#this is not a critique this is me going 'I like this

[sillywizardinthewoods]

I am the token straight man, I know what he thinks this means. I suck at this sort of thing, which I think makes me a subject matter expert because this guy also clearly sucks at this sort of thing.

Disclaimer: I know the correct thing to do when seeing a young woman alone at a restaurant is to ‘mind my own gosh darn business’, not that my social anxiety would let me try this anyway. I also know that what he refers to as ‘traps’ are in fact reasonable reactions to creeps. A good rule of thumb is that pickup artists are wrong about everything and any video evidence to the contrary is staged.

Crucially, there’s a picture of a woman attached to the original tweet he’s responding to that has been cropped out. I reckon this makes a bit more sense if we could see the picture, but I’m making some inferences based on what he wrote.

Complimenting her manicure is a very safe compliment in that it’s hard to take the wrong way or be offended over, and asking about the cross earrings is just a setup for the religious pickup line, and a possible conversation starter if this guy is anti-smalltalk. Saying he used to believe in angels but the devil is a fallen angel is him saying he’s just gotten out of a rough relationship (his ex being the angel who fell and caused him to stop believing). This very specific fantasy woman wearing cross earrings with a perfect manicure is also drinking apple juice*. Asking if angels drink apple juice is therefore a way to imply he’s hoping she could be the angel who restores his faith, but is prepared to accept no for an answer.

*Possibly beer or cider, I don’t have the image but I’m making an educated guess. It’s more likely beer or cider (can’t speak for everyone but if I’m in a restaurant and have the choice between cider or apple juice, I’m picking cider every time), but I’m guessing our wannabe Casanova has Opinions on what is appropriate for women to drink, saw a yellowish liquid in a glass, and made an assumption.

The two traps are an attempt at a compliment that makes someone uncomfortable and comes across as a catcall, which he avoids by complimenting her manicure, and by coming on too strong by insisting that she is an angel, which he avoids by instead asking her if she’s an angel.

I’m going to finish my critique by pointing out that while this whole opener is a red flag, if I’m right about this then he actually mentioned his toxic ex girlfriend in the second sentence he spoke to this poor imaginary woman, which is honestly a worse red flag IMO. Rookie mistake tbh.

This has got to be the most incomprehensible thing I’ve ever read this is a reply to a dumbass pick up artist twitter thread but it sounds like a riddle that you’d be given 3 chances to solve before getting thrown in the gallows

[mggslover]

Valentines Savior

In which Spencer saves his best friend from a failed Valentines date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff x slight angst Content warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is tipsy, reader curses, confessions of love, vague mention of reader having abandonment issues, suggestive joke Word count: 3,6k A/n: happy valentines my lovers! 💛

Everything seemed perfect. And maybe that was the problem.

The restaurant you found yourself in had the perfect setting. There was the right amount of background noise: the clinking of wine glasses, muffled talking, occasional laughing in the back, and a jazz band playing the most atmospheric tunes. The lights weren’t too harsh—a pet peeve of yours—and the food was delicious, which you knew was a reason for you to return some other time. Just not with the person you were seated in front of now.

Kamil Everett was a good-looking guy. Slightly older than you, but not enough to doubt his reasons for being into you. He had the perfect jaw structure, covered in the perfect amount of neatly trimmed stubble. He had nice, white teeth, not the kind that you could tell was fake. He wore a cologne that was strong enough to notice, but not overpowering enough to bother you. He’d put effort into his hair and outfit, and he asked questions that showed interest but weren’t too invasive. He was perfect. Again, just perfect.

Still, the little devil on your shoulder nagged at you that this wasn’t what you were looking for. That something was missing, something neither Kamil nor the restaurant could give you.

You jumped in your seat when a pocket-sized Penelope with pink wings suddenly popped onto your right shoulder. Fuck, you’d been drinking too much.

“I am sick of this! Truly!” Penelope’s chipmunk voice peeped right into your ear.

“How many times have you come to me, saying, ‘Oh Penelope, someone has put a curse on me. There are no cute guys anywhere. The universe hates me’, and look at you now! Perfect guy, right over there!” Her small finger pointed at Kamil, and you pulled a sour face.

Angel Penelope responded by shaking her head in disapproval. “I will never hear you complain again. Now make sure to turn the poor thing down nicely and send him over to my place so I can give him some love.”

You chuckled at her comment.

“Are you okay?”

