tried to instill into her.

If she was a Zaunite none of these complaints would exist and I'd bet money on it and isn't that a double standard. She was ignorant, had weak moments, grew, ACTIVELY sought out information and a different mind set after being traumatized and did better. And that's not enough for these people.

I think Caitlyn is a well written character and I sympathize with what she went through. How she still came out on the side of the people, how she still learns, puts her pride on the shelf to do better. She's a strong woman who is written like a person and not a narrative vehicle for class hate. To me.

"I hate Caitlyn because of the system she represents. I'm so tired of people acting like we can'thate her for that."

Let's have a long, hard talk.

This argument IS made in direct comparison to the oppressive systems we see in real life, so let's first talk about how Caitlyn compares to real world oppressive systems, her faults and the ways she fails the people she serves, and then let's talk about how you're just fucking wrong about her and how you hate the wrong character.

Caitlyn is an enforcer. Stating the obvious. She is a member of a larger system she chose to be a part of, because she wanted to serve the people. She was ignorant of the system's corruption as we see throughout season 1. Her initial intentions with becoming an enforcer are because she wants to fight injustice, defy the stuff politics of Piltover that she was raised under, and have her own identity.

At the end of season 1, several things happen to Caitlyn. She is abducted naked from her home, held hostage for at minimum 24 hours, during which time an array of things could have happened to her but of which we know for certain left her TERRIFIED of the young girl with blue hair she was abducted by. She watches that same girl fire an explosive that kills her mother. Preceding this, she has been witness to the ways Silco has harmed the people of the undercity and how he had the enforcers in his pocket in order to do it. Ekko explicitly tells her this. He tells her how Silco has ruined lives and how the enforcers were the manpower that let it happen.

Caitlyn walks away from season 1 changed in many ways. She is brokenhearted and traumatized, but still holds a strong desire to protect the innocent people of both cities. Because of who she has been up to this point, her belief is that she can rectify the wrongs by using the power of her position to do good instead of aid corruption. Her asking Vi to become an enforcer to do as much is in bad taste, yes. Which she later apologizes for and takes ownership for. That doesn't remove the good intention behind it. And it doesn't negate that Vi can later see the logic behind it. Being able to take control of a bad situation and use that power to do good instead of abusing that power to do bad, is an incredibly shaky but important position to be in. And the whole point of Caitlyn's character is how she navigates that--can she use her position to do good? As per GOOD WRITING, she's not going to get it perfect until she learns and grows.

We can acknowledge the moral ambiguity of using the grey, how it does harm, while also acknowledging the WAY it was used and for what purpose was both smart, economical, and GOOD. Doing bad things for good reasons. That's what the use of the grey was.

I'm not going to get into the memorial much, but all I will say for that, is it's an excellent example of people twisting Caitlyn's words and underselling the pain she's going through. If you can't acknowledge the right Caitlyn has to be upset at the people who just violently disrupted a memorial for mourning the loss of loved ones, I don't think you care to have a conversation about the humane treatment of others. And using Caitlyn's anger and grief as a "see?? She hates Zaunites!!" is so fucking stupid I'm not going to entertain an argument for that.

Caitlyn's setback is her trauma, her ignorance, and her heartbreak. She still isn't a fully realized character throughout most of season 2. She's learning and growing and unfortunately that is at the expense of the people she lords over while enforcing martial law. But if we acknowledge that, we also have to acknowledge the ways she changed the system so that needless suffering and punishment didn't happen. Confronting Ambessa when violence is used unlawfully. Improving the prison food and banning the use of the most inhumane cells in Stillwater. Bare minimum? Yes. But still ways she showed that she saw the Zaunites as humans and not as flesh covered problems the way Salo does. Not as problems to get rid of the way Ambessa does.

If the reason for your ire is because Caitlyn is a figure in a corrupt system, then your hatred is misdirected. The point of Caitlyn is to show the ways the system needs to change, and how the people within it who want to do good can often be misguided, but that doesn't mean they aren't good people or that they can't do good within their position.

If you fundamentally disagree with that, there isn't much of an argument to be had, but I will say that your ire is still misdirected.

I never see you guys discuss Salo or Ambessa.

Salo represents true bigotry in the system. It's a position he maintains all the way up to when his mind is commandeered by Viktor and the hexcore. Salo is the type of person who functions on confirmation bias--he already has a prejudiced view of Zaunites, and will use any opportunity to say "see? Told you so! We should put them down." Compared directly to how Caitlyn talks about them, asks Vi to help fix the system, fights against the system going too far, actively makes adjustments to change the way the system treats Zaunites, the claims that Caitlyn is a bigot don't hold up.

Ambessa IS the system. She IS the oppressive force that indiscriminately will take and take and take and sees violence as a tool and not a consequence to be avoided at all costs the way Caitlyn does. And for some fucking reason, no one who criticizes Caitlyn gives any weight to Ambessa's actions, ever. They don't discuss the way she manufactures the attack on the memorial to manipulate public opinion on Zaunites, as well as manipulate Caitlyn. They don't discuss how she sets Caitlyn up to be pressured to take the position of Commander and uses her grief, promises her justice, in order to warm Caitlyn to her and keep her as an ally, a pawn she can use. They don't discuss how she sent Maddie to be a spy, to be in Caitlyn's bed and to be as intimately close to her as possible, to make sure Caitlyn still was behaving the way she needed in order to see her plan through.

When discussing the manipulative, exploitative, and violent nature of oppressive systems, Caitlyn has become the scapegoat, when it is people like Salo and Ambessa who deserve your blame and your ire.

You wonder why people don't take your complaints about Caitlyn seriously? That's why. Because the show gave you very bold examples of oppressive individuals in control of the systems you hate, and you ignore both of them for the sake of hating on a beloved lesbian character, who is beloved because she is flawed and good natured and whose journey we enjoy because it's all about learning what to do when you're within a system that pulls you at every direction to do evil, and you still find a way to do good.

Do some more think pieces on Salo and Ambessa. Then maybe we can have nuanced discussions on Caitlyn.

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 7)

Synopsis: A yacht party and a horseback riding trip put you and Agatha in closer proximity than you can handle. The teasing, the fleeting touches, the way she looks at you—it’s messing with your head. Is she just being Agatha, or is there something more?

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Subtle angst, Lingering tension, Unresolved emotions

You wake up feeling fine, stretching lazily before reaching for your phone. It's around 8 AM, and a new message from Jen lights up the group chat. 

Jen: Private yacht party at 10 AM, ladies! Get ready to live like queens today ✨🍾✨ 

A flood of excited responses follows, filled with emojis and exclamation marks. Everyone seems thrilled, but despite the distraction, your mind is still occupied with Agatha. Something about last night, about the way she left things, lingers like a splinter you can't quite pull out. 

Shaking the thought away, you push yourself out of bed and move through your morning routine. A quick shower, skincare, light makeup. You pick out a high-waisted wide-leg pant and bralette combo, paired with pink leather sandals, black shades, and a tote bag stuffed with essentials—your bikini, sunscreen, phone, charger, wallet. Everything you’ll need. 

By the time you arrive at the yacht, the sun is high, reflecting off the pristine white of the vessel. It's a superyacht—luxurious but not obnoxiously oversized. Classic Jen, always going all out. 

Stepping aboard, you're greeted by the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. The group is gathered around the pool, already in their swimwear, drinks in hand, lost in easy conversation. They wave you over, and just as you're about to join them, your eyes find her. 

Agatha. 

