#tangible-fortitude

[le-velo-pour-dru]

trick or treat !!!!

TAKE ONE OF THESE GOOFY STRETCHY SKELETONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! X3 💖

[jellyfish-hoodie-my-beloved]

trick or treat !!!!

treat! heres a caramello koala for you!

[st4rtar0t]

Describing your first kiss with your future lover as a writer 🙈

Pick a picture

Picture one

The music plays softly in the background as you lean in, the air crackles with an anticipation only found in that moment before lips meet. The kiss promises comfort, a reassurance in the warmth that envelops both of you. Your partner's embrace offers a sanctuary, a safe space amidst the chaotic world. Passion ignites as your lips connect, a fiery dance born of unspoken desires. The kiss speaks of a raw, intense longing, drawing upon the depth of emotion shared between you. It's not just a meeting of mouths; it's a convergence of souls, each expressing an unyielding ardor that sets your heart ablaze. Yet, amidst this fervor, there's an undeniable strength, a sense of unwavering determination felt in the way your partner holds you close. It's a silent declaration that no matter what challenges arise, together, you can conquer them. The kiss is a testament to resilience, an affirmation of unity in the face of any storm. In the exchange, there's also a note of caution, a tender awareness that each touch is a precious gift. It's as if the kiss acknowledges the fragile nature of the heart, proceeding with a gentle reverence for the vulnerability you both share. The kiss lingers, not just in the meeting of lips but in the emotional resonance it leaves behind—the promise of support, the depth of desire, the fortitude of unity, and the delicate balance of tender caution.

Key words: passion, a little sprinkle of obsession, caring, fearing they would break you, meeting after longing for eachother.

Picture two

As you stand there, your heart races with an amalgamation of emotions, a fusion of fear and love, almost tangible in the charged air. Your eyes lock onto theirs, drawn in by an overwhelming sense of connection, a powerful ideation stirring within. The atmosphere around you seems to glow with an ethereal illumination, as if the universe itself is rooting for this moment to happen. Your trembling hand reaches out, tentatively seeking theirs, fingers entwining like the interlocking of a complex puzzle, signaling the unspoken courage that blossoms from deep within. The touch ignites a cascade of sensations, an inexplicable energy coursing through your veins, merging fear with a newfound strength, propelling you forward. The close proximity sends a surge of anticipation through both of you, the unspoken desire palpable. Your breaths synchronize in a symphony of shared emotion, a dance of hesitant yet eager hearts. The moment hangs suspended, almost frozen in time, a poignant pause before the inevitable. And then, with a tender yet determined closeness, your lips meet, a convergence of feelings that surpasses words. It's a kiss that serves as a sanctuary, a moment of cleansing where doubts and worries dissipate, replaced by a flood of pure emotion. In that timeless embrace, fears melt away, overcome by the gentle, reassuring strength of the shared affection. The kiss lingers, neither hurried nor prolonged, a gentle exploration of each other's soul, each second deepening the bond between you. It's a delicate dance, a silent conversation of passion and understanding, each movement, each sensation revealing a layer of vulnerability, a layer of trust. As you pull away, a sense of peace settles within, akin to the stillness after a storm. The kiss, an exquisite manifestation of love, lingers in the air, a testament to the courage to face fears, the strength to surrender to love, and the realization that in each other's arms, there exists a sanctuary where the mind finds solace and the heart finds its true home.

Keywords: opposite attract, roses, mixed race , hazel eyes , red spider lily, Japan, dark skin, formal attire.

Picture three

The moon shone brightly seemingly proud of your union , the air is filled with an electric tension, echoing the love that binds your souls. The world that has rejected your love long forgotten. The soft breeze carries whispers of determination, as both of you lean in, hearts pounding in unison, ready to embark on this intimate moment. Your eyes meet, reflecting the abundance of emotion, a reservoir overflowing with passion and devotion. With a gentle yet resolute touch, your hands intertwine, a symbolic gesture of success and unity. As your lips finally meet, there's a seamless flow between you, a dance of affectionate exchange that mirrors the synchronized rhythm of your hearts. The kiss holds the essence of intuition, each movement guided by an unspoken understanding, a silent language known only to the two of you. It's not just a meeting of two souls; it's a fusion of dreams and desires. Your courage to express your love intertwines with the richness of emotions, creating a moment that transcends time. In this shared embrace, the world fades away, leaving only the intensity of the present, where your love knows no boundaries and your hearts beat as one.

Keywords: you are written into the song of my soul, messages, divine feminine, leo, 02:02, 2323, libra.

[nayziiz]

Lost & Found | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Oscar thrived on the energy you brought to the paddock during race weekends. Your mere presence seemed to anchor him amidst the whirlwind of anticipation and nerves that often accompanied such high-stakes events. Amidst the chaos of the paddock, your steady presence provided him with a sense of comfort and confidence, acting as a stabilising force in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled atmosphere.

Your support didn't just stop at being physically present; it extended to an unwavering encouragement that boosted his morale and mental fortitude. Knowing that you were there, cheering him on from the sidelines, fueled his determination to perform at his best. Your belief in him mirrored his own, serving as a constant reminder of his capabilities and potential.

But perhaps most significantly, your presence seemed to translate into tangible results on the track. Whenever you were there to celebrate with him, Oscar's performance seemed to reach new heights. It was as if your support had a direct correlation to his success, as if your belief in him propelled him forward, pushing him to push the boundaries of his own abilities.

As the weekend unfolded, Oscar found solace in your company, relishing every moment spent together, from leisurely strolls around the paddock to shared lunches and casual conversations while watching replays in the garage. Your presence brought him a sense of contentment, grounding him amidst the intensity of race weekends.

However, a shadow fell over his contentment when he noticed you chatting with Lando. The sight of you laughing at Lando's jokes, your hand resting casually on his arm, ignited a surge of jealousy within Oscar. He couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity as he observed the easy rapport between you and his teammate, the way Lando's eyes seemed to light up in response to your laughter.

In that moment, Oscar's contentment gave way to a gnawing sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined, of watching from the sidelines as you shared a connection with someone he considered a friend. The laughter that had once brought him joy now rang hollow in his ears, overshadowed by the discomfort of seeing you engage with another driver in such a familiar manner.

Later, as Oscar stumbled upon you engrossed in conversation with Pato, a surge of frustration and hurt bubbled up within him. The sight of you hanging onto Pato's every word, your gaze fixed attentively on him, felt like a blow to Oscar's ego. It seemed as though you were captivated by Pato's presence, absorbing his insights and perspectives with an eagerness that Oscar found difficult to stomach.

For Oscar, this encounter with Pato served as a painful reminder of his own perceived insignificance in your eyes. Throughout the day, he had watched as you effortlessly connected with various people in the paddock, never sparing a moment to seek him out or engage with him in the same way. It was as if he didn't even register on your radar, as if his presence didn't matter to you at all.

As Oscar observed you leaning in closely, preoccupied in conversation with a mechanic as he explained the intricate details of Oscar's car, a wave of possessiveness and protectiveness washed over him. Though outwardly composed, inwardly, Oscar's emotions roiled like a storm ready to break.

