#there's need to be a dichotomy and it needs to be in favor of one of them!!!

[fideidefenswhore]

There's a tendency in modern fandom to rob Henry of his agency, like saying Anne "lured" or "stole" him as if he isn't responsible for his actions. What I find weird is that seems to have, to an extent, been the idea at the time. A hell of a lot of the Catholic/Imperial faction seemed to get the thought that well, all we do is get rid of Anne and everything goes back to normal. Like Mary and Chapuys act like they expect her to be princess and heir again as if nothing happened and the English Reformation will just stop there and turn back. I just can't get my head round how much people then revered Henry as king but then think he's some weak puppet Anne manipulated and who they can manipulate when she's gone.

Yeah, the thing is that...A) We haven't changed as much as we like to believe that we have, B) Obviously modern analysis of contemporary reports of this period is reliant on these reports, but has the benefit of hindsight (and yet when hobbyists without any background in history simply read these reports absent of any contextualization or expert analysis, they tend to take them pretty...literally? which dovetails into these fandom interpretations), C) That very double negative is the cornerstone of misogyny. Women are ultimately, even supernaturally, powerful but also ultimately powerless/weak, and/or exploit men's weakness, world's tiniest violin.

Misogyny alone is not enough to explain, there's also the political and religious at play with the psychological:

"Anne became [...] 'the evil counsellor.' In spite of Chapuys, the Emperor needed to maintain a civil relationship with Henry for his own purposes. He therefore chose to believe that Anne was bullying Mary (and Catherine) behind her husband's back. In a similar way Mary deceived herself into believing that it was not really her father who was subjecting her to such remorseless pressure, but the wicked woman who had acquired such an ascendancy over him." +

"Her actual contribution to the 'scourge' of Lutheranism [...] was inflated to unbelievable proportions. Chapuys [went as] far as to blame 'the heretical doctrines and practices of the concubine' as 'the principal cause of the spread of Lutheranism in this country.' [This] created [...] a political/religious 'wing' of sentiment [against Anne Boleyn] that was [later] exploited by Cromwell [...] and it was a powerful obstacle in the way of Anne's acceptance by the (still largely Catholic) English people."

For me, what separates is that this subject (although more specifically on the mistreatment of Princess Mary, riffed on that here) is discussed as if it was an untapped timeline, and it's ...not? The events immediately preceding May 1536 do not vindicate or absolve any cruelty on Anne's part; by any means, but what they do prove is that Chapuys was wrong about her being the 'X factor' here, as it were. Once she's subtracted is when Mary's disbarred from succession in much firmer legal language by Parliament. Moreover, the Boleyn downfall was a watershed in court division and factionalism, its aftermath was not a period of 'relative' (or otherwise) tranquility but rather continuance, even amplification, of religious suppression for those that did not adhere to the tenets of the new Henrician 'supremacy'.

Also, let's not underrate the ambition of the 'Marian faction'. They wanted a return to the status quo, yes, we shouldn't discredit religious motivations either, but they also wanted to regain the status and favour they felt they had lost. They were bargaining on the future favour of Mary once she was heiress again, bargaining on the future of Henry having no other children by marriage (so, even Mary as Queen), that's generally forgotten because most of them did not survive to reap (and, arguably, Mary becoming Queen later had very little to do with her faction of the 1530s that had failed upwards, considering especially that Mary was not reinstated into the succession--conditionally, but still--until several years after the Exeter Conspiracy).

[tenok]

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[moonstrider9904]

après la bataille

Steb x fem!Reader (Enforcer)

Summary: the battle for Piltover has past, and you help Steb find some much needed peace of mind.

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/warnings: Mature and SFW, (french) kissing and making out, brief implications of smut. Spoilers for the ending Arcane season 2. Enforcer!Reader, mentions of death and loss, hints of PTSD, processing difficult emotions, hurt/comfort, established relationship.

Prequel one-shot coming soon! | My Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warm lights gleamed in the distance, and if one didn’t pay much attention, you would almost swear nothing had happened in Piltover for days. In the peaceful, quiet night, while the City of Progress’ lights twinkled and contrasted with the night sky, it was easy to forget the smoke and the unnatural violence, the blood that had been spilled, the war that, in what had felt like a blink of an eye, shook Piltover and Zaun only to leave things unnervingly quiet—those who had been in the head of it had a hard time believing, at times, that things were truly at peace now.

Steb watched the city with a heavy heart. Though victory had reigned, and Piltover and Zaun weren’t at odds with each other or the Noxian empire, it was inevitable to ponder on the cost. He had witnessed it first hand, from the moments he fought for his survival to having faced his own death in less time it would take him to exhale, mercifully saved by former councilor Medarda; he’d seen the price of the chain of events Hextech had brought forth in the form of light escaping the eyes of each of his fallen comrades.

Some of them had been his friends.

It had happened fast. The partner with whom Steb had gone from rescuing a stranded cat atop a tall tree to dismantling Shimmer, had died before his eyes at the hands of her own bullet—and the magic of the same mage who saved his life. He’d barely had time to process her betrayal and to question how the hell he hadn’t seen it coming before Maddie lay lifeless on the ground where she’d stood, about to take another life. If Steb mourned, he’d be mourning a traitor, but if he didn’t mourn, he wouldn’t be mourning his friend. A part deep within him hated such a dichotomy.

And then there was Loris. Not many words had been shared between the two—there was never any need for them. But Steb vividly remembered the attack on the memorial as the first real battle he’d been in, and Loris was the reason he’d come out of it alive. The vagabond he’d found lying hungover and nearly unconscious on the Piltovan sidewalk had mustered superhuman strength to shield him from a fatal blow, and now, Steb would never have a chance to return the favor. Just as he and the other survivors were emerging after the battle, it was the pianist turned soldier who went up to him and delivered Loris’ badge, and Steb knew it could only mean one thing. The feeling of his heart plummeting within him would be one he’d remember all his life. The loss of Loris, of Maddie, of the Zaunites he’d met at the bridge willing to take a stand.

The only thing that could console him after that was knowing you’d made it out alright. If he had another regret, it would be not being with you every second of it, but it would comfort him forever to know you were safe with him and you’d done your part in returning Piltover and Zaun to peace.

And as if his thoughts had invoked you, he soon heard your steps approaching. He remained facing the city as you entered the balcony, but his ears twitched in the direction of your footsteps, and a hint of a smile formed when he felt your arms wrap around him from behind, and your cheek resting up against the side of his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your sweet voice traveled to his ears and soothed every fiber within him. For once, Steb was able to relax, exhaling the tension from within his body, and his hand went to cover yours as it rested over his heart.

“They don’t matter,” he muttered.

You smiled softly, stifling a chuckle while you snuggled into his back before making your way towards his side, finally able to look up at him. “They do to me, love.”

Steb dismissed his laments and shifted to face you. He gazed down on you, thinking to himself how rare it had become to see you dressed in something other than your uniform, and for a moment he couldn’t fathom how beautiful you looked in your deep blue gown. It had discreet silver details and the right crop to compliment your silhouette in the best ways possible, and for a moment he was whole again, finding a brief respite from the memories that had tormented him those past few days.

“You look gorgeous,” Steb said softly with his deep, rich voice which you loved.

You smiled up at him, eyes sparkling, as you took his hands in yours. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.” Your eyes scanned the attire he was wearing—his suit resembled his uniform, but it was darker and far more elegant, and if you didn’t know better, you’d sooner mistake him for royalty than assume he was being promoted. You knew he was supposed to be wearing his black hat, but for the time being, he’d cast it aside, a fact you adored—you loved seeing as much of his features as you could, always finding it a whole new, beautiful experience to simply be able to look at Steb and gaze upon his every detail. You gave his hands a gentle squeeze and paced closer to him, taking one of your hands to rest on the crook of his neck and letting your thumb caress his skin gently.

“You’re going to make a fine commander,” you smiled gently at him.

Grateful as he was for your words, you noticed Steb carried the weight of the world in his eyes. He stifled a chuckle and, knowing he could be at ease with you, he briefly looked out at the peaceful Piltover, melancholy.

“Would it be too self-loathing to say I don’t think I deserve it?” He questioned.

“Yes,” you replied without a doubt. “It would also be a flat lie.”

Steb gave a quick exhale and some of the tension left his body, but the thoughts continued to weigh on him. “I could have done more.”

“You’ve done so much already,” you said gently, pausing as your gaze faltered before meeting his eyes again. “I know how you feel… I lost people too. And… not being with you during it was hell.”

“I know,” Steb said quietly.

You exhaled, and your voice fell to a whisper. “I really thought I was gonna lose you.”

He held the hand that rested on his neck and lifted it so that you could see him holding your hand from the corner of your eye.

“You couldn’t,” he said.

The dread left you entirely, and you managed to smile brightly at Steb, finding once again the will to achieve your sole objective of lifting his mood.

“And once you’re commander,” you continued, “you are not getting rid of me.”

Steb laughed smoothly. “Is that a promise?”

You nodded with a cheeky glint in your eye. “Darling, you can consider that a threat.”

His laughter came again, and you wrapped your arms around his upper back while he wrapped his around your waist. You stepped even closer to him, sealing the space between your bodies, and you were well aware of the way your chest pressed itself to his torso. Your eyes adopted an enticing gleam, and your lips curved into the smile Steb was never able to resist, and your voice was smooth when you talked to him, inviting him deeper into finding bliss with you.

“Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?” You asked him with a smirk.

You didn’t have to do more for Steb to understand, and he decided to play a little further with you.

“Hm,” he hummed. “I’m not sure.”

“Really?” You pressed yourself even more to him and perked up on your toes, letting your lips draw close up to his. “Nothing comes to mind? Not even, perhaps, something we could very easily do in the less than an hour we have before the ceremony? Gee, what ever could we do in that amount of time?”

Steb laughed fully and, with a firm grip, he picked you up and spun you around, now holding you as though he were to dance with you.

“You make it tempting,” Steb purred. “But I’d never dream of rushing things with you. Besides, I’m not going to risk ruining that pretty dress before the ceremony.”

“That,” you replied with a giggle, “was actually the correct answer.”

You both fell in silence, and you didn’t make an effort to fight the urge to brush your hand up to his cheek and let your thumb trace over the delicate frills around his eye. Steb leaned into the warmth of your palm—you knew he loved the tender contact of your skin on his frills—and without another moment’s hesitation, you took his lips in yours.

You could feel his body relax as his arms wrapped deeper around the curve of your back, as if he could pull you any closer, and though your eyes were closed as you kissed him, you knew by now his ears had slowly tilted downward and the frills around his eyes moved in slow, uniform waves, a testament to the peace and the joy brought upon him by your lips. The tenderness of the kiss gradually morphed into desire as you felt Steb pushing himself forward to you, adding strength to the movement of his lips and slowly slipping his tongue inside of you; the delicate friction of his tongue on yours filled your body with the sweetest sparks you’d ever be exposed you, and it prompted you to cling around his shoulders standing on your toes—a little more, and your feet would be off the ground.

You didn’t resist the urge to moan into his lips, and the airy quality of your voice made Steb smirk into the kiss. You wanted more of him, and just as you were cursing the fact that you both had to be at a ceremony in less than an hour, and that it would keep you from being entwined in bedsheets with him instead, you let your desires take over and you made your way kissing down Steb’s neck. You delighted in the moan that escaped him, delicious in his rich and deep voice, and as you kissed his neck, you let your lips linger in the same spot for just enough before moving to the next, crawling dangerously close to the collar of his shirt. You decided no harm would come in humoring your fantasies just one step further, and your fingers delicately undid that first button pushing the fabric to the sides, exposing but a fraction of his chest where your fingertips danced and caressed, hinting at the mischief and delicacy that could have been were it not for the honors he was about to receive.

“Darling…” Steb’s breath hitched and a smirk formed on his lips.

For a moment, he too wished you didn’t have other places to be, but if he had to settle for the moment, he’d make it worth it by grasping firmly at the backs of your thighs and lifting you up for you to wrap your legs around his waist as much as the skirt of your gown would allow. You gave a pleased giggle in response, now able to wrap your arms around him further, and you kissed his lips once more, brushing your tongue against his freely and with glee. One of your hands tugged softly at his hair, trying your best not to mess it up for him, and the other went to the back of his neck where your fingers rested on the crooks of the fins that went down his spine. You lost yourself in that kiss, hoping it would last forever, enjoying every second until Steb set you down on the ground again and sealed the moment with one last, tender kiss on your lips before rising up again.

You were dazed after such a session, and you were pleased to see that so was he. Steb grounded himself with a deep exhale, redoing the button of his shirt almost reluctantly, but you also noticed he had a little smile on his lips that hinted at satisfaction and even pride. You chuckled, glad that you could bring such emotions upon him. He then gazed at you, still smiling, and you grinned in anticipation of what the look on his face meant—he’d have his way with you after the ceremony.

But for the time being, you walked up to him one more time and hugged him gently, resting your head against his chest, able to hear the beating of his heart. You settled into the peace that came with the embrace, hoping dearly he felt better than before you’d arrived onto that balcony. You listened for any other sounds, but there was quiet all around you.

Yes, Piltover was at peace now, and when you felt Steb wrapping his arms around you once more, you knew things would be alright. Still in the embrace, you shifted to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest, able to gaze into his ocean eyes as he looked down at you. Tenderly, you smiled, and Steb smiled back as if he could read your thoughts, but he didn’t need to. The gleam in your eyes and softness of your smile told him everything, that you would stand with him through the honors he’d receive, and through everything else that followed.