She’s lounging on a patio chaise, champagne flute poised between her fingers, dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes. But you know she’s watching. When she finally catches your lingering gaze, her lips twitch into a smirk. You look away first. 

“Well, don’t you look like you own the damn yacht,” Agatha muses, lifting her glass in mock admiration. “Did you forget this was a party?” 

You roll your eyes but smirk back. “I brought a bikini, didn’t I?” 

“Oh, what a relief,” she teases, tilting her head. “Would’ve been a shame if you spent the whole day in CEO mode.” 

Another round of banter flickers between you, sharp and familiar. But instead of indulging further, you shake your head, slip away, and head inside to change. 

When you reemerge, you feel the sun’s heat against your bare skin, the air thick with salt and summer. The group is still at the pool, but your eyes are drawn elsewhere—to the saloon bar, where Agatha stands, pouring herself another glass of champagne. 

Something about the way she carries herself, so unbothered, so effortlessly poised, compels you to walk over. She notices before you even reach her, glancing up over the rim of her glass. 

“Well, well.” She lets her gaze sweep over you. “Now that’s more fitting.” 

You don’t acknowledge the way your skin warms at her approval. Instead, you fold your arms and nod toward the bar. “Any whiskey?” 

Agatha hums, scanning the bottles before plucking one from the shelf. “Sticking to your usual,” she muses, pouring a generous measure into a glass before handing it to you. 

For a while, it’s just the two of you, drinks in hand, the distant chatter from the deck fading into the background. Conversation drifts, winding through neutral topics before landing on politics. 

She speaks, and you try to focus—but it’s not just what she’s saying. It’s the way she says it. The cadence of her voice, the way her hands move as she emphasizes a point, the sharp wit woven through her words. And those damn blue eyes. 

You lose track of the conversation completely, too busy memorizing the shape of her mouth as she speaks. When she pauses expectantly, you nod, feigning interest. 

Just like the night that changed everything—for you, at least. 

Seventeen years ago, a karaoke night with the group, your usual Friday tradition. Drinks flowed, laughter filled the air, and each of you took turns at the mic. Then, it was Agatha’s turn. 

She chose Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey. 

She had sung in front of you all before, but that night felt different. You couldn't explain why, but as she sang, everything slowed down. The way she moved, the way her voice curled around each note, the way she stood—it was as if she was the only person in the room. 

You snapped out of it when the song ended, confused and shaken. What the hell just happened? 

But as the night continued, you found yourself watching her more closely—the way she sipped her drink, the way she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Something had shifted, and you couldn't ignore it. 

Later, you told Wanda about it. She was the only one who knew. You told yourself it was nothing, that it would pass. But it didn’t. 

Instead, it only got worse. 

You watched Agatha fall into relationships, then marriage. You became the godmother to her two children. And still, your feelings never faded. 

You learned to live with it, to bury it. But standing here, with her right in front of you, all those old emotions claw their way back to the surface. 

And it feels just like that night all over again. 

You snapped back to reality when Agatha asked you something—but you had no idea what. You were too busy watching her, caught in the way she moved, the way her voice wrapped around her words. Without thinking, you blurted out a quick, “Yes.” 

Agatha gave you a look, clearly unconvinced, but she only shrugged it off. Silence stretched between you, charged and unspoken. Your eyes locked for a moment longer. 

Then Wanda arrived, snapping you both out of whatever that was. Agatha straightened, her posture shifting back into something composed, unreadable. 

“What are you two doing here?” Wanda asked, glancing between you. 

“She needed help finding the whiskey,” Agatha replied smoothly, taking a slow sip from her champagne glass. 

You nodded, grateful for the easy excuse. 

Agatha didn’t linger. She excused herself, making her way back toward the pool, slipping effortlessly back into the crowd. As soon as she was out of earshot, Wanda nudged your shoulder hard. 

“What the hell was that?” she whispered, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” You feigned ignorance, knowing full well what she was referring to. 

“Don’t play coy with me.” She studied you, then smirked. “You look flustered.” 

You scoffed. “I’m fine.” 

Wanda crossed her arms. “Look, I just don’t want you getting in too deep again.” 

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You don’t need to worry.” 

“I always worry.” But she let it go, grabbing the bottle of champagne and motioning for you to follow her back to the pool. 

As you stepped outside, your gaze drifted toward Agatha. She was in the pool, laughing with Jen, Alice, and Lilia. For a moment, you watched, lingering on the way she tossed her wet hair back, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you dropped onto a patio chaise lounge, closing your eyes to relax. 

Moments later, cold water splashed over you. 

You gasped, eyes snapping open, only to be met with Agatha’s mischievous grin. Laughter echoed around the deck as the others watched, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Really?” you deadpanned, wiping water from your face. 

Wanda called out from the pool, grinning. “We’re playing Chicken Fight. You in?” 

You sighed, shaking your head. “Pass.” 

Agatha smirked. “Afraid of losing?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “I just don’t feel like it.” 

“Oh, come on,” Agatha drawled. “Didn’t take you for a coward.” 

That did it. 

You sat up, rolling your shoulders. “Fine. Let’s do this.” 

The teams were set. Wanda crouched in the water, letting you climb onto her shoulders, while Agatha sat perched atop Jen’s. The tension was thick, both teams sizing each other up. 

The game began, and it was intense. Laughter and splashing filled the air as you and Agatha grappled, trying to shove each other off. For a moment, you thought you had the upper hand—you gripped Agatha’s arm, pulling her down inch by inch. 

But then she twisted free, and before you could react, she lunged. 

Her hands found your shoulders, and with one strong push, you lost your balance. A yelp left your lips before you plunged backward into the water, dragging Wanda down with you. 

When you surfaced, sputtering, Agatha was grinning triumphantly. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.” 

You rolled your eyes, splashing water toward her, but she dodged, laughing. The game continued, with Lilia and Alice taking on Agatha and Jen next, the group caught up in the excitement. Teasing, laughter, and playful shoves filled the air as round after round played out. 

Eventually, the energy simmered down. The games stopped, and everyone floated lazily in the pool, the conversation shifting to lighthearted chitchat. 

As the sun began to set, one by one, everyone climbed out of the pool, heading inside to prepare for dinner. 

Later that night, after the laughter and the drinks had settled, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling in your chest. The way Agatha looked at you. The way her voice lingered in your head. The way your skin still tingled where she had touched you. 

Tomorrow, you and the others would return to your own villas, with horseback riding planned for the afternoon. Another day, another chance to keep up the act. To pretend nothing had changed. 

The next morning, you woke up to the gentle sway of the yacht, sunlight filtering through the curtains. The distant hum of conversation and clinking utensils reached your ears, pulling you from sleep. You stretched, took a moment to gather yourself, then made your way to the dining area. 

The group was already there, eating breakfast and chatting. You took a seat beside Wanda, who offered you a knowing glance before turning her attention back to the conversation. 

“We’re all set for horseback riding this afternoon,” Jen announced, stirring her coffee. “The instructors will be there, but it should be pretty easygoing.” 

Lilia smirked and turned to you. “Though, Y/N might not even need lessons. You probably already know how to ride a horse, right? You’re rich—don’t rich people all own horses?” 

Alice laughed, jumping in. “Oh, right! Maybe you even do equestrian competitions in secret.” 

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, rolling her eyes. “Next thing you know, they’ll say Y/N casually rides a horse to work.” 

Lilia gasped dramatically. “Do you? Be honest.” 

Jen grinned. “Bet she has one of those fancy riding outfits and everything.” 

The teasing spread quickly, the others joining in with playful jabs about you being some kind of expert rider. The only one who remained silent was Agatha—who sat across from you, smirking into her coffee cup. 

You scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Not all rich people own horses or know how to ride, you know.” 

Agatha leaned forward slightly, her voice smooth, teasing. “So that means you don’t know how to ride?” 

You met her gaze, catching the glint of amusement in her eyes. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Oh?” Her smirk deepened. “You’re getting defensive.” 

“I’m making a point,” you corrected, raising a brow. “For the record, yes, I do know how to ride. And yes, I own a stable. But that’s not the point!" 

The table erupted in laughter, and Agatha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough so only you could hear. "So you do know how to ride. Good to know." 

A warmth crept up your neck, but you focused on your plate, pretending her words hadn’t sent a slow, deliberate shiver down your spine. Before you could formulate a response, Alice’s voice cut through the moment. 

“See! Knew it!” she gasped, pointing at you triumphantly. 

Lilia leaned back, grinning. “I bet Y/N has a horse named something dramatic like ‘Midnight Storm’ or ‘Celestial Thunder.’” 

You shook your head, laughing. “You guys are ridiculous.” 

Wanda nudged you. “I’m just excited to see you in action later. Show us peasants how it’s done.” 

The table erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle. The lighthearted energy carried through breakfast, filled with teasing and banter. But through it all, you could feel it—Agatha’s gaze flickering toward you, lingering just a little too long. 

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore it. 

After breakfast, each of you returned to your own villas. You stepped into the bathroom first, taking a refreshing shower before going through your usual morning routine. Deciding to stretch a little, you unrolled your yoga mat and went through a few basic poses—not too intense, just enough to feel awake. 

After that, you settled at your desk, opening your laptop to check work emails. Nothing urgent. Satisfied, you shut it down and flopped onto the bed, scrolling through social media, watching random videos, and letting time pass. 

When the afternoon rolled around, your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat. 

Jen: Be at the main entrance by 2 PM. 

You stretched, set your phone aside, and got up to prepare. After a quick lunch, you went to your luggage, picking out an outfit for horseback riding—something comfortable yet stylish. You settled on a fitted maroon polo shirt, black high-waisted skinny jeans, and Dior sneakers. Grabbing your tote bag with the essentials, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror before heading out, ready for whatever the afternoon had in store. 

You made your way to the main entrance, where the others were already gathered near a waiting van. Your gaze flickered toward Agatha for a brief second before you climbed inside with the rest of the group. Of course, she ended up beside you again. 

The ride took about thirty minutes, and you busied yourself with your phone, scrolling aimlessly to pass the time. The occasional chatter filled the van, but you mostly kept to yourself. 

When the van finally stopped, you looked up to see the sign: Malibu Riders. The group stepped out, greeted by one of the facilitators who welcomed you warmly and led you toward the stables. They gave you a quick tour, explaining the facility, before guiding you to the horses you’d be riding. 

You grabbed the necessary gear, swapping out your Dior sneakers for riding boots and securing a helmet. Once everyone was suited up, the facilitators led the horses outside, preparing them for you to mount. 

At the field, the instructor demonstrated how to properly get on a horse. You mounted yours with ease, while a few of the others struggled but managed to get settled after some effort. The only one still struggling was Agatha. After watching her attempt a few times, you sighed, got off your horse, and walked over to her. 

“Here, let me help,” you offered, steadying the horse as she tried again. 

Agatha huffed but accepted the assistance. With your guidance, she finally managed to get on, giving you a smug look once she was settled. 

“Happy now?” she teased. 

You just rolled your eyes and got back onto your horse. 

The lesson went on—not that you needed it. You were already skilled at horseback riding, though you played along, nodding as the facilitator went through the basics. Once the official lesson wrapped up, the group was free to ride around and put their skills to the test. 

Jen called out to everyone, waving her phone. “Alright, let’s get a quick picture while we’re all still on the horses!” 

One of the facilitators took the phone and snapped a few photos of the group, capturing the moment before you all rode off to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. 

After the group split up, you guided your horse across the open field, enjoying the steady rhythm of its movements. The afternoon breeze brushed against your skin as you took in the quiet beauty of the landscape. After a while, you noticed Agatha riding alone and decided to head her way. 

“You know, horses can sleep standing up,” you said out of nowhere. 

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “That so?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. They have a special locking system in their legs so they don’t fall over.” 

She smirked. “You really know a lot about horses.” 

You chuckled. “Learned to ride when I was nine. My mom taught me.” 

That caught her attention. “Your mom?” 

You nodded, a small smile forming as you recalled the memories. “Yeah. She loved riding. We had a stable back home, and she wanted me to know how to ride properly. She always said there’s something freeing about it.” 

Agatha listened intently, her blue eyes locked onto you, but there was something more in the way she was looking at you—something unreadable. 

She sighed, glancing ahead at the open field. “Freedom. That’s an interesting way to put it.” 

You tilted your head. “You don’t think so?” 

A small, almost wistful smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn’t know. I never had the luxury of just... riding away from everything.” 

You studied her for a moment. “You ever wish you could?” 

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Sometimes. But responsibilities don’t just disappear because you want them to.” 

Something in her tone made your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I get that.” 

Agatha looked at you then, really looked at you, as if seeing past everything you let people perceive. The silence stretched between you, comfortable yet heavy, like an unspoken understanding passing between two people who knew what it was like to carry more than they let on. 

Eventually, the horseback riding session came to an end, and it was time to dismount. Most of the group managed to get off their horses without much trouble—including you—but Agatha, once again, struggled. 

You sighed with amusement and walked over. “Here, I got you.” 

She hesitated but then accepted your help. Holding her hands, you guided her as she jumped down, though she nearly tripped in the process. Instinctively, your hands found her waist, steadying her before she could fall. 

For a brief second, neither of you moved. Agatha looked up at you, her breath hitching just slightly before she cleared her throat. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. 

“It’s nothing,” you replied, quickly letting go. 

She stepped back, adjusting her posture before leading her horse away. Your gaze lingered on her retreating figure for a moment before you shook your head and followed suit, taking your horse back to the stable and returning the riding gear. 

With the session officially over, the group left the ranch and piled back into the van. You slid into your seat, put on your earbuds, and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past as you made your way back to the resort. 

After arriving back at the resort, you head straight to your villa, shutting the door behind you with a quiet sigh. The day had been long, but it wasn’t the horseback riding that left you drained—it was her. The way Agatha had been looking at you, the way she spoke, how her presence lingered even after she walked away. It was starting to feel like too much, and yet, not enough. 

You loosen your shirt, moving straight to the minibar. You don’t hesitate as you pour yourself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling under the dim villa lights. You take a slow sip, letting it burn its way down, hoping it will dull whatever this is—this thing that Agatha is doing to you, whether she realizes it or not. 

You lean against the counter, exhaling through your nose. Is she giving you mixed signals, or are you just seeing something that isn’t there? Maybe you’ve been alone for too long. Maybe the past has made you foolish enough to hope. Or maybe—just maybe—she feels it too, but she won’t let herself go there. 

Frustrated, you grab your phone and turn on the speaker, scrolling through your playlist until your finger hovers over a song. You press play, and Adele’s voice fills the room. 

Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements… 

You close your eyes and let the music wash over you, sinking onto the couch, whiskey glass resting on your thigh. The song plays on repeat as you drink, each sip doing little to blur the thoughts racing through your mind. You don’t even realize how much time has passed—only that the glass is empty, and the weight in your chest hasn’t lifted. 