You choked on your red wine as Kamil spoke up. Devil you and Angel Penelope disappeared from your shoulders in a cloud of smoke. You coughed a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, I am so fine.”

You looked at Kamil, seeing the genuine concern in his brown eyes. You knew you couldn’t continue keeping him on like that. “Actually, I think this is not going to work.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us,” you answered, pointing your finger between the two of you. “You’re a great guy. I just don’t feel… the spark.”

He scoffed under his breath, immediately standing up and pushing his chair back to the table. You grabbed his wrist as he tried walking off.

“I swear, you’re great! I’m the problem. It’s always me, actually.”

Kamil didn’t get soothed by your words, pulling his arm free out of your grasp and turning his back to you, walking toward the exit.

“I have a great friend!” you yelled after him. “She’s an angel. Literally!” He kept walking, ignoring your pleas.

“I could send you her address! Kamil!”

“Ma’am, please tone it down or I’ll have to call security.”

You looked up to find a stern-looking woman standing in front of your table. When you looked around, all the couples at the surrounding tables were staring at you. You offered them a tight-lipped smile and mouthed a small sorry.

Once the critiquing whispers calmed down, you grabbed your phone from out of your purse, finding Spencer in your emergency contacts as you clicked on the call button.

“Hey, how are you-”

You shushed him. “I’m in a restaurant, whisper, or they’ll kick me out.”

Spencer listened and lowered his voice. “The new one downtown? I’ve been meaning to go there.”

“Well, consider today your lucky day. If you can make it in fifteen minutes, I’ll have dessert ordered for you.”

You chuckled as you heard his keys jingling from the other end of the line. “I’m heading out right now.”

“Good,” you laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

-`♡´-

A sigh of relief escaped you when Spencer walked into the restaurant. He gave you a smile and lifted his hand as he spotted the table you were seated at.

You stood up from your seat, letting out a satisfied groan as he enveloped you in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I can’t wait for ice cream.”

You chuckled, leaning back to see his face.

“You smell nice,” he complimented.

“Oh why, thank you,” you playfully responded, grinning as you both sat down.

Spencer observed the cutlery and half-drunk glass of wine in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “I assume I’m not the first person you offered dessert to.”

“Nope,” you answered, exaggeratedly popping the p. “Was on a date.”

Spencer lifted his eyebrows. “Another one?”

“Hey, don’t judge me! At least I go on dates.”

“Does it count if they all run away before dessert?”

You scoffed a laugh in surprise, not prepared for his burn. “You’re such an ass.”

He cheekily grinned. “What was his name?”

“Kamil,” you deeply sighed, knowing you’ll be getting chills every time you hear that name from now on.

“Did you know Kamil is derived from the Arabic element kāmil? Which means “perfect” or “complete”.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your glass before taking a sip. “Of fucking course.”

You thanked the waiter as he set two neatly made plates of dessert down on the table.

“I thought you gave up on dating,” Spencer wondered out loud, humming as he took his first bite of ice cream.

“I was,” you responded, taking a bite yourself. “Valentine’s an exception, though. I don’t want to be sitting at home by myself.”

“You could’ve asked me to come over. We still haven’t seen all the Star Wars movies,” he responded, commenting on the movie marathon you started last month. Then he pointed his spoon at you, “Well, you haven’t.”

“I know. I just meant spending the day with a lover.”

“I could be your lover.”

Before you knew it, the wine shot out of your mouth, painting your dress and the white tablecloth red.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked in worry, hurrying to your side as you continued coughing.

“Spencer-” you coughed a couple more times, and his arms made their way around your body, your hands reaching out to pull them off. “Spencer, I swear to god,” you sputtered out, “do not perform the Heimlich on me.”

The fact that you were able to talk reassured him enough to loosen his grip around you. Still, he didn’t leave your side.

You looked down to see the inevitable: your dress was ruined.

“Fuck, I loved this dress,” you groaned in annoyance.

“Here, let me-” Spencer grabbed a napkin from the table, turning back to you and tapping your chest dry. His eyes were focused on the low neckline of your dress, and the movements of his hand slowed, as if hypnotized.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he continued tapping the now non-existent wine droplets.

“Can you stop touching my boobs?”

He dropped the napkin like it caught fire.

“I-, I wasn’t-”

“You totally were,” you widely grinned.

“No!”

“Yes, you were. You’ve been staring at my boobs all night.”

Spencer swallowed. His gaze quickly landed on your cleavage before he blinked up at you. “Well, I can’t help it when you’re wearing a dress that’s showing décolletage.”