Silently, you made that promise to him.

If you like this, please reblog too! Thanks for reading!

Tagging: @thegreatandlvable let me know if you want to be tagged in future Steb fics!

[djarincore]

The Name of Love

SUMMARY: You knew him by three names: Mando, Din, and finally, riduur.

PAIRING: din djarin x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, canon typical violence, blood, hypothermia, happy ending

A/N: a repost from my previous blog! i've only written 2 full din fics so far but this is def my favorite one <3 thanks again to @xiadeptus for beta reading this

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You first knew him as the Mandalorian, the stoic and aloof bounty hunter that drifted in and out of Tatooine looking for work or ship repairs. The glinting armor was hard not to notice under the scorching twin suns, along with his infamous reputation that followed in whispers—whispers which mainly revolved around the strange, green child he carried around in a bag and the fact that he never showed his face. 

When you first got the job at Peli’s garage, thanks to the favor she owed your mother, the sight of the Mandalorian descending the ramp of his beaten-up Razor Crest had you slipping behind a couple of stacked crates with the rest of the quivering pit droids. He strode down the ramp toward your boss who was already reaching for the green child trailing after him. 

“There’s my little guy!” She exclaimed, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. The child cooed and clasped her finger in his three-fingered grasp. His keeper watched on with hands on his hips; the helmet remained solely focused on the child. 

“We need a repair,” he said, the rasp in his voice still remaining despite the modulator. 

“Sure thing but, just so you know, it’ll cost you a little extra this time. Got a new hire.” She jerked her thumb in your direction. 

You took it as your cue to reveal yourself, noting the way his helmet turned, carefully looking you up and down, and his hand slowly moved toward the blaster at his waist, like he wasn’t above shooting the harmless mechanic’s assistant and a couple of droids. You lifted both hands, stained with oil, as a show of goodwill.  

“Aw, relax, Mando,” Peli drawled, swatting the air with her nonchalant attitude. “They’re not a droid.” 

His hand slipped off the handle, but remained at his side, ready to draw if necessary. 

You sent him a friendly half-smile and his gloved fingers twitched. 

“Fine.”

The remainder of the day was spent repairing the left wing and engine of his ship, which looked like it had seen the losing side of a gunfight, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to limp down to Tatooine without crashing and burning once he broke through the atmosphere. 

The job would have been faster if you had some assistance from the droids, but Peli made it clear they weren’t allowed anywhere near the ship or the Mandalorian, making his disdain for them abundantly clear. You wondered the whole day what a droid could have done to make him hate even the smallest of droids. The theories you built in your head ran wild, ranging from a nasty betrayal by a trusted ally to tripping him in a crowded cantina, embarrassing him so badly he vowed to never show his face ever again.

You leaned against the rope of the swing suspending you off the ground, taking a break from welding metal back together, and watched the Mandalorian move below your feet. He walked with purpose, something a fearsome bounty hunter with a widespread reputation was expected to do; every step was carefully calculated like a predator hunting prey. Behind him was the child clumsily waddling, as fast as his legs could carry him, after the man. 

Your lips curved into a soft smile while observing the dichotomy of the two. It warmed your heart to see how attached the child was to his guardian. More questions formed in your mind about their relationship; the rumors didn’t contain the exact details of how the two came to be together. 

Maybe the child is his biological son and beneath all the armor is green, wrinkly skin and comically large ears tucked into the helmet, you joked to yourself. 

You pressed one of the buttons on the side of your swing to lower yourself to the ground. Your feet touched the floor, but you didn’t get up. 

“Your ship should be up and running in no time.” 

“Thank you for your help.” 

“No pro- Oh!” You exclaimed when something poked at your leg. A three-fingered hand was tapping your leg; large black eyes gazed up at you. You cooed, “Hello there, little guy.” 

He tugged at the cuff of your pants, waving his arms in the air. You waved back, fighting back the urge to smooth your fingers over his floppy ears.

“He wants you to hold him.” 

“Ah,” you chuckled, cheeks warming. You didn’t have much experience with children; in fact, you didn’t know the first thing about caring for one. They had so many needs, so many different ways of communicating them too. The pressure to mold them into upstanding beings—it was just too much. But, you could definitely hold a child, especially one as cute as him. 

You pulled him into your arms and he immediately found the strings of your shirt vastly entertaining.

“I think he likes me,” you quipped. 

The child’s babble sounded like a positive response. 

“Me too,” the Mandalorian said, leaning against a crate and watching the two of you. 

There were multiple rotations between their visits. Each visit brought a new scratch, ding, or completely wrecked engine that made you look on in disbelief, but you were eager to see the two nonetheless. They brought stories of their adventures, bounties, and new people they met. 

You would be the first to greet them, standing at the base of the ship’s ramp with a wide grin and many questions budding on the tip of your tongue. 

“Hey.” 

The modulated voice made you snap out of your thoughts. 

“Yes, sir?” 

You could hear him huff behind the modulator. He said to just call him Mando the first time you called him sir, but you never picked it up, finding it too entertaining to hear his exasperated sighs. 

“Want to get off this planet? I’ve got a job proposition.” 

Your goodbyes were easy—a hug for Peli, head pats for each droid—and suddenly, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit of the ship you had been repairing for the past few rotations. 

You quickly learned space was cold and you were not prepared. The thin clothes you were used to on Tatooine wouldn’t cut it anymore and it left you shivering in the passenger seat. 

You sunk down your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself to find a semblance of warmth. 

You weren’t sure what your purpose was in the time between ports, but even if you knew, you were frozen to your seat and unable to move without feeling stiff. 

Soon, you fell asleep, lulled by the stars and the sound of beeps and hollow groans of an old ship.

You woke to fabric being draped over your body and a glimmer of beskar. 

The hands over the fabric paused; the Mandalorian stepped back, hands returning to his side, flexing at his waist. “Should have told me you were cold.”

You gripped the fabric and realized it was one of his thick, woolen capes which smelled of caf beans and leather. You resisted the urge to nestle your cheek against the wool and savor the comfort it offered.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” 

“You’re a part of my crew now,” he said firmly. “We take care of each other.” 

Your heart stuttered, fingers curled tighter around his cape, and you muttered a pathetic, “Yeah.” 

From the kindness he offered, you made a silent promise at that moment; as long as the three of you were together, you would do anything to protect them. 

It wouldn’t be long before you realized he felt the same. 

��

Then, you learned his name, his real name—Din Djarin. It had been a while into your partnership. You learned far more about the two than your theories could have imagined—his Creed, his force-wielding child. 

The three of you had a good routine. He would scout out bounties while you either worked on the ship or found other mechanic work elsewhere if the ship was (miraculously) undamaged. Grogu would be passed between the two of you. If Mando’s bounty was too dangerous for him to follow you’d take him for the day, letting him pass you random tools and praising him for helping. And at the end of the day, the three of you reconvened with separate checks that would go toward supplies and other basic necessities. If it was a particularly rough day, you would be forcing him onto a crate and checking his wounds. 

“I’m fine,” he would insist, attempting to push your wandering hands aside. But, you could see the unsteady shake of his hand and the sliver of skin and blood showing on his waist where he was cut. 

It was a simple routine, but it worked. You had no complaints… 

…Well, just one.

“ Kriff, we’re gonna crash!” You cried, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing your imminent doom that took the form of two towering cliffs of ice far too close together for the ship to slip through. The two tailing bounty hunter ships had followed you from Nevaro, after accusing Mando of stealing a bounty from them, which he rightfully caught. 

You knew working for a bounty hunter wasn’t going to be easy, comfortable, or safe—but, you trusted him. He was good at what he did and you never doubted it. 

The ship turned on its side, jerking your entire body to the right, and left you at the mercy of the belt across your body to keep you in your seat. You could hear the scrape of ice across the bottom of the ship and cringed, knowing you’d have to repair that (if you even made it out of this alive). 

When the ship slipped free from the narrow gap and straightened. you let out a breath and opened your eyes. Snow, miles, and miles of it, touched everything your eyes could see. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder. If you could see his face, you’d guess it was smug. 

You were getting better at reading your faceless partner. He didn’t say much but his body did with every head tilt and shrug. And you would catch yourself spending a lot of time just observing him. 

“You’ve gotta stop piloting like that,” you huffed, cradling your head when you feel the slightest throb. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Don’t plan on it,” came his monotone response. 

The ship cruised, his helmet scanning the horizon, and kept low in the meantime. There was no sign of the other two ships. 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood; a wave of dizziness had you staggering. When your hand flew out to catch on to something, you found his, already reaching out to steady you in his strong grasp. The brush of his thumb over your knuckles made your breath catch.

“I have to lie down.” To stop your heart from racing at his subtle touches. 

You thought you had gotten used to it by now—the way he made you feel safe. Whether it was his hand hovering over the base of your spine as he guided you through a crowded market or how he would always position himself between you and whatever shady character he had dealings with. The small gestures piled up and toyed with your mind. You understood the signs—heart racing, nervous tension in your chest—the budding symptoms of love. 

“We’re not in the clear yet.” 

You brushed the heat crawling over your neck off and said, “Can’t we land somewhere and wait them out a while? I’m gonna be sick if you start flying upside down.”

The beginning of his argument was cut off by the cockpit door opening. You slipped out and down the ladder into the cargo hold. Some crates shifted to the right of the ship as a result of the sharp turn. You weren’t concerned with them as much as you were with your makeshift bed space, a flimsy sleeping bag and some blankets, which were also flung off to the side. One of your blankets was stuck under a crate, too heavy for you to lift by yourself. 

You groaned, weakly tugging at the fabric peeking out beneath. You were cold, tired, and sick—you already hated this planet. 

You heard a curse from above and Mando shouted, “Hold onto something!” 

You didn’t have time to react before the ship was nose-diving, throwing you against the wall. You clung to the ladder as the ship's sporadic movements jostled your entire body. It continued for a few more seconds before settling and the engines cut out. Everything was finally still, except your heart. 

You heard the creaks of ice settling beneath the ship, then cracks. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to the weight, shattering into a cavern below and dragging the ship with it. 

You don’t remember hitting your head, just the scream that came before it. But, when you finally came to, numb and confused, Mando was rattling your shoulders with a panicked voice.

“Wake up.” 

You could have sworn in your daze there was a desperate ‘please’ added at the end. 

You groaned, peeling your eyes open, “Mando?” 

He sighed like a massive weight was lifted off of him. “Yeah,” he said, there was a hint of a smile in his voice. He carefully slipped his arms behind your shoulders and knees. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

You were half aware of him lifting you, too dazed by the cold settling under your skin and making a home deep in your bones.  

The hull was dusted with snow and frost. You spotted a large hole in the side of the ship, crudely covered with a tarp and some crates. 

“Got t’ fix,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder pauldron. You didn’t even know where to start with something that large on this barren planet. If you weren’t so cold, the dread would have set in, realizing you were stranded on a barren planet with little resources to dig yourselves up from a cold grave. 

“Not right now,” he grunted, kicking your toolbox aside—the one he gifted you on Nevaro after you eyed it at a stall for too long. He approached the small corner beside his bunk, which was caved in, where there was little snow piled. He set you down, supporting the back of your head with his hand as he laid you against the wall. “I’ll be right back.” 

You could’ve protested if your mouth or eyes didn’t feel frozen shut; all you wanted to do was drift off.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He ripped a glove off and pressed his warm hand to your cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You moaned, pushing closer to the warmth, and tried to focus on his visor. 

“There you go. Good.” 

With your thoughts slowly catching up, you glanced around his shoulders, not seeing a floating pram anywhere. You wanted to get up and rush around him in search of the child, but all you could muster was a sharp turn of your head that still sent pain down your neck. “Where’s-”

Mando brought your face back to him. His steady voice pulled you out of your panic. “He’s fine. He’s up in the cockpit; I’ll bring him down after I get you some blankets.” 

“Okay.” You rested your head against the wall and watched as he untied his cape and slipped it over your shoulders, tucking it close around your body. 

He disappeared up the ladder. You heard his faint footsteps, scouring the upper level. He returned soon, a few blankets slung over his shoulder and Grogu tucked in his other arm. 

He set Grogu down and moved you forward just enough for him to sling more blankets over your shoulders.

If you could feel your face, maybe you’d laugh at how ridiculous you looked and felt, like a small child being coddled by a worried parent. But, he wasn’t a worried parent, he was your employer—your incredibly kind and caring employer, who you often dreamt of as more than an employer, more than a friend. 

“Aren’t y-you,” you chattered, “cold, too?” 

You worried about him under all that shining armor; he could be hiding an injury like he always did, pretending he was fine and limping off somewhere else to lick his wounds alone. You wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn all the time. 

Grogu crawled into your lap, playing with the tips of your frozen fingers. Mando said something about his armor keeping him warm, but you didn’t register any of it when his hands enveloped yours—calloused and warm.  

“Try to keep your arms and legs moving,” he said, massaging the palm of your hands. Then he directed his attention to Grogu. “Okay, kid, keep your buir warm. I’m going to repair the ship.” 

“Hm?” You cocked your head at the word. Sure, he liked sneaking Mando’a words into his sentences from time to time—sometimes calling you mesh’la or cyar’ika, which made you blush because of how sincere he sounded—but you just assumed they were nicknames. You assumed buir meant babysitter or something along those lines, too. “Stealing my job, Mando?” you quipped instead. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When his hands slipped from yours, your fingers twitched, almost asking him not to go. You would warm up faster if he were with you.