At some point, exhaustion takes over, and you let yourself sink further into the cushions. The night moves on without you, but Agatha stays—etched into your thoughts, just like she always does.

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

[aventurineswife]

Expanding on that Yog-sothoth ask:

Do you think Herta would abandon trying to get Nous to gaze at her again just to get the Creator to acknowledge her? Maybe she HAS glimpsed the Creator like Charles Randoph Carter glimpsed Yog-sothoth and is trying to reach that point once again?

I love the idea that while Sunday and Argenti are devout followers of the Creator, you might have Herta completely and utterly enthralled by them. That she has finally found something that can keep her entertained and captivated for eternity.

Do you think the others in the Genius Society would grow concerned for her? Like, maybe she for just a moment comprehended the Creators intentions and thoughts, and can no longer see anything the same (as is the way with madness).

And what if the Creator could potentially have Emanators *if* they manage to draw the Creators attention? Maybe Herta has become their very first Emanator in this AU?

And what about the Aeons themselves? What if they had a higher understanding of what exactly the Creator was, what the Creator was protecting the material world from?

I also just really like poking fun at Amphoreus with these kinds of things. Like yeah you have these sick ass Titans and a mysterious disaster creeping across the lands, that's pretty cool... let's introduce something far beyond your comprehension and let you stew in the fact your struggles are literally an ember compared to the catastrophes that have happened and are happening elsewhere in the universe xD

Oh, this is the kind of cosmic horror spiral I love to see.

Herta absolutely seems like the kind of person who would abandon Nous in an instant if she caught even the faintest glimpse of the Creator. Nous? Predictable. The Creator? Limitless, unknowable, all-encompassing. That’s an entirely different level of intrigue.

I love the idea that she’s had a fleeting moment of true understanding, a brush with something so vast and incomprehensible that it shattered her perception of reality. Maybe she glimpsed them in a dream, or maybe she pushed her research too far and stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have. And now? Nothing else matters. She’s spent eons bored with everything around her, but now she’s found something that truly, truly captivates her. She needs to reach that moment again, no matter what it takes.

Oh, the others in the Genius Society would definitely be worried. Herta’s always been detached, but this is something else. Maybe Screwllum, with all his calculations, realizes that her behavior is following patterns eerily similar to documented cases of those who have gazed into the abyss and lost themselves. Maybe Ruan Mei is concerned that her mind is unraveling in ways even she can’t predict. And then there’s Herta herself, completely unbothered, utterly enraptured—because in her eyes, she hasn’t lost anything. She’s gained something that no one else can comprehend.

Hell, what if even Nous is concerned? The Aeon of Erudition prides itself on knowledge, but even it must recognize that some things aren’t meant to be understood. If Nous itself refuses to acknowledge the Creator’s existence, yet Herta has seen them—what does that say about her?

The idea of the Creator having Emanators in this AU is so good. Unlike the Aeons, who choose and shape their Emanators, the Creator doesn’t actively grant anything. Their presence alone is enough to change those who become attuned to them. Maybe it’s not a conscious decision—perhaps Emanators arise naturally, by sheer virtue of comprehending even a fraction of the Creator’s thoughts.

If Herta is the first, it would be fascinating to explore what that means. Does she gain new abilities? Does she become something more? Maybe she starts speaking in ways that warp reality around her. Maybe her very existence starts bending the minds of those who interact with her. Maybe even she doesn’t fully understand what she’s becoming, but she’s embracing it because this is so much more interesting than anything else she’s ever done.

Oh, absolutely, the Aeons know something. Maybe that’s why they don’t interfere with the Creator. Maybe that’s why some of them are so obsessed with their own paths, because they understand that in the grand scheme of things, the Paths are the only thing keeping them from falling into total insignificance.

Maybe IX is the only one that truly understands the Creator’s nature, and that’s why it remains silent. Maybe Nanook has seen too much, and that’s why it seeks destruction—because it knows that, ultimately, the universe is just entropy waiting to be acknowledged. Maybe the reason Nous won’t look at Herta isn’t disinterest, but fear—fear that she has gone beyond Erudition into something it cannot comprehend.

Amphoreus, thinking it’s the center of its own cosmic drama, only to be faced with the sheer scope of the universe and realizing it’s just another minor tragedy in a sea of countless others?? That’s hilarious and tragic at the same time.

Imagine their reaction when the Trailblazer or Dan Heng just casually drops, "Oh yeah, there are things way worse than your Titans. Your world isn’t even close to the worst the universe has seen."

And the Heirs? Losing their minds trying to rationalize this, trying to cope with the knowledge that all their struggles are a footnote at best. That even the greatest calamity they’ve ever faced is just one of an infinite number of stories unfolding at this very moment.

This AU has insane potential. Horror, existential dread, philosophical debates, and just the right amount of humor at the sheer absurdity of it all.

[drdemonprince]

do you think it's worth it being nonbinary if you dont have like, body/physical dysphoria? Ive been identifying as nonbinary since i was 14 and when i was in high school it was great, i had my little liberal bubble queer friend group, and the rest of the school didnt pay much attention to me. My mom accepted me in the "i dont get it but whatever i dont want you to stop talking to me so i guess ill go along with it" sense, which while not perfect, its fine. But last september i started studying engineering and. Its really not going well. Like 85% of my classmates are straight guys and they range from thinking nonbinary people are cringe (and therefore they make fun of me when i walk by) to being extremely transphobic (im very scared of some of them.) And ive been trying to make friends with the girls in my class, and some of them are nice, but i can tell they also dont like that im nonbinary. One of them literally told me "i get that being a woman is hard, i dont like having periods or the ways guys look at me either, but you dont gain anything by denying yourself". So. I kind of think about that nearly every night now. Doubting whether im really nonbinary. And it really doesnt help knowing that basically every girl here either thinks that or just straight up thinks im gross and weird, ive literaly heard one of them go 'what is THAT doing in the womens' when i walked past her from the bathroom. I dont like going to class much.

Im thinking of detransisioning, i guess. I never started taking hormones (good luck getting those in eastern europe lol), so I could easily start looking like a cis girl again. These will be my coworkers and bosses, i cant live like this until i retire. i want to have fun uni experiences too. And ive been thinking so much lately about why im even doing this. Its just a few words that people call me by. Theres nonbinary people who use binary pronouns and pass as cis, i could be one of them and just not tell anyone that im actually nb. but on the other hand, it feels like im giving up on the trans community if i do this. Giving up on activism. Im sure im not the only one in this situation, if i detransition ill be letting them down completely. I dont want the next generation to be as fucked as this one. Also i came out very publicly to my entire class (i wanted to find other queer people to be friends with, i hoped that would do the trick maybe. I was so naive and stupid) and it will be so fucking humiliating to go back on that and im scared ill do all that and theyll keep treating me the same anyways because im already "tainted" by transness. So i would let so many people down for nothing.

The one other trans friend from my high school friend group solved this issue by paying more than ten fucking thousand euros per year to study in the netherlands btw. The exchange rate to our currency makes it somehow even worse than it sounds. Hes probably going to be able to start taking hormones before he gets his bachelors. I wish my mom was that rich :|

First of all, I want to say that I am so sorry anon that you are facing so much fucking exclusion and harassment. That kind of treatment pushes a lot of trans people into detransitioning, and it is brutal, and that this experience can happen to nonbinary people who are not on hormones but have otherwise transitioned is something that does not get acknowledged enough.