“Ha! You admitted it.”

A red flush crept up his neck, spreading over his cheeks. “That was a ploy! You were tricking me!”

“Ma’am, this is your last warning; I need you to leave the restaurant now.”

-`♡´-

The moon hung low in the sky, the streets cast in a warm yellow glow of the lampposts. A slight breeze caught your skin as you walked out of the restaurant.

“Well, that was a disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have kept insisting on a doggy bag.” Spencer laughed.

You let out a chuckle, turning to him. “Did you see the look on her face?”

Your comment spurred more laughter from Spencer, making him fall against you in response. You widely grinned and nudged his shoulder, feeling proud of getting him to laugh like that.

“This reminds me of the time when I first joined the team and you asked me to have dinner.” You recalled once your laughter had calmed down, still trying to catch your breath.

The moment felt like yesterday. It was strange to be reminded of the fact that it happened years ago. Spencer had caught your attention the instant you joined the team, which was surprising considering the fact he wasn’t a big talker. Well, he talked most out of everyone, but it always stayed on the case, rarely sharing something personal.

That’s why it surprised you that one day, on the jet after finishing a case, Spencer moved from the couch he usually found himself on to the empty chair opposite you. You remember finding it endearing how nervous he looked as he asked you to have dinner with him in a restaurant downtown.

You’d overheard the several times he asked other team members to join him in activities, whether it was a new food chain opening or a movie screening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Besides that, you were curious to get to know the so-called genius Spencer Reid better. He amazed you again when the dinner turned out to be one of the times you’ve laughed hardest in your life. Since then, you knew Spencer would be at the top of your friend list.

“You seem to have a habit of spitting out your drink.” Spencer mused with a grin.

You returned his smile. “That’s because you seem to have a habit of trying to make me spit out my drink by acting like you’re in love with me.”

Due to your tipsy state, you didn’t notice the way Spencer broke eye contact, the way he nervously tapped his fingers against his pants, and how he seemed to look anywhere but at you.

If it wasn’t for the subtle shudder of your shoulder against his, he might’ve never gained the courage to look you in the face again.

“Are you cold?” He asked considerately, his eyes taking over your form.

You looked down at your outfit, reminded again that you were just wearing a sleeveless dress. “Kind of.”

Without saying another word, Spencer took off his corduroy jacket. He held it open by the sleeves, making it easy for you to slide your arms in. His hand grazed the back of your neck as he tugged the collar up, then pulled your hair out from underneath the material, letting your locks fall over the jacket.

You softly mumbled a thanks, and Spencer responded back with a sweet smile.

“It looks better on you anyway.”

You chuckled, “Such a sweet talker.”

“Just to you,” he replied, a little too fast for his liking as he saw your gaze drop to the ground.

What he wasn’t aware of was the rush of butterflies that soared through you at his words, ambushing you in a way so surprising it made you feel nauseous. Or maybe you were still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

It was ironic how naturally the compliments rolled off of his tongue, how effortlessly romantic gestures came to your friend — actions you longed for in your dates.

Spencer Reid was old-fashioned, a gentleman, sure, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than just kindness to his acts. If Derek and Penelope were right every time they gave teasing looks when Spencer brought you your favorite coffee, or when he’d made sure the seat next to you on the jet was always occupied by him.

“Are you okay? You seem quiet.” Spencer noted after the two of you had walked in silence for the last couple of minutes.

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a sigh. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

His question slipped in your ears just as easily as it went out, as your attention was taken by the neon gelato sign across the street. The brightly colored flavors stood on display, a harsh white light shining down on it, luring you like a moth to a flame.

“Gelato.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, but before he could make sense of your answer, you took a leap, crossing the street as if invincible to any vehicle that was speeding on the road.

“What are you doing?!” Spencer yelped in panic, eyes flicking over the road before sprinting after you, ignoring the honking cars.

His warm hand caught yours, and in a hurry, he pulled you onto the sidewalk, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the brick wall, Spencer hovering over you as he caught his breath.

He blinked at you in disbelief, jaw tense, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“We’re all mad here,” you dramatically quote, pointing to yourself, “I’m mad,” and then placing your hand on his chest, “you’re mad.”

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he mumbled.

You nodded your head, a wide grin displayed on your face.

“So… gelato?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “You just had ice cream.”

“Actually, I just had half an ice cream before they kicked us out. And it is not to be compared to gelato. You should know that.”

