#that they point out how it's a fantasy world so it doesnt matter if it isnt realistic

[the-owl-tree]

its so annoying to me when ppl talk abt realism in warriors when ti comes to any kind of relationships with characters

real cats don't have the conception of having a mate for one that's a human concept that we projected onto some random animals don't get me started on how cats in wc care about whether or not they can have kits because that's also insanely unrealistic for an animal

i think we can even take it a step further and stop even pandering to the idea that "realism" even matters here. they should be allowed because lgbt+ people are real, not fantasy, and that's that. i think even the most stringent, strictly realistic rp should let people be trans.

[explodingchantry]

dai harbors such disdain for the elves it's honestly baffling. Both of your elven companions hold disdain for the dalish. neither of them ARE dalish. a dalish inquisitor barely gets a say in being forced to carry the title of herald of andraste and inquisitor. their clan can be wiped out in a war table mission with no consequences, no cutscenes, no dialogue, no nothing as a result. you can get one of the most beloved companion of the game defending slavery to you. you can get an elf to command orlais from the shadows but the game goes to great length to let you know that she is corrupt and untrustworthy, too, like the humans.

solas, who is FRAMED as being not just trustworthy, but extremely knowledgeable and wise, denies his connection to the elves. he believes himself better than the dalish who are foolish worshippers of the monsters who enslaved them millenias ago, and better than the city elves who let themselves (in his eyes) be persecuted by humans. if you romance him he takes away your vallaslin, one of the most culturally significant symbols of the dalish, because it actually used to be a marking forced upon them by their evil slaver gods. ther dalish are constantly, over and over, portrayed as foolish and misunderstanding their past and heritage, with very little opportunity to argue against that even as a dalish inquisitor.

Non dalish know more than you even when you are a dalish inquisitor. Morrigan, a HUMAN, teaches you, a dalish elf, about ancient elvhen magic and artifacts. Solas, who through the game is portrayed as a non-dalish elf, teaches you about ancient elvhen magic and artifacts whilst at the same time mocking the dalish who wish to retain their culture, heritage and knowledge

it is so meanspirited. the reveal that solas is fen'harel does very little to soften the blow, especially since it's hand in hands with the reveal that flemeth, a HUMAN, is mythal.

i know there's some interesting lore bits that ties ancient elves to humans, but that doesn't matter, okay? What matters is that the fucking writing is biased against elves. the writing could've raised these questions, offered these earth shattering discoveries, without being so mean spirited and biased against elves and especially the dalish.

imagine being a player who doesnt care to dig into the deeper lore, whose never played a dragon age game before. you would be left scoffing about how foolish the dalish are, obsessed with their past to the point they'll happily believe falsehoods and venerate evil slavers. you wouldn't care about any of the lore implications. and even if you did, it wouldn't remove the negative bias the game really shoves at you. it's literally baffling how no one in the writer's room was like "hm, maybe we should offer a proper dalish point of view to some of these things. maybe we should hold back on the fantasy racism just a teensy bit, considering our fantasy races and cultures are deeply tied to real ones in the real world with very obvious inspirations. it might be best to not portray one of our marginalised races and people as stupid idiots who got their entire heritage all wrong. maybe."

[dumbslxtclub]

I seriously love your writing. Can i request eddie kissing reader just outta nowhere ( hes really fucken smitten with her) and readers just fucken shocked and stunned and doesnt really kiss back because eddies with chrissy and reader is chrissys best friend. Eddie seriously forgot he was with chrissy and realises he fucked up.

let me put my lips to something | e.m

eddie munson x fem!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, reader is 19, anxiety, ANGSTY angst, fluff, no use of y/n, weed consumption, cheating (eddie kisses reader while with chrissy), cliffhanger (kinda) ending but it's definitely not happy

word count: 2.7K+

a/n: my first request eeeeee!!! thank you anon for this one, such a delish challenge to write and I loved every angsty second of it xxx

part one / part two

The slightly skunky haze of smoke from the crackling joint perched between your fingertips intermingles with the balmy Spring air, filling your lungs with the promise of warmer days to come. The first mild night the town of Hawkins has been granted, a desperately needed reprieve from dark nights arriving prematurely and wind-chill cold enough to ice your bones. 

A blanket is rolled out on the dewy grass behind Eddie’s van, the pair of you laying heavy on the polyester fabric as you succumb to intoxication, music lightly thrumming from the car’s stereo. Your secret lookout point, discovered years prior, overlooking the sleepy town twinkling sporadically as its inhabitants close the book on another day. The first daisies of the season spring up through the unkempt grass before you, dipping down into a steep slope of neglected land. Your own personal haven, shared with your best friend, the place you go when Eddie mutters through the corded phone “meet me at our spot”.

Eddie and you first grew close in sophomore year, sharing a mutual love for all things fantasy, having shared a slightly tense stand-off in the library over its tattered copy of The Hobbit. Eddie did not expect you to yield so easily, used to having to stand his ground when faced with any confrontation. But, with a warm smile, you suggested you didn’t need to re-read it just yet, passing it to his uncertain hands. With a simple gesture, you plucked the first of many bricks from his hard exterior, offering him kindness to which he wasn’t accustomed. He couldn’t believe that you, a beautiful girl, could see him as human, more than the reputation that preceded him. And thus, your friendship blossomed.

An unlikely duo, but you collected a rather eclectic group of friends. Cheerleaders, science nerds, outcasts, it didn’t matter to you. You sought out the best in people, looking beyond their stereotyped roles in the small-minded society, wanting to surround yourself with people who made you smile. Eddie loved that about you.

Matter of fact, he loved everything about you. He loved how your bedroom was unabashedly you, eclectic in every sense of the word. Posters of heavy metal bands lived in harmony with Broadway Playbills, crisp tennis shoes and graffitied sneakers sitting at the foot of your bed. It’s like you collected pieces of the people you loved, keepsakes of your time together and shared interests to show off to the world. 

He loved how unafraid you were to announce your friendship, calling his name out with a cheerful wave through the crowded hallways on the dreariest of mornings. It gave Eddie something to look forward to on his lowest days, where getting out of bed was a drag. The assurance of seeing your beaming smile enough to get him through the doorways of the school he loathed.

And he loved how you took an interest in him. Patiently listening as he explained the rules of DnD, inviting you to campaign nights to which you happily celebrated the group's victories without an inkling as to what was actually going on. Getting dragged to obscure concerts out of town, driven by the promise of getting to spend time with one of your best friends. How you got along with Wayne like a house on fire, helping him prepare all sorts of meals with plenty of leftovers to spare that he could take to his long overnight shifts.

Eddie had a lot of love to give. Which makes the complete misplacement of his feelings all the more tragic. 

They say sandbox love never dies, which is the case for you and Chrissy. The closest of friends since elementary school, her contagious positivity rubbed off on you in the best of ways. She supported you no matter what, and you did the same for her. And so, when she asked if you thought she should invite Eddie to the Homecoming dance last year, you ignored the pitfall in your stomach, shoving the harbinger of jealousy down and encouraging her to do so. You anticipated that it would be a one-off, the two having never spent much time together beyond exchanging pleasantries. But, as it turns out, they meshed together perfectly, like slotting pieces together from two separate puzzles.

In one fell swoop, you lost craved time with the two of your best friends as they elected to spend more time together, a relationship quickly blooming between them. If you and Eddie were an unlikely duo, Chrissy and Eddie were like chalk and cheese. 

And yet, somehow, it worked. 

From your perspective, anyway. 

Like all relationships, you’d hear about how they naturally clashed. Eddie had no interest in going to Chrissy’s basketball games, casting you in the role of mediator as you dragged him to watch his girlfriend perform. And you patiently coached Chrissy through the little knowledge you’d accumulated through the Dungeon Master, whispering in her ear while the two of you spectated another campaign. But at the end of the day, they both seemed happy enough. And that’s what mattered most to you, regardless of your mounting feelings for your metalhead friend. The sinew of your cheek felt the brunt of your anguish as you clenched tender flesh between your teeth while you’d watch Eddie whisper sweet nothings into Chrissy’s ear across the room. The edges of your nails finding solace digging into your soft palms as he slung his arm around hers at the cafeteria table, watching as she occupied the chair once reserved for you. Relishing in the delicious burn on your waterline as you squeezed your eyes shut, noticing Chrissy beelining towards you in the school hallway wearing one of Eddie’s bracelets. An unwilling masochist at the hands of your best friends, contorting your mouth into a smile to hide the civil unrest simmering beneath your skin.