The sight of you showing interest in the workings of his car, sharing a moment of camaraderie with another man, ignited a primal instinct within Oscar to defend what he considered his territory. The mechanic's presence, while innocent and professional, suddenly felt like a threat to Oscar's sense of security and connection with you.

Behind his calm exterior, Oscar's mind raced with thoughts of competition and rivalry. He felt an overwhelming urge to assert his dominance, to remind everyone in the paddock that you were his, and his alone. The idea of anyone else encroaching on your attention filled him with a fierce determination to reclaim your focus, to ensure that you remained firmly by his side.

In that moment, Oscar's love for you transformed into a fierce, primal instinct to protect and possess. He would do anything to keep you close, to ensure that no other man could come between you. Though his actions might seem extreme to an outsider, for Oscar, it was a matter of preserving what he held most dear: his connection with you.

Despite the storm of emotions raging within him, Oscar knew better than to confront the situation in public. He understood the importance of maintaining a composed facade amidst the public eye, unwilling to air his grievances or reveal his insecurities in front of others. Instead, he made a silent vow to address the issue with you privately, where he could express his feelings without fear of judgement or scrutiny.

As the day wore on and the activities in the paddock continued, Oscar bided his time, keeping his emotions carefully in check. With each passing hour, his resolve to discuss the matter with you grew stronger, fueled by a mixture of frustration, hurt, and a deep-seated desire to salvage what he perceived as a strained connection between them.

It wasn't until you both returned to the privacy of the hotel that Oscar felt the weight of the day's events press upon him once more. As Oscar and you entered the hushed confines of the hotel lobby, the tension between them crackled like electricity in the air. Oscar's jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Finally, as the elevator doors closed behind them, sealing them in a cocoon of privacy, Oscar couldn't hold back any longer.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice taut with emotion. Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the gravity of his tone.

“What's on your mind?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing sense of unease.

“You know damn well what's on my mind,” Oscar snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I saw you today, cozying up to Lando, Pato, and that mechanic. It felt like I was invisible to you, like you didn't even bother to look for me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, Oscar continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. “I can't stand seeing you with other guys, laughing and flirting like I'm not even here. I know I should trust you, but it's driving me insane.”

A flicker of hurt flashed across your face, mingling with empathy as you reached out to touch his arm gently.

“I was just being polite, Osc. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was flirting with them. I didn't realise it was affecting you like this," you said softly, your voice laced with sincerity. Oscar's shoulders sagged with relief at your understanding, but the fire in his eyes didn't dim.

“I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I can't stand the thought of losing you.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m with you then, and not one of those stupid boys. Now I can just show you how much I love being yours,” You told him.

Tension hung in the air between them, but as you reached out to envelop him in a comforting embrace, Oscar felt a weight lift from his chest. A tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze, a silent reassurance passing between you.

“I'm here, with you, completely and utterly yours,” you continued, your voice filled with conviction.

In that moment, as the weight of the day's tensions melted away, Oscar felt a surge of gratitude for the unwavering love and devotion you offered him. With a renewed sense of purpose, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tender embrace.

Together, in the quiet sanctuary of the hotel room, you found solace in each other's arms, reaffirming the bond that held you together amidst the chaos of the racing world. And as you whispered words of love and reassurance into the night, Oscar knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as he had you by his side, he could weather any storm. And, perhaps learn to be less jealous at times.

[bandomchoiceawards]

Please go support all of the artists listed above, and all the others nominated who didn't make it into the final poll! I got soooooo many different nominations for this one. This category was especially hard to cut down on because I felt awful leaving anyone out. I can't believe how many awesome, talented artists we have!

Artists listed above:

@birdloaf on Tumblr

@ghostiestart on Tumblr

@purusims on Tumblr

@cablehaver on Tumblr

@twinkskeletons on Tumblr

@darbydraws on Tumblr

@/mayathe.psychic on Instagram (@mayathexpsychic on Tumblr)

@strawberryprism on Tumblr

@/piinkfang on Instagram (@piinkfang on Tumblr)

@mychemicalraymance on Tumblr

Artists who were nominated, not listed above:

@cordspaghetti on Tumblr

@puppyboypatrick on Tumblr

@fob4ever on Tumblr

@fadeyouout on Tumblr

@angelsarrm on Tumblr

@/lux_luh on Instagram

@lastmidtownshowmp3 on Tumblr

@/marcoaveryroseart on Instagram

@p4nsy on Tumblr

@/broadchuvch on Twitter

@/the__ria on Instagram

@chemevan on Tumblr

@tangible-fortitude on Tumblr

@wuntrum on Tumblr

@pilotduty on Tumblr

@andpierres on Tumblr

[smilesession]

I don’t want to reblog or repost it to mock it because i know OP’s heart was in the right place but i just saw a post about how to overcome executive dysfunction, basically the point being how to practice discipline and gain mental fortitude and that it’s possible for anyone. nice! but it contained a list of suggested activities that included video games three times, suggested listening to “long form audio content such as podcasts and audiobooks”, and suspiciously entirely omitted things like…reading a book, setting small goals for chores and housekeeping, and anything else that’s actually tangibly beneficial to the stated goal. the post suggested playing picrews and dress up games

i don’t know if im just being callous and out of touch and there’s some demographic of poor souls out there who are both 1. literate, self-critical, and engaging with long form tumblr posts 2. too helpless to the vortex of their own mind to play picrews or video games or listen to audiobooks without being prompted. As someone who has been utterly helpless to the vortex of my own mind, I had “EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION” so badly in my youth that I spent entire days not even getting out of bed to drink water, I have to constantly beat the executive dysfunction away with a broom like it’s a bat flying around my house. And the only things that meaningfully chip away at this involve facing it head-on. You can’t cheat your way out of it. You just have to start reading longform books and cleaning your house and exercising. The only way out is through

[jerrymessing]

I often find myself wondering how one finds their voice about how hard a time they are having when times are so tumultuous for so many and in far worse ways. I have to make myself remember, it's not about having it worse or better... our respective perceptions in how we experience our circumstances are all unique, even if the situation itself is not. In sharing these experiences, we can hope to find people who can sympathize (if not empathize) with us and hopefully lessen our collective emotional burdens. While having strong emotional support is integral to every person's well-being, it does not change the truth that at some age as adults, we must become our own foundations. A rising tide lifts all ships, as is often said, but I feel it can be expound upon further. I feel the rising tide is collective perception and awareness, for we are our individual vessels. This is a long way to say I'm going to take my own advice and share what I have been experiencing...