“Well, gelato does have a lower milk fat content. It usually varies between 4 to 9%, whereas ice cream has to have at least 10% of milk fat. The vast majority of brands have an even larger percentage, some even going up to 25%. Actually, now that you mention it, there are a lot more differences between American ice cream and gelato, for example, the use of eggs-”

You hummed in response as you took his hand in yours, letting him continue his ramblings as you guided him into the parlor.

-`♡´-

Your feet were dangling off the high chair you were sitting on as you licked the red plastic spoon clean that came with your dessert.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for helping me earlier. You really are my Valentines savior.”

Spencer smiled, pulling a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t mind. You can always call me.”

“I know,” you replied just as honestly. “I wish it could be as easy as this with others. I wish I could just date you.”

A flush crept onto his neck, red skin showing on his chest where his top buttons were unbuttoned. “Why-” he hesitated before continuing, “Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t I what?” you asked back in oblivion, scooping another spoonful of gelato.

His fingers fidgeted with his spoon, his gaze nervously fixed on his empty cup as he spoke the next words: “Date me.”

Oh.

The longer you remained silent, the thicker the tension grew in the air. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any thoughts; hell, your mind was full of them. Your earlier theories flashed through your mind again, now getting the confirmation that all his attempts to be close to you meant more than solely friendship. How he had indeed tried telling you about his feelings all this time, and how you’d been blatantly oblivious. How you kept telling him about going on dates with other people while he was pining over you. There were too many thoughts to articulate, to even make sense of.

“Please say something,” his voice cracked in a soft beg, his eyes twinkling with hope, or maybe an emotion closer to desperation.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

The spark in his eyes flickered out. Spencer mouthed okay while giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his pants.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he said to you, “Let me walk you home.”

-`♡´-

People always say fresh air is the answer to everything. Feeling sick as a dog? Go outside! Feeling depressed? Go outside! On the verge of a nervous breakdown? Go outside! Turns out whoever invented going on long walks had a point.

Your mind cleared with every step you took. Your initial anxieties around Spencer’s words fade around you in a blur. Slowly coming to peace with his feelings and your own.

Dating your best friend could work.

Spencer, on the opposite, felt more tense after each second that passed in silence. It wasn’t that he regretted being honest with you; the weight of his love for you was overwhelming. It was inevitable that there’d come a time where he’d spill his thoughts. However, he shouldn’t have done it like this, with you not even sober enough to understand the gravity of his words.

So, when you rounded the corner of the street and he spotted your house, which was all too familiar to him, he knew he had to retract his confession.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I just… like you. A lot.” He rubbed his forearms, either in a nervous habit or because the cold was getting to him. “And I thought you felt the same, but I’m aware that it’s irrational because, well, you go on dates. And you go on dates with people you like and-“

“Spencer,” you interrupted, having to catch his eyes to get him to focus.

“I know it was inappropriate to confess that I’m in love with you when you’re not even sober. Alcohol interferes with the communication pathways of the brain, so this might be the worst moment possible to admit to something like this.”

“You’re in love with me?”

This caught Spencer’s attention. He focused on you with a puzzled look. “Well, technically I asked you why you wouldn’t want to date me, but I-”

The words died on his tongue the second your lips found his. It felt like you finally got the confirmation you’d always longed for. Someone that knew you inside out, who understood you, and who wasn’t afraid of showing you.

Spencer’s mind was spinning. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before he settled them on your cheeks, holding you as if afraid you’d disappear.

It was only after a couple of seconds that his IQ regained from 60 to 187, using his hands to gently pull you back from his lips.

His lips remained slightly parted, pink and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes narrowed in overwhelming confusion. “What was that for?”

“That was to show you that I love you too.”

“You can’t just say something like that.”

“But I mean it, Spence,” you stated in confidence. “I was stupid for not seeing it before. For some reason, it felt like you and I were impossible. The thought never occurred to me that we could date. We’ve been friends for so long. But you’re the only one who actually cares, the only one who stays, and I see that now.”

His eyes watered at the creaking of your voice, but he blinked the upcoming tears away. He took a deep breath. Selfishly, he didn’t want to say the next words, satisfied living in the delusion that you loved him back, but he knew he had to stay objective.

“Alcohol consumption also heightens emotions.”

“I know what I’m feeling, Spencer,” you assured. “I’ve just… I’ve been afraid of you leaving me as well, of seeing me as not lovable enough, that I didn’t even consider it a possibility.”