Tonight, you’d been whisked away from pressing History homework at Eddie’s request, receiving a phone call from him that he just needed to clear his head for a bit. Deducing that something must have happened between him and Chrissy, you asked him to pick you up along the way. The drive was quiet, Eddie plastering a fake plastic smile you were acutely accustomed to donning yourself, electing to once again prioritize your friend’s needs above your own.

And now, just like old times, the pair of you lay parallel to each other, gazing up at the clear night’s sky. It’s been clear that Eddie is not in the mood to talk about what happened, so you steer clear of the subject. Instead, you exist in comfortable silence, passing the burning joint between you while your limbs cement themselves to the ground. Limitless sky existing in front of your hazy vision, the question slipped out from the deepest recesses of your slightly-stoned mind.

“Do you ever think about the universe?” As you pass Eddie the butt of the joint, you tilt your head towards him. He chuckles at your obscure question, placing the rolled paper between his plump lips.

“Oh god, you’re not about to dump today’s Physics class on me, are you?”

“Shut up, that’s not what I mean.”

His eyes flutter closed as he exhales a plume of smoke skyward, stubbing out the remaining embers onto an ashtray beside him.

“I mean, yeah, sometimes. Tried to count all the stars in the sky once, but fell asleep before I finished the job.”

A grin takes over your face, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to count, good for you.”

Eddie hisses, his hand flying to his heart to cover the metaphorical wound.

“Ouch, that was cruel, princess.” You’d never admit how the nickname made your heart flutter, breath slightly hitching at his words. “But tell me, Professor. What are your thoughts on the universe?”

Blurry eyes gaze up at the stars, twinking in the black sheet of night vast along the landscape. 

“It’s just weird to think about, like, how insignificant we are.”

“Bit pessimistic, are we?” Eddie quips.

“It’s not pessimistic! It’s freeing.”

“How so?”

Each breath feels labored, grounding yourself as you find the right words.

“I mean, there are billions of universes just like ours out there. And we’ll never know about them. In the grand scheme of things, we are just a blip on the timeline, you know? A hundred years from now, no one will remember our names. And we think everything is so important. Like, I saw Amy Dixon crying in the library the other day because she didn’t get a good grade on the Math final. Or I went to the grocery store last weekend and some cashier was getting screamed at because he overcharged a lady by two cents. Like, who fucking cares?”

“Right, so what’s your point?” Eddie’s tone is entirely curious, he loves digging into your mind, hearing your perspective on anything and everything.

“My point is, nothing matters. We literally don’t matter. We’re here, and then one day, we’re not. And I don’t mean that in a cynical way, I think it’s so freeing, you know? We can do whatever we want. Like, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, or how they try to squeeze me into whatever box they think I should fit into. Because at the end of my life, when I’m all old and gray and sitting alone in my bed, I want to be able to look back and go ‘Hey, I don’t regret a minute of that’. Like, there was nothing I wish I’d done but was too scared to. I just want to be proud of how I lived my life, you know?”

Your rambling ceases, silence filling the air between the pair of you. Eddie doesn’t reply, but you do feel him shuffling against the blanket. 

“Sorry, that was probably boring and a bit weird-”

Two fingers softly pinch your chin, edging your face in the direction of your friend. Lolling your head to the side, you struggle to decipher Eddie’s expression in the dusky night. You can make out his two big brown eyes boring into you, minutely darting around your face, drinking in your features. He shuffles closer to you, hand still planted on the crook of your jawline. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Every action languid, moving slowly, then all at once. Warm lips crash down on yours, sending shockwaves through your system. Melting at his touch, you relish the sensation of his soft lips intermingling with yours in the most sensual of embraces. The intensity of the moment caused you to cling onto him as the only stable thing in a dizzy world. A potent cocktail of chemicals flood your brain, far more intoxicating than any drug, leaving you aching for more. But you know you can’t. Or rather, you shouldn’t.

Pulling away, eyes wide as you study your best friend, who pinches his eyes together from the sudden loss of contact. 

“Eddie, why-” You begin, unable to string a coherent sentence together with the amount of blood erratically pumping through your veins.

“‘M sorry. I had to do that, just once.”

Tears prickle the corners of your dry eyes, burning your waterline as you fight them back as shock behind to set in. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like the weight of the world has just been lifted from his shoulders.

“What- what about Chrissy?”

“Who?” Surely he’s not serious.

“Chrissy? Your girlfriend...”

Eddie winces at the mention of her name, shrinking into himself.

“Fuck. I- uh…”

“What?”

“I sort of, like- forgot about her for a moment.”

You’re incredulous, failing to comprehend how someone forgets about their whole significant other.

“What do you mean you forgot?”

“It’s just- fuck.” Eddie runs his hands along his weary face, waging a mental war with himself. “It’s like, sometimes, when I’m around you, everything else drops away. Like we’re the only two people in the world.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you push down the boiling pot of emotions bubbling in your stomach.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do. I don’t know how, but you drown out all the noise. All the bullshit, the ideas people have of me, it- it all disappears around you-”

“Eddie, please stop-”

“-And I wish I had of told you that sooner, but then Chrissy happened- and I worry that, I don’t know, I’m in too deep now-”

“Listen, you’re just high, okay? We can forget about this-” Suddenly feeling entirely sobered by this exchange, you find the strength to prop yourself up on the blanket, wrapping your arms around yourself in order to self-soothe.

“-I’m not high. I’ll wake up and feel the same way tomorrow. Chrissy is fine but she’s- fuck, she’s not you. We’ll go to the cinema and see some stupid romantic comedy, and all I want is to look over and see you.” 

“Stop it.”

“Or I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and roll over and wish it was you asleep next to me.”

Bile builds in your throat at the mere thought of them occupying the same bed.

“Eddie, please-”

“And shit, I never should have said yes to her. I always knew I’d break her heart, it’s so fucked up.” Eddie’s word vomit continually spills out, you’ve never seen him so unfiltered. And it’s starting to scare you that he may be telling the truth. Finding the strength in your unsteady legs, your feet meet the ground beneath you, trying to put further distance between you and Eddie. Your heart aches like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, like you’re somehow suffocating from the inside. “I’m just- fuck, I’m sorry.”

A dense silence occupies the space between you, neither of you sure where to go from here.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Eddie.” Oh my god, how are you going to begin to explain this to Chrissy? The thought of losing her, the one stable constant throughout your life, prematurely breaks your heart. Your palm clasps over your mouth, shaking your head like trying to erase an Etch-A-Sketch, remove the image of Chrissy’s wide eyes as you relay what’s just transpired. The dam breaks, and the first of many tears spills down your flushed cheeks. How you wish things were simpler, wrapped up in a neat package like the happy endings you see in films. 

“Shit, I really fucked up, didn’t I?” Eddie’s voice quivers beyond your glossy vision, tugging at your heartstrings. Unable to speak, you give a half-hearted nod in response. Eddie clears his throat. “Guess you’re right. We should just forget this happened, okay? Just go back to the way things were, if that’s what you want.”

A fate worse than death, existing the way you have been for months on end. But what other choice was there?

“Yeah.”

With a sigh, Eddie methodically folds up the blanket, throwing it into the back of the van.

“Let’s get you home, it’s getting late.” The drive home is silent, but the words left unsaid between the pair of you are deafening. You should feel grateful to see the familiar paneling of your house, the front left on welcoming you home. But, as always, it signals the end of your time with Eddie, heart aching from the admissions dancing on the tip of your tongue. The car gears click into park, and your unsteady hand finds the door handle.

“See you tomorrow.” Three unimportant words now charged with tension, the mere thought of seeing the pair at school tomorrow causing your stomach to flip.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s response is mumbled, taking a particular interest in the worn leather of the steering wheel. Chewing your lip, you click the door open, about to maneuver out when Eddie’s words immobilize you. 

“Hey?” For the first time in the eternal drive, Eddie works up the courage to look at you directly, doe-eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. 

“Mmm?”

With a sharp inhale of breath, Eddie struggles to maintain his gaze, brows furrowing as he nervously fiddles with his rings.

“I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life, but I’ve been thinking about what you said. And, at the end of my shitty life, I’m gonna look back and not regret kissing you. Not for a minute.”