My father and I have been getting through each month as benefactors of a tremendous amount of goodwill from others. The most tangible form of this has been from our new neighbor. The three of us have all been having our own respective times of things, but it hasn't stopped us from helping each other when we are able. However, now, an uncertainty has cropped up. Whether it will come to pass or not, I would be unable to say definitively. This uncertainty is in my father's social security and my federal disability. For those not in the US reading this, the short is; with the amount of government layoffs that have been happening, as soon as next month, SSA checks may be delayed, or possibly be unable to be sent altogether. The uncertainty of this is eating away at me severely, and I find myself paralyzed from fear. Questioning many things about my own mental, physical, spritual, and physiological fortitude for the upcoming month(s) until the issue is finally put to rest in one way or another. I find myself unable to even make a plan in this current situation, and that scares me. Because even if my plans may ultimately fail, I am still able to make them. Instead, I find myself in a type of psychologic doldrum, waiting for any sort of current or wind to take me anywhere else... anywhere else. At this point, I'm certain a number of people have taken note that over all the posts I have made over social media, I've never really mentioned politics, and that won't be changing. My media are a means to socialize with friends, family, and fans. They are not a platform for pushing ideologies on world shaping matters. While I don't shy away from these topics, I know there is a time and place for them, and I don't want these to be them. This is the closest I've ever come to broaching this subject, and I only do so now because I'd not be able to convey my current distress without doing so. I certainly hope I'll not have to walk such a fine line in a post again. Nonetheless, thank you for taking the time to read my brain salad, and one more thing...

I hope those who read this will feel inspired to share as well, no matter if it's positive or negative. Remember, you may be your own vessel. But the tears of joy and sorrow, laughter and grief, celebration and mourning... these are what raise the tide to lift us all! Be kind to yourself, be respectful of others, and be firm in your boundaries. Things may not always go as we hope and rarely as we expect; but at the end of the day, through a vast universe of seemingly endless possibility and happen-chance, we are still here.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Okay I promise this is the last thing about this for now (bli neder 🧿) but something I haven't seen cross my dash yet is how sometimes "bearing witness" can cross a line from refusing to look away into a kind of self-harm. I think that for a lot of folks who are physically safe for the most part and have so far escaped the situation personally (mostly) unscathed, there's an intense survivor's guilt embedded in our collective mourning. There's also this desperate sense of helplessness that comes from wanting to do something significant and having to simply watch from the sidelines peeking between your fingers and praying with every breath that the people in the field do the right things and that Hashem protects them.

Put together, that survivor's guilt, that helplessness, that desperate unfulfilled desire to help - often devolves into "bearing witness" to atrocities in a way that is on balance maybe helpful, maybe not, but for certain hurts and takes a giant toll. It can be traumatizing, it can literally change your neural pathways if repeated frequently, and ultimately it can act as a kind of self-harm.

And so I think my advice to people like me who are struggling with this (let's see if I can take my own advice, ha) would be to seriously consider who this knowledge actually helps. If there is not a concrete goal that can be tangibly achieved by it, and even if there is, if the expected benefit to the community is significantly outweighed by the harm done to yourself, honestly?

Skip it. Disengage. Look away. Save your sanity and guard your heart for when it really counts — and make no mistake, that day will come and you will want to face it with all the mental fortitude and resilience you can muster.

[dubiousanon]

Pookie wheres the update???

🤔

(Loving ur headcanos btw- ❤️)

Sorry babe here's a sneak peek of the Chapter 15, which does exist and is almost done, final project season is just eating my ass A World Without You: Chapter 15 (sneakle peekle):

Naruto has always had very few scars.

Marks aren't left easily on his skin. Growing up, it's one of the few benefits having Kurama sealed in him gave. He never got sick, the physical attacks thrown at him never left anything lasting, and his energy levels made him capable of running as far and as hard as he needed to in order to get away. Having the fox in him got him shunned, but it gave him the fortitude he needed to survive.

Almost every injury he's ever gotten has faded. Even the deep ones seem to sink away over time, melting away into the tan of his skin. Usually, Naruto sees that as a blessing. It's easier to leave hard times behind when there's no tangible reminder forever marring your skin.

Now, though... it's not that Naruto is pouting. He's really not! He's just also... not not pouting, that's all.

It isn't the biggest deal in the world. He's not trying to be dramatic or anything, because this is truly as first world as any one person's problem can get. He just can't help but frown at his own reflection when he sees it, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he traced his eyes up and down the mirror image of his own skin.

His missing arm isn't something that'll ever be truly fixed, but it hardly bothers him anyway. It had been a small price to pay ultimately, and Naruto was satisfied having paid it. That's not the problem. The problem is--

It's his neck. Or more specifically, the growing lack of marks on it. 

The only one left is the deep bite Kashi had given him, teeth sinking in far enough to draw blood. At the time, Naruto had been fairly confident it would stick around so long as Kurama didn't consciously focus his chakra around it like he did for most of Naruto's injuries. And like, it had, for a time. Just not long enough.

Naruto had wanted it to be permanent! Not because he's weird, but because... uh. Because! Like, Kashi had given it to him specifically. He could've chosen to bite anyone, but he chose to bite Naruto. It was the first one, and that felt important. Binding. When Kakashi had bitten him, it had felt like a promise.

Only now that promise is fading away and Naruto doesn't like it. He gets that what they have goes beyond the need for physical proof, but that doesn't mean Naruto hadn't enjoyed seeing it anyway. Feeling the ache anytime he turned his head, running his fingers over the slightly raised skin, catching Kakashi staring, like he wanted to do it again.

He hadn't yet, of course. Naruto's got no idea why. They both love each other and like Kurama said, Kashi totally want to bang. Pretty badly, apparently. But... why hadn't he? Was he feeling shy or something? Because he'd already bit Naruto once-- the least he could do was do it again.

"This blows." Naruto's cheeks puffed out. The bite mark was nothing more than a slight discoloration now. "How do I get it to stay? Kurama, you said it would stick around!" 

Behind him, Kakashi didn't seem to notice Naruto's intense scrutinizing of himself, nor did he react to his outburst. He was too busy humming to himself, cheerfully toweling the dampness from Naruto's hair. The gentle motion felt good enough that Naruto almost forgot why he was even upset to begin with. Almost, but not quite.

"I said that with the full expectation that he'd be biting you again, in the same spot, multiple times. Like the fucking fiend he is." Kurama sounded utterly disgusted at the mere thought. "Honestly, his restraint is surprising. I expected him to get a taste and immediately be unable to help himself. I'm kind of impressed."

"I'm not." Naruto whined. "Is it really so much to ask for? He already said yes to the dining room table!" 

[le-velo-pour-dru]

happy valentines day!!!!!! have a ring pop <33

[Image ID: An image of a Ring Pop with a green candy jewel and a pink ring. /end ID]

Awwwwwwwwww thank you so much Javier hehehe!! 😁💖 I will cherish this <3

Happy Valentine's Day, I hope you've been having a great day :) 🫶💖

[stabby-pal]

I’ve gotten so tired of the “Shadow the hedgehog is 50 years old 🤪” jokes because people use it as an excuse to draw porn of him, so I’m swinging violently in the opposite direction and saying there’s more evidence pointing to him being the youngest member of the cast then there is evidence that he’s an adult.

1: to get this out of the way, he was in STASIS for 50 years, so he did not age physically or mentally in that time.