You let out a small self-deprecating laugh, making his heart ache.

“Just give me another chance, please. I will not be so oblivious this time,” you spoke, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted.

His expression mirrored yours, and he gently grasped your hands, his thumbs running over them to bring you comfort. “Can you call me tomorrow?”

You looked up at him.

“If, uh, you still feel the same when you’re sober, we could talk about it.”

There was nothing you were more certain of at that moment. Still, you nodded.

-`♡´-

The buzzing of his phone on the nightstand was enough for Spencer to wake up with a pounding headache. His mind had worked overtime yesterday, rolling in bed in anxiety, waking up every fifteen minutes, and now he was experiencing the physical side effects of it.

“Hello?” he answered, pressing the device against his ear, too sleepy to have checked who called.

“Spencer?”

At the sound of your voice, he sat straight up in bed, his back leaning against the wooden headboard.

He cleared his throat. “H-hi, yes, it’s me.”

There was no pause on the other end of the line, your words determined. “I still love you.”

He leaned forward, pressing the phone closer to his ear, in an attempt to absorb your words.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” His fingertips skimmed along his jawline, in need of proof that he was awake, that this was actually happening. “I love you too. Still. Right now. Always, probably.”

You chuckled at his nervous rambling, hearing him breathlessly laugh in reply.

“Good. Because I don’t want to waste any more time second-guessing.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You won’t be able to get rid of me. I won’t leave you.”

He meant the words in a light, joking manner, but still your heart happily pounded at the sentence.

“Neither will I.”

[kashverse]

if there is one child that must be appreciated, it is latte. a good latte deserves cute latte art, just as much as you deserve to witness the absolute chaos that will unfold when you put your boyfriend and a delicate artform in the same room. because, naturally, you—being the genius that you are—decide that these two gifts to humanity must be combined. your boyfriend, with all his charm, skill, or in some cases, sheer unrelenting ego, should absolutely try his hand at making tiny, adorable masterpieces in steamed milk. what could possibly go wrong? …a lot. a whole lot. but you’re in too deep now. the class is booked. the milk is frothing. and your boyfriend? oh, he is about to take this way too seriously.

now, if there’s one thing sukuna cannot stand, it’s being patronized. and somehow, standing there, all six-foot-something, surrounded by people who gasp use stencils for their latte art makes him feel violently disrespected. oh, you think he needs this? you think he can’t make art out of steamed milk? please. his hands were carving flesh into art long before this instructor was even a twinkle in their ancestor’s eye. but if you thought he’d refuse to participate, you don’t know sukuna well enough. no, he takes this as a personal challenge. he learns. he perfects. and when he finally presents his latte art, it’s a perfectly detailed demon face, sharp-toothed and menacing. “oh, uh… cute pitbull!” you say, nudging him before the instructor has a heart attack. sukuna nods sagely. yes. pitbull. definitely. but when it comes to adults he despises? oh, he’s petty. that one customer who dared to critique his “overly aggressive aesthetic”? congratulations, buddy, you just drank a latte cursed with an ancient sigil. sukuna watches them sip it with a smirk, arms crossed, utterly delighted with his petty vengeance. “how’s the flavor?” he asks, smug as hell. the customer just blinks, confused. they’ll probably have bad luck for a week. or diarrhea. who’s to say?

choso, on the other hand, has an existential awakening. at first, he’s simply fascinated. art… can exist in coffee? he stares at the swirling crema, eyes widening as he processes this revelation. the instructor barely explains the basics before choso stands up, dramatically setting his cup down. “this,” he announces, “is a reflection of the fleeting nature of life.” people murmur in agreement, assuming he’s some kind of deep, artistic genius. but oh, no. he’s spiraling now. “you create it, admire it, and then—destroy it with a single sip. isn’t that cruel? isn’t that… life itself?” you have to physically drag him out before he turns the workshop into a philosophical symposium on the ephemerality of human existence.

geto, meanwhile, is here for a completely different reason. does he need to learn latte art? no. does he want to? also no. but can he use it for his own agenda? absolutely. he skips right past the cute heart and bear designs and learns how to write with milk foam. the next thing you know, you glance at his cup and see “JOIN ME” written in elegant cursive atop a matcha latte. “are you serious?” you ask. he just smiles.

“art is meant to convey a message.”

“your message is cult recruitment.”