Those words are your springboard out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you with your little remaining composure, hastening up the driveway and through the front door. Locking it behind you, you feel your chest tighten and ache with longing and regret. 

You hope things will return back to how they were. But, in the back of your mind, a small, selfish voice prays that they don’t.

[posebean]

fantasys your alkaloid‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️  ref sheet of alkaloid for my alkakurei fantasy au that i totally didnt abandon crazy:B here (notes abt world+magic system and other stuff on that post)

stuff abt their outfits and etc under read more

hiiro is fresh from his village baby boy left to go find his nii-san with only his clothes and a trusty satchel at his side- he just goes around looking for his nii-san and etcetc idk how long the gap is but he finds tatsumi and mayo and stays with them for some time and during that time tatsun gets him a coat because baby boy literally only has those and hes just been doing work for some guild (idk how to explain bc guilds require education but i guess tatsun pulled strings for him) so he has money to live while also looking for his nii-san and sometimes he has to go to cold places and one time he comes home after a job in a cold place and hes sick and tatsun is like hiiro-san please take this jacket with you :..) so now hiiro has a coat custom-made for him :3! he's good with elemental magic (the 5 core elements water wind fire earth plant) very versatile and a skilled little guy (not as talented as his nii-san but no one is as talented as nii-san!) anyways yadda yadda he gets a message or smth and is preparing to leave tatsun and mayo but (spoilers for meru fic) meru points him towards the town where everyone else is and yea he goes and finds his nii-san and now his goal has changed from find nii-san to convince nii-san to go back home but he befriends everyone else too and i think they do eventually go on some kind of adventure together maybe more the three younger ppl aira hiiro and kohaku

aira is a little silly fellow he dresses nicely (very inspired by fs2 but i cant stop looking at it and thinking damn he french colored......) and loves magic so much he admires all the grand mages and everyone in the upper echelons and loves watching other people cast spells and such unfortunately for him while he has a decently high innate talent, his control is God Awful which results in magic never going well for him- with no control at all, literally negative control, he can try to cast one spell and something completely different will be cast instead- and the skill level varies too it's literally just a roll of a dice for him if he tries to cast a simple flame spell he might end up flooding the room with a wall of water, it's that bad kkshfkj also he acts like he doesn't like it but he actually loves rabuhan-junior so much he secretly spoils the hamster named after him and rabuhan junior loves him back rabuhan-junior likes to sleep in his hat or on aira's head whenever kohaku goes out and leaves rabu-han junior with aira tatsun has very normal clothes bro dresses like a dad (did you know both of his fs have the same color palettes i didnt but using them as reference made me realize, anyways-) his clothes are very comfortable and easy to move around in, especially given his injury from [spoiler event here ]. he also has a cane and his injured leg has pain suppressor sigils and bandages wrapped all over it his leg isn't completely unusable like its not broken or anything its more like. a kind of necrosis like if you unwrapped it there would be a dark mark thats like icky and sometimes it flares up and hurts tatsun so much that he falls over and :( he found the cane one day in the catacomb (wonder who put it there) he added the begonia himself as a reminder of his sin... shiro is his little mouse familiar that he conjured with the help of kaname! she's a sweet little thing, often found sleeping on an open book on tatsumi's desk. she has the tatsumi-colored ears and legs because she was conjured up rather than a pact familiar. regarding magic tatsun is pretty average on both control and power, but that doesnt really matter because most of the spells he uses are passive spells more used for healing/doing work. he likes to garden and has a beautiful garden of all kinds of flowers at the chapel :) he just doesn't dare touch the flowers in the catacomb, because he knows someone else already takes care of those also that purple gem hanging around his neck is a gift from mayomayo it doesn't do anything and has no magic but tatsun still likes it :) mayomayo dresses in all dark colors because he believes that if he always dresses in dark colors no one will ever have to be bothered by seeing his existence he comes from a lineage that practices forbidden magic, not necessarily all dark but some of the more ... interesting spells . something happens in his past and he ends up leaving, taking with him his tome and well. proceeding to get chased by all kinds of monsters out in the wild because for some reason he just attracts all kinds of beasts poor guy magic-wise he does have the forbidden magic from his family but he more specializes in healing and curse removal- he doesn't dare do anything else for fear of (redacted). besides, maybe he'll one day be able to actually save somebody instead of hurting them, maybe his existence would be worth it some day. the ribbon in his hair (the green/teal one) is from tatsun :) he said mayo would look good in brighter colors and mayo disagreed so tatsun gave it to him and now its become part of his outfit and (i combust into a thousand bits ) also because of that mayo feels like he has to give tatsun something back so thats why he gives tatsumi a purple gem he had that used to hang from his spell tome anyways i still love this au very much and i hope you enjoyed now i will proceed to forget about it again /j i still really wanna write kohaku's fic and then maybe one last one for rinne-kun or smth because aghghj there's still so much that's not developed yet but (explodes)

[rustystars]

see. it's all about control.

if you put dirk gently in a box, he's gonna try to get out of it. & then he'll get angry. & then he'll get sad. & he'll start thinking Well maybe there's a reason i'm in this box. Maybe it's protecting me. but after a while he'll start saying Maybe i'm in this box for a reason. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe i'm the problem. & he'll repeat that to himself over & over til he's the one putting himself back in the box over & over again. that's why his identity is so important to him. dirk is the name HE chose. todd & farah are the friends HE made. the agency is something HE opened. he's taking himself out of the box now! he's rejecting the box! he's determining his own life! & even if he fucks it all up he's still choosing his own life. he's still out of the box.

vs the rowdy 3. if you put them in a box they will say Let us out of the box. & they will fight every step of the way until they're out of the box. they know the box hurts them. acting violently outside of the box is a way to make sure they never get put in again. you dont want to contain people like them. that's why their arc with amanda is so moving! they've known each other for barely a day, & martin gives her a weapon. a way to hurt him. he lets her into his van. he hasn't seen her in months but he fights a war for her & hands her control. it's such an act of trust! to say i love you & i accept you & i trust you with myself. i trust you with my family. i trust you with my vulnerabilities because i know you will never put us back in that box. (& in doing so he gives amanda self-autonomy! they trust her so she can trust herself! she doesn't have to be terrified all the time because there are people who have faith!)

but bart. you put bart in a box & she doesn't get it. you'll say This is a box & she'll shrug. she doesn't get that a box is A Box because everything is a box to her. she exists in a box & then a different box & then another box & this is just how the world works. & then she meets ken (& sings to bad car songs! & gets shot! & washes her hair!) & suddenly realizes that if everything is a box, there are good boxes (ken! the fantasy realm!) & bad boxes (blackwing). but it's still all one big box to her. & there's no point in finding good boxes because they open up & she's alone again. she doesnt know how to keep a good box. she must not be made for the good boxes. so she goes back to the only Good Box that she's ever known, even though a box can't be good, & she calls it going home. & now ken & blackwing are one & the same but it doesn't matter because it's all a box. it doesn't even matter. he hurts her & it's just what boxes do. she wants to kill him but he says that's just what boxes do. & its all just one. big. box.