2: in his Sonic Generations dlc we see that when shadow met Maria they both appear to be the same age, this implies that when shadow was “born” he had both his current mental age and his “teenager” type body.

3: Maria does not (at least visually) age between her first meeting with Shadow and when she dies on the Arc.

So with this information in mind Shadows actual age is based solely on how many years he had with Maria, which all things considered could be less than 1. There is a real tangible chance that the reason that he’s so unstable in SA2 isn’t just because he’s still mourning the loss of his best friend/sister but because she’s all he ever knew, he know her since the day he was born fully conscious, then she’s just gone. On top of that his entire world changed, if I lived in an environment with a complete lack of ambient noise and basically nothing but sterile empty halls and was suddenly on a planet with constant noise and bugs and weird smells I’d consider destroying everything, and that’s without the factor of still being in mourning.

Shadow may have the physique and mental fortitude of a 15-16 year old but clearly would not have any experience up to that point. This also explains why in the Shadow the Hedgehog game he’s so easily manipulated and influenced after losing his memory, he’s been set back to square one, he’s basically an infant.

Now this may have spawned as a “fuck you” to people sexualizing a fictional child but this explains so many quirks about him that I’m surprised that I haven’t seen more people talk about this or play into it in fan works, Shadow is basically a toddler in the body of a 9th grader given the power of a god, sure he’s smart enough to make decisions for himself but it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s huge gaps in his knowledge still even after living on earth for as long as he has.

In conclusion, let Shadow be a kid and stop making excuses to be creepy about him.

[bestworstcase]

Something I can't help but think of is the Great War in RWBY. How Ozpin in one of his past selves had to basically wipe out entire armies of soldiers and people with a single attack from what was likely the Sword of Destruction.

I have to wonder just how many generations of men and women were wiped out. How many settlements of people basically lost their breadwinners or no longer had anyone to protect them from Grimm.

How many years of battle experience and wisdom about the follies of war, just annihilated in an instant. How many lessons that could have been taught to a new generation made lost forever, ensuring that many of the newer generations could not learn from the past except only through a distorted, flawed lens.

I wonder if this loss might have contributed to Atlas' lackluster military capabilities, because anyone from Mantle who could have held the jackasses at the top to account with hardened experience and wisdom JUST. WEREN'T. THERE.

anon i am grabbing u gently by the shoulders

you have fallen for ozma’s propaganda that he is the Main Character of history. and also activated one of my many trap cards (sorry)

the institution of huntsmen is – overtly, albeit not couched in exactly these terms – predicated on the Great Man, the idea that the course of human history is predominately a product of the decisive choices and actions of Heroes, of individuals whose superior intellect and fortitude and so forth elevated them above the common people. this is the fundamental idea undergirding ozpin’s whole thing – his guardians, the maidens, silver-eyed warriors, his “smaller, more honest soul,” the greatness he promises oscar, the way he describes ruby as possessing “something unquantifiable: a spark, that can inspire others even in the darkest of times” – these are his Great Men. the practical short term purpose of the huntsmen academies is to mold children into warriors in order to guard his fortresses, but in the longer term the point of them is to create Great Men.

narratively, this is an idea that rwby does not agree with; the thematic critique leveled against this view of history begins with the inherent contradiction between ozpin’s soaring rhetoric – the stated ideal of everyone standing together as one – and his actual behavior, which (as salem points out, correctly, in her v3 soliloquy) betrays the hollowness and lack of conviction in his professed “faith” in humanity. to believe in Great Men is fundamentally cynical; it is anti-humanistic; it is self-defeating.

we don’t really have time to outline everything in the CFVY novels that leads me to believe that this narrative critique is building inexorably toward bringing the common people into sharp focus as the true engine of history in vacuo – suffice it to say that there are passages in both books which elevate and emphasize the importance of ordinary people working together to achieve greater things than huntsmen can – but the atlas arc already offers a tangible shift in this direction with civilian politics dawning as a central narrative concern in contrast to the insularity of the beacon and mistral arcs.

the point being that the story structure itself is dismantling ozpin’s view of history; civilians are distant, abstracted set dressing within the hermetically sealed artificial reality of beacon academy, and irrelevant in mistral until the instant the lost fable shatters ozpin’s grip on the narrative and then – bam. brunswick farm is a horror-tragedy about subsistence farmers. the kids stay with the cotta-arcs in argus, and it is this connection with ordinary people that gets the kids to atlas, where class tensions between mantle and atlas and a contested council election dominate the plot and ozpin’s Great Man crumbles because he’s still hermetically sealed inside that artificial reality where the common people don’t really matter or exist in any meaningful way.

you see?

(and of course, professor oobleck, the exception who proves the rule: there is no one still living in the hollowed out ruins of mountain glenn, but that mini-arc is the one time in the beacon arc where the existence of ordinary people feels real and tangible and important, and it is because the history teacher says when i look at these ruins i see lives that were lost. i see a failure that must never be repeated. i see lives, past and future, and this is why i am a teacher, because history is more important than heroism.)

ok. so

the great war.

in qrow’s account of the great war, ozma – the king of vale – is the Great Man. the story of this sprawling, worldwide conflict is that the king of vale tried and failed to avert it, and for ten years the war raged on without an end in sight, until at last the king of vale took to the field of battle himself and single-handedly ended it by the sword; everyone bowed to him in surrender, but he lifted up the world by the hand and established a new world order.

no one else – not a single other participant in this conflict aside from the king of vale and (qrow hints ominously, and completely without evidence) salem – has a drop of agency or even a meaningful presence in the great war as qrow, received from ozpin, would tell it. and i do not think that is supposed to be taken at face value whatsoever; none of the other WOR spots are objective. these are character studies as much as they are worldbuilding shorts.

rwby is a narrative that has rejected this kind of simplicity over and over and over again. the great war was more complicated than that. some big chickens will be coming home to roost in the vacuo arc.

so with all that being said.

the historical exemplar that rwby’s great war seems to be modeled after is the first world war. (in brief: fought 80-90 years ago; the conflict was preceded by decades of increasing tensions driven by imperialist expansion and economic competition between rapidly-industrializing great powers; the war itself famously exploded from a single gunshot – although rwby eschews the political assassination angle perhaps because there were only three extant states in the world; the ending of the war resulted in massive redistribution of imperial territories and the formation of multiple new states. i know the usamerican tendency is to forget WWI happened and that ozma ‘nuking’ the battlefield with the sword to decisively end the war is likely to evoke the atomic bomb in the mind of the average viewer, but here i will remind everyone that the united states massacred nearly a quarter of a million civilians and that figure does not include deaths from cancer or long-term radiation exposure. because we dropped those bombs on cities. in contrast WWI was decided on the battlefield with the hundred days offensive.)

the real great war lasted from the summer of 1914 to the autumn of 1918. four years, three months. do you know how many people died?

an estimated 9 to 11 million military deaths, and 23 million more wounded. 7-8 million of those deaths were combat-related. upwards of 6 million civilians died. one of the deadliest conflicts in history, and aside from WWII (in which as many as two thirds of fatalities were civilians and genocide and war-related famine killed millions and millions of people, so many of these deaths were not combat-related), the only two conflicts in history that killed more people than WWI lasted 14 years, and 47. again, WWI lasted just four years.