I can't tell you what you should do in your situation, because no outcome is great. But I think you might find some elements of this article from Kier Adrian Grey on ceasing their use of they/them pronouns (among the cis public!) interesting. They're an "ex anarchist" and a bit of an anti social justice dogma kinda person so I don't agree with them on many things, but I did like this point that they made:

"Hear me out: maybe the best way to understand they/them pronouns, within the context of a pluralistic democracy, is as a subcultural norm, a way for LGBT people to show respect for one another within our community. That sense of belonging I felt when I first found queer spaces was profound, and if using gender-neutral pronouns gives someone that gift, I am all for it. "But I do wonder if we are setting people up for hardship when we tell them that they should hope for, expect, or insist on they/them pronouns being used by everyone they encounter, and that they will be emotionally injured every time this fails to happen. In my thirteen years, misgendering was rarely malicious, and yet it still fed into a wounded identity and a suspicious worldview."

I don't think that what Kier has written about their experience applies to even most nonbinary people, and if taken too prescriptively by the wrong people it could be an awful dysphoria cope that leads a person to some pretty dark places. But! For someone whose feelings about it all are like Kier's, and whose life experiences have given them similar perspective, I think there is something to it. It's true that thinking a great deal about how one is gendered by others is crazy making and sometimes isolating, and if that's the sole way in which one's transness interfaces with the world, it's not always to the person's net benefit.

Here's the full piece:

I will say that based on all you had to say, anon, it would be a lot better for you if you could get around a lot of queer and trans people! What you're struggling with is not being seen and appreciated for who you are, and all the cis people undermining you are driving you crazy and making you doubt yourself. I'd MUCH prefer if you could find more local queer community or relocate if necessary to feel more appreciated as you are.

BUT if you find yourself resonating with this author's points and it feels like only being out to other trans and queer people would be good for you, that is okay to do. That isn't "detransitioning," it's being choosy about whom you trust. And many of us navigate those decisions. I'm not out as trans to everyone I meet! Most people just think I'm a cis guy. The big difference between you and me is that I have medically transitioned (and if you want to, I recommend ordering some hormones on India Mart!!!). You have some choices here about how much information you give to other people, how much you trust people who are incredibly ignorant, how much you will expose yourself to harm by making requests for treatment that might not happen, and how to build the community you need to survive this awful transphobic reality.

[roamingwildflower13]

Gosh this is such a well thought out post, and reblog, not sure why it’s been reblogged, as I’ve not seen anyone ask or insinuate this but still. 

I’ve never actually really seen anyone on here blogger wise say they wish for Jikook to ‘come out’, at least not recently, if anything it is always the complete opposite. A stance of they absolutely will not, never. Or always leaving room for doubt (which I find incredibly invalidating in a different way, but still). If it’s anons asking, as long as it’s a genuine ask, and is respectful, I’d say it’s just so someone can ‘learn’ or understand what might happen if…

And I say might because none of us actually know. We can assume, but we do not know.

Therefore I want to offer a middle ground. A neutral view if you will.

I will preface by saying I have no qualification for this other than being a sociology major and a gay man. (The sociologist in me knows as humans we love a good label, it helps to define and ‘understand’). I’m certainly not au fait enough to add anything research wise to the original post.

If it helps, I can tell my ‘coming out’ story, as fun as it is! You can skip it, but here goes….the cliff notes 

I am 32, firstly, and came out when I was 27, so 6 ish years ago, before the pandemic. (Aside how has it been 5 years since the pandemic, time is truly flying). I had known I was into boys since I was little, I was always always attracted to the boys in my class, never the girls, but alas back then it was a insult to call someone gay, to say that to someone’s face just because you thought their mannerisms were a bit effeminate I guess, as mine were (stereotypical high voice, lisp, somewhat feminine features). Society was not accepting as a whole either back then. (It probably isn’t now. Gay marriage was only made legal in 2013, just over a decade ago. The year Bangtan debuted no less. We’re talking very close by history.) I was bullied, naturally, so by my teen years I tried my upmost to hide it. For example, I did art in high school and on my project folder I stuck pictures of girls (famous ones), like that would help me blend in. When I was 21 I met a girl in a coffee shop I worked at and dated her, my friends were all dating, so I did too. I did like her, she was nice, I did try, and we dated on and off for a few years. You can imagine on my part why this wasn’t working, but we tried and on the getting back together she got pregnant. It was about to change our lives, sadly though we lost the baby at 20 weeks, and if nothing else the grief tore us apart. I know we would have loved that little girl, we named her and buried her as tiny as she was. But hindsight is 20/20, and it was the catalyst that changed everything for me. Once we split I decided to move on, and firstly I acknowledged my own true feelings, that I was indeed gay. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to be honest with myself, finally. For me, living hidden, or living a lie with my ex, was not good for my mental health, and it wasn’t for my ex either. We weren’t happy, there was no intimacy there, and that’s no good for anyone. My family mostly accepted me once I finally told them. I was incredibly grateful for that, the ones who didn’t at this point are no loss. The biggest question I get and have to navigate is if I am bi, seeing I was with my ex for years, but no I am gay. That was six years ago, as I said, and I’m at a place where I am comfortable with my sexuality and gender expression more than ever, finding a community and interests helped with that too. 

So that’s my ordinary story.

I realise of course I come from a place of privilege, a western country with mostly acceptance these days of queer folk, but not always. In fact what’s happening to many countries with a rise in right wing politics, including America is down right frightening. 

I wish we all lived in a world where we just accepted one another for whoever we are, but sadly we do not. The energy of the planet is low, and they seek to keep it low. 

What I wanted to say overall, is that although I know what it’s like to ‘come out’ as unfair as that is, it is not our place as individuals to decide what someone else should or should not do, or what is right or wrong for someone. We can educate ourselves for sure, be aware of things, but ultimately it’s not our decision to speak on matters that do not pertain to us. Reflections is right in that this process of coming out, or identity marking is not prevalent in every society, I tend to not make it my personality for example, but people do assume, and I’m okay with that. I certainly don’t explain to everyone, and will only do so if they ask nicely.

I know this is a blurred line in a ‘shipping’ space, but where I come down on this is I do not see myself as shipping two people, but supporting what I think is a very probable queer couple. All I ever want to do is support them, but I would never want to speak to their wants and needs, that’s not for me to say. 

That is my neutral ground if you will. 

I will coo till the cows come home, admire their beautiful love and bond, as frankly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself, and for others. Love is everything. However, I will never impose my own view of what they should or should not do, coming down hard on either side is actually (in my opinion) incredibly invalidating. 

To anyone who truly has thought about it in terms of winning, please don’t do that. That goes back to what I said in a reblog yesterday about dopamine and fighting online, that high, that win, would certainly only be for your own benefit, or likely to get one over on other ‘ships’. It’s different of course if they themselves chose to do something, but to want that is to only want that win for yourself, and that is not fair on them. 

The part of the original anon ask, about how you would market such a relationship, is interesting in context of the show, given this ask is 3 ish years old. That and the documentary, the book, JKs solo documentary, and Jimins documentary, it all leads me to believe they want to be known together, their names synonymous. They want their bond to be seen. For what reason only they know, but it’s kinda smart, because whilst most of the fandom remains ignorant, meanwhile they can (mostly) be themselves. I will note that all of this came after the enlistment was applied for.