[lunatic-fandom-space]

You know what its past midnight Im gonna make a post critisising acotar despite never having the read the series, the only book of SJMs ive actually read was crescent city but I spend a lot of time in anti acotar circles bc its fun being a little hater sometimes and I think I know enough by now to atleast critise some of the themes. I definitely know more about this series than I should, like I know about that immortal horse whose horse wife tragically died in horse childbirth and then Im pretty sure he died of horse sadness. And yet, despite cari can read being pretty good at explaining magic shit, I still dont know what the hell syphons are or why illyrians have them or why they matter so you really never stop learning huh

Anyway, I wanted to talk about the misogyny within the universe of acotar because its really bad, both in the sense that its just annoying and insufferable to read about even second-hand and in the sense that its badly written. The thing that inspired this was this short piece of flashfiction by @feynessupremacy about an unnamed girl from the hewn city being married off and having a horrible time living in this endless cycle of misogynistic abuse that her mom is still in and that her dauggters will end up in, all powerless to do anything against this kind of systemic sexism. I thought it was good and made its intended point pretty well but it also made me once again realize how borderline comical this series portrayal of misogyny is

Like, okay, once again, I have not read these books myself but it very much seems like the sexism in this world just materialized in the second book, from the summaries Ive watched it straightup seems like it was just not there in the first book. I mean hell, the entire plot hinges on the fact that Tamlin was sending all these fae disguised as fucked up creatures out so that they would hopefully be killed by a woman so she could break the curse, which implies that women being hunters was pretty normal. (Also, dont come at me with any kind of "oh, it doesnt specify the gender of the person who needs to break the curse a guy couldve done it as well", sjm is too insufferably heteronormative to consider that)

So basically what Im saying is, from my perspective it very much seems like sjm put not only systemic misogyny but like, incredibly violent systemic misogyny to the point where women being brutalized is basically completely normal, in her fantasy series for the sake of making a man look good because hes a wittle sad :( about it sometimes which is honestly pretty funny to me

But it gets even funnier because it doesnt even seem like sexism is really a widespread thing ? Like, i have never seen anyone else directly address this but its all I can think about: in the Nightcourt, the misogyny and institutionalized violence against women is literally the worst it possibly can be with genital mutilation and everything and then in the rest of Prythian its just like, not there. There are plenty of women with political power, the queen of adriada comes to mind first, Im pretty sure I read something about a woman from the wintercourt who was in a similar position of power, its unclear to me what all these fuckin priestesses do because theres no focus on the religion at all much less the institution(s) behind that religion, but they have to have some kind of power if theyre anything like priests in our world (although tbh they seem more like nuns to me functionally just with a diffrent name), especially Ianthe who was like a high priestess and directly in charge of Feyre, who shouldve been the most powerful woman in the springcourt by virtue of being with the high lord, Amren and Mor seem to be well respected outside of the NightCourt, their only deity is the MOTHER. Sure, there arent any "official" High Ladies but if being a High Lord entails being chosen by the magic of the land or The Cauldron or The Mother or whatever other kind of magic bullshit and women just dont get to have it for some reason, is that really indicative of the broader culture being sexist, or is that just God, Who Canonically Exists being sexist? Idk about you, but Im leaning towards the latter option

Thats not even mentioning the mortal lands which seem to be ruled by queens exclusively at the time of the story taking place, or Hybern which had Amarantha and I think her sister as well be these high-ranking generals and it wasnt presented as anything unusual. Like, are you telling me that the kingdom whose only value is "we love slavery, we would like to have slavery back" is more progressive than the court of fuckin Feminist King Rhysand?? I Am Going To Turn Into The Joker

Anyway, I think thats all I have to say, please correct me if I got any of this information wrong I cannot stress enough that I have not read these books and dont plan on reading them anytime soon, atleast not in english because reading the term mate a 1000 times sounds like too much for me to bear, atleast in german theyll probably use a term like "Gefährte/in" which doesnt make me think of actual animals

[somer-writes]

What's your favorite trope? Like ever. If every story you read/wrote for the rest of your life had to contain this one trope, what would it be?

oh man oh man oh man

i almost said enemies to lovers but really, it has to be crisis of faith

nothing tickles me more than a character having their entire reasoning for doing anything or moral compass laid at their feet. maybe their deity doesnt exist, maybe it does. maybe there is no reason for mercy and cruelty, maybe those things are entirely out of their control. and what becomes the point of anything if they start to believe that their life was never theirs to command??

i love this trope bc it breaks down what makes someone them. like at the end of the line, on deaths doorstep, if they leave anything behind what would it be?

it gives characters a new motivation. sometimes it makes them better, sometimes it makes them worse. i love when no matter good or evil it causes some kind of ascension in them.

even more when it effects a greater world! dead gods are still gods. why are they still being worshipped if theyre gone? why not worship them if theyre alive? how does an atheist align their viewpoint with a world that hinges on deities like a lot of fantasy worlds or how does a theist grapple with this being all there is?

sweet sweet angst in a good old fashioned existential crisis but so much oomph in a character finding out theres no point and making their own instead or perhaps a character choosing their own path to a predetermined destination

[futchgunk]

Bladders Gat3 Finish doc

:et me get the rest of my fucking feelings out about baldurs gate:

im so mad bc any character who is not human or realism/white passoid is literally regarded with the same type of dismissal that you would see in mainstream media. all the companions that are not white passing are treated like shit and have bad ends.

-Lae'zel (gith) gets abducted by the a bad guy for the last 1/3 of the game (also we could talk about her being the fighter class as default is also a bit racist, but the deep dive will be its own essay). and then she can die and not be able to be resurrected. (resurrection scrolls and revivify spells ONLY work on companions and not npcs)

Wyll (THE ONLY BLACK HUMAN MAIN CHARACTER, side note we could talk about how is name is spelled like a white mormon names their kids) is a big talking point bc he is constantly strung between the expectations put upon him by himself, his family, and then his pact matron. AND NO MATTER WHAT OPTION IS CHOSEN WILL CONTINUES TO SUFFER IN THIS EXECUTIVE PURGATORY. He starts as a "i have to kill this devil" actually its a tiefling (suddenly its now fantasy racial infighting, so of course u dont wanna kill another companion so early in the game, so Wyll is forced through Hell's Circles and the exposure makes him grown large demonic horns. (Wyll does not have control over his body or himself, nor his actions, and only suffers the consequences of the actions of the Tav (PC)). Wyll even gets to have the "I did everything for my father's (approval just to have my father misunderstand me and then the most noble course of action is to be independent because i am still bound by choices prior and also if two black people form any sort of family on screen its disgusting and blasphemous so I might as well treat my father like my brother who i never was able to relate to when i was younger" THIS IS NOT MENTIONING THAT WYLL IS LITERALLY THE SON OF THE DUKE OF BALDURS GATE. HE GIVES UP HIS STATUS OF NOBILITY TO BE HEROIC AND IS JUST FOREVER CONTINUALLY PUNISHED. THE DUKE OF BALDURS GATE IS BRAINWASHED TO RELINQUISHING HIS TITLE AND CORONATES THE WHITE DEVIL EVIL DICK BAD GUY WHO SOLD KARLACH (TIEFLING) TO HELL FOR GIGGLES.

Karlach (tiefling) is a bright eyed noble hearted character that is looking for solace after having 10 years of her life taken from her when she got sold to devil and hell and made a war machine slave because thats perfectly tragic. Her heart is taken from her and replaced with an engine (machine) that is slowly killing her when she is not in Hell. THE ENGINE DOESNT EVEN HAVE A GOOD IN GAME MECHANIC, YOU GET TO SET URSELF ON FIRE TO GET A 'HEAT' DEBUFF THAT U CAN CONSUME ON AN ATTACK, you build heat any other way, so its like only <Lv. 4, and if you minmaxed the opening scene, you get a 2h sword that does this every attack, so like its a bit moot and useless. Furthermore i think its really stupid that shes yearning for companionship and yet is not allowed because her engine makes her to hot to touch. Which rubs me the wrong way as a black transfem (u could argue tiefling coded) because I already feel like that. I feel like im too intense and hot with my passions and i intimidate people to the point that I'm actively denying myself the intimacy i crave so dearly just by existing and expressing myself. The taxation of life shouldn't really exist in video games!! The whole party gets mind enslaving brainworms that magically dont work because the plot armor is really strong yet the demon character who EVEN WHEN THEY SEEK HELP IN THEIR COMPANION QUEST ARE DENIED THE REALITY OF LIVING COMFORTABLY BECAUSE THEY SHOULD ONLY EXIST IN HELL. (cried actually). Before the last of this mess, she offers to turn into a mindflayer just to give herself the peace that she could be the hero that saves the world (become the villain because its better than who you currently exist as, or die being yourself (who has LITERALLY BEEN DEMONIZED). Karlach doesn't get to have have a happy ending because she either dies from engine overdose or goes to hell just to fucking breathe. THE KICKER IS THAT WYLL, THE PERSON WHO WAS GOING TO KILL HER AS PART OF THE WARLOCK PACT, OFFERS TO ACCOMPANY HER IN HELL AND FIGHT BY HER SIDE. WHICH MEANS THAT ALL OF THE MARGINALIZED IDENTITIES EFFECTIVELY FUCK OFF AFTER YOU SAVE THE WORLD.

White victim Shadowheart has the option of rejecting what she knows (which was a lie told her) or believing it. The worst she has to do is kill a bound seraphim, and free her parents held captive by putting their souls to rest (she turns them into light, killing them). She gets sick weapons. Clerics are busted anyway.