ok. the reason WWI was so deadly, and the reason almost all of those military fatalities were combat-related is because of when and how this conflict was fought. in 1914 when the war began, the world was just coming out of the second industrial revolution. that was a period when railroads really began to proliferate, mass-manufacture of steel became possible, rise of production lines, automobiles, the telegraph, that kind of thing.

cannons, and things, had existed for a relatively long time at this point, but the second industrial revolution heralded the dawn of modern artillery weapons, and warfare, cultural conceptions of how wars are fought, had not caught up yet to the sheer scale of destruction that were now possible because of this new technology. which meant that WWI was the last conflict where war meant lining up troops on the battlefield and smashing the armies together, except everyone had things like rapid-firing heavy artillery, and explosive shells, and machine guns, and barbed wire, and chlorine gas.

this is what led to horrible, bloody stalemate of trench warfare and the unprecedented scale of casualties and the idea of “no man’s land” – it’s why the cultural image of what a battlefield looks like in the popular conscious for decades and decades after this war has been and often still is just a barren, muddy, completely obliterated wasteland strewn with debris. WWI was the transition between pre-industrial and modern warfare where industrialization had led to the development of military technology that rendered the old way of doing war obsolete. suicidal.

in the WOR spot, those are exactly the the conditions surrounding the great war except more lopsided because one side has a massive technological advantage. vacuo wasn’t even a state, it had no formal government of its own and it was under mistrali occupation when the vacuans rebelled. not an industrialized nation. vale was had probably industrialized to some degree (the artwork in the WOR spot doesn’t reflect this, but “no one knows who shot first” and vale/vacuan forces were reliant on dust munitions – everyone had guns) but mantle was significantly ahead of the curve.

so.

you have ten years of trench warfare – more than double the length of our own great war. you have the grimm, who are drawn to all negative feelings but especially to violence. you have huge swaths of territory that are just annihilated and never reclaimed. qrow mentions food rationing, so there were probably widespread famines caused by the loss and destruction of farmland. and this was happening all over the world, on every continent, including the unnamed continent that is now literally uninhabited – it wasn’t always, there used to be settlements there, they’re shown in i think WOR: vale – for a decade. right

ozma brought the sword of destruction onto the battlefield to break what was either a brutal stalemate or a slow grind of brutal attrition depending how lopsided the technological advantage was – after ten years of what had to be every military commander and every leader trying everything they could think of to force a surrender because nobody wants this – in the single bloodiest battle of the war, which, yes, means he personally killed an unfathomable number of people because trench warfare is a uniquely deadly form of warfare –

but the vast, vast vast majority of people who died in the great war were not killed in that one battle. remnant’s population is a lot smaller than ours – millions, not billions – so it’s unlikely that millions of people died. but proportionally this war probably killed hundreds of thousands of people and i would not be surprised if at some point a character drops a figure like “almost a million” or even “over a million” – like just. in raw terms, thinking about this as remnant’s great war – the historical exemplar is really not. subtle – that lasted for a decade, this is a conflict that wiped out a significant percentage of the global population.

all that said,

the military tacticians and strategists largely would have survived and military historians would have been all over this conflict. lessons learned. the infantry poured into the trenches were not gaining any battle experience other than “this is actual, literal hell” while they endured hours of artillery barrage. the only wisdom that can be imparted by trench warfare is that it must be avoided at any cost because the only way to win is for the other side to run out of men or ammunition or popular resolve first. pure attrition. that’s the only takeaway. never let this happen again.

i think this is why the atlas military immediately pivoted to, like, robotic soldiers and armored mechs and the warships. that is “we cannot do trench warfare again. we cannot do trench warfare again.”

(in combination with radically changing the way you deploy troops, tanks and aircraft is indeed how you never do trench warfare again – there were tanks and light aircraft during WWI but none of them were good enough to break the stalemate.)

the problem, largely, for the atlas military – in terms of tactical innovation – is that in the eighty years since the great war, there’s only been one large-scale conflict and the faunus revolution was an insurgency, which – had to have been a protracted war waged by some phenomenally tactically ingenious faunus because the insurgents won – and that is a completely different kind of ballgame.

strategic doctrine and military tactics are developed and tested through practice. we did not jump from WWI straight to modern warfare, there have been many many regional wars and smaller conflicts between then and now. after a war, win or lose, you can theorize all you want but until there’s another war that puts your new technology or new tactics to the test, there’s not really a way to know if you’ve learned the right lessons and corrected successfully from whatever errors you made in the previous war.

in a world like remnant, where there are only five states in the entire world and there is so much pressure against open warfare, military innovation is going to be really slow. glacial even. stagnant. the horrifying scale of the great war is not something anyone wanted to ever repeat, and you can see that in the development of atlas’ military technology since then. but, as we can see when salem begins her assault on atlas:

the doctrine has not changed significantly. we have unmanned robotic light infantry arrayed in formation support the atlesian equivalent of tanks, with heavy artillery mounted on the warships in formation above. and, in the back, trenches for the human shock infantry and huntsmen. this is still very much warfare in the pre-industrial mode.

the calculation that the atlas military made here is quite clear – pursue aerial superiority to control the skies so you can eliminate ground-based enemy artillery, mass-manufacture lightweight disposable robotic infantry to feed into the meat grinder, deploy soldiers in heavily-armored mechs supported by those disposable infantry bots into the no man’s land to lead the advance and clear a path for the human rear infantry (<- those mechs would be excellent for cutting rapidly through barbed wire, a major advantage over tanks in another WWI-style conflict).

this is a military that reacted to trench warfare by investing in armored ground vehicles and heavy aircraft (✅ tanks and bombers), and by substituting disposable drones for human shock infantry instead of the shift toward evasive maneuvering and detection avoidance that undergirds modern warfare. which is not unreasonable! if in 1918 it had seemed remotely possible to anyone to replace human troops with little war machines, people would have tried! and in a world where a) the technology to do that proves viable and b) the great war is followed by an 80-year period in which the only major conflict is an insurgency, it’s inevitable that the doctrine stagnates there because it’s untested.

no matter how many drills and VR scenarios and war games you do, you can’t know how this new approach works in a real war until you fight another war. the iterative process of improvement is stalled.

and the terrifying thing about salem is she knows what the fuck she’s doing. it is clear that one of the lessons ozpin took away from the great war is that the general public cannot be entrusted to know that war is on the horizon – he’s furious with ironwood for bringing warships to vale because (aside from risking a bona fide diplomatic incident that could inflame tensions between vale and atlas should the vale council take issue with the uninvited presence of a foreign state’s air force in their kingdom!) he’s concerned that it will make people tense.

you know, like how people were tense when mistral occupied eastern vale and ozma tried to avert war by appeasement, and then there was a deadly riot that exploded into a decade of trench warfare. like how things were probably pretty goddamned tense before the faunus revolution broke out in response to humans being – as oobleck very delicately put it – “quite, quite adamant about centralizing the faunus population in menagerie.”