This does go hand in hand with another reblog re Jimin explaining Muse. The worst outcome of any of this is if they get ‘outed’, so in order not to do that, in my opinion, they use protective mechanisms. They don’t outright deny anything, not that it’s asked directly of them, but they indicate they are single, they sing love songs, female pronouns included, they (pretend) not to see each other, they say ‘bro’, and a plethora of other things. This is when people refer to the glass closet. They bang on it occasionally, see the show, test its limits so to speak, but (so far) remain protected mainly due to sheer ignorance, and homophobia. For the same reason they can be flirty on stage under the guise of ‘fan service’ , and apply to enlist together because the buddy system exists. They do, imo, use what they can in order to be themselves as much as they feel comfortable with. The band itself provides a shield so to speak, five other members whom they love to be amongst, hence why the solo era was somewhat different for them, the band was no longer there as group activities were suspended for the most part, especially in 2023. This meant they kept a low profile, as I’ve said I think it was a choice. I want to add that anyone who seeks to minimise any of their choices, especially the enlistment, is not a true fan. I’ve seen solos do this and laugh at the notion that one of the reasons they kept on the down low was the enlistment. I’d caution people because again we do not walk in their shoes, we do not know how they feel about anything, and it’s disrespectful to minimise or dismiss their relationship when the evidence is that they mean a great deal to one another.

I want to end by saying that at the end of the day, we do not know these men, I personally support what I see, and know in my heart to be true. I will always respect them and any choice they make, because it is their choice, and their right to make that for themselves despite the circumstances they find themselves in. 

The only thing I truly want for them is peace, happiness and their safety. 

Okay so, I came to this blog because I’m an Army and recently have been quite fond of Jikook’s bond. I always used to close myself off the shipping considering how toxic it gets on other platforms but I really love these two together it’s almost painful to resist. I come here in peace, and I’m asking you something. Can we open a topic about what would ACTUALLY happen if two idols of the caliber of Jimin and Jungkook confirmed having a relationship? Because so many Jikookers see the coming out as the final win, when actually it could be the contrary? Some people in the fandom are naive and don’t realize the impact, especially negative, it would have on their career. If you open this discussion I’m sure also other blogs will tune in. I beg you to view it on a much bigger scale than just the fandom shippers, let���s observe it from the point of view of their country, the industry, their reputation as a whole. And also if you were in their shoes, and your aim was to live your days with your loved one ultimately, what marketing procedures do you think would be necessary to take in order to keep your career going as well.

Thank you Anon for the question and I will try to be very careful in navigating such a topic. I've mentioned before that I will not talk about Jimin and Jungkook in regards to their private personal life, but what I can do is to focus on what is written in shipping spaces, as it's part of the fandom discourse. I will start by saying that you are asking some questions which are impossible for me to respond. I cannot put myself in their shoes as I am first of all a woman and second of all, not famous. My answer will be divided into two parts: how shippers talk about identity and more general, about sexual identity in SK, for which I will provide extensive references and I hope they can be useful in understanding the social context. I want this to be an open discussion, especially if there are people in this space who know more, who have more knowledge on this particular subject.

It seems that in general, those who ship Jimin and Jungkook do see a coming out, in the possibility that there's an actual romantic relationship, as the ultimate ''win'', just as you said. To me, that's complete ignorance and I can only situate it in the realms of problematic fantasy. As I've said before, I don't have any problems with the idea of shipping. Of course, I've noticed that a lot of jikookers call themselves supporters in order to differentiate themselves from your run of the mill shipping practice. ''You say tomato, I say tomato''. They say they will support Jimin and Jungkook no matter what, but anyone who becomes part of a community, makes connections or develops some emotional attachments towards their ship or subjects of the ship, will definitely have some strong feelings if they will encounter some ''evidence'' at some point that would disregard the way they see those people. I'm of course generalizing here, but I'm not saying this only in order to criticize them, but because it would be a normal reaction, something to be expected and each person has their own way in which they deal with those feelings. Just as I talked in my shipping post, there are positive outcomes here, such as people who gather more extensive knowledge on LGBTQ+ issues, in case they haven't done that before. But there's a shtick and of course I can only talk about what I see in international shipping spaces, which is the fact that despite doing research on this topic and trying to understand the SK political landscape, they still use a Western filter. What do I mean by that? Their understanding of sexual identity is in most cases Western and they apply that mindset when it comes to situations in countries that have a history that doesn't match the American one, which is the more prevalent. Sexual orientation has become part of someone's entire identity. It has developed over the course of the 20th century (Michel Foucault and Jeffrey Weeks have written about this) and today it's the norm. We do live in an era of globalization, but to take this idea and apply it to a context that not many of us actually know, results in a discourse that can have some colonization elements to it and leaves no room for specific Asian Queerness. It's unfortunate because all shippers could do is read more about it, if they actually call themselves supporters. Not to focus just on their ship but to actually try and understand how alternative meanings of identities work. If they had done it, in a bit more detail, perhaps they would know that one's sexual orientation does not become someone's entire identity everywhere. It's a difference between something that ''I am'' and ''I do''. The SK situation, when it comes to LGBTQ+, is influenced by Confucian values, the military service, the huge influence a family can have, but it's also about finding a community. Not everyone is the same and in this case generalization is dangerous. People can use western terminology, even fully embrace a ''coming out'' as we understand it and some of them don't, or they only do it with themselves or close friends while some engage in activism just as any part of this world. You can find more about this in a thesis written by Matthew David Arnold called Queer Korea: Identity, Tradition and Activism (2016) in which he interviewed 49 LGBTQ+ individuals over a period of time while he lived there. These are people who became his friends, acquaintances, and artists and each and every one of them has a story of their experience which has its own particularities. Arnold talks about the Social Compact which consists of the established communities in which these people live and the most important one is the family and the huge influence it can have. It also bothers me the fact that when shippers engage in such a topic, a lot of the times they are alienating, othering this entire culture and using their own Western frame as a system of reference.

To go back to your initial ask, about the jikook ship and coming out, it is ludicrous. How can shippers talk about such a thing when it comes to people whom they don't know? They observe a pattern of behavior and draw some conclusions, sometimes they have a more educated guess and other times not. But they should stick to that. They say they care about their biases, but by having this request and considering it as a win is disrespectful because a coming out is no one's business and especially not of some strangers on the internet.

I'm aware that I probably haven't given a specific response to your questions, but these are the limits in which I situate myself, but as I said in the beginning, I encourage other people to chime in.

For more insight into LGTBQ+ topics in South Korea from an academic perspective, I will leave some references here:

Song Pae Cho, Faceless Things: South Korean Gay Men, Internet, and Sexual Citizenship, 2011

Elias Alexander, Seoul's Gay Districts: Space, Place, and Identity, 2017

Joe Phillips, Joseph Yi, ''Queer Communities and Activism in South Korea: Periphery-Center Currents'', Journal of Homosexuality, 2019

Joseph Yi, Joe Phillips, ''Paths of Integration for Sexual Minorities in Korea'', Pacific Affairs, 2015

Todd A. Henry, Queer Korea, 2020

Thomas Chase, ''Problems of Publicity: Online Activism and Discussion of Same-Sex Sexuality in South Korea and China'', Asian Studies Review, 2012

Youngshik D. Bong, ''The Gay Rights Movement in Democratizing Korea'', Korean Studies, 2009

Robert Hamilton, ''Gaytrification and the re-orienting of Sexual Peripheries. The Displacement of Space and Place in South Korea's Queer Underground'', Contemporary Society and Multiculture, 2016

Tari Young-Jung Na, Ju Hui Judy and Se-Woong Koo, ''The South Korean Gender System: LGBTI in the Contexts of Family, Legal Identity and the Military'', The Journal of Korean Studies, 2014

Timothy Gitzen, The Promise of Gayness: Queers and Kin in South Korea, 2012

Jungmin Kwon, Spectacularizing the Homosexual Body: The Secret Rendezvous Among Global Gay Media, Local Straight Women, and the Media Industry in South Korea, 2014

[aquamarinemarie]

Acknowledging Solas & Lavellan's Relationship

I know some players bemoan how little content Solas and Lavellan's relationship has within Inquisition, and that some erroneously believe the romance is only acknowledged a few times.