White devil astarion got to ascend in pale supremacy and got cool vampire powers (bite+, bite++, buff on kill, and consume buff for heal || next hit crits). The final battle WAS BUGGED FOR ME. I WAS STUCK ON THE BOSS FIGHT FOR TWO WEEKS BECAUSE THE END OF BATTLE SCREEN WOULDNT LOAD. LIKE I MADE A WHOLE NOTHER CHARACTER BECAUSE I BEAT THE BOSS 7 TIMES AND MY BUGFIXED DIDNT WORK!!

if im gonna get so heated about video games i am just gonna go play bloodborne so i have no room to complain bc im constantly sucking

[irrigos]

been thinking about motr again (as is my wont) and i think one of my complaints about it is that i think it's kind of weird that no one is antisemitic??

not that im like. "boo i wish there was more bigotry in the world!!" or smth lmao. it's just that it feels like maybe there was supposed to be some but then they chickened out

like. archie is accused of murdering david, and we know immediately that he didnt do it because he's our friend (and also thats just how stories work.) but i still dont understand why everyone else is so convinced he did it, when they never bother to give him a motive

when I heard the pitch for motr, I had assumed the motive would be bigotry. even if archie himself isnt antisemitic, it would make sense for Harjit or David or anyone who thinks archie did it to at some point go "well the victim was a marginalized person, so we just assume the motive was bigotry" but no one ever says that, even as just. a possibility?? but they ALSO dont have a different, stronger motive for Archie to have done it?? if Archie and David had some sort of enmity, this probably wouldn't be a problem at all, but since they dont have anything, it really feels like the only possible motive would have been prejudice, and yet no one will ever say it, even as a possibility that gets refuted

it just seems really weird to me!! ive posted before about how i understand why FBG writes stuff the way they do (writing period-accurate bigotry isnt like. fun. and also i dont think it would be commercially successful, especially if you want to court an audience of non-bigots) but it just kinda. lacked some verisimilitude for me on this one, especially because they made such a big thing about how much research they were doing and how they were consulting experts so they could write their first explicitly Jewish characters in the universe?? like... did you guys just. forget. why did you even bother researching that much when it's never really part of the story?

(also, my incredibly minor complaint is that i think its a missed opportunity to not have one of the Landaus comment on how golems are real apparently. like sure i guess they never actually cross paths with Moss but. yknow... cmon)

anyway this is also just kind of a matter of taste, because i know that bigotry free fantasty worlds are very popular with some people, and i definitely get the appeal!!! it just does very little for me, especially in what is technically a period piece. for me personally, it doesnt hit as like "oh cool a fun fantasy world that im welcome in :3" it just comes across (TO ME) as. very fake

.... but actually now that ive written the whole post, i think the real problem is that they forgot to give archie even a POSSIBLE motive, but also wouldnt suggest, even as a possibility that gets refuted, the most obvious motive, which wouldn't even require them to change any of the story beats at ALL. its just a really weird writing decision and i don't get it

[alovesongforu]

Three - Tragedy in Blood

Nine hours and a half of flight was a lot. I got on the plane with my heart pounding on my chest. I'm alone. Completely alone. I'm nobody's daughter, I'm nobody's friend, I'm not wanted by anyone.

The flight attendant smiles sweetly at me before pointing in the direction of my seat. First

Class. At least I would have a few hours of luxury before becoming another miserable person starving at USA's streets. Not that I'm unfamiliar with hunger, but I'm not looking forward to get back together with my old friend again.

A little bewildered, I sit, watching people walk by and sit down too. A nine-year-old boy with his parents, a businessman, a couple in their twenties...I like being invisible in public places.

No one ever notices the scrawny little girl with bushy hair staring at you. I like to trying to imagine these people's lives, it makes me realize I'm surrounded by humans, like me. Everyone here feels sadness, joy, euphoria, anger...everyone here bleeds, has dreams, expectations, fears...don't you think that's beautiful?

We're humans. Our life is short and fleeting compared to Earth's life. We live short and feel intensely, inventing stories about something higher to cling into faith. I think this is beautiful, but I'm weird, so don't take my opinions into account. I wonder what are all this people thinking.

You see, I never had many friends, none if I'm being honest, so I got used to diving into fantasy, action or suspense books, where I had knowledge of the characters' thoughts. Real life it's not like that, sadly. People are unreadable, they don't open up at this level, exposing their deeps and disturbing thoughts or telling you the reason behind all their actions.

I have a natural interest in human beings. I want to crawl into their brains , capture every little bit of information about everyone, truly know people the way I know the back of my hand. I know it's weird, but I'm a curious person. I just wanna know more and more about everything.

When I was a little kid, I used to write little stories, creating characters and actually knowing them. After all, I was their creator. For a long time, being a writer was my dream, but it doesnt matter anymore. A long time ago, mommy's dad found the notebook I used to write and set it on fire. My stories burned away with my dream. Why? That's a good question. I think he just didn't want to see me happy, 'cause he destroyed everything that made me smile.

Anyway, I'm distracted from my thoughts when the flight attendants start that speech, showing what to do if there's turbulence and bla bla bla. I buckle up and open my purse, wanting to put my phone on airplane mode. I put my hand inside and feel for my cell phone, but I feel the texture of... paper?

This is strange. Other than my sketchbook and a book, I didn't put anything else that had paper in my purse. I take it out to examine it and find a piece of notebook paper torn out with my mom's handwriting.

Half Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

Speak with the director upon arrival.

Well, at least she looked for a place so as not to leave me wandering the streets.

Look, I'll spare you from describing the next boring hours 'cause there wasn't much to do. I only watched a few movies, read a little and drew, but nothing much. It didn't take me long to get bored, and believe me, when you have ADHD, sitting around for a long time with nothing to entertain you feels like torture.

I start trying to imagine the lives of other flight passengers, but I quickly get even more bored. With a grunt, I throw my head back and close my eyes. I do what I do best: I imagine. I imagine a world in which an artist painted a portrait of his daughter with her own blood. I imagine what the little girl's death was like.

What her last moments were like before life drained from her little body. I imagine how the artist had a lonely and miserable life before he died. How the painting is discovered years later. How it is displayed in a museum centuries later. How the child's spirit began to haunt the place, thirsty for revenge. That's a good story. I think about writing it for a second, but I remember the flames turning paper to dust and then I give up.

°°°

"I HATE YOU!" A child screams angrily before slamming her door.

The intoxicatingly clean smell of hospital. Blinding white lights. Weak coughs. Aged and pale skin. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Nurses here and there. Distance from her. Guilt slowly eats away at my insides with each passing day. White hair and kind green eyes. She didn't blame me for it. But she should.

Grandma doesn't have long to live. I can feel it. I'm at the bedroom door, waiting. I could only visit her when everyone had already talked to her, but this time it was different. I think she also knew that death was caressing her cheek and calling her. Mommy's dad pushes me inside roughly before leaving the room without looking back.

My uncles, aunts, cousins ​​and even my mom leave the room, leaving me alone with her. I know I should keep my distance because of the disease, but I don't care, I even hope that I die with her. I approach Grandma and intertwine her fingers with mine. I held back the tears.

She looked so bad, so so bad. Her body was covered in lumps, her eyes were beginning to become translucent and dull, her nose and lip area were stained red. I've made this.

"Beatrice..."

Her voice sounded hoarse, weak. I swallowed a sob. I didn't notice the tears wetting my cheeks until she reached out her hand with large, purple lumps to wipe them away.

"I-I...I'm sorry." I choked. It hurts. My chest hurts. Was this healthy? Wouldn't I be having a heart attack?

"Why are you apologizing, my princess?"

"I'm sorry. It's my fault, I'm sorry! I didn't meant to." I sobbed.

"It's not your fault, Beatrice. You're just a child." That was a lie. We both knew that.

But she didn't hold a grudge against me. Even when I breathed the disease into her fragile body. Even when I couldn't fix the mess I made. Even with the agonizing pain she suffered day and night, she didn't hate me. I wish I was mature like that, because even without having gone through her pain, I hated myself. I was hoping with my family that I would die in a car accident or in another painful way.

Her hands move away from me to try to take off the necklace with the strawberry pendant she always wore.

"Listen, child. I don't have much time left, much less materials to bequeath, but I want you to have this."