He slipped past the tarp, into the cavern of snow. Grogu’s babble drew your attention; his arms were raised.

You apologized, “Sorry, kid, I’d lift you up, but my arms are a bit sore right now.”

He continued to babble as he found comfort nestled in your lap instead. You rested your head against the wall and stared at the opening where Mando left, still feeling the ghost of his warmth on your hand. 

The minutes you spent slowly flexing your hands and feet paid off; your strength was slowly returning. Grogu crawled off of your lap and watched as you, with the grace of a newborn calf, pushed yourself onto unsteady feet.

“Okay, kid, let’s go help your dad.” You scooped him up and braced yourself with Mando’s cape, making sure the two of you were snug beneath the fabric before pushing aside the tarp and stepping outside into the frigid weather. 

The cold winds were the first to greet you; already, your cheeks were growing numb. Grogu let out a disapproving grunt, clearly not favoring the cold either. 

You stayed close to the side of the ship in case your legs gave out and rounded the tail end before finding Mando, with frost coating his armor and hands on his hip, staring at a jumble of wires hanging from an open panel. 

Upon seeing his father, Grogu cheered in your arms, alerting the Mandalorian whose head snapped in your direction. 

He was already approaching you before declaring, “You need to rest.” 

“I can’t cozy up in there while you’re out here all by yourself. Look at you.” You drew a line in the frost coating his chest plate. “You must be freezing under all that.” 

“I said I’m-”

“Fine,” you finished. “I know, I know—you’re always fine, Mando.” 

You were growing tired of his stubborn attitude concerning his well-being and of standing for so long. You were beginning to sway without realizing it, but Mando’s quick hand on your shoulder steadied you. 

“I got you,” he murmured. He took Grogu from you and moved to your side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, silently guiding you back into the ship’s hull and onto the spot where the blankets were piled. 

Once you were settled, you expected him to wander back out but, to your surprise, he began detaching pieces of his armor. 

You watched, mouth agape, as one by one the shining beskar revealed a dark flight suit that molded with the contours of his body. The helmet, of course, stayed.

He eased himself onto the floor beside you and wrapped the three of you beneath the blankets. Your eyes widened when his arm pressed against yours. You dared to rest your head against his shoulder; you relished in the comfort of his presence, finally feeling warmer than ever. His body began to relax gradually with your head on his shoulder and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. 

With Grogu resting in your lap it almost felt like the three of you were a family, settling in after a long day. 

“You’re always protecting everyone,” you said, exhaustion beginning to creep over you once again. “We’re a crew, right? Let me take care of you too.” 

You knew the irony in saying that while he was taking care of you, but you hoped he would remember it. 

He slipped his gloves off to flex the stiff muscles. “I’m,” he started, “just not used to this.” 

“Having a crew?” You guessed. 

“Having someone care.”

Your mouth dropped open with a response dying on your tongue. Instead, you resolved to take his hand and curl your fingers through his. They were stiff from the cold, but relaxed once your thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles. 

“You’re a good man and I trust you with my life. Don’t think for a second I don’t care about you, Mando. I-” You cut yourself off.

You what? Loved him? Kriff. He just started opening up to you. Telling him you were in love with him right after would surely make him run in the other direction. You doubted he felt the same. You could read him, but not that well. 

“Din.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, relieved he didn’t attempt to figure out what you were going to say. “What?” 

“My name’s Din.” 

He was looking at you now. Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his darkened visor, but you wouldn’t disrespect his Creed and you didn’t think you could handle seeing his strong gaze, boring into you. 

So, you turned your eyes down toward your intertwined hands; you tested his name on your tongue and smiled. 

Getting off the ice planet took work—a mix of frustration and determination—and you swore to get a nice vacation on some far, far away planet, preferably with a warm, sunny beach. 

But, the ship needed heavier repairs, forcing the three of you to find the nearest planet, Trask, for maintenance. A dock worker was quick to offer his services, charging more than necessary, once you landed. 

You frowned when Din agreed without hesitation, dropping the credits into his slimy hands. You could have rolled up your sleeves and got to work yourself with better equipment at hand, but Din insisted on the three of you getting some real rest after the stress of the past three days. 

The place was seedy, smelled of fish, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted eyes stalking the three of you as you passed through the quiet harbor. You and Din walked on either side of Grogu’s floating pram. 

You, with a scowl glued to your face, pulled your cape, one of Din’s, tighter around yourself. The toolbox Din gifted you was clasped in your hand, deemed too precious to leave behind while strangers fixed the ship. You leaned into Din and whispered, “We should just go back to Tatooine for the repairs; I can do it.”

“I know you can, but the ship’s too damaged and you know it.”

You huffed. 

Grogu mimicked your huff, putting on his best grouchy face, and your frown lightened into a smile, pointing at the boy. “See—even he agrees with me.”

Din let out an amused hum. “When did the two of you decide to team up against me?” 

“We hold secret meetings when you’re out and conspire against you.” 

“Guess I should watch my back,” he deadpanned. 

Night fell quickly on Trask and before you knew it, the streets were oddly quiet, only lit by dim street lights in rounded sections. 

Din’s stride grew cautious; his helmet subtly turned to scan the area. 

You also took caution, straining your ears for anything out of place, but all you heard was the nearby tide pulling in and out. 

There was a shift in the gravel behind you. Din’s hand shot out to shove aside Grogu’s pram, sending him off to a nearby stack of crates, and he could only brush your shoulder before turning and deflecting a blaster shot with his vambrace. The heat from the blast radiated in the air around you. 

“Run!” He barked, ripping his blaster from its holder and firing off a shot into the dark. 

Your feet hesitated and your heart stuttered when another blast hit his chest plate, forcing a grunt from him. But, the sound of worried coos snapped you out of it. You turned and ran toward Grogu who watched the fight with large eyes.  

Three figures emerged from the darkness, dressed like pirates, and armed with unrelenting blasters all aimed at Din.  

“Give up the armor, Mando.” One of them demanded.

“It’s time to hide, okay?” You said, tucking Grogu into the pram. Your thumb brushed over the mythosaur necklace he always wore like a lucky charm and you were praying it would work. You pressed the button on the outside of his pram to shut it. 

The fight was coming to a close by the time you turned back, much to your relief. Two were knocked out cold, sprawled across the floor while the remaining one continued to fight. Both of them resorted to hand-to-hand combat after they managed to disarm one another. 

Just when you thought you could relax, the remaining pirate pulled out a blade and took a swipe at Din, plunging it deep into his side and back out. Your breathing stopped when Din staggered and fell to his knees. 

The pirate grabbed him by his cowl, pressing the bloodied blade to his throat, and sneered, “Give up.” 

Your hands shook. Not like this, you thought. You couldn’t— wouldn’t —lose him. You dropped your toolbox and fell to your knees, wrenching it open to look for anything that would help. You pulled the largest item free, the hammer, and ran. Adrenaline pushed your feet toward the two and, putting all your weight into it, you swung at the pirate's head, sending him stumbling back.

Only dazed, the pirate sent you a menacing glare, lips pulled back into a snarl, and spat out curses, promising you’d regret it. 

Your hand clenched the hammer, heart racing, ready to swing again as he prepared to lunge at you. Not even fear or the promise of death would stop you from saving Din.  

Then, something ignited, cold and droning like echoes of the abyss, behind the pirate. 

You smelt the smoke before the nauseating burnt flesh. It made your stomach roll.

A haunting glow emitted from the pirate's chest before it was sliced clean through. He fell—lifeless—with a thud, crimson leaking from the gash and pooling around him. 

Din stood over him—one hand clutching his waist and the other holding the darksaber. His chest rose and fell; his helmet was fixated on the body. You could hear the leather of his gloves cry as his hand tightened around the hilt of the saber.  

You never saw him use it before. It looked more like an accessory on him rather than a weapon. He once explained its bloody history and how he came to acquire it. The weight of its importance haunted him, a burden he never wished to bear. 

“Oh, Maker,” you cried, rushing toward him. The darksaber unignighted; the heavy atmosphere disappeared along with it and time continued. You dropped the hammer and pressed your hand to his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto yours. 

He grunted, “I’m…” 

Your wavering voice saying his name made him pause. 

“Let’s get out of the street,” he said instead. He waved Grogu’s pram forward with the controls on his vambrace. It opened, revealing the whimpering child. 

The three of you limped all the way to an inn. When the innkeeper sent you a weary look, you demanded the first room available and a medical kit—whatever the price. After slapping the credits on the counter, you snatched up the kit and dragged Din toward the room, not caring about the drops of blood staining the hallway.  

The room was small and gray; a single bed set in the middle of the room, a nightstand on either side, and a fresher. You eased him onto the bed, where he slumped and groaned.

The medical kit was meager; a suture kit, antiseptic wipes, and a few bacta patches, but it would do. You dashed to the fresher to wash your hands. You scrubbed them viciously, watching his blood run down the sink. Tears blurred your vision. The red wouldn’t stop running. 

When you emerged from the fresher, his shirt was already rolled up and he was attempting to clean his wound. Grogu was asleep in his pram, wiped out from all the excitement. 

You released a tired sigh. “Let me.” 

You moved to take the cloth from him, kneeling at his feet and wiping around the area of the wound gently.

“Don’t do that again,” he rasped.

“Save your life?” The playful tone you attempted fell flat. As much as you wanted to be amused, the fear of losing him still suffocated you. He was safe, your thoughts repeated.

Once the wound was cleaned you pulled the needle from the kit. You were in over your head and a bit nauseous. Cleaning wounds was easy, but stitching them up was something else. 

You’ve seen him cauterize his own wounds and pinched your nose when the smell became too much. He didn’t deserve the scars they left behind and this was your opportunity to finally take care of him. 

You willed your hands not to tremble as you notched the needle through his skin, apologizing when he sucked in a sharp breath or flinched.

“I told you to run.”

Your voice was finally firm when you said, “I’m not going to leave you.” 

He was your partner, through and through, and you cared for him. 

When you were finished, you unwrapped a bacta patch and laid it over the suture. You smoothed over the patch and withdrew your hands. 

He was already sitting up taller, no longer hunched over or wheezing. You knew it was a good sign but you still trembled all over.

You raised your head, but your eyes were stuck on his cowl where a sliver of his blood was left from the blade. The tears were returning, flooding your bottom lashes. 

Would that pirate have killed him right there on the street, stripped him of his armor, and left him like trash? You would have had to drag his body back to the ship—would have to tell Grogu his father was dead. 

“Cyar’ika, look at me,” he said, finding your cheek with his palm. “Just breathe.” 

You didn’t realize you were gasping for breath, tears running down your cheeks until your eyes finally connected with his visor. 

“I just can’t lose you, Din,” you cried. “I can’t .”

There was so much you wanted to say—so much he needed to know. You were so close to losing him and losing the chance to admit how you’d grown to feel over the course of your partnership.

He guided you onto the bed and held you until the tears stopped and subsided into sniffles. Your face was buried in his cowl and your arms were thrown around his shoulder. 

“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, a waver in his voice. You were so close you could almost hear the sound of his real voice. His words were tender and sincere. 

Your breath hitched and a realization washed over you. 

He pulled back and you pulled yourself out of his neck with wide eyes. Cold metal met your forehead. 

“You mean far too much to me.” 

For a man of few words, he still said so much. Your hand brushed below the rim of his helmet. “I love you, Din,” you confessed.

Your heart pounded as you waited for his response—for even the sharpest intake of breath. But, it was silent—all but your heart remained still as he processed your words. Your hand slipped away, back to the safety of your personal bubble, which was beginning to shrink as the silence became an oppressive weight on your shoulders. 

Say something, you wanted to shout. Did you read his words wrong? Was it just appreciation for his… employee? 

“Close the curtains and turn off the light.”

Your brows furrowed and you cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Please.”

You stood with a frown and shuffled to shut the curtains, then made your way to the light switch. You took one last glance over your shoulder, before flipping the switch and submerging the room in darkness. You could hardly see his silhouette as you shuffled back to the bed with your hands out in front.

A calloused hand found your wandering ones, carefully pulling you down to sit beside him once again, not letting go. Then, you heard a click and a hiss, like he was detaching his—

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing and you tried pulling away. Even in the darkness, where shadows fell across the silhouette of his body, you couldn’t risk seeing him—no matter how curious. 

“Din, no-” 

“It’s alright,” he reassured. The low rasp of his voice was no longer modified by his helmet. He chased after you in the dark; his hand moved to the back of your neck, drawing your face closer to his. You could feel the warmth of his breath brushing across your lips. 

The smell of caf and leather drew you closer you and you fell into its embrace. It was your safety, your haven—the home you found in him, along with his son and his beaten-down ship. 

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika, ” he whispered into the darkness, gentle devotion laced in his words. “ I love you .” 

When he kissed you, it was slow, a tender meeting of lips which you both relaxed into. The weight off your shoulders disappeared and all you could do was smile against his lips and draw him closer. 

That night you traced his features in the dark, committing every outline and curve to memory, with a content smile and full heart while he held you close. You didn’t need to see his face to love him; it could wait—forever if it meant you’d still have him.

“You know,” he said in the darkness with you tucked close under his arm, “you wield a hammer well. It reminds me of someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

It was nearly a full cycle before you met the Armorer, the mysterious figure Din would mention from time to time, a woman he seemed to respect. 