“my message is inclusion,” he corrects. you have to sit him down and give him a long lecture on why recruiting followers through artisanal coffee is not ethical. he nods solemnly but then winks at the barista like you didn’t just spend fifteen minutes trying to knock some morality into him.

toji, on the other hand, is struggling. “this ain’t for people like me,” he jokes at first, grinning. but five lattes later, he is no longer grinning. his first attempt at a heart? roadkill. the second attempt? roadkill that got run over twice. “babe,” you say gently, looking at the cup.

“don’t,” he warns.

“i just think—”

“DON’T.”

legend says he’s still in the kitchen at midnight, aggressively steaming milk and muttering “stupid fuckin’ foam” under his breath.

meanwhile, gojo…is fighting for his life in this class. he learned latte art off of tiktok one time and now thinks he’s god’s gift to coffee. he enters the workshop smug, flicking his hair and winking at the instructor like he’s about to change the game. and for a while? yeah. he’s decent. he gets the basics down pretty quickly and flexes at every given opportunity. but then. then. some sixteen-year-old prodigy casually creates a mona lisa on their latte. gojo short-circuits. his hair literally stands on end. “this is war,” he mutters. and now he’s hyper-fixated on beating this kid at latte art, muttering “i’m the strongest” while aggressively swirling his milk foam.

but then, there’s nanami, the epitome of poise, precision, and patience. he treats the class like it’s an artform—because to him, it is. he listens intently, follows instructions meticulously, and in just one session, his latte art is restaurant-tier. and it doesn’t stop there. every morning, without fail, he hands you a latte with an intricate, handcrafted design. a heart. a tulip. one time, even a self-portrait. your local café is begging for you to convince him to quit his job and work for them instead. he refuses, of course. but now? well. you kinda can’t start your day without a perfect latte from nanami’s personal, high-precision coffee service.

[vi-arcanes-left-biceps]

My biggest surprise about all the people's disagreements/disapointments/takes on writers choices and statements in Arcane is people being like "what the fuck, writters said they only made Vi's parents be killed by enforcers just to add drama to caitvi". As if its some crazy choice??

As if it was not the most basic, typical, stereotypical, tropey choice in writting any "we're in opposite sides" romance???

How come everyone is like "I love enemies to lovers" but cannot wrap their heads around the simplest of choices taken in basically all enemies to lovers in the history of storytelling.

Particularly in fantasy enemies to lovers, one character's "side" or families killing the other character's families or people from their community is the most typical trope EVER. We are in two opposite sides of a war. Our families hate each other and have a blood feud. Your dad killed my dad. Your family killled whoever in my family. Yadda yadda yadda. That's just your average fantasy romance.

How do this people think these stories are crafted at first?

Like, of course when they were thinking about the romance storyline they decided to do that. That creates the setting and the conflict for the romance and for the characters relationships. And it serves not only to set up Cait and Vi's relationship, but also Vi's internal conflict, Vander's internal conflict and his conflict with Silco, and Vi's first conflict with Vander, and the Zaun-Piltover conflict.

Like, of course the origin of the choice is "I'm going to create drama". That's just how writers write. Particularly when it is a character-centric story, as Arcane is. What really matters is how that drama is built upon and treated.

And also, even if creating drama for the ship was the origin of an idea at first that doesn't mean there is nothing more behind that choice. That idea is developed in terms of what consequences it has for the characters, for the plot, and how it works within the narrative and message of the story to be told. In order to come up with this idea to create drama, there has to be a prior choice about the role of enforcers in the story, the politics of the fantasy world and what the messages of the show are. Any writing with some quality does so much more with the idea that a frivolous "let's make drama". The origin of the idea itself is just how the writing process goes sometimes. I'm very sorry to desilusion you by saying that writing something with social critique doesn't mean the writers are in a room reading Marx and trying to see how to fit most of The Capital in the narrative.

Trying to make it sound more frivolous by saying the choice was only taken for ship drama reasons is not criticism. At least they could argue that the death of the parents has no other relevance whatsoever or something like that if they're trying to make the writing look so bad, idk. But that's simply not true, Arcane does more things with that choice in the narrative and does them okay within the confines of what they want to tell (which I'm sorry to say is not The Capital and it's not as leftist as we may want it to be).

Like. There's more significant critique to make about writing choices, this one is just an absolutely, absurdly normal writing process. It tells me folks are more fixated in dumping on the ship than anything else.