"I don't deserve it."

"You deserve it. Beatrice, know that I don't blame you. I could never. You're blood of my blood and I love you. Every time you miss me, look at the necklace."

It hurts. God, why does it hurt so much? Why? If you exist, God, why not heal her? Why rip away one of the only people who love me?

"Stay with me. Please."

I begged. For the millionth time, I try to fix my mess. Pull the disease out of her body, suck it into me. Nothing. I feel as if hundreds of maggots were eating me from the inside out that time.

I took pity of her failed attempts and took the necklace off her neck. Grandma gives me a faint smile.

"There's so much I want to say to you, but I'm afraid I won't have time."

Grandma lets out a groan of pain and straightens her head, closing her eyes and taking her last breath. I froze. I wanted to make God have mercy on me, to make a miracle happen, but I never knew how to pray.

I remained still, holding her hand and feeling her warmth begin to fade. Do past lives exist? What had I done in one of them to pay for so many sins in this life? I felt angry. Then I realized: God does not exist.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate God, I can't hate something whose existence isn't real, but I know it doesn't exist. And even if it exists, it's not as Christians preach. If he exists, he's not kind. He's sadistic and evil. I have no idea how long I was alone in the room with Grandma, but mommy's dad enters the room after what seems like years, and it doesn't take long to connect the dots.

I remember his hands around my neck, pushing my spine into the hard wall behind me. Panic clouds my senses. I can't breathe. I can't let go. I think I hear my mom shouting something, but his hands tighten.

I just waited for the sound. That sound of bones breaking, when I would fall to the ground, limp like a rag doll. I could see nurses bursting into the room, but my vision went black. I felt my limbs weaken and I imagined Death eager for the moment when my heart stopped beating.

I woke up drenched in sweat with the announcement that the plane was landing. I look around, stunned. That memory always stunned me. Hey mate, I know you must be confused right now, so let me explain: I killed my grandmother. It wasn't intentional, but that's not an excuse or explanation. Her blood stains my hands and drips and leaves a trail wherever I go, and I know it.

My cousin bullied me. I cursed him. Grandma arrived and scowled at me for calling him names. I said I hated her. I hate you. I don't know how I did it, much less why, but those words injected the Ebola virus into her already aging body. Yes, I know, I'm a horrible person. Yes, I deserve to be hanged in a public square. Go through the goat torture. Being impaled. You choose, but yes, I deserve it all.

Happily for both, me and you, dear reader, I'll probably go through hell right now. The plane jolts as it lands and I remember something: my English. As you can see so far, I think very well in English. Maybe I even write reasonably well, but my pronunciation...eeeh, no. I like to describe my accent as that of a choking redneck.

I never participated much in English conversation classes at school. I know my accent is ridiculous and I never wanted to give people more reasons to ridicule me. I regret that now. North-americans are arrogant. No matter how hard you try, they won't try to understand you if you make one small pronunciation mistake.

Anticipatory fear begins to infiltrate my blood as people start to take off their belts. Nobody here knows me, I could just pretend to be mute, right? That's it, I'm going to pretend to be mute! Oh...but I don't where do is this...Half Blood Hill. Danmit!

I left stunned. I held my bag tightly as I fixed my eyes on the airport building. I'm not going to let myself be enchanted by the architecture and aesthetics of this place. I managed to grab my bags and looked around. Men and women rushing past me, people working, on work calls... I don't trust no one here to ask for help. They would certainly realize that I'm alone and only God knows what would go through these people's minds. I tried searching for the address on Google Maps. Nothing. Great, mommy made up a random address.

Fear begins to build up in my chest, caging itself in my ribs and making its home in my bones. What now? I look around as if a prince in shining armor is suddenly going to save me. I go down to the bus station. Maybe I could live from city to city, providing services and eating cheap food. At least I wouldn't starve.

Fear makes it difficult to breathe. I force myself to stop and take a deep breath, trying to clear the fog in my head. Bus ticket, I need a bus ticket. Something coos next to me. I look in the direction. A pigeon tilts its head at me. I feel relief.

Lost, miss? He asks, in my head.

Yes. Can you help me, mr...

Beaumont. Call me Beaumont. Where do you need to go, Your Highness?

I bet you must be in disbelief now, right? Turns out I'm not crazy. Pigeons, rats and bugs really talk to me. I blush at my new friend's politeness. Even though they're always nice to me, I never get used to kindness from people (or animals) who aren't my mom.

I, uh...Mr. Beaumont, can you tell me if there's a place called...Half Blood Hill?

He takes flight and I raise two fingers to serve as a perch. I'm already used to it. Pigeons friends, remember?

You wanna go home, naturally. I'm afraid that no bus takes the route towards your destination, but I can show you the way.

I let out a relieved sigh. I went back to the building to buy Mr. Beaumont a raspberry muffin and then we left. 'But Bea, you shouldn't be feeding the pigeons!'

If you thought or said that, close this book. Never, ever again read my story. You lack the necessary levels of empathy. I was once a friend of hunger, and it is an experience that I wish only for those whose crimes are so sadistic and evil that our brains can barely rationalize them. So yes, I am feeding the pigeons, illegal or not. If you think I being dramatic, think of your best friend. Think of them with their his hip and rib bones popped out. If you imagined this, you can understand me.

Well, back to reality, I walked for so long that I ended up on a road, with nothing but vegetation and cars speeding past me. It must have been around seven o'clock at night, and I was starting to feel scared, but a pigeon can't do anything too bad to me, right? I look at him, perched on my shoulder.

Hey, Mr. Beaumont?...

Yes, Your Highness?

You..you're sure that we're in the right way?

Absolutely, Your Highness. You see that hill to your right? That's your destination.

I look at a dark mass of vegetation a few meters in front of me. I know you're judging me now, but I trust pigeons more than humans. One way or another, Mr. Beaumont was right. As I climbed that hill (which wasn't easy), I found lights a little way down. Lights in a house. I wasn't going to sleep on the street today. I thanked my friend and gave him the cereal bars I had in my purse.

I went down to what looked like a giant house and went inside. Yellow lights bathed me, along with moths flying directly into the lamps. I heard voices ahead, and followed. Maybe I would meet the director here?

Further ahead, two men were playing cards. One of them appeared to be middle aged, had brown hair and eyes, a thick beard and was in a wheelchair. The other had curly hair so black it seemed to glow purple, was built like one of those barroom old mans, and was wearing a Hawaiian tiger-print T-shirt. I didn't felt afraid of him. Didn't seem to be disgusting pedophiles to me.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt narrowed his eyes at me, letting out a deep sigh and and setting his can of Diet Coke down at the table with a tud.

"Another one..." he grumbled.

The weelchair one gives him a sympathetic glance before looking at me. I felt embarassed.

"Oh, um...I'm sorry. I'll wait on that bench while you finish your business."

I wince at how bad my accent sounds, then turn my back to the two men. The Hawaiian shirt man continued to stare at me, but the weelchair man stops me.

"No, no, you don't have to wait." He says, kindly and the other man gruffs in agreement.

"What's your name, child?" He asks, gruffly

I thought about lying my name, but that wouldn't work. I wouldn't answer if someone called.

"...Beatrice, sir."

The man lets out a snort hearing this. I feel a little offended. Why would he laugh of my name? I know it's not the prettiest, but it carries a beautiful meaning: the one who brings joy.

"Beatrice." He repeats, his voice full of mockery. "A pretty name, but it doesn't fit a cursed soul."

I can feel the blood draining from my face. What does he mean by that?

"Pardon?..."

The man grins cruelly.

"Oh, you didn't know, did you?" He asks sarcastically.

"You're cursed, kid. Tragedy follows you around like a lost puppy. You'll never have a happy ending."

The weelchair man opens his mouth, but the man shuts him.

"No use sugarcoating it, Chiron. She needs to know."

[stormblessed95]

The problem when people say that they’re tkkrs, and they don’t engage in the vile rhetoric they often times spew + they say they love Jimin is the fact that there is no accountability and it makes them complicit to the other shit tkkrs do.

I’m not even defending jkkrs because they have a problem of their own, BUT the difference is that a MAJORITY of people who love and support Jikook call each other out. Whenever we see misinformation being spread we do our best to correct it and snuff it out and we come with facts and receipts. We hold each other accountable so that we make sure Jungkook, Jimin and Tae are humanized and not seen as characters in an AU.