You were nervous. Though he never said it directly, she was like a maternal figure and you wanted to make a good impression. 

Ever since Trask, the two of you were closer than ever. He had no reservations when it came to you. His hand would lay firmly against your lower back as he crowded around you, guiding you through busy markets, pulling you close whenever someone bumped into you. You no longer slept alone, trading out your flimsy sleeping bag for a cozy spot in his bed. At night when the lights were out, you’d finally get to kiss him and share dreams. 

The covert was located on a barren planet. You wouldn’t have guessed there was any life if it weren’t for the scattered Mandalorian sparing at the mouth of a cave. 

By the time you landed near the lake, only two Mandalorians emerged to greet you. 

“It’s been a while.” A large, blue man said upon approaching, greeting the three of you with a simple nod. He towered over everyone, a mass of muscle and armor that radiated intimidation. 

As he approached, your foot slid back as you bent your neck to meet his visor and you bumped into Din. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is Paz, my brother.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, sticking a hand out. 

The hand that takes yours is firm; he shook once and let go. The hand on your shoulder squeezed. 

“It seems your clan has grown.” The figure to Paz’s right spoke, her visor trained on the hand over your shoulder. You needed no introduction for her. It was obvious in the way she spoke, authoritative and clear, that she was the Armorer. 

Your lips quirked. A clan, huh? 

She welcomed you briefly and Din requested a private audience in her forge. When Din handed Grogu off to you, he said, “Stay with Paz, cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika?” The Armorer paused. “Have you claimed them as your riduur?”

You cast Din a curious glance. Riduur?

“I… haven’t,” he said carefully.

“I see.” She resumed her pace and disappeared into the cave.  

Din followed, not before pressing his forehead to yours. It was like a kiss, he explained once. You were fine with it. You knew as soon as the day was over, he’d make up for all the kisses you’d missed out on.

“He seems to like you.”

“I would hope so,” you quipped, turning to Paz once Din was out of sight. “He loves me, after all.”

You finally got your well-deserved vacation—on a planet called Pabu, with bright blue skies and a sparkling blue ocean—and more than you could have ever wished for. 

Gentle waves lapped at your bare feet as you leaned back against the palm of your hands to soak in the last of the dying sun. 

Relaxing like this felt rare and fleeting; part of you was worried some other danger would rear its ugly head and ruin the tranquility. But, a quick glance toward Grogu, who was splashing in the water, and Din, standing watch to make sure he didn’t snatch up any crabs as a snack, dispelled any worry and replaced it with a warmth that spread through your chest like the sun's rays. 

You cracked a smile at the Mandalorian who was barefoot as well, after you convinced him to step into the waves, with his pants rolled up to the bottom of his knees. 

“Stop that,” came Din’s chastising demand. Grogu was levitating a poor crab toward his mouth before letting it fall back into the water with a grumble, his ears pulled back as he looked up at his father with a pout. “You’ll ruin your dinner,” he reasoned, reaching down to scoop the fussing child from the water. 

You stood, wiping away sand clinging to your thighs, and walked over to the pair. Din’s helmet followed you as you approached, his shoulders were far more relaxed than you’d ever seen them. 

Even when you stood in front of them, finger brushing along Grogu’s ear as he cooed, his gaze did not stray. You just thought it was your bathing suit; it showed off more skin than usual. Which, you admit, you hoped would catch his attention.  

“Problem?” You teased, looking at him with a sly smile. 

He shook his head slowly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, more so than usual. Ever since his private chat with the Armorer, he’d been distracted. Staring more than usual—at you, the controls of the ship, the floor—like he was lost deep in thought. 

You looked out at the sunset, a wash of orange and gold against a glittering sea. You let out a wistful sigh. “I could spend forever here with you two.”

“You mean that?” 

“Nothing would make me happier.”

His hand drifted toward the pouch on his belt, fingering the hem. A nervous habit, you assumed, he picked up after visiting the Armorer. 

You rested your hand on his and asked, “Are you sure there’s no problem?” 

“Marry me.”

You froze, mouth agape.

“M-marry you?”

“I wish for more days like today, too—safe, peaceful days together with our son.” He opened his pouch and pulled out a silver ring that glittered against the setting sun, reminding you of his armor. 

Your hand slipped from his to your mouth, covering up the shock written across your face. Your watering eyes moved between the two who’ve grown so close to your heart. They were your life, your home, and you’d spend forever with them. You knew your answer—you’ve always known, ever since he asked you to join them. In your heart it was always—

“Yes,” you cried, throwing your arms around the two of them. “Yes, absolutely!” 

You stayed tucked in his arms with Grogu nestled between the two of you. And, in the foreground of a golden sky, he asked if you would cite the Mandalorian vows. 

Riduur, he said, you would be mine, and I you. Our hearts will be written together in song.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.”

Finally, he was no longer just the Mandalorian or Din, he was your riduur. 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Soft moments with Rudy after he is rescued by Alejandro and brought to the safe house? Small angst because Rudy could have died and the reader is in love with Rudy but it turns soft.

—A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

You silently clean your guns, moving the oiled rag over the blackened pieces laid out over the old crate of a makeshift table. Leaning against the wall, your eyes are always drawn back to the mess of a man sleeping in the cot across the room. 

He could have died.

Sighing, you shake your head, pacing down the part you hold in favor of another, not stopping until every speck of dirt is gone. You could only do so much to distract yourself from the terror you’d felt when everything went wrong—from the knee-shaking relief when Alejandro had brought Rudy back to you. There were so many emotions, that the concoction in your veins had left you numb.

Quite the dichotomy, no? 

“He wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, you know?” Even now the Colonel is trying to get you to rest. How can you when the man you love is battered and bruised? 

Your vigil had started the moment he had been dragged through these safehouse doors. 

Alejandro’s serious expression shows itself as he walks forward, arms crossed. You hum, shrugging. 

“It’s reckless,” he utters, words firm. 

“It’s instinct,” you reply, glancing up slowly. “How long until others get here and we can get him proper care?”

“He’s going to be alright. No one keeps him down for long—not Rudy.”

“I’m not asking that,” you mutter under your breath, taking up another piece of black metal before Alejandro comes over and steals it out of your grip. Your lids pull in a glare, looking over at him heatedly. 

“Ale—”

“You need rest,” he says, his brown eyes not letting up. A smirk flickers across his lips, teasing softly as one would a sister. “Do not make me order you away, eh? We both know that will only end in bloodshed.”

“From me or you,” you grumble, sighing. 

He wasn’t wrong—you’d been up far too long to be alert anymore; doing mindless tasks with the hope of keeping your mind off of your inner battle. The same battle that had been going on for months now—years. 

You loved Rodolfo. Alejandro knew it, the men knew it, hell, even Rudy himself probably knew it, but it wasn’t like it was something you could help. It had just…happened. 

“Me, probably,” Alejandro chuckles smoothly, moving away and placing your belongings down. He spares you a glance as he walks back to his position near the front door as a lookout. “I won’t get in the way of your anger any day soon, no. I quite like my life, you see.”

“Well,” you rub at your face. “I can’t call you dumb, then.”

His short laugh is what you hear as you walk over to Rudy’s cot, taking a moment to look down at him as he sleeps. 

The man has bandages and gauze wrapped around his arms—one on his neck as well. He had a cut on his forehead, too. Not deep enough for stitches, but it had still been cleaned and the invisible trace of medical tape was pulling at his skin near the sharp angle of his eyebrows. Reaching a hand out hesitantly, you brush your fingers through his dark hair and watch his slightly tight face loosen, his puffing breaths evening out in his chest. 

Your face softens at that, but your sentiency soon snaps you out of your trance; imagining how strange you look as you quickly turn away and walk to the corner of the safehouse. 

Grumbling, you settle back against the wall and lean your scalp into the wood, crossing your arms before you let the darkness settle in around your eyes like a veil. 

But who were you kidding, all of your dreams just led back to him anyway.

When you wake back up, there’s soft talking before the front door of the safehouse closes on its rusty hinges, a silence re-settling that almost allows you to fall back to sleep if not for the limping footsteps that trail over to you. A hand curls your legs and the width of your shoulders, and with a low grunt, you’re picked up and carried somewhere.

When your head hits the fabric of the cot, your eyelids flutter half-open. 

“I know you’re not switching me out, Rodolfo. Get back in here—you’re injured.”

A sheepish face comes into view. 

“I…I didn’t know you were awake.” You frown, hand coming up to rub at your face and clear the blurriness of your vision. “But, really, I’d prefer it if you have it. I’m feeling better, and I don’t want you to have to sleep on the ground.”

Perhaps the fatigue had lowered your inhibitions. 

“Get in,” you huff, scooting over. There’s a pause from the man, his eyes blinking in confusion for a moment.

“Say again?” 

“You heard me. Get in.” 

“That’s not necessary—I’m fine out here, you see?”

“I love you,” you whisper, eyes glinting as they try to stay awake. Rudy’s body goes as straight as a board, his eyes so wide they could be saucers—his lips are slightly parted as if to say something before you order again. “So get in and hold me.” 

For a long time, nothing happens, and then a soft huff of laughter makes your lips twitch as a hand brushes your cheek. A small utterance from the Sergeant Major.

“Quite the way to tell a man, no?”

“You did almost die.” You say, falling deeper and deeper by the second.

“Ah,” Rudy mutters, guilt in his tone as he moves closer, slipping into the cot beside you with a grunt that reverberates in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You hum, feeling his arms wrap around you. 

“Can I…kiss you?” He asks.

You smile and sit right on the cusp of sleep. 

“You better,” your words are slurred, and just before you fall back into nothingness, the warm press of delicate lips falls to your forehead. 

“I love you too.”

[memphisfoodnotbombs]

@totally-california @pyxilate

We never said “you can’t vote for your favorite genocidal maniac.”

Vote or don’t vote, but never be deceived that it will make a difference, there’s literally no lower form of political participation. That’s why they give you a sticker.

Here’s Kamala Harris mocking people who say “we need more education” and vehemently asserting that “we need more prisons” https://youtu.be/4HZjLnj7WGM?si=LFyg9EyfWJL-IQSF

And here’s Kamala Harris clearing rapist killer cops while degrading black women, her continuum as DA: https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-mitrice-richardson-closed-20170202-story.html

Picture is a mosaic of the black men Kamala Harris threw into cages.

Thinking that because someone isn’t for one genocidal maniac the must be in favor of the other genocidal maniac is fallacious thinking, it’s known as a “false dichotomy,” sometimes referred to as “black and white thinking.”

We are anarchists, it’s not in our nature to accept tyrants as legitimate authorities, but anyone who knows anything about politics would be able to tell you that.

[neyafromfrance95]

i want to write haladriel fic but i have no ideas at all. got any suggestions?

this is very subjective, but here are some specific things i personally would love in my haladriel fics (i'm not including the hcs/aus that i love but that are already popular like the mind-palace):

galadriel's scars left by morgoth's crown being sensitive to sauron's touch and smtms even craving it bc only he can soothe the pain.

sauron loving to take care of galadriel's hair. washing/brushing/braiding it. playing with her locks whenever he is happy or nervous.

incorporate finrod more. we can't overstate his importance in trop!galadriel's story. he had shaped her wisdom and lightness, his loss has left a gaping hole in her heart. avenging *him* is her driving force. everyone goes "what about celeborn?" but the "third" *individual* between sauron and galadriel will always be finrod. it is *very* interesting that it seems halbrand filled the hole left by finrod's absence for galadriel. and how sauron used that...

don't soften galadriel's relentless opposition and fight against sauron. don't water down her hatred. for me, what makes their sexually-charged push-pull dynamic so much more interesting is that her hatred of sauron is so strong it's part of her identity, and then, it suddenly gets mixed up with her love for halbrand, her connection with halbrand being above everything else - what a jarring contrast! + knowing that her sworn foe loves her? so much existential and emotional angst. don't downplay this fascinating psychological aspect of galadriel's feelings in favor of "taming" her hatred *and* pride. and since u are asking for my opinion, here is my meta on galadriel's feelings for sauron.

don't water down her darkness either. even in the 3rd age she has it. yes, she is the lady of the light but not in a "saint" kind of way, rather in a powerful warrior/witch of the light kind of way. she is sauron's mirror and she has sent countless elves and numenoreans to their deaths bc of her belief in her divine destiny. she is a hero whose light is blinding, and she constantly battles her darkness but chooses the light and this is why she is the opposite of sauron.

one thing that defines galadriel the most, i'd say even more than her being the lady of the light, is that she wants to be a leader. we can think of galadriel as a warrior, a commander, a witch, a queen, a politician, the lady of the light, but in all of these roles she is a leader. and she always determines and does things her own way. at best, it makes her a successful outlier. at worst, it makes her an outcast. so i would like to see more of that with her.

it can be said that in some ways, finrod is an excuse for her obsessive fight while her main desire is glory, power and recognition, and her main drive is her own darkness and ambition to be the one who slays sauron and saves all middle-earth so that everyone bends their knee to her. she likes being a crusader in the 2nd age, and being a powerful witch in the 3rd age. i would love these traits to be highlighted in fics.

there is a dichotomy in either's feelings for the other and i think it's fascinating to explore. especially with this season highlighting sauron's (maybe subconscious) wish to worship her vs. his (desperate) need to possess her. i actually would love a mythological au where sauron is a delusional and obsessive worshiper of that universe's god of the light galadriel. could be an interesting mystical concept to explore. (insp - 1, 2, 3, 4).

knight!galadriel knight!galadriel knight!galadriel

knight!galadriel falling in love with the dark being she is hunting down and trying to slay (insp - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6).

this gifset makes me want to read a knight!galadriel x original!sauron au.

the backstory about warrior!galadriel's adventures, her quests and crusades. the more she fights and desires power, the more alienated she is amongst elves, but it's almost as if she isn't alone. it's not just finrod's dagger that keeps her company, but the perpetual presence of her sworn enemy she is devoted to slaying on her mind! he is always with her, the thought of killing him calming her down and comforting her.

unpopular opinion! i actually don't mind love triangles. like, i would hate anyone getting in the way of haladriel in the show itself, but it can be fun in some fics. and it *could* work with anyone - i would prefer celeborn and adar but i wouldn't hate gandalf or even elrond (i prefer him as gal's bff ofc). even morgoth as sauron's abusive ex could work.