People will eat up poorly crafted, insipid ship drama with murders going around but they draw the line at Caitvi that's just funny

[beatlblog]

#is it insanity#or is it the TRUTH (via @loveistoshare)

#iceberg model of mental illness (via @suemesueyou)

#imagine being op and making this iceberg from memory (via @frodolives)

wait you're not op?

#my entry to fandom is more like get back to 8 days apart which opened up a 100 foot drop in the earth (via @get-back-homeward)

#i bring up Paris a minimum of twice a month#I’m like#oh yeah totally normal to take your best mate on a trip to Paris INSTEAD OF YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND (via @prettyboyrose1974)

#i swear india is the greatest mystery of the beatles fandom (via @maccaroni-and-cheese)

truly the budapest of mclennon

#this is so much#i dont trust a single word that comes out of phillip norman's mouth. but aside from that excellent work. no notes (via @hippiebeatles)

dem roi tha e#mclennon (via @nuynkume)

#me gustan estos icebergs (via @akamy08wt)

#someone record this to the tune of we didn't start the fire#ALL MY LOVING NOW AND THEN/CAN YOU TAKE ME BACK AGAIN?? (via @scurator)

via (@ohwellokcomputer)

#team nothing happened in india but something happened in new york immediately after india#at some point between landing and the first interview they did on that trip (via @spinnach)

#thank you for doing my work for me this is fantastic#you’re right this could go deeper i made this like 2 yrs ago and even just in this time so much new stuff has come out lol#if anybody wants to expand feel free!#once again great work paulmccartneygrindr… my one critique is that there is another even more deranged howard stern interview out there (via @frodolives)

#this is beautiful I need to print this out into a little book to carry around like mormons (via @asurrogateblog)

#bro this is the most wonderful thing ever#I adore op more than my non-existent children (via @highlyincorrect)

#thank you for your service 🫡#this is such a fun read#seeeing everything together makes me crazy#the boys really did have something going on (via @beatsfornone)

#reading all these at work like Cody Ko voice Damm makes you think... makes u think..#the beatles#i guess man... (via @sidneylumet)

#YOU ARE AN ANGEL OMGGGGG#the beatles#mclennon#son las 2 am y voy a leer lo que pueda y luego a mimir#im very normal about this (via @cuatrocientos-trece)

#not to critique these as a non truther#but as a son of a casual mclennon truther the yoko revealing bisexuality thing is like number 1 on the iceberg i feel#like most people above a certain age know that#i know that and i wouldn't really consider myself a big beatle guy#idk abt the rest tho carry on (via @chirpychipslive)

#it's more of an ice metropolis really#the average man was never meant to have this much lore (via @wreathedwith)

the tiers of insanity

[not-neverland06]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ

͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝖲𝗍𝗎 𝖬𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 x fem!reader

╔═ A/N ═╗ Based on this request. I apologize if I got the characterization wrong. I just feel like the darker side to his character is never properly explored. As goofy as he was, he was also a serial killer lmao

✬ Summary ✬ Stu's your best friend, you know him as well as you know yourself. At least you thought so. A snoop through his closet leads to a terrifying discovery. Now, everywhere you turn, that haunting mask is right there waiting.

“God,” you toss the remote on the cushion beside you. It bounces off the oversized couch and flops to the floor. “There’s nothing on TV,” you lament, draping yourself dramatically over the cushions. 

Stu snickers and kicks his legs over the arms of his chair, shrugging with a smug look. “I told you we should have stopped by the video store.” His gaze drifts back toward the TV, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud MTV episode you stopped on. 

“Hell no, Randy’s working tonight,” you scold, sharp gaze snapping toward him. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, clearly having decided that his form of entertainment tonight is going to be pissing you off. “I don’t feel like having him critique me for an hour on my poor taste in movies.”

He snorts and reaches to take a large handful out of the popcorn on the coffee table between you. “Maybe if you didn’t just rent stupid chick flicks all the time, he wouldn’t.” 

Stu doesn’t have time to duck as you chuck one of his mom’s overpriced throw pillows at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love Pretty in Pink.” The pillow knocks the popcorn out of his hand, scattering it across the ornate rug Mrs. Macher bought last week. If she saw the state you’d gotten the house in this weekend, that ever-pulsing vein in her head would burst. As it is, they’re never actually at the house, it’s an oasis for practically half the school during the weekends Stu decides to throw a party. 

For the first time in a while, though, it’s just you and Stu. No one else is here to rile him up or force him to put on a show. He’s at his calmest when it’s just the two of you. Which, honestly, doesn’t mean much for him, but still. 