So, with that in mind, I thought I'd make a helpful little list pointing out all the times Solas & Lavellan's relationship is commented on by their friends and colleagues.

Cabot - Once Solas has told Lavellan that he loves her, you can then hop and skip your way down to the tavern and ask Cabot if he's heard any rumors lately. Cabot will then tell you he's heard some of Skyhold's residents complaining about how the Inquisitor has time to "bed her allies". (I believe this is a standard reaction to any romance in game, but is one which is easily and frequently overlooked.) (Also, you may have to repeatedly inquire about any rumors Cabot may have heard if you haven't been keeping up on the gossip running rampant through Skyhold.)

Vivienne - Following Solas' love confession, if your approval is high enough, Vivienne will remark at Skyhold how she's noticed certain lingering looks between the two of you. She will remark again in Trespasser, during "Spa Day"; inquiring how you've been since you were so "cruelly disappointed" by Solas. (This interaction will have some variation depending on approval.)

Sera - Ironically (but somehow not surprisingly) has the most to say concerning Lavellan and Solas' relationship. First, with high enough approval, Sera will comment at Skyhold how she's seen the way Lavellan looks at him, and bets he calls out "Elven glory!" when he does it. Secondly, in a party banter (in which the Inquisitor can participate) she will mock the relationship. Thirdly, if you let Solas remove your vallaslin (his gift to a romanced Lavellan), Sera, while at Skyhold, will ask what happened when you and Solas went off together. Fourth and finally, during Trespasser, Sera will say she never liked Solas (shocker) and that she's sorry he hurt you. (This is also approval dependent.)

Josephine - Following the breakup Josephine will react in surprise when she next speaks to Lavellan if you've opted to have the vallaslin removed.

Cassandra - Cassandra, following the breakup, will put her whole foot in her mouth when remarking during a party banter with Solas concerning Lavellan's vallaslin removal.

Cole - Our resident spirit of compassion will perceive the hurt between Solas and Lavellan during a party banter; and will remark rather insightfully upon Solas and Lavellan's feelings. (The Inquisitor can again choose to participate in this conversation.)

Blackwall - Blackwall, if alive and on good terms with the inquisitor during Trespasser, will inquire as to how Lavellan is doing since Solas' disappearance. (The Inquisitor can choose how she wishes to respond here concerning her feelings.)

Leliana - Leliana will briefly acknowledge that the two of you were "close" following Corypheus' defeat and Solas' disappearance. (Lavellan can choose to be a sad girl here.)

Cullen, Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull are keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves, unfortunately.

Whew, I think that's everyone. If I missed anyone or anything please let me know.

I hope this was helpful to at least a few people.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece. 

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon. 

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?” 

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.” 

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent. 

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull. 

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused. 

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it. 

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.” 

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.” 

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy. 

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face. 

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar. 

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?” 

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far.  “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…” 

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?” 

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?” 

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ” 

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus. 

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before. 

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar. 

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand. 

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in  conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company. 

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin. 

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her. 

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?” 

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan. 

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd. 

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static. 

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues. 

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?! 

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.” 

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” 

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?” 

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

[teyrnacousland]

I'm going to ramble to myself about Cassia for way too long now, okay, this is mostly for me. I tried to do it in tags out of everyone's way and learned there's a limit to how many tags you can have.

As someone who also chose to make my Mercar an Altus mage (or rather, chose to make the Altus mage I made for DA4 back in like 2018 a Mercar) I want to ramble about my thoughts about Cassia specifically.

It's definitely not just about being a saviour for Cassia. It's kind of more about realizing that EVERYONE is making a choice whether they acknowledge it or not. (You can't just not make a choice about activism or politics. Ignoring it IS a choice. Whether you like what that aligns you with or not, that's what choosing not to care means.)

For Cassia she was put in a position where she had to face that choice and actively make it one way or another. She could either keep her head down and play her role as an oppressor, or give that and the luxuries it comes with up to try for a world where no one is forced into the role of either victim or perpetrator. (Which is not at all me trying to say 'Cassia is a victim here too' or anything, just that oppressive societies aren't good for almost everyone in them. And that being a bystander is always a choice.)

When I made Cassia I was thinking how far does bystander effect go in the context of societal things like Tevinter, and at what point do you break out of it and how. Cassia isn't One Of The Good Ones. She's not Not Like Other Magisters. She's exactly like everyone else. She is a member of the crowd and she's moved with it her whole life. And I don't believe most people in any given crowd are cruel. Active cruelty, or even apathy, is not why most people allow suffering. I don't think we're naturally all just selfish. I think selfishness is just like, a stress response. Self-preservation.

Cassia is only special in that she was forced into a situation that she realized meant she had to actively decide to either be cruel or Not Do That, and because someone directly offered her another path with the Shadows (Which is how Ashur got involved in her story.)

The biggest thing that breaks people out of that mindset is being directly asked to help, and also seeing someone else help. People are more likely to help others help than to start helping someone themselves. Cassia would never have started a resistance group herself. She might not have even sought them out and joined herself. But she's given an option to help and she chooses to take it.

Basically, Cassia becomes a Shadow Dragon because she doesn't want to fill her role in Tevinter society either, even though her role was better than others. It's not something she wanted for herself, or the world she lives in.

Her being ace and bi also has a role in it, too. She could just hide her bisexuality and ignore her asexuality and she could play her role in society as an Altus mage woman. She could get straight married and have sex and have children. That's her only option in Tevinter. To stay in the closet and do things she doesn't want to do. Forever.

I also have decided that I now like that the Shadow Dragons are led by ruling class Altus mages, actually. My first reaction was wishing the organization was more run by the people for the people kind of thing, like a community organization vs a saviours from on high thing. But this makes them messy. All the other factions are messed up in some way, this is the Shadow Dragons mess. It'd be neat if they explored that more in the game itself, because the line up there about a bunch of Altus mages telling Nazri they're Revolutioning wrong is so interesting and good.

As for why, for Dorian specifically, I think he's similar to Cassia. Once he became aware that it's a choice, he made one.

The specific DAI line that stands out to me is the banter where Solas tells him something like "if you were truly sorry you'd free every slave in Tevinter". His initial response is "I don't know that I can do that" (which is kind of where he's been at for most of his life. It is how it is, even if I don't like some of it, I certainly can't change it) and Solas responds "then how sorry are you?"

And I think he took that one to heart. He can either go back to Tevinter and decide/admit that he doesn't care, and just go back to complaining about things and not doing anything about it. Or he has to care (which he does, he's a very empathetic person) and do something. So he did! Not to be a saviour or a hero, but because he loves Tevinter, and there's a better Tevinter in his head, for him and everyone else, and it's worth it to at least try and make it happen.

I keep harping on this but the Shadow Dragon's rebuke of rook when rook is a shadow dragon who picked treviso is so like. whole and unending. you save viper from the venatori and he talks about the shadow dragons like you aren't one of them anymore. you dont see tarquin or dorian or mae again until the end of the game. the companions say "it must be hard for the shadow dragons in minrathous" to you. neve says "I don't expect you to show up for dock town, rook" and it hurts because nobody else does either. nobody else WANTS you to anymore. but they'll take what you give them!