MODERN AU! guys, i really need it. and when it comes to the modern aus, i like them fluffy hurt/comfort tbh. young love type of stuff. but it also can be ceo!galadriel x secretary!sauron. in a modern timeline, galadriel would 100% be a careerist striving for a leadership position, while sauron would be a perfectionist in either crafts or service industry. also, would love a larger cast of characters.

yuri haladriel selfcest. please.

galadriel x slime!sauron <3

witch!galadriel in the witches & wizards au!

i yapped a lot about galadriel & sauron vs. morgoth and if anyone is willing to write it, i would owe them my life, lol. i feel like it would need to be a multi-chapter epic tho.

[leportraitducadavre]

I commented this on another person's post and realized, not before someone pointed it out, it wasn't the place to do so; however, I've decided since I can't seem to finish the long posts I'm currently (still) working on, I could transform this addition into a post of its own, so here:

These panels right here showcase the brilliance in Kishimoto's writing through Naruto's statement (characterization-wise) and the overall structure in which it's sustained.

Sasuke, and every Uchiha before him, has always been seen as a tool. The most obvious way to pinpoint this is how the most relevant thing people highlight of each clan member is their Sharingan (or lack of it, as those who don't possess it, are seen as "lesser members" of the clan also) and how it’s treated throughout the manga; how the very possession of such element negates every sort of oppression or discrimination (they can’t be discriminated if they’re reverberated and feared, the politics constructed around their doujutsu are specifically designed to exploit and contain such power, as those in power are doing it for the and "their" greater good). But such conduct it’s also shown through how the people perceived as good that move around Sasuke interacts with him:

Naruto doesn’t want to kill Sasuke, because he wants the “help” that he provides, or is about to provide, to be rewarded. He wants Sasuke to acknowledge him.

Sakura can’t kill Sasuke, because she wants her love to be reciprocated, she wants him to care for her, and to be prioritized.

Kakashi is incapable, but is willing, to kill Sasuke; because his existence is a testament to his failure as a teacher.

They have different methods to demand it: Naruto uses violence to impose his worldview. Sakura begs and Kakashi emotionally manipulates (or attempts to), but they all want Sasuke to live by them and their rules, their worldview.

Sasuke returned after Naruto won yet Sakura still pursued him romantically because the only one that managed to obtain his goal was Naruto (and Kakashi, who restores his honor), as he ended up “saving Sasuke”, therefore, was acknowledged by his rival; however, Sakura’s goal wasn’t “saving Sasuke from darkness” (as she very gladly tried to leave Konoha alongside him, yet he refused), she wanted his romantical reciprocation, which is what he had to give in order for her to finally return to the village and leave him to travel alone as he wanted.

And why do I say Naruto’s speech it’s brilliant, character-wise? Because by acknowledging their true motifs and their overall characterization we can achieve a very plausible conclusion: All of them, but specifically Sakura and Naruto, are incredibly simplistic. No, really. They aren’t anywhere near smart enough to comprehend Sasuke’s turmoil and the complexity behind it, so they oversimplify it to levels they can comprehend.

Both Naruto and Sakura feel lonely without Sasuke, and because that’s their primary pain throughout the manga, Sasuke being lonely must be equally painful for him as it is for them. The world around them is incredibly complex and it is embedded in convoluted political issues that entail immense exploratory work to dismantle. The only way someone can be “happy” inside such a system is by reducing everything to its most basic structures: Black/white, good/bad, happy/sad, and light/darkness. Naruto simplifying Sasuke’s core to “being lonely” is very in character for him, as that’s not only Naruto’s own core (which he uses to project onto others) but also is the only way he can explain to others and himself why Sasuke needs “his help”. 

Kishimoto’s tool to dispute Naruto’s perspective and actions inside the narrative is presenting counterarguments through the antagonists of the show; which is why there’s a dichotomy between Sasuke and Naruto’s characterizations. 

The characters and their speeches/actions are the author’s way to either validate or invalidate, argue in favor or dispute both the narrative's and the protagonist’s stances on the issues he faces (as we can’t really separate the author’s intentions from the whole world he creates); this is not to say that Kishimoto’s writing is without flaws, as he does allow the narrative to swallow the antagonists’ ideals by destroying the characteristics that he gave them.

Kishimoto’s writing fails at the end of each arc, as he realizes that he’s written himself into a corner. Naruto is a Shönen that, as a specific type of manga, follows simple rules: the “good guy” should always win, however, Kishimoto allowed that “goodness” of the main character to be questioned by those that stood up against him, but he did end up gifting Naruto a win without allowing him any introspection, as he never truly gave Naruto enough depth to perform it. 

[mynonclicheblog]

One final Never Have I Ever love triangle thematic analysis

I've said this in one of my posts before, but the narrative is always going to favor what is best for Devi. A lot of what makes this show so juicy to dive into is because so much of its meaning is rooted in symbolism and higher concepts, not just the individual interactions you're looking at onscreen!

I think that's what doesn't work for some (not all) pro-Dxton anti-Ben folks. They see Paxton being respectful and kind to Devi, they see that he's the attractive object of her desire from day 1, and they see that the two of them genuinely do connect and help each other in certain ways. But when these same people look at Benvi, they only see Ben making obnoxious comments to Devi (+ others), they see childish behavior and mistakes being made, and they see them frequently butting heads due to their shared competitive nature.

And honestly? I get it. These conclusions are easy to come to when you're looking at the surface, but they don't take into account the full story that's being told.

Let's get into it. 😎👇

So I mentioned the idea of what is best for Devi. Not what is best for any regular person out there -- what is best for Devi Vishwakumar! Our girl expresses in no uncertain terms that she enjoys her hypercompetitive rivalry-turned-bond with Ben ("Ben's smart and we talk- mostly argue- for hours!" // "I don't want to break up with Ben. He really pushes me.") The fact that they fight and compete is not a detriment to their compatibility, it is actually the thing that makes him most desirable in her mind. She would not have wanted to be with him in the first place if this were not true. Their sharp-tongued communication style may not be the standard picture of a 'healthy' relationship for most people, but, well. Devi and Ben are far from most people.

Devi is an incredibly emotional, dynamic person who's always searching for another high. The competitive nature of her relationship with Ben is enough to satisfy her itch for novelty/excitement (her differences with Paxton don't hit this box), yet Ben's presence also provides a comforting long-term consistency in her life. He's seen the very best and the very worst of her and he always comes back. He frequently brings Devi back to herself, too, when she loses sight of what matters (friendships, family, sense of self, her goals, etc).

Then there's the dream vs. reality dichotomy that very much applies to this love triangle. Simple as it may be, it's accurate. I believe it was built that way on purpose because of how well it reflects Devi's relationships to Mohan and Nalini, which is the beating heart of what NHIE is all about. One (Mo/Pax) is more outwardly palatable than the other and provides an easygoing, self-soothing escapism that she needs in order to work through her grief. This person represents youth and the rose-colored past; Devi's tendency to idealize and indulge. The other person (Nal/Ben) is sharper around the edges, a bit harder to swallow, but pushes Devi to do better and supplies the support she needs. This person represents Devi's grounded reality; her time in the present and the woman she is growing into.

They are both important pieces in Devi's journey, but the themes of past vs present speak for themselves. The past is something we keep close to our heart- in this case, it's someone who has impacted us that we'll always carry with us. But the ultimate goal is to move forward from that. The central relationship of Never Have I Ever, in my opinion, is that of Devi & Nalini as they heal and grow together. In terms of Devi's romantic life, her relationship with Ben is the one that more closely shadows the series arc between her & Nalini.

I'd like to address some things by the individual season now. One of my observations watching s1 for the first time was that Paxton was usually aligned with bad things in Devi's life, whereas Ben was aligned with the good. e.g., Paxton was in some way the source of Devi's falling outs with El/Fab and Nalini; Ben is the one who repaired those relationships. These things aren't Paxton's fault, nor do I place any blame on him. They're just subtle narrative choices that send up unspoken flags saying, hey look, this isn't the right person for her. This theme was left behind in s1 for the most part, but given that it was NHIE's debut season, it planted several seeds for me about who the boys were for Devi and how they fit into her world.

Season 2 does a lot to sort out the difference in what Devi thinks she wants (Paxton) and what her heart truly wants (Ben). Yes, I'm going there, too: head vs heart. Devi's underlying preference for Ben > Paxton should be easy to spot as early as 2x01 -- if only for the fact that Devi finally bagged the hot guy of her dreams, and yet, choosing to be with him isn't easy for her. In fact, as both Devi and Eleanor confirm later, she wanted to choose Ben in the first place. Like... that is crazy when you think about it!!! Despite all the pieces falling into place for her and Paxton, and against her friends' shallow advice, she decides that she won't let go of Ben. Instead, she makes the misguided decision to date both. This isn't the kind of mistake she'll ever make again. It isn't Devi acting out because of Ben -- it signals a profound attachment to him when, all things considered, picking Paxton should have been a no brainer. That revealed everything I needed to know in order to understand that being with Paxton wasn't what she wanted in her heart of hearts.

Then, of course, 3x10 brings that all home with the stomach knots comparison. It tells us that, ever since Devi and Paxton moved into a place of genuine friendship, with him no longer on a pedestal, those romantic feelings (esp. on her part) have dissipated. As a bonus, Devi even explicitly states that Paxton was a dream! Ben, however -- her flawed reality -- is the one who still gives her butterflies. This is the result of Devi's slow awakening to her true inner self, the Devi who values realness and authenticity and loving through imperfection. It's a step closer to the complete acceptance of herself. (Notice as well that right after this point, it becomes more undeniable than ever that Ben is who she wants to be with.)

As long as Paxton was a romantic possibility for Devi, their relationship was tied to her feelings of insecurity and inferiority. Again this is not Paxton's fault -- he assures her of the opposite all the time -- but this is Devi's story, and we are shown over and over that Devi fears true vulnerability with Paxton (both sexually and emotionally). Compare this to the way she has always felt confident, seen, driven, and unabashedly herself in her relationship with Ben, even when they were enemies. At a glance Devi may appear to act more immature in Ben's orbit, but the truth is that she grows with him more than anyone else (besides Nalini) thanks to Ben's penchant for encouraging accountability and showing her that actions can have consequences.

Anyway, TLDR version:

Paxton = Devi's youth, Mohan, grief, distraction, the past, idealism, and the head (constructed ideas).

Ben = Devi's future, Nalini, healing, confrontation, the present, reality, and the heart (authentic truths).

Never Have I Ever's romantic story structure rests on the premise of these symbolic definitions. They are gospel, and while the characters will grow and change and become better versions of themselves, they will do so within the lines that are already drawn. The lines exist for a reason -- they are a narrative tool! These characters cannot and should not 'grow out' of their roles because those roles are their identities within the show's framework. The characters are exactly who they are meant to be right through to the end. They are symbols. If that's not your cup of tea then so be it! But there's nothing wrong with this writing style. In fact it's one of my personal favorites because everything is so neatly defined, yet fascinating to read into 🥰

The imperfect Ben had to be Devi's true love because her love interests are, in a way, reflections of herself. By no fault of his own, Devi always felt the need to be "perfect" for Paxton because that's how she viewed him; a false paragon of everything she wanted to be. That is the point of their story together. Her acceptance of the deep love she has for Ben (and Nalini!), despite his sometimes off-putting demeanor, is aligned with Devi's acceptance of her own imperfections -- that she is hot-headed, she can be self-absorbed, she acts without thinking and makes mistakes -- but that she is also brilliant and driven and caring and radiant, and she is equally worthy of receiving the love that she has to offer others.

Narratively speaking, it was never truly a competition.

[aeithalian]

As promised: Leto, Zeus, and parenting

I'M SORRY i know i said i'd get around to this two weeks ago but life got crazy but anyways HERE WE GO

I'm not the first to say this: we know virtually nothing about Leto and her parenting style. She makes a total of one appearance, is mentioned a couple times (mostly in the context of re-explaining Python's relevancy), and is only mentioned by another character besides Apollo once in the entire Riordanverse. For being the mother of one of the main characters, she is frustratingly underutilized as a character.

Yippee.

But, of course, I am going to dredge up every single reference to her parenting and personality as possible and determine just what kind of person and parent she is. Because here's my theory:

Apollo, while he is under expectations to be more like either Zeus or the other gods in terms of his parenting, probably takes more after Leto. So I think that if we can parse out Leto's personality and combine it with what we know of how Apollo parents, it gives us a good clue as to how Apollo and Artemis were raised.