(that’s code for, at best, systematic persecution intended to make living outside menagerie so untenable that faunus would leave en masse; mass deportations and genocide at worst. in case that isn’t clear.)

i doubt ozma was remotely as obsessed with absolute secrecy such that the common people don’t even know there’s anything unusual happening prior to the great war and the faunus revolution. ozpin is a trauma reaction to those conflicts, deeply and profoundly shaped by them and terrified to the point of irrationality of allowing the “energy” that preceded the outbreak of those wars to happen again.

salem hits beacon with three separate and extremely public terroristic attacks all on the same night – she planned for four, but one fired early – all of which were broadcast internationally, live. she spent eighty years observing how oz reacted to the great war and then struck at him in a manner he would never be able to conceal, and (if he’d survived) would have gotten him stripped of power and cast out of his fortress in disgrace. i think her calculation here is that ozpin would either be dead for at least a few years or self-immolate out of panic.

haven, of course, she had lionheart in her pocket and planned a covert operation. low risk, quick and quiet.

but then, when her plans shuffled and brought her to atlas – a military power that has spent eighty years preparing for war between industrialized states, trying to claw its way ahead of the curve so it won’t be trapped in a trench stalemate again – salem made an inexhaustible force of grimm and delivered a an old-school siege, because a post-industrial military that has focused for eight decades on the problem of avoiding trench stalemate is not prepared to handle an enemy force that is effectively immune to artillery fire.

i think the atlas military would have done a lot better in a round two of the great war. but that’s not the war it got. it got a premodern siege by the eldritch roman legion with instant and infinite respawns so artillery barrages just don’t matter. it’s not about overpowering the enemy! it’s about taking away what power they have!

(this, plus the atlesian military’s development of devices that provoke massive grimm swarms as per arrowfell, makes it emphatically clear that the atlas military does not exist for the purpose of grimm extirpation. it’s an institution that has been built from the ground up for open warfare with other states.)

[mushiemellows]

For the new prompt list, may I request Smoker/Tashigi + 70?

"Not our brightest idea."

(Warning for Suggestive, but not fully NSFW)

Requests still open for this prompt list, I'll write most ships!

Tashigi, for the first time in her life, saw the world clearly. She stared at her superior officer with awe, confusion, and a lot of embarrassment. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, one after another, slender hands careful on each closure. 

“How the fuck do you— Christ, what the hell is this? It’s six inches in front of my fucking face and I can’t even…” Smoker grumbled as he worked, squinting hard. 

“Put the glasses on. They actually help, you know,” she pointed to the pair on his forehead. Then, she turned to her own situation and zipped his jacket up to the collar. Once the ice of Punk Hazard had been kept at bay, she turned back to help him put her spectacles on. 

He stared at the half-inch thick lenses with tangible shock. “Fuck me, you’re actually blind, aren’t you?!” 

“You think I wear them for the aesthetics? They’re my glasses, Smoker! And can you not do that with my shirt?”

“What? You’re too uptight, a man’s gotta breathe.” 

He dropped the glasses onto his nose, relief tangible once he could see the remaining few buttons. Tashigi watched as her boss, swapped into her body through the Warlord Law’s ridiculous power, peeled her shirt wide open. He breathed deep, bust rising and falling. Air crystalized in the snow. Next, he leaned forward toward her, similarly trapped inside of him, and plucked a cigar from his original jacket’s holster. 

“Don’t damage my lungs with that crap!” She chided. 

“You can have one too, if you want. You’re the one with the physical nicotine addition, now. But the oral fixation sticks with me.”

“I-I-I can’t believe you! Do you not know any decency?!” Her eyes locked to her own chest. From this angle, at this new height, they looked…different. Perhaps it was the cold. 

“Your back fuckin’ hurts, you know that?” Smoker tried to stretch as he got his cigar started. He wrapped her lips around the base, puffing gently. Unmarred lungs coughed. 

Tashigi studied her own face in total clarity, now. She surely wasn’t ever one to completely hide herself, but the way her superior officer inhabited her body changed every single one of her mannerisms. Her original shoulders were set firm, her jaw raised with confidence, her brow carved in challenge and her breasts…were definitely bigger, right? She usually kept them in a tighter sports bra, one that accommodated fighting and actual military work. Her furious blush never faded over his cheeks. 

“Oh, Christ, don’t do that in my body. You’re making me look all soft, Tash. C’mon!” 

“I-I can’t help it! It’s embarrassing!” 

“It ain’t anything we haven’t both seen! You’re really telling me there’s nothing you wanna do in my body while you got the chance?” He quirked her brow. 

The swordswoman stammered at the prompting, “n-no! I just want to get back in my own body as soon as possible!” She reached forward to try and button the tropical shirt back up. Her hands, however, accidentally turned to vapor and phased around her own body. “Oh, how the heck do you control this?!” 

“From the balls.” 

“From the—WHAT?!”

“You heard me! You’re blind, not deaf, ain’t’cha? The smoke comes from the chest, but you control it with your balls! Calm your breathing, feel it really fill your lungs, taste it on your tongue, and then use the muscles near your balls to give it form,” Smoker gestured like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“M-m-my…” Tashigi paled, then turned her back to her body. She used all her mental fortitude to solidify her whispy hands back into corporeal form. They flew to her military-issue waistband, unbuckling his belt and revealing what rested inside. “OH!” 

“So I’m gonna ask you again, officer,” he slid up behind her, bare bust to her jacket, “is there anything you want to try while you’re having a turn inside my body? Because I can think of a thing or two I’d like to do just once to say I’ve done it.” 

Her body’s betraying hands met at the waist, keeping her from closing the belt. “We-we can’t! Not here. Someone could-could see!” She flushed even further, permanently crimson and coy in a way that rounded his standardly-hard jawbone. “It’s inappropriate for a-a-a—” 

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time, Tash. And I know you won’t last that long. Not your first time, at least,” he laughed. The woman’s original form slunk around so that Tashigi couldn’t hide her embarrassment. “Don’t look right like that,” her boss growled around his cigar in her lips, moving to unzip his usually open jacket. 

“It’s cold, how are you not…” she tried to protest, though she lost herself in the odd hypnotism of watching herself remove the coat. 

“Breathe. Feel it in your chest,” he pointed to his own pectorals, “and your balls.” His hand—her hand controlled by him—slid down dense abdominals to the cut of his hip bone. “You’re not cold, I know you’re not.” 

Tashigi shivered. “B-but I’m…”

Smoker stood up on tip toes, fingertips on her hip rising again to wrap around the back of his original neck. His other hand pushed the glasses up off his nose, then removed his cigar with final exhale. “You’re overthinking it, Tash. Tryn’a control smoke with your bare hands. Not how it works. Just let it dissipate. Rise with it, let it go where it wants to go.” 