So even though you - anon wants us to believe that tkkrs are nice and pro Jimin, the reality is that because your breed continues to be toxic, continues to spread lies, continues to harass people when the narrative doesn’t fit to your advantage, and continues to fetishize and I want to make it clear IT IS fetishizing, that even though they’re “nice” you’re also all silent.

The fact that your solution is to block and report but not try to correct the narrative not only proves the way you are complicit but it shows that looking away from the problem IS why tkkrs are so toxic.

And I’ve been an ARMY for YEARS, YEARS, and no matter how nice you tell me tkkrs are at the end of the day, as you said, anon, it’s used as a way to “de-stress” and ship fictional/non-fictional couples together, it invalidates the point you’re trying to make because TAE, JUNGKOOK AND JIMIN are real people. People that are living in an ANTI-LGBTQIA+ society that doesn’t accept them. So for you it might be merely shipping them but for actual QUEER PEOPLE our lives are not a fucking way for you to live bi-curiously or join in the “camaraderie” as you so eloquently put it.

And the fact that you bring up the point that people just want to claim Jk or invalidate him to fit a narrative is precisely the issue. JUNGKOOK is a real person, not someone we covet or “ship” with Jimin, he isn’t a stand in for us to fuel our fantasies, he is a person THAT WE listen to and respect and support.

Miss me with that bs that some of you are nice, esp when the nice ones I’ve met in my 5/6 years of being an ARMY talk and think about Tae in inappropriate ways AND in fact do use Jungkook as way to fantasize some weird ass shit, because the moment that Jungkook does something to show you all that DOESNT FIT YOUR NARRATIVE, you all throw him under the bus. Not a single tkkr has been speaking out about the mistreatment that JK’s getting rn, and you want us to believe you see him as a person and that you’re nice?. Go and talk about important shit, not about how it’s a flip of a coin to trust tkkrs……..

Stop coming to our safe spaces and taking to us, leave us the fuck alone, why can’t you all just stay in your lane and not interact with us?!. TF???!

Because it's you... and I love you. And I agree with you and everything here. Imma post it even though I closed the topic. @chikooritajjk summed it up nicely. Imma just also add that it's not a flip of a coin to just trust anyone honestly. The amount of people I trust on this app I can count on one hand. And yall know who you are 🥰 I've yet to find a tkkr that ships taekook and doesn't let the harmful narratives spread around continue to be spread around. It's kinda like how people say "its not all men" when women talk about our experiences in the world and when the #/me too movement was happening. "It's not all tkkrs" gives the same energy. I understand where everyone is coming from here, but it is what it is. If it's not you, then you don't need to defend tkkrs or shipping. If you aren't doing these things and you are standing up against it or trying to call people out, then you don't need to get upset. No one then is talking about YOU. But if you aren't doing those things, then you are part of the problem too. And that goes for all shippers too.

[drdemonprince]

Yes, that explanation completely makes sense! And I’m quite comfortable with disappointing people. I know for sure that I do it all of the time. I’m no stranger to rejection, either. I’m just in a really effing weird situation where someone isn’t properly rejecting me (I am deeply familiar what rejection feels like, and this ain’t it) so I have to adapt and just like, disappoint in new, similarly uncomfortable ways.

To be honest, it’s such a strange situation that I’ve grown to enjoy the challenge of adjusting to it. I’d much rather it make sense to me, and I hope that eventually it will, but I have no control over that right now, and that’s fine. The lack of control used to be quite painful and emotionally damaging, but now it’s often quite amusing. Sometimes stuff just doesn’t make sense, y’know? Especially when people are hiding the sense from you, and they don’t owe you any explanations.

It’s like “I’ve grown accustomed to your face” and the face is just someone being disappointed 🙃 I know people cut other people out of their lives for that sort of thing, but I care about this person more than I care about their apparent disappointment, so instead of “I hate myself for loving you,” it’s “I love myself for loving you.” Does that make sense to you?

Sorry for harping on about this, like I said, it’s just a very strange situation so I appreciate opportunities to at least explain myself, since I can’t explain the other person.

Hi, thanks for writing again! I mean it sounds like you are coping very well with being interested in someone who sucks? Or isnt treating you right? that youre not harping too much on a situation thats pretty unfulfilling to you, which is great, but maybe you would be better off leaving it

Theres this stage in codependency recovery where the codependent is supposed to ask themselves "if [partner] never changes, what would i do? regardless of what this other person does, what do i need in my life to make that life worth living?" and then they go and do that.

maybe they break up w the person they were codependent to. maybe they dont. doesnt matter. the point is that they have stopped making the other person the center of their world, and theyre going out living their own life rather than making decisions based on how it would impact the other person or the relationship. pretty much the opposite of memory foaming.

i got to this place in my last serious relationship years before the relationship ended. i realized he was never gonna make more time for me, was never going to contribute to finances, was never gonna contribute to household tasks, was never gonna want quality time, was never going to want to go out with me to do any of the things i enjoyed, and was never gonna get good at messaging me back. i said to myself okay, if thats all true, and he is never going to change or ever give me what i want no matter how i act and no matter what i do for him, what do i want out of life then?

and i started going to conventions. and conferences. and mister international leather. and concerts. and book readings. i made new friends at support groups and book clubs and gaming groups. i invited people to the museum or to concerts in the park. i tried new hobbies. i made a full life all around myself instead of waiting for him to change and give anything satisfying to me. and so, by the end of it, when i dumped him i lost almost nothing except for a fantasy.

I dont know your situation but it sounds to me like you want to be okay with doing more for someone than they bring you in the relationship. And i think that kinda arrangement always has an end date. but i only hope that you arent like i was and dont stick around past that end date for years.

[cathedralcomic]

So i know you've said before the clowders in cathedral are mostly indifferent on house cats / previous house cats. But what do they actually think about them based on what they know ? Do they think their lives are weird or interesting?

And on a similar note. I started on a fake book series based on Warriors that has now over the years changed into an original series. I've decided to rework it because of this. And I did have an arc where the main character is treated poorly for being previously a house cat because the clowders think theyre lazy and dishonourable (this later changes in the story and they come to accept them). I don't want it to be xenophobic like Warriors though. There's an actual explanation as to why the clowders don't like them and the main character learns this and tries to convince the cats that just because one cat sucks doesnt mean they all do. Do you think that's acceptable and fall out of the xenophobia? (If other people could give their input i'd love that as well Idk who else to turn to about this)

first off i shouldn’t be your only source here! if you haven’t already, take some time to research xenophobia in fantasy from well-established writers and folks who actually experience xenophobia.

one of waca’s problems is pitting the clans against every non-clan cat because the narrative positions them as “superior.” according to the books all cats should be clan cats to live their best life, and there’s a weird colonialist mentality whenever our main characters interact with non-clan groups or individuals. the way i’ve written the darrows in cathedral kinda serves as a jab/deconstruction of the waca clans. but the key difference here is portrayal, there’s no doubt that the darrows function very poorly and are cultish. their dislike of cats outside of their very small group presents itself in their limited gene pool. they are a fucking mess and i do not paint them in a charitable light.

i think regardless of what creature you’re writing about real world problems will seep into your story, no matter how you label them in-universe. because you are a human writing a story. what you described does sound like it drifts into xenophobia territory, but as i said earlier the concerning shit tends to lie in depiction/author bias. othering is a very common trope in fiction in general… make it explicitly bad. i’m glad your clowders come to accept house cats because wc’s complete lack of growth with the kittypet thing post-arc 1 perplexes me. if it’s still present it should be challenged and not just through character interaction but through the writing itself.

“all house cats are lazy and dishonorable” is a very warrior cats issue (down to the main character being one), so to differentiate yourself maybe reshape it until it’s unique to your story. this is more of a general writing thing though. i can imagine it being compared to wc and from my own experience that can be frustrating down the line.

soo i think my overall point here is that you’re bound to run into issues like this when writing fantasy/xenofiction, which is why research, self-reflection, and sensitivity readers are extremely crucial. keep your presentation consistent as well. if you want to condemn kitty xenophobia in your world you don’t want your readers thinking, “actually, it kinda makes sense!!!” be careful you’re not entertaining the beliefs of bigoted characters.