First things first. Leto. Here's a list of things we know about her (aside from what happens in the myths):

Koios (her father) believes she would fight against Zeus due to the way he treated her after the twins were born (THoH)

Koios also considers her as one of the more peaceful Titans (THoH)

Leto seems to have an established life in a Florida condo (raising the question if she ever actually needed to reform or wasn't banished to Tartarus like the other Titans) (TDP)

Zeus and Leto used to have a much better relationship! (eg. the duet Apollo remembers them singing when he was a baby) (TDP)

Apollo writes a song for her every Mother's day (like the good momma's boy he is) (TDP)

Leto is willing to literally grovel in front of Zeus to save Apollo from his punishment (TDP)

Apollo (in a moment of mental haziness) can remember the impressions of Zeus and Artemis in his memory, but not Leto (TBM)

When calling to his godly family for help, Leto is the third (and last) person Apollo thinks of. Zeus is the first. (TON)

There's more to be said on the dichotomy between how Koios and Apollo perceive her, as well as Rick's nonexistent timeline skills, but that's pretty much all we know about her. That, and while she never had a traditional domain before the twins were born, she was later worshipped as a goddess of motherhood due to the large scope of influence her children had.

In summary, Leto:

Has a lot of reason to be angry with Zeus, but puts those feelings aside out of love for her children (and possibly because she remembers having that positive relationship with Zeus)

Is considered to be peaceful, but might not be (she might have condoned the murder of Niobe's children, among other stories). Regardless, she's considered gentle (by Hesiod, namely 👀 iykyk), and is one of the most celebrated mother figures in Ancient Greece aside from Demeter

Has a more distant relationship with her children for some reason (maybe the fact that she is a Titan and has lost favor with the gods, but based on how little Apollo mentions her compared to Zeus, he might not see her a lot)

We've never really met Leto, but based on this limited information, I think we can safely say that her personality probably includes traits such as gentleness, forgiveness, and responsiveness.

So, what does this tell us about how Apollo parents? Nothing, yet. So let's move on to Zeus.

NOBODY is surprised when I say this: Zeus sucks.

According to Apollo, Zeus very heavily utilizes what is called in psychology positive punishment, where a (typically unpleasant) stimulus is introduced in order to decrease a certain behavior that is seen by the punisher as undesirable. This is apparent every time Apollo talks about feeling the pain of Zeus' lightning bolts, or even when he compares Zeus to Nero and his Beast (the Beast being the stimulus that is introduced to keep Meg from rebelling).

Interestingly, the entirety of the ToA series and turning Apollo mortal could fall under the definition of negative punishment, where a stimulus (in this case, Apollo's godhood) is removed to decrease an undesirable behavior. However, turning Apollo mortal is still an introduction of a stimulus: pain.

See the similarities? Tangent aside, this is how Zeus parents. Restriction, then giving pain when the rules are broken, which then creates fear around those restrictions.

Let's give these firm definitions. Traditional psychology gives us four main parenting styles built around variances in how responsive and demanding a parent is. Take the image below:

Zeus is the easy one here: Authoritarian. I feel like we don't even need to discuss any further, he's quite literally a textbook definition. As king of the gods, he can't be responsive to everyone, but must demand much from his all-powerful subjects. The problem is that it bleeds into his parenting too much. He's ruling his children.

Leto is harder. Mostly because we just don't know enough about her, but I like to think she's got a higher level of responsiveness. Those types of parents are usually warmer, which goes along with Apollo's account of her and what we know from the myths about her gentle demeanor. So that narrows it down a bit, but her level of demandingness is harder to pin down. That's the issue when your children are immortal - you don't demand much from a child who is more powerful than you and matures fully within a week. I think Leto may lie somewhere in the middle of authoritative and permissive, but let's give her the benefit of the doubt. If she's the Titaness of motherhood, let's assume she's a great mom and say she's Authoritative.

Don't forget those, we'll come back to that.

The thing about parenting is that it's passed down from generations. We raise our children the way our parents raised us. That's why we call them "cycles" of abuse - because it keeps happening. That being said, I'm fairly confident that Apollo takes after Leto when it comes to parenting, because we see that he's already broken the cycle - even before we spent five books with Apollo, he's never outright harmed one of his own children the way we know Zeus did to him. So if he's not following Zeus' example, he's probably mimicking Leto's. Which then means he probably takes after her personality a bit, too, which was characterized by being gentle, forgiving, and responsive.

I don't know about you, but feels just like the Apollo we know.

Going back to the four parenting styles, you might be ready to call Apollo the Authoritative parent because it's the same as Leto's and call it a day. That's the point I was making, no? Wrong!

Yes, the ideal Apollo would be Authoritative. But, you know, we see him interact with his children, and he's just... not? What I think is that Apollo has gone through (or will go through) all four.

Authoritarian - This would be the first one he tries, because he might feel like he has to be like Zeus. There's one example of this with Koronis (yes, not really an example of parenting, but personality-wise, it's very Zeus-y), where he has Artemis kill her as a punishment for cheating. The story continues, blah blah blah, he fails to heal her but saves Asclepius by performing the first C-section. But I think that this is the moment where he choses to not be that kind of father. He gives Asclepius to Chiron as one of his first students, and from what we know of Apollo and Asclepius' relationship, it's good! Asclepius calls him "Dad" in BoO and wishes him the best - but it's still distant, in a sense. The apple fell pretty far from the tree, because acting like that, especially with the inner knowledge we have of Apollo from five books of content, never indicates Apollo being demanding and simultaneously lacking in any kind of responsiveness. So, in conclusion, Apollo has never consistently been Authoritarian, and being as such is in direct contradiction to his personality.

Uninvolved - This is what the gods (aside from Zeus, as king) are supposed to be, especially with their mortal children. If Apollo cannot be like his father, then he might as well try and be like all the other gods: being neither demanding nor responsive. We get hints of this with the Trophonius story - Trophonius' greed becomes his downfall, and Apollo does not intervene when called upon. Even without knowing what their relationship looked like before Agamethus died, it's pretty obvious that Apollo was absent on most accounts. We also see this example with other gods and their children - Poseidon and Percy, for one. Poseidon is never there, because this is what is expected and enforced by Zeus. Zeus, also, skews towards being Uninvolved with his mortal children - Jason met him once, people. But, again, this is pretty unlike Apollo to be able to maintain - he's simply too naturally responsive and empathetic to conform to this standard, and he confesses to the audience that he feels guilt around Trophonius' fate, indicating that being an Uninvolved parent was not something he found comfort and ease in.

Permissive - I believe that Apollo is most comfortable as a Permissive parent. But this goes along with something that I've always believed: Apollo doesn't necessarily parent his kids. I don't think many gods do (this goes along with another meta I want to do on godly maturity and how it relates to parenting, but I digress). Apollo is lacking in being demanding enough to properly parent his kids, but he makes up for it in overwhelming responsiveness. We know he's highly aware of other's needs, we see this a lot with his relationship with Meg, and this is something that he finds easy. He's sensitive and empathetic towards everyone, especially his own children, and (in the later books) has a great sense of what to say and when in order to get people to open up. But that lack of demanding is still there, and I think this is interesting for several reasons. It makes me wonder if Apollo does not demand from his children because he feels like he has not yet earned the right to. If it were me, and I had the face and body of a person the same age as my children, I would find it difficult to be the more mature person, too. But even at the end of the series, it doesn't look like he's making any moves towards being more demanding: when Rachel gives the prophecy to Will and Nico, he steps back into the Permissive parent role and indulges Will in what ends up being an incredibly dangerous quest to Tartarus (side note: this is one of the several reasons I found TSatS disappointing, because there are so many stones left unturned with how the premise could have allowed both Apollo and Will to realize that Apollo being a Permissive parent is not what Will needs). Yes, Permissive parents aren't bad parents, but especially with demigod kids who lack in proper parental figures that aren't Chiron, they might not necessarily be good parents either.

Authoritative - This is what Apollo has the potential to become, but it's going to take a huge wakeup call. The entirety of the ToA series is about Apollo learning that the way the gods have been doing things is not something he has to adhere to, and that he's allowed to utilize his natural instincts from Leto to be responsive. But being demanding is a whole new can of worms: Zeus is the only one who seems to be allowed to be demanding, but he does it without the responsiveness that makes it healthy. I think Apollo has yet to learn this - that you can demand from your kids and still be a good parent.

I wish there was more I could add. Artemis is a whole new rabbit hole that I'd love to go down, but alas, we know even less about her parenting styles because, well, she doesn't really have kids. Oops.

Alas, that's all I've got. The promised meta about Hermes and Apollo's relationship is coming soon!

Here's a masterlist of my other metas

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Overture

. While I am being kind to the show as it is, I cannot push out of my mind the fact that this is still Vivienne Medrano, and while this seems to be an interesting direction the series is considering to take the story, I am lacking any intrigue. Medrano has a knack for interesting ideas, but once executed are often trimmed down from all nuance and then played in the most straight forward and storybook fashion.

Evil existed before and separate from Lucifer

Eve is linked to the root of evil through the animation

Dichotomy of Lilith and Lucifer

Why does Heaven think Hell will rise up?

Charlie is reading the storybook to herself. Aloud. And the reason is because she’s like a child seeking comfort. Also Charlie’s delivery of “Pretty worked up” is just feeling off. Like isn’t this supposed to be a somber moment? Why is it delivered so chipper? The pilot had her crying and singing a lamentation. Downgrade.

Info dump dialogue

“This kingdom was something she really cared about.”

Vaggie’s voice is such a downgrade. She sounds so uninterested.

“Daddy issues by fixing you” So alastor knows about Charlie’s family situation already.

The lineart around Alastor is so distracting. It’s so bizarrely thick.

I wish there was no dialogue

Her dad calls her but she is supposed to have a strained relationship.

I feel like Medrano doesn’t know what Angel Dust is. As in the actual drug. PCP is not Cocaine.

That was the worst segue into a song I ever saw.

“If you dont mind the smell, it’s a happy day in hell.” I hate this line.

Vaggie just never sounds right, does she? Her singing is so nasal dominate it doesn’t sound like her throaty modal voice.

What was the contract? What did it say? Why even have Charlie sign anything if we have no concept of what that is? It is such a rip off from Ariel’s contract in the Little Mermaid that it feels more like an Easter egg than relevant to the story actively being told. You need to show why the actions happening are taking place, you cant just do things and expect us to pick up the pieces for you. Are you trying to get across that Heaven is full of bureaucracy and paperwork? There is no receptionist and no other person in the building until she signs ONE paper. You failed at portraying an overabundance of bureaucratic red tape and it is distracting and infuriating. All I see are the better DISNEY MOVIES that were clearly just plagiarized. Not an homage, not inspired. Plagiarized.

Lucifer calls Charlie to meet Adam. Adam says he knows. So this doesn’t feel like this is Charlie filling in, the way the dialogue is written is that it was specifically planned for Charlie to meet Adam.

Everything has a gradient.

I bet $15 that the Dickmaster portion of Adam’s dialogue was Alex Brightman’s improv. I was not impressed by his Kaiju Dick improv in Oops and this is just as flaccid. Pun intended.

There is a clear discccrepency in talent between Alex and Erika. He has such a smoother voice and range while Erika feels like a Disney understudy where every delivery is pretty much identical to the last. Like the songs themselves are not doing her any favors. They range from bad to mediocre, and even in the better songs, there is always one horrifically bad lyric that just ruins the entire experience.

I like Lute. She feels like Peridot.

RIP Katie Killjoy.

Nifty is cute. The joke for her had a lot of potential of being hilarious but didn’t meet my threshold of comedy due to lacking a feel for Nifty. Imagine if she was in every scene with Vaggie talking her head off and never shutting up. Then when Vaggie is like, “If anyone can sell this hotel, it’s Nifty.” And we had this foundation that Nifty is known for being a huge chatterbox only to then be dead silent when the camera is on her. It would have been hilarious. But we see her once and she has one singular line previous. So it just feels like a cheap visual gag.

As a musical, it is lackluster. I see that Evil is something separate from Lucifer and something he dislikes. Lucifer is said to see free will as a spring of creativity, but humans used it to suck and that killed Lucifer’s love of life. In the meantime, Lilith is empowered by Hell. Hell fuels her sense of freedom, which she spreads through her “songs”. Only for her to just vanish I guess. She just hopes out without a word, Charlie says she must be doing something important over the last 7 years, but no inclination on what important things Lilith would be doing. Additionally, Lilith is said to have loved Hell, like Charlie. So it sets up this idea that Lucifer dislikes Hell or even hates it, while Lilith revels in it. Alluding to their marriage falling apart from this dissonance. At the same time, Lucifer calls Charlie to meet with Heaven, despite the pilot being canon. So we get the impression that Charlie and Lucifer had a falling out (“Maybe dad was right.”) but she doesn’t have much more than surprise at her father calling. Then he just sets up this meeting for her to meet with Adam off screen entirely. It is unclear how this was conveyed, but Lucifer doesn’t believe in Charlie and her meeting Adam has nothing at all to do with her hotel.

But the way Adam talks about the meeting is unusual in that it gives the impression that it wasn’t about Charlie “filling in”, but that this whole meeting was specifically set for Charlie and Adam. This is compounded by how the ending reads like they didn’t know if the angel was dead until that moment. So the extermination being moved up has nothing to do with the angel’s death. Maybe I’m wrong, but this all feels really disjointed.