She breathed deep, letting the smell of fresh snow and tobacco fill aching lungs. Physical addiction begged at her lips, no matter how bad the relief would be for her. The sight of her own face, her own lips, her own bust closing in filled her with a strange sensation. Something tightened in her—his—chest, shifted in the balls. Smoke filled the air, making the atmosphere thick and unbreathable. 

“Relax,” Smoker looked up at her with big, round eyes. 

“Mmhmm,” she nodded softly. The hand on the back of her neck urged her forward. She relented and put all her weight into leaning down. 

Right as their lips were about to touch, she realized just what the heck she was doing. Panic, nerves, and a lot of hesitation filled her. Tightness in her chest snapped, the control in her balls released. Tashigi's upper half vaporized, but the momentum of the lean had already carried her too far. She phased around the other body in a puff of smoke. 

Smoker similarly fell when his support partially dematerialized. He tripped on the remnant physicality of his own military-issue boots and sprawled across the icy ground. The glasses fell from his forehead and slid over the frictionless surface. “Ow! What the hell?” He barked. 

They both froze in the snow, staring at each other. It took a second to process what they’d just attempted before the two burst into laughter. “Okay, okay,” Tashigi stood up first, focusing as she offered a solid hand to her own body. “That wasn’t our brightest idea.”

“You can say that again,” her superior officer rolled his eyes, dusting himself off and fixing the way her shirt draped over his breasts. 

She walked over to where her glasses had landed and passed them back to him. “Let’s just try and get this sorted out first, yes?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Ay, Tash?” Smoker peered at her as he affixed the thick spectacles.

“Hm?” 

“It’s fucking cold.”

“YOU WOULDN’T BE SO COLD IF YOU PUT YOUR-MY-Y-YOUR SHIRT ON!”

[beatmyfeet]

Educate yourself on the sacrifices women make every day.

In a world where the contributions and challenges of women are often overlooked or undervalued, it is crucial to actively seek out and understand the realities that women face. Women navigate a complex landscape of responsibilities, expectations, and societal pressures that often go unrecognized. By taking the time to educate yourself about these sacrifices, you not only broaden your perspective but also gain a deeper appreciation for the strength, resilience, and perseverance that define the female experience.

Women frequently balance multiple roles—caregivers, professionals, partners, and more—each demanding its own set of sacrifices. Whether it's the emotional labor of supporting a family, the professional challenges of breaking through glass ceilings, or the societal pressures to conform to certain ideals, women endure countless struggles that require immense fortitude. These sacrifices are often made quietly, without recognition or reward, yet they are the foundation upon which families, communities, and societies are built.

By educating yourself about these realities, you begin to see the full scope of what women contribute to the world. You learn to recognize the invisible work that goes into maintaining the balance in homes, workplaces, and communities. This understanding fosters empathy and respect, allowing you to see women not just as individuals, but as pillars of strength and endurance who continuously give of themselves for the greater good.

Respecting and serving women is a way to acknowledge these sacrifices and to show that you truly understand and appreciate the complexities of their lives. It’s not enough to merely be aware of the challenges women face; your actions should reflect this awareness. When you serve women with respect, you demonstrate that you value their contributions and that you are committed to supporting them in tangible ways. This could mean offering your time, resources, or simply being a consistent source of support and encouragement.

Service and respect are powerful tools in creating a more equitable and supportive environment for women. By actively choosing to uplift and assist women, you help to alleviate some of the burdens they carry. You become an ally in their journey, showing through your actions that you stand with them in their struggles and celebrate with them in their triumphs. This solidarity is not only beneficial to the women you serve, but it also enriches your own life by deepening your understanding of the human experience and strengthening the bonds of community.

Furthermore, when you educate yourself on the sacrifices women make and act with respect and service, you contribute to a cultural shift. You help to build a society that values and honors the contributions of women, recognizing that their struggles are not just personal, but communal. Your respect becomes a form of advocacy, challenging the norms that perpetuate inequality and working towards a future where the sacrifices of women are acknowledged and lessened.

In a world that often demands so much from women without giving enough in return, your respect and service are ways to give back. They are ways to show that you see and appreciate the daily efforts women make to keep the world turning. By educating yourself and then acting on that knowledge, you become part of a movement towards greater equity and justice, where the sacrifices women make are honored and their triumphs celebrated.

Ultimately, the journey of educating yourself about the sacrifices women make is one of growth and transformation. It pushes you to move beyond passive awareness to active engagement. It challenges you to rethink your own role in supporting the women around you and encourages you to be an advocate for change. By respecting and serving women, you show that you are not just a bystander, but an active participant in creating a world that truly values and uplifts the contributions of women.

[gojuo]

Showrunners claiming being "feminist" is the whole circus. They screwed every woman's characterization for high Rhaenyra up:

Book!Helaena was an political advisor who usually participated on Councils,don't shy away from disagreeing with Aegon and he actually listens her advises. She was incredibly loved by the smallfolk and was brave enough to claim Dreamfyre. On the show she did not even have a Coronation or her crown neither(another woman wearing a crown except Rhaenyra is a crime).

Book!Alicent was a witty,smart and incredibly charismatic woman dutiful at the old King Jaehaerys and her sons. She was so interesting: she was disrespected on so many ways for Viserys and had every right to be upset. No other woman in Westeros had to suffer having her first born son be desinherited and ignored by his father (except Ellia from the show and on the book Jon is just a bastard) Alicent,Helaena and Aegon could had been such incredible characters on the show

The Helaena treatment is ssoooooo beyond evil. I can't believe that this fandom is still bitching about the same old tired 3 talking points months after season 1 has finished but not a single peep about how misogynistic the writers have been towards Helaena.

Being beloved by the Smallfolk is not something that randomly happens. It has to be a deliberate move, because technically, Helaena is a public figure and near every public outing she makes has to be a thought-out decision to a certain extent. She can't just willy-nilly go out into the streets of King's Landing, mingling with the people and getting to know them and have an impact on them in such a way that they would love her so much to rise up in revolt in her name. In a way, the cultivation of her public image is reminiscent of Margaery, with one major difference: no deliberate manipulation at play. There is, after all, not a single indication anywhere in any canon that Helaena was a manipulative person in the way that Margaery was, no. What this was — what the Smallfolk adoring her was — was the tangible proof of Helaena's bravery to be out in the streets with the people of King's Landing, the fortitude of her to break down the invisible line between high-born royalty and low-born commoners, a testament to her graciousness and gentility and the affirmation of her adventurous heart. She was the first one of the Targtower siblings to claim a dragon, she showed her political acumen when she and her mother drafted the more than generous peace terms for Aegon to send to Rhaenyra, she had an incredibly complex relationship with her husband who she shares such a horrific trauma-bond with which is, to this day, still unparalleled by any other couple in this entire franchise, and she was a truly witty and humorous person ...