[antisocialxconstruct]

IM PUTTING IN MY TWO CENTS HERE because I think the entire conversation about why people choose certain potions and routes within non-linear choice based game,s, or any game that provides some level of illusion of choice. I remember talking about this extensively in my Psychology class for Game Design, and though of course theres a multitude of reasoning, I think what peoples idea of fantasy or even coping is largely at play. I know one of your thoughts on playing questionable or morally challenging characters is because you already conform to a societal expectation to "be nice" or an upstanding citizen, and Honestly thats super understandable! Im not here to analyze anyone, but a good chunk of other people I talk to have some sort of revenge fantasy and I dont mean that in a bad way! Rebellion to rules that plague reality and the ability to let lose, or just an interest in consequences for your playthrough that dont actually affect you is another reasoning, albeit the rarer of the two options. On the otherhand, as someone who loves to make The Most Morally Good Characters, and is also a big baby when it comes to being mean in most video games, My "revenge fantasy" IS being nice, because we are all forced to tiptoe around the same sociteal expectations but even those on the other side dont have much power in helping people on a larger scale that video games allow! To be The Hero that helps as many people as possible, that has to power to fundamentally change the world for the better, that is a unrealistic reward of its own. And I know you also mentioned briefly how you see it as limiting, and I think to some people this might ring true of them allowing themselves to cave and actually enjoy the "morally questionable" decision making, however I think for the other half its not limiting? Its Highly Rewarding. Theres also something to mention in how Linear people are themselves, its much more common to hear about people replaying one exact route despite there being 100000s choices vs those who do every route imaginable, so the more likely someone is to lean one side esp in their initial playthrough, the less likely they are to want to go the other way. I HOPE THIS DOESNT COME OFF AS LIKE...A REBUTTAL, Its not! I think this is a genuinely facinating phenomenon that ive had to think and write about in school, theres so many layers to it Id love to discuss and love to HEAR discusssed so youre so smart for actually starting that poll bc Ive been enjoying searching through the replies of it

hfdsgfsdg Javi your enthusiasm is a TREASURE it most definitely does not come off like a rebuttal. And I think your points are really cogent and in line with what I've kinda been angling at, which is that they're two sides of the same coin of "indulging in a fantasy." And it probably makes me a bit of a hypocrite that I'm like "I just don't get why other people can't see the appeal of Doing Bad Things as an escapist fantasy!" even though I would also say with my whole chest that being the big damn hero who saves everyone and changes the world for the better holds absolutely zero appeal to me LOL It is truly just a matter of taste.

It's probably beyond the scope of a tumblr poll but I feel like an interesting follow-up re: people not choosing to behave badly in games, would be to ask people why. Like there's the obvious "it's usually not written as well/doesn't let you have the full game experience" reason which is valid, but of the remainder I wonder how many people would honestly say it's just not fun to be mean, and how many would admit that it makes them uncomfortable because they still feel the need to conform to societal standards even in their fantasy world. (I feel like this reads as me passing a judgment on either stance and I'm not! Just thinking out loud. In text.)

also lmao

Oh man I forgot to touch upon this in my initial ask BUT tldr; yes I think games that present themselves as choice based and yet lean heavily towards one morality (usually the good Guys) and dont give second thoughts to the other side, defeats the purpose of allowing players to play how they want. I think this is actually why the only game I like being morally questionable in is fnv, bc both "choices" actually present interesting outcomes. Theres also something to say how in games the good side rewards more which I think is stupid.

You are SOOOO CORRECT I think whenever I'm like "I think I just need to spend like 60 hours or so being completely feral" FNV is the first place I go.

[mekatrio]

ive seen a few people say that they like shaft's abstract visual style in mca but i must be the contrarian and say i extremely disagree....... kagepro has a large emphasis on 'the ordinary' and the 'regular, everyday life', because it serves as a sharp contrast to how the mekakushi dan are clear outliers to this standard way of life:

Children Record Side -No.7-

but nothing that shaft studio depicts actually feels like 'real life'; this is because the trademark of shaft's animation style are shots that jump from being abstract, cartoonish close-ups, to more distant compositions that often have the subject matter near the center.

^shots from ep 4 of Mekakucity Actors compared to ep 2 of Erased. both are from scenes where two characters of similar distance are having a conversation with each other, but notice the difference in camera placement and shot composition between the two. (of course the emotional atmosphere of the conversations are different, and will affect the composition of the shots, but i just want to contrast the compositional preferences that these two animes have)

shaft's manner of composing shots is useful because it manages to depict a lot of information (character expressions, location setting, etc) while actually having very little animation, and not needing to spend too many resources figuring out the positioning of the characters:

giancarlo volpe's post on screen direction

because of shaft's animation style, the complexities showcased in these pictures above often dont have to be dealt with, bc shaft instead prefers to jump between close up shots, distant shots, and top down shots:

this manner of camera placement gives off an unnatural and staged feeling. there is a lot of negative space, and its very effective when used in more uncanny and unnerving parts of the narrative, hence why moments like hibihiyo's kagerou daze and kano turning into haruka are very impactful.

however, its less effective when used in more ordinary scenarios, like moments in a school hallway, or when momo meets with kido:

^notice the abundance of negative space in momo's meeting with kido in the anime, in comparison to the Kisaragi Attention mv. this negative space paired with shaft's inclination towards symmetry makes for a jarring and unnatural atmosphere. again, good for more creepy parts of a narrative, less so for more mundane and ordinary scenarios.

which goes back to my original point about kagepro's theme of 'the rational everyday' vs 'the fantastical imagination': that shaft's animation style fails to capture this 'standard, everyday life' that the mekakushi dan is meant to contrast against. because shaft is incapable of capturing the mundanity of everyday life, the more unnatural parts of the narrative doesnt stand out as strongly as it possibly could.

i strongly feel that mca wouldve been more effective if shots set outside of the kagerou daze, in the normal world, had much more natural and more asymmetrical compositions, like so:

and so when we see more unnatural and unnerving compositions, which are the trademark of shaft's visual style;

it would be a greater visual contrast between the 'rational' vs the 'fantasy' dichotomy that kagepro makes a big note of.

[mg549]

final post on the matter: the whole “good guy with a gun” argument is overdone nra bullshit like. do you seriously think theres no better way than to make it so EVERYONE can kill anyone at any time. instead of. making it so that... less people can shoot ppl. like. ppl pretending legislation will not fix anything are so ignorant imo like. the countries with established gun control laws: 

like how can you be like it doesnt work. how do you explain other countries not having the same gun violence problems. how do you explain school shootings as an american phenom and be unable to correlate that to the fucking nra propaganda and legislation and bs lone ranger superhero individualistic culture. like the reason the propaganda works so well is bc they have the very easy to swallow message of “the world is scary and out to get you but if you have this gun you can save yourself and everyone and Be A True Hero” and in a time where ppl feel increasingly little control over their own lives it makes them feel important and revolutionary. even when in reality 99% of gun owners have never had to use their gun in a random situation. it also acts like the only way to stop someone with a gun is with another gun. which simply is just not the case. it also reveals such an underlying bloodlust ingrained from that conquistadoran colonizer mindset of “the world is mine and anyone against me is free game to kill”

and then theres the whole faux-leftist talking point thats been floating around lately like “gun control is just going to give the government all the guns and we’ll have nothing to defend ourselves with” like. 1. cops shoot ppl regardless of if they actually even have a gun or not. do you genuinely believe you’de have time to draw aim and fire before they react. and theyre already wearing bulletproof vests like. even if you did kill a cop youre going to jail forever after that youre not going to be the head of the glorious revolution like stop playing murder dressup pretend be real. and 2. the main point which is rly the most obvious answer. I AM ALSO FOR THE DEMILITARIZATION OF THE POLICE. i do not dream of violence!!! i do not want for blood!!! armed civilians are not going to lead to the cops getting LESS guns. LIKE.......... I DON’T THINK COPS SHOULD HAVE GUNS EITHER. WHY are some ppl’s takes so deeply ingrained in the idea that violence is not only necessary but should be actively pursued like. and none of them are actually organizing any revolutions either bc theyre all so wrapped up in their chosen one most communist twitter user ever fantasy. and when asked to defend their points theyre jst like “well im from the conservative south and-” and yeah me too bud. your experience was not universal. any actual counterpoints? how many dead children will you let there be or is it all just a “necessary sacrifice” to keep living your fantasy?