But Lute really is just Peridot. So much so that when asked what I liked about the episode, I literally said “Peridot”, not Lute. The one good aspect of this episode is another stolen concept from a better show with a more competent creator. But I also like Alex Brightman’s singing. He is very talented and he does elevate the material by really playing with his delivery, but it’s still at best Mid due to the weak lyrics,

3/10

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

What do you think could've made a Mal and Alina romance more effective or I guess likable for the readers?

I mean eye thought their introduction was effective, but plenty of people disagree, so I am clearly not the best gauge for popular opinion. my experience reading the trilogy is always starting out rooting for them in the first chapters, and then remembering why I fucking hate him so much as the series progresses lol. but I think it would be really easy to make them inoffensive at least by making a few tweaks.

the first of which would be removing the framing of Mal being someone that’s holding her back. I think the authorial intent is that, especially in the first book, Alina is being manipulated and there isn’t such a direct dichotomy of either she can be powerful or she can have Mal, but like, that’s how it reads. and then the ending reinforces that lmao. I do personally think LB was trying to go for an ending where Alina’s like growth and value aren’t dependent on her power— something the Darkling clearly tries to insinuate. but it just ends up reading like she’s being punished and being made small so that she doesn’t threaten Mal. the narrative framing with this relationship is just very poorly handled!

but second, and the bigger change, would be… shifting his entire fucking personality, quite frankly. Mal is fine when they are fine. but when they’re in conflict, he gets pretty ugly, and fast. just have him be nicer and more empathic???

to a degree, Alina herself isn’t particularly communicative when their relationship implodes in the second book. but he could try at all! and maybe be less of an entitled asshole bc she’s too busy with the many, many disasters to give him attention. like angsting over being overlooked and forgotten can be really fun! like look at Nikolai! but Mal has to make it Alina’s problem, which just makes it tedious.

I think their dynamic course corrects fairly decently by the third book, but there’s still a somewhat condescending, entitled timbre to how he decides to go about his chivalric devotion “I am become a blade” bullshit, because it’s still not really taking Alina’s own opinions into account… ever. so like idk give this bitch some emotional intelligence and tamp down on the toxic masculinity.

third, he needs to not fucking say shit like this

generally, the “normal” prong of a villainship love triangle is always going to be the less favored one by the audience tbh. I was in the Phantom of the Opera trenches, I have seen how bad people hated Raoul for existing. but Mal is just genuinely pretty cruel to Alina, and never in a fun way!

I think the show nearly managed to fix him, frankly. but then they went out of their way to give him way more screen time and importance, without making him more interesting, which ate away at most of that good will. I think if he remained Alina’s ancillary damsel in distress he could have been fine.

[phoenixyfriend]

I also made a "What does "it reads like bad fanfiction" mean to you, WHEN YOU SEE IT IN THE WILD, assuming no context?" version.

Some of these are 'what we who are in fandom mean' and some of them are 'what people on the outside mean,' and all are specifically about BAD fanfiction, not fanfic in general.

* Meaning between books or seasons, or when a new writer/showrunner takes over in a franchise where multiple writers are the norm (e.g. comics, superhero franchises, adaptations where the show's writer is not the book's writer)

** Making decisions that don't match their established characterization... or human logic, in order to further another character or plot needs without respect to the character

*** Certain plot points make sense only as a First Act Event that causes the plot, and if it happens any later in the story, it comes across as awkward and forced

[theravenanarchy]

The death grip this game has on me is only further proven by the fact I was about to get in the shower when I had this thought.

I think the way that you will achieve the good route with Ais is by surrendering control over to him and the the good route for Leander will be taking control.

I know it seems kind of obvious on the surface 'Ais' dialogue about Leander liking when others take control' duh, but hears the core of my theory, I think Ais is the most trustworthy.

Everything about Ais' character oozes self security, he has no reason to lie to you about the others because he's well aware of their darkness, if he wanted you to dislike them he could just be honest. Somebody like Vere seems to have no problem giving control to him (the scene in the bar where Ais catches him is adorable u///u and telling!!) He's fun cause you kinda want to give him control. Trope wise yes he's ver obvs the daddy dom archetype but he's also got all the cute caregiver vibes that GOOD DOMS NEED. He isn't lacking in a sense of self either, ironic.

So then you flip that for Leander, HE IS TRYING SO HARD TO MAKE YOU FEEL SAFE...but he doesn't ask you what you need, he just tells you anything is on the table because he'll do anything for your favor. I'm pretty sure the hero routine is genuine, but he definitely adopted it as a way of ingratiating himself to others. So he's definitely lacking a sense of self.

I read Tonari no Seki no Hen na Senpai recently and really just lost it over how much I liked it. Basically the thing that makes it a comedy is the both lead characters are weird little creeps so they use it to explore communication, dynamic sub/dom relationships, and expressing your love versus having it reciprocated. The last chapter specifically hits on how the ML was okay forcing the relationship by being sneaky until the FL makes him choose between being able to be physical with her but being hated or being in an actual relationship but giving her the power to set the boundaries. Obvs he chooses the second one because that's the actual fulfilling relationship and it's cute and stuff.

Back to baby girl, I'm so happy to think that his good route will be about healing and like adorable unconditional love between him and the MC. Like he so much wants to build a safe space for you, nonono baby let me care of you omg you traumatized bitch I love you. Also super into the idea of the MC having the choice to be all clingy to Leander or sweet and assuring (or rejecting him and making him cry or ANGRY let me see that darkness bb)

Poor sweet Leander is so clearly afraid of death, being powerless, and being alone, where Ais isn't afraid of anything. I think that will be the core of their dichotomy, two people who can get along but having completely different ways of navigating the world and their sense of self.

[qoldenskies]

I dont know much about your sep!au but raph sounds like he needs a nap

PLEASSSEEEE 😭😭😭😭

hi yeah absolutely that is the best conclusion to come to about him. he's really not as silly as he is in canon because he's had to be more responsible for a lot longer, and despite having less siblings to handle it's a lot more work to shoulder (if i can find a way for him to ACTUALLY work a job that would make sense, i'll go for it. genuinely i wonder wtf donnie is doing in canon to get them money dawg). it really means that i've upped his dichotomy with leo a lot, the only connecting trait between them is that donnie and mikey think they're both fucking crazy LMAO

and that's because for both of them, they're actually a lot more trigger-happy than in canon, which says a lot for raph in particular. his sense of justice is fully intact, if not stronger, but there's this kind of solemn quality to it instead of determination, which means he's not afraid of making necessary sacrifices, or even killing. he's not actually there for the events of the first episode (its just mikey and april..... mikey just wanted to get coffee 😭) so the whole mutant crisis is a surprise to him, especially because mikey kept his involvement hidden, for the exact reasons you'd imagine.

he doesn't take to it with the same kind of childish determination. there's this underlying sense of obligation that trumps everything else, because he's spent his whole life working through the exhaustion in a really similar way. it's just another way for him to fall back onto the same coping mechanisms he always does.

old sad sheepdog. he very quickly turns to the "us vs them" mentality against draxum/leo/donnie without any space for changing his mind, he's not the same kind of open-minded as he was about draxum (for mikey's sake) in canon. he WARMS UP to donnie, but only barely, and only because donnie begins to get comfortable working against draxum and the foot and in their favor (there is a moment deep deep into the plot where donnie falls to the floor in tears and raph adopts him Immediately though... sometimes the guy is weak, but its also very justified considering the situation. spoilers). but with leo oouuuuuhhhhh oh my goddd you will not BELIEVE how fucked up that shit gets. that dude is his nemesis. he doesn't trust mikey anywhere NEAR him and around the final stretch of the plot he only begrudgingly puts up with him because donnie is there to mediate. donnie is the only one they all like for a while and it's very exhausting especially because he's trying so hard to be patient and mikey is so ANNOYED about raph and leo's bs LMAOOOO he's gonna snap

i havent rlly thought about how the kraang/events of the movie would go but if i ended up going there i'd probably make it mikey and leo centric instead of A team centric, because raph and leo do come to a very neat and tidy conclusion but im realizing leo and mikey dont have a Moment like that planned yet. they get along eventually but not well, and leo feels super threatened by mikey for most of the plot because he feels like he's being replaced, so idk something for me to chew on later (it also means brains and brawn b plot... the temptation)

[ineffable-opinions]

School Culture & Male Androphilia in Japan

[This is part of a series on Takumi-kun 6. The aim of this piece is to discuss the origins of student culture and male androphilia & how it plays out in Takumi-kun series.]

Takumi-kun series is an early BL novel by Shinobu Gotoh with an enduring legacy. It is also an on-going work as we follow Takumi-kun and others beyond their student (gakusei) days and into adult (shakaijin) life.

Takumi-kun series is mostly set in an all-males boarding school Shido Academy. As I have mentioned in my previous posts, pre-modern Japan has a long tradition of male androphilia[1], much of which was age-stratified, class-stratified or both and involved strict/normative inserter/insertee dichotomy. BL has inherited (such as in seme/uke dynamics) and bastardized (such as with younger seme/older uke pairing) traditions of male androphilia in its tropes. Let's discuss a bit of the history before diving into how Shinobu Gotoh plays around with the setup of boarding school male-male sexuality that emerged in the Meiji period.

Part 1

[ Main resource used for this part of the write-up is the chapter titled “Toward the Margins: Male-Male Sexuality in Meiji Popular Discourse” from the book Cartographies of Desire: Male-Male Sexuality in Japanese Discourse, 1600-1950 by Gregory M. Pflugfelder. ]

What Review of Senryu From Meiji Japan Reveals

Meiji period Japan saw transformation of Japanese customary male-male sexuality ‘within the newly established framework of a centralized nation-state’.

…male-male sexuality, which had enjoyed a prominent and respectable place in Edo-period popular texts, came during Meiji times to be routinely represented as “barbarous,” “immoral,” or simply “unspeakable.”

The marginalization of male-male sexuality can be traced through its representation in senryü verse composed during that period. In post-Meiji Restoration popular humor Yoshichö districts of Edo well-known for organized sex work was no longer associated with the kagema or male sex worker. Instead, it was associated with female geisha, mirroring the 18th centuary decline of kagema teahouse and their shutdown by local authorities'. Once mainstream male-male sex work had to go underground and faded from popular memory.

Just as old customs were forgotten, new ones emerged in senryu of 1880.

Two figures […] associated with male-male sexuality were the bantö and detchi—clerk and apprentice, respectively, in a commercial house. The bantö wielded considerable authority over other employees, and had been portrayed in senryü since the Edo period indulging his lechery with young male coworkers. The detchi, on the other hand, may be seen as the merchant version of the priestly chigo or samurai page boy: male adolescents for whom the favor or disfavor of senior males might have significant consequences for their professional advancement.

Meanwhile male-male sexuality involving Buddhist priests went from being considered ‘a lesser transgression than fornication with women’ and a ‘contradiction between the priest's personal indulgence and the ascetic ideals of his religion” to an “emblem of “ancient evils” (kyühei) in dire need of reform’ and ‘a criminal offense’.

Following period saw state regulation of representation of sexuality in media (print media, theatre and paintings - artist Kawanabe Kyösai’s erotic drawing of Meiji oligarch Sanjö Sanetomi & a male foreigner landed him in jail; not much different from jailing of ero BL creators in present day[2]) and a shift in popular discourse that deemed that male-male eroticism has no place in the “civilized” environment of Meiji. Male-male sexuality was further marginalized through silence resulting from ‘state censorship, editorial discretion, authorial inclination, public taste’, etc. Meiji journalists continued reporting on male-male sexuality but adopted a tone of moralistic outrage and condemnation.

In the demarcation of civilized behavior, male-male sexuality was relegated to ‘the Japanese past, the southwestern periphery, and the world of adolescence’.

Japanese Past

‘Male-male erotic practices lay in the past’ which was seen as ‘a backward and “feudal” age, whose institutions and customs Japan must abandon in order to achieve “civilization.”’

Meiji era authors depicted male-male sexuality with historical backdrop (such as samurai society of the Sengoku and Edo eras) that would excuse their representation in the name of historical accuracy. [This is in contrast to say depiction in cinema which has largely avoided depiction of nanshoku with exception of Taboo (1999) and Kubi (2023).]

Pflugfelder gives a couple of examples:

Higeotoko (Man with a Beard; 1890–1896) by Köda Rohan – very shonen ai about the whole thing – involved light hand-holding and fade to blank.

Kagema no adauchi (Kagema's Vendetta; 1899) by Jöno Denpei –about a professional “love boy”. As a person born in 1832 Jöno was familiar with male sex workers like the protagonist from his childhood. But the practice has thoroughly disappeared from the cultural fabric by 1899 that Jöno had to introduce the protagonist whose profession was “disgraceful” “from today's perspective” and his gender identity ambiguous.

Marginalization of Male-Male Sexuality Was Japan's Southwestern Periphery

Centered around Kagoshima prefecture (the former domain of Satsuma), the region encompassed various parts of Kyushu, Shikoku, and Honshu. During the Meiji period, it was popularly believed that male-male erotic practices were more prevalent here than in the rest of Japan. Other than the obvious geographic distinction, there was a social reason too for this distinction. It was believed the region was a stronghold of old customs with lasting imprints of samurai class and the high concentration of warrior families. Satsuma had customary homosocial groups with strict sex-segregation practices such as hekogumi and gojü until the Restoration.