[taylor-titmouse]

i keep thinking about how funny it is that objects of affection is ironically one of your more consensual works

hmmm. i think i actually disagree. like obviously you're referring to how the androids never revoke/deny consent (because they can't) but do all the humans involved consent?

can you confidently say shima wasn't coerced? that he gave full and enthusiastic consent to what touma made him do? regardless of whether he acknowledges he wanted it, he wouldn't have done it if touma didn't berate him.

wade is a pig, but he didn't knowingly consent to ratna picking mari's brain for his private information. it's not a sexual assault but it's a sexually motivated violation on par with hacking somebody's phone to access their nudes.

and samart is just a pervert who needs a lack of consent to get off. if marinette consented she wouldn't be pure and blameless, he needs the blame on himself because that's what turns him on and keeps him attracted to her.

so i don't agree. there is still no true consent in that book, and that's very much the point.

[theseerasures]

(obligatory note that the footage does not usually look like this; i'm trying to reduce the washout on Laurel's face to make a point)

every time we watch Wicked Leah and i play a game of "how gay is it" during this part, because it does feel pivotal for Gelphie to fumble toward acknowledging what their relationship actually is here, before everything goes to shit. in my head the way it goes in the Original Cast Recording is that Elphaba takes the leap: Idina says two good friends so hesitantly, like she's worried just by calling it anything she's ruining what they have, and Cheno's Glinda responds with a warm reassurance. that's basically how it remained for some time, with Glinda's answering affirmation being on the whole more platonic, if equally emotional.

then at some point the onus shifted onto Glinda to Make It Gay. my intellectual self wants to say Kendra or Annaleigh started this trend, but since my insanity began with Katie (and Willemijn) she comes to mind first. there's always a moment right before friends where she wavers, which communicates two major things. the first, which is constant no matter her scene partner, is that Glinda feels the weight of this moment. all Glindas have to seriously acknowledge Elphaba's feelings to some extent here so they can assure/assuage them, but Katie always seems to extend the fragility her Elphaba displays rather than dispelling or shifting it. instead of Glinda assuring Elphaba that Elphaba is doing this right, we get the sense Glinda equally wants to get this right--but she's not certain how to do it either.

it can get lost because she's a serious Glinda in general, but what's unique about Katie's Glinda is how seriously she takes the project of understanding Elphaba. the most obvious example is with "i told you a really good one" during Popular, where Galinda is so fixated on WHY Elphaba would have these feelings she ends up neglecting them altogether, but there are some additional subtler moments in One Short Day. you just get the sense that Katie's Glinda is constantly on the verge of asking ten million followup questions about Elphaba, TO Elphaba, at this point in the show. she was wrong about Elphaba when they were enemies, which culminated in her being so cruel while Elphaba was kind; now she's going to learn everything about her new friend, so that whatever Elphaba does in the future she can respond in kind, with equal magnitude. (which, again, reads SO autistic for me.)

the second thing, which feeds from the first, is that if Glinda is as serious and vulnerable as Elphaba here, then the exact nature of Glinda's hesitation before friends alters depending on the Elphaba. as Wicked has aged (and Glindas have gotten gayer) Elphabas have accordingly shifted two good friends towards a statement of overwhelmed gratitude. she's still tentative about their friendship, but friendship is the sole realm she can even imagine at this point. in those cases Glinda's pause before friends turns into this neat reversal, where GLINDA now wants more (romantical) things out of their relationship but is shy about revealing her hand, because she's not sure Elphaba will reciprocate or because it's not fair to put that on Elphaba per the terms of their relationship. it's a super nice reading if you want a pining Glinda for a straight/oblivious Elphaba...

but that's not really what's happening here, because Laurel's Elphaba isn't just in love with Glinda. she seems pretty cognizant of it, too, so two good friends becomes a retreat from them being more than "good friends" in two distinct ways. it's an echo of Idina's hesitation with more explicit romantic intent, and her face afterwards betrays this very heartbreaking certainty that nothing Glinda offers back could be enough, because SHE wasn't brave enough in the first place to tell Glinda how she really feels. which would be bleak enough in itself, but played against Katie's Glinda--this empathetic tryhard who studied the Elphaba while she was supposed to be heterosexual--it becomes downright tragic. because Glinda KNOWS Elphaba is holding something back here. she knows that when Elphie makes that face she's worried about being hurt. and she knows, by now, that asking why immediately might make Elphaba hide more and ruin everything, so she's just going to have to guess. she says two best friends, because that IS what they are, but it doesn't feel like enough. she wants to acknowledge the thing Elphie can't say, even if she hasn't figured out yet what it could possibly be. she's going to try, though; not just for Elphie, but because she feels it, too.

and how could that not feel like a revelation for Elphaba? even the best case scenario she refuses to let herself think about, where Glinda reciprocates her feelings, would have come with the painful rawness of being seen through. but Elphaba could have never imagined this incipient possibility: that uncertainty can be something you relish, as opposed to something you fear. that she could be relished and not feared. they're not there yet, but that's the thing, isn't it? yet. and Glinda is going to try--Elphaba is certain of that much, now. they might get there, which feels like everything. they might, with time.

and why wouldn't they have enough time?

[dcdreamblog]

So, I was familiar with the fact that Starfire of the Titans did some modelling when she first came to Earth, anglicizing her birth name Koriand'r into Kori Anders for the work.

But looking back at some of the stuff said about the hot new model on the scene at the time.... did people actually not realize she was an alien for a while?

Your guess is as good as mine as to what exactly was in the fucking water in San Francisco back in the day. Because you are correct. People from outlets as diverse as Vogue, Vanity Fair and Cosmopolitan looked at THIS.

(A Vogue cover of Starfire as "Kory Anders" I was able to find. Know I don't know which one, I don't read fashion magazines and she's on a lot of them) And said "yep, no need for further questioning or investigation here. That is a 110% real human woman". Like, guys. I know it's California. I know it's high fashion. But the woman is 6'4" in flats. Has bright green eyes with no pupils that glow in the dark. Her hair is wider than her torso, hangs down past her feet and ALSO glows at the ends. And her skin is BRIGHT SUNSET ORANGE.

This was AFTER Starfire had already become a well known and beloved public figure in San Francisco through her work with the Titans by the way! For months, maybe even close to a year people all over the world were under the impression that this woman was a human supermodel. She was a very POPULAR supermodel, the most popular new debut of her era by far she did shoots for just about ever magazine and brand under the sun but people from her agent on down were under the impression that she was a normal earth woman with a very "shocking" look. Do you know WHY this charade went on as long as it did? Because Starfire was truly, deeply under the impression no one on God's green Earth could possibly not have known. In a multi-million dollar game of "you never asked" she continued to cash the checks and take the gigs believing, entirely reasonably, that people were offering her these jobs knowing that she was also internationally famous superheroine Starfire. (As a note, she never intentionally Anglicized her name. 'Kory Anders' was the name a publicist came up with because 'Koriand'r' sounded 'too foreign') It wasn't until her teammates pointed out to her that no one seemed to be acknowledging that Kory Anders and Starfire were the same person that she made a point of bringing it up. At which point her agent and publicist acted like they had been entrusted with her secret identity, a secret identity Koriand'r had never cultivated in the first place! So that a whole lot of egg on the faces of every gossip reporter in the country (which is a silver lining lol). But ever since then she's continued her modelling work more or less uninterrupted. Coming from a highly militarized society and being born royalty, Koriand'r has said that fashion, the idea that people of any class, race or creed can choose to dress and express themselves how they please is one of the things she appreciates and loves the most about the Earth.