... and all of that characterization was thrown out of the window for the show. She is an extra to someone else's story in every. single. scene. she appears in. Her first scene as a child was to cement to the audience how "weird" and "unorthodox" she is. To show the audience that she is now on the autism-spectrum apparently. She is a dragon dreamer but all she does is utter some vague one-sentence prophecies no one can make any sense of, now always having to live psychologically in isolation because of this, which is the complete opposite of how life was for her in Fire and Blood. She speaks two or three sentences during the dinner scene, and it was to service the contrast between Jace and Aegon as people, it wasn't about her. We get a two-second shot at her children and she isn't even interacting with them. Do not even get me started on how the show completely erased how Helaena used to bring the kids to Viserys every single night to sit down together and hear him speak of tales of the past as he lay dying. These passages in the book weren't without reason, they were there to humanize all four of them — Helaena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor — and to garner sympathy from the reader. Blood and Cheese is one of the most disgusting things to have ever happened in all of the books, but the brutalization of all of these characters was that much more awful because we had actually spent some time together with them in the text, because we had gotten to see them be loved, because we had actually gotten to know them, even if only a little. And the show erased every single fucking thing concerning this point. Everything.

And if that wasn't enough, showrunners and writers then went on to make her an extra during her own coronation scene. That coronation was about Helaena just as much as it was about Aegon and they fucking took that from her! And for what? For what did they change her character this much? All to turn her into the fucking female lead of a fucking incestuous love triangle which is a fucking plotline straight ripped off from three fucking different characters in a different fucking part from canon. FUCKKKKK!!!!

Don't even get me started on Alicent. They gave her raw as fuck book character and motivations and narrative purpose to fucking Otto of all people in the show. She has become the abeyance of her own storyline! And instead of the fandom putting attention to this type of misogynistic writing Helaena and Alicent have been victim of by the writers, I'm having to suffer through the same played-out takes on how being an Aegon fan means being a rape apologist or how Alicent is an evil person because Helaena doesn't like to be touched. For fuck's sake GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!

[inquisimer]

happy friday!!! how's about " i’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife. " for your hawke/sebastian rivalmance 👀

happy dadwc! finally capped an ending on this piece that's been half-finished in my drafts for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 1094

-

She rarely comes to the Chantry of her own volition. The silence that blankets her skin as she steps inside is unsettling. It feels tangible, as if the very air itself knows that she is not called here by some task or request, but because she did not know where else to go.

One of the sisters catches her eye and raises an eyebrow; the silent, yet completely understood question: shall I fetch the Grand Cleric? Has something happened? Siobhan shakes her head and the sister leaves, sketching a simple bow. As foreign as confusion and uncertainty are to her, she supposes they are a familiar sight within these walls.

Hesitant steps lead her toward the pews that face Andraste’s statue. She has lived more years without praying than with, but it helps to look and feel as if her presence here has a purpose.

Did you question? She thinks desperately, staring up into the cold, stone eyes of the Maker’s bride. Did you doubt?

“Hawke?” She spins on her heel, sharp, and blinks twice before she recognizes Sebastian out of his armor. He looks softer in a brother’s robes and her heart stutters once with doubt, briefly thinking perhaps it would be a kindness to encourage him toward this path. But she cannot—there is no value in allying with a lowly Chantry brother. There is value beyond counting in holding sway over Starkhaven’s ruling prince, more so if she can bind his hand to her own.

“What are you doing here?” Her uncharacteristic silence has stretched long enough for Sebastian to draw near. His icy blue eyes, jagged yet kind, pin her as surely as a knife to her throat. “Did you need something? I can fetch the Grand—“

“No!” she says hastily. “It’s nothing, I just—“

She cuts off before she can invent a lie that she’ll have to keep straight later. Better to let him fill in the blanks of her silence, which he does with an efficiency that takes her breath away. He steps closer and she can smell the armor polish that lingers on his skin.

“You just?” he echoes lowly. “Just what?”

One of her most valuable skills is knowing when to bite her tongue. Despite what Carver would say, holding it has gotten her out of more situations than letting it run has gotten her in. She does so now, but her silence only heightens Sebastian’s curiosity.

“No one just comes to the Chantry, Hawke,” he says firmly. “The Maker guides us all within His purpose, whether you intended to follow or not.”

“I’ve been beyond the Maker’s notice for a long time now, Sebastian.”

He barks out a surprised laugh, drawing the ire of a few nearby Sisters. Raising one hand in apology, he gestures with a tilt of his head for Hawke to follow. They sit together on a bench in the corner.

“No one is beyond the Maker’s notice, Hawke,” he says firmly. “He has a plan for each of us and it does not matter if you feel His influence in your heart or not. It is there.”

Siobhan shrugs. She doesn’t particularly have the fortitude for this kind of theological debate right now. Her own faith ran dry years ago, but every now and then she wishes things were different. Wishes she was different. Wishes she could believe.

She reaches out and takes Sebastian’s hand in her own, tracing the lines of his palm, the callouses on his fingertips. She enjoys the slight widening of his eyes, the flare of his nostrils. Few people would be so forward with a member of the Chantry, she supposes, but she knows where the line is and she’s far from crossing it.

“And what if I said I just…came here looking for you? Would that be the Maker’s hand?”

A slight blush rises in his cheeks but he holds her gaze, affected but unperturbed. He’s used to her flirtations by now, though he rarely returns the affections. But today he flips his hand over and laces their fingers together. His eyes darken and triumph leaps in Siobhan’s chest as Brother Sebastian gives way to the once and future Prince of Starkhaven. He raises their joined hands to his lips and brushes a featherlight kiss across her knuckles.

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” he says, voice low and smooth like smoked honey. If he sang the Chant in that voice, many more of the faithful would flock to Kirkwall, she was sure.

“Well, then maybe there’s hope for me after all,” she teases, but her heart isn’t really in the jest and he can tell. He squeezes her hand lightly and lets it drop between them.

“Of course there is, Hawke. There’s hope for all of us. Yes, even you,” he adds when she scoffs. “You don’t have to believe in the Maker to be doing His work, Siobhan.”

“His work?” she challenges. “Is it also His exhaustion and His weariness and His regret that I’m carrying around? If so, tell me where to put them, so that He can collect His things.”

Sebastian holds out his palms and this time when she takes his hands the touch is chaste. “Put them here,” he says. “I will carry them, until you find what they are for.”

It is a genuine offer, she knows, but it twists sour in her gut. It is too much, to knowingly hand such weakness to someone who could hurt her with it. She shakes her head and Sebastian looks crestfallen for just a moment before covering it with a gentle smile.

“I can’t,” she says. “If it is His will, how would it look to turn away the burden?”

“He did not mean us to carry our sorrows alone.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because there are people like you, Hawke, carrying the weight for the rest of the city every day.” Sebastian ghosts his thumbs across her knuckles. “Surely if they trust you to do right, you could trust someone else with the same?”

Trust me with the same, he means. But Siobhan knows that you do not hand your strategy to the pawn you are sending into the fray, however pretty his smile. However bitter the logic. She pulls her hands away and stands, tucking them into her cloak instead.

“Another time, perhaps,” she offers, but they both know she doesn’t mean it.

“Another time,” Sebastian echoes toward her retreating back anyway, a troubled frown wrinkling his brow. “You know where to find me, Hawke.”