Male-male erotic interaction […] was reportedly common within such groups.

… the martial ethos of the samurai class slowly dissolved under the pressure of social change and “civilized morality.” Contemporary observers correlated the deterioration of shiki or “warrior morale” with a decline in male-male erotic practices.[3]

During the Meiji period, southwestern region (Kagoshima in particular) was known for its male-male sexual practices. These practices were seen as regional peculiarities, distinct from the mainstream culture centered in Tokyo. The southwestern region was viewed as a “feudal” backwater, and the association of male-male erotic practices with this area underscored their perceived “uncivilized” nature. Instead of being seen as a universal practice [the way shudo was percieved], male-male sexuality was considered a “folkway” (füzokü) surviving on the cultural margins of a newly “civilized” nation-state. In the 20th century, sexologists further marginalized these practices by diagnosing regions like Kagoshima with a hereditary condition called “regional same-sex love” (chihôteki döseiai). This effectively contained male-male sexuality within specific geographical and cultural boundaries.

Moreover, from Kagoshima men’s regional identity imperial navy and seafaring got associated with male-male eroticism in Meiji Japan.

male-male sexuality & the world of adolescence

… the sexual object in shudö had always been defined as a young male. In Meiji popular discourse, as in that of the Edo period, it was generally understood that youthfulness formed one of the conditions of male-male erotic desirability. More and more commonly, however, the desiring party too was presumed to be an adolescent, older than his partner as a rule, but neither of them yet an adult.

‘Adolescence (seishun) as an “institutionalized moratorium between childhood and adulthood” [allowed for a] social space where adult standards did not fully apply’. This also allowed male-male sexuality which had gained the status of uncivilized behavior to be excused as ‘youthful folly’.

Institutions of formal education were around since Edo period and so was male-male erotic practices in them. Not only that but also ‘violence between rivals in love’. Following the Restoration, schools mushroomed throughout Japan with an added emphasis on education as a vehicle for social mobility. Students, tasked with future nation building, were expected to be diligent in their study and to stay away from sexual diversion. Male-male sexuality in schools were not just that in discourse of the day but was inextricably linked with ‘shifting definitions of masculinity, regional and political rivalries, and the ongoing “civilization” of morality’. 

Mori Ögai - father of Mori Mari who wrote the first BL

Two terms born out of Mori Ögai's 1909 novel critiquing naturalism[4] Wita sekusuarisu (Vita Sexualis) köha and nanpa were used in discourses surrounding male-male sexuality among students. The term köha (translated as “roughnecks” by Pflugfelder and “queers” by Kazuji Ninomiya and Sanford Goldstein) referred to students who eschewed interest in male-female eroticism instead engaged in male-male sexual relations. This was in contrast to their nanpa (translated as “smoothies” by Pflugfelder and “mashers” by Kazuji Ninomiya and Sanford Goldstein) classmates.

[These are penetrator roles but not fixed categories. Students did move from one category to another even in Mori's novel. "Boy" (shonen) who were penetrated could take up penetrator role later on.]

“Smoothies” […] did not tuck up their sleeves or swagger about with menacing shoulders like their “roughneck” peers, but instead dandified themselves in silk kimonos and white socks (tabi) in order to win the favor of women.

In Mori’s school köha student were mostly from Kyushu and southwest Honshu prefecture of Yamaguchi while nanpa were from northeastern region. This regional distinction shows up in Tsubouchi Shöyö's novel Tösei shosei katagi (Spirit of Present Day Students; 1885–1886) wherein Kiriyama Benroku a quintessential köha is a native of Kyushu who wears coarse garb and is contrasted against his classmates womanizing peers not only by his leaning towards samurai ideals of masculinity but also by his interest in his companion Miyaga.

The köha-style of masculinity was modelled on engaging brute strength even in erotic dealings. Moreover ‘the strict age hierarchy that prevailed in student society constrained the very notion of consent, since junior males were in principle supposed to obey the dictates of senior schoolmates.’

In such an environment, male-male sexual practices often took a predatory form, with younger students providing fodder for older ones.

However, there were also non-forced köha-shonen sexual relations too.

Mori describes, for instance, a set of crude hand signals whereby a “boy” could consent to or refuse a senior male's overtures; subtler forms of seduction involved treats, favors, and the prospect of “special protection” (tokubetsu na hogo) by the older party.

Meiji newspapers was eager to cover köha violence wherein the older students who preyed upon “beautiful boy” in the streets of Tokyo and other Meiji cities or fought over a “beautiful boy”. They stood to gain readership especially those from middle- and upper-class who were likely to send their kids to boarding schools. It also fit well in the political context with journalistic crusade aimed at male-male sexuality & exploitation as a “Satsuma habit” in a time when ‘domination of the national government by the so-called “Satsuma clique” (Satsubatsu) faced mounting criticism’.

The portrayal of köha by journalists in post-Restoration Japan led to a strong association between male-male sexuality and adolescence. This association was so strong that any discussion of male-male sexuality would inevitably reference student societies and dormitories as common places for such relationships. Furthermore, accounts of school life often highlighted the culture of male-male eroticism as a distinctive feature. This is evident in memoirs by several notable figures such as Ösugi Sakae (himself a former köha), Iwaya Saza-nami, Ubukata Toshirô, as well as in literary works by Dazai Osamu, Hori Tatsuo, Kawabata Yasunari, Mushanoköji Saneatsu, Origuchi Shinobu, Satomi Ton, Tanizaki Jun’ichirö, and Uno Köji.

Chigo-nise ties (that is, erotic relationships between junior and senior youths) were reportedly common [in Kagoshima] as late as the 1940s, while student memoirs and other accounts describe similar attachments in schools outside the region. With the twentieth-century rise of the notion of [döseiai] “same-sex love,” however, popular representations of such relationships would come increasingly to focus on their psychological features, rather than on physical predation of the Meiji type.    

The other half of the ‘asymmetric dyad that made up a male-male erotic relationship’, the sexually penetrated partner, is referred to as ‘shonen’ (boy) in student lingo. By then a mix of inherited knowledge from various arena – Japanese past, classical Chinese, and contemporary forensic pathology – entered public discourse such as seen in Kömurö Shujin's Bishönenron (On the Beautiful Boy).

In Kömurö Shujin's work, the primary effect of this paradigm was to bring to the fore the psychology and physiology of the “beautiful boy” in a manner that would become increasingly common as the century progressed. Kömurö Shujin cited an impressive array of Western authorities on “same-sex love,” most of them doctors or scientists who believed that the “passive” partner in male-male intercourse differed from others of his sex on the basis of certain mental and physical peculiarities, both inborn and acquired. At the same time, the author's understanding of Western sexology was filtered through a set of native assumptions, emerging in a form that often differed in telling ways from the intentions of the original theorists.

Masculinity of wakashu was rarely ever problematized during Edo period. But with the medicalization of male-male sexuality led to attribution of “effemination” with “passive” partner put forth by Western sexologists as Richard von Krafft-Ebing to gain traction in Japan and persist.

[Parallels can be found in bishonen (beautiful boy) stock in BL deemed feminine by readers unfamiliar with the bishonen aesthetics. For example, misattribution bishonen Ayase even when contrasted with feminine Someya in No Money. This also extends to treatment of seme/uke dynamics as though it is a reflection of heterosexual pairing when it is in fact a pairing of two different masculine aesthetics, not to ignore the misogynistic, xenophobic and colonial conception of men who do not fit into specific masculine aesthetics being deemed unmanly/feminine.

Interestingly, Miki Koichiro the director (and screenwriter) of Pornographer, Given, Zettai BL, Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu  etc. is well versed in the male androphilic traditions (among other queer traditions). We can see him using the term “shonen” when instructing the young actor playing Mob-san’s brother’s friend who has a crush on Mob-san. His usage was perfect, proving that he knows what he is doing.]

Part 2

Relics of traditional androphilia in Takumi-kun series

The norm or at least the expectation is that senior students (senpai) pursue pretty boy (bishonen) juniors (kouhai).

This is what outsiders expect even within the universe the novel series is set in as is seen from the conversation between Gii, his best friend Akaike Shouzou and Namiko (Shouzou’s girlfriend) in Sorera Subete Itoshiki Hibi (Those Were Precious Days), a part that never got live action adaptation.

This plays out in Takumi-kun series in various ways. There are two notable bishonen in Takumi-kun’s batch: Gii with his exotic beauty and the princess-like Takabayashi Izumi. In case of pursuit of Gii plays out in a pretty straight forward manner. He is relentlessly chased by seniors who are interested in Gii and their numerous attempts at wooing him.

Takumi-kun 4 - Gii & Sagara

Notable pursuer is Sagara Takahiro who was in the third year when Gii joins Shidou. Sagara as the school president organized many recreational events hoping Gii would participate and they would grow closer. But Gii refuses to participate except for in the final one which took place in Sagara’s absence, the Shinto Shrine Hunt event that is depicted in Takumi-kun 6. Even though the pursuit plays out straight forwardly, it come to nothing since Gii is not there to be pursued. He is there to pursue Takumi-kun.

In case of Takabayashi Izumi, he turns his most ardent pursuers into a band of followers. This obedient little group of lackeys help him to stir up trouble for his love rival Takumi. Moreover, Takabayashi is one of Gii’s pursuers. This pursuit also doesn’t yield any result as Gii doesn’t entertain any pursuit.

Thus, both bishonen of Takumi’s batch subverts expectations surrounding bishonen by being pursuers.

Takabayashi’s plot gets further complicated when he falls in love with Yoshizawa Michio. Their pairing is that of weak seme x weak uke type – both are reluctant to actively pursue each other and requires external intervention to set their ship in motion.

Meanwhile Misu Arata wishes to be the target of his senior Sagara Takahiro’s affections. He actively participates in Sagara’s events wanting to get close [and they do get close as schoolmates] but Sagara is only interested in Gii.

Takumi-kun 4 - Shingyouji & Misu

Misu’s plot further deviates from the pursued bishonen track when a junior (Shingyouji Kanemi) pursues and eventually gets together with him in a clear inversion of the norm.

Takumi is also pursued by his seniors. Aso Kei’s pursuit is depicted in Takumi-kun 6 while Nozaki Daisuke’s attempts at courtship is depicted in Takumi-kun 1.

Aso Kei is the only one Takumi is comfortable interacting with apart from Katakura Toshihisa (Takumi’s best friend). Aso’s pursuit is aided by Gii who wholeheartedly wishes for Takumi’s happiness irrespective of whom he gets together with. Gii creates opportunities for Aso and Takumi to meet by delegating library duty to Takumi when Aso is around thus getting them to interact. Aso’s courtship fails and he takes it out on Gii by showing off – he lies to him that Takumi agreed to shrine hunt with him. When Gii notices that Takumi doesn’t reciprocate Aso’s feelings, he decides to actively pursue Takumi and turns from Aso’s enabler to rival in love.

Nozaki Daisuke’s pursuit of Takumi plays out within the senior pursuing junior set up. Another classic trope is that of love rivals fighting over a bishonen with both literary and in real life precedents. This is evoked in a race between Gii and Nozaki in Takumi’s name from Takumi-kun 1. Here the love rival’s competition is complicated since Gii is a bishonen who is fought over by many others (Takumi, Takabayashi, Nogawa Masaru*, etc).

* Nogawa Masaru is not depicted in any of the movies as far as I can remember.

Even though the novel series is called Takumi-kun series, there are many parts that doesn’t involve Takumi-kun and some of them are exclusively from the point of view of other characters. All in all, Takumi-kun series is like an anthology of many many love stories involving characters who are directly or indirectly connected to Takumi-kun. There are other stories involving younger pursuer and older pursued with all sorts of seme/uke arrangements. Here are some that I can recall right away:

Even guys who are not androphilic such as Akaike Shouzou gets pursued by seniors (Shibata Shun in Shouzou’s case). But these courtships are doomed from the get go.

Younger guy pursues older – senior & junior, teacher & student, etc.

senior x junior pursuit abandoned to establish senior x senior romance (Moriyama & Shibata) or junior x junior romance.

senior x junior romance sometimes end in heartbreak. (Takumi-kun 2)

senior x senior relationships are abandoned in pursuit of senior x junior relationship.

Sometimes seniors employ their seniority to retain power imbalance. (Misu and Shingyouji)

In case it is not clear, who pursues who has got nothing to do with who is seme, uke or riba and vice versa. Since the novel series involves many pairings, we get to see all sorts of seme/uke/riba dynamics (if we are to call it that given Takumi-kun is a June novel).

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Footnotes

[1] I prefer using male androphilia because queerness is a bit too vague and in most case in inappropriate since it was the norm. Academics usually use male-male sexuality, male-male desire, male-male eroticism, etc. Male androphilia must not be confused with the narrower term homosexuality.

[2] Danmei author Tian Yi and her companions were sentenced for 10 years for profiting from obscene content on male-male sexuality.

[3] while the courting of “beautiful boys” was a “barbaric custom” (banpü), domain authorities during the Edo period had tacitly encouraged it as a means of preventing young men from going “soft” (nyüjaku) through erotic involvement with women (joshoku).

[4] In the Company of Men: Representations of Male-Male Sexuality In Meiji Literature by Jim Reichert (199-208)

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Takumi-kun meta series

1.Trailer plus

2.School culture and male androphilia in Japan. (you are here)

3.How does the movie compare with the source novel?

4.How does the movie compare with previous adaptations?