“I do not,” he objects, stretching out his lanky body and getting to his feet. 

You roll your head lazily to face him, giving him a knowing smirk. “Billy isn’t here, Stu. You don’t have to lie,” you assure him, holding out your arms as he stops in front of you. You already know what he wants, he’s got that specific gleam in his eye as he smiles down at you. 

“I mean,” he shrugs, “it’s not bad,” he concedes. Without another word, he throws himself on top of you, even prepared for it, you still feel the breath rush out in one hefty wheeze. Another thing you don’t see as much when others are around, just how goddamn clingy he is. 

Sure, with his multitude of girlfriends, he’s touchy. But this is something different entirely. He clings to you like he would burrow into your skin if he could. He’s been that way since you guys were kids. While the feeling of others touching you might set you on edge, Stu fits against you like your missing piece. 

Hands drifting up to play with his hair, you settle yourself against the cushions while he goes back to channel surfing, pleased to have you as his pillow. 

The TV drones on, a dull buzz in the background now that Stu has the volume down. With his head practically buried between your boobs and your legs wrapped around his waist, you snicker. 

Frowning, he props his chin on your chest, staring up at you. “What?” He demands, hating to be left out of a joke. 

“Nothing,” you shrug as much as you can with him steadily pancaking you. “Just wondering what your girlfriend would think of us like this.”

“Oh,” he sets his head back down and places your hands back on his head to continue playing with his hair. “We broke up,” he tells you, like it means absolutely nothing. 

“Stu!” You slap his shoulder, and he winces dramatically. As if you could ever do real damage to him. 

“Ow!” He whines, bracketing himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you. “What’s your problem tonight?”

His hips are still lazily pressed against you, pressure increasing the longer he hovers above you. Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the flush spreading through you. “You didn’t tell me you guys broke up.”

He rolls his eyes, glaring down at you. “I just did,” he points out sarcastically. You swat at his shoulder again, but this time, he catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a smug grin as he keeps you trapped. 

“You’re collecting these girls like they’re trading cards.” Despite his tight grip, you manage to slip out slightly from under him and prop yourself against the arm of the couch. “I don’t even remember the last one’s name.”

His face goes slack, lips parting as you see the cogs in his brain turning. He laughs and glances back at you with a dismissive shrug. “Neither do I. I just remember the tits.”

“Ugh,” you yank your hand out of his, ignoring his petulant frown. “You’re absolutely disgusting. What’s the point of even dating them?”

He slinks back against the other end of the couch. “I just said why,” he points to your chest with a grin, and you reflexively cross your arms. Stu tips his head back, dangling it over the edge as he stares up at the ceiling with a forlorn sigh. “I don’t get it,” he tosses his hands up, and you already know where this is going. 

Head tipped back up, he narrows his eyes at you, “I don’t know why we don’t just date.”

You give him a deadpan look, arms still tight around your chest. “Dude,” you chide, “after what you just told me. Seriously?” When you were younger, him saying this used to set you alight. You’d get all dreamy-eyed, imagining what it would be like to be Stu’s girlfriend. Of course, you’d taken too long thinking about it, and by then, he’d already found a different girl to set his sights on. It had broken your heart, and their relationship had barely even lasted a week. 

By now, you know better than to take anything he says seriously. Everything’s just one big joke to him. He’s so fickle you can’t trust that he would actually put effort into anything more blooming between you. You seem to be the only girl in his life that he actually thinks of as a person, going on a few dates with him isn’t worth screwing that up. Besides that, you’re not going to ruin the only friendship you’ve ever had that’s lasted more than two months. 

Stu opens his mouth like he wants to say anything, but it snaps shut a moment later. His face sets into a glower, and you worry for a moment that you might have actually hurt his feelings. You’ve always thought the suggestion was just a sort of inside joke between the two of you. Though, he has been bringing it up more and more lately. 

Your stomach flips unpleasantly, heart aching with guilt. It doesn’t last long, the feeling always remains fleeting. You’ve conditioned yourself for years to dismiss anything that might actually encourage you to pursue something with Stu. You love him, but you two would just be a spark waiting to light up. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” Stu changes the subject, picking up the remote once more and not meeting your eye. Your lips part, and he cuts a glare toward you, “No girlfriend,” he stops you before you can even say anything. Your brows furrow, and he looks back to the TV. “No sleepovers if I’m dating,” he mocks the pitch of your voice, reminding you of the rule you'd enforced so long ago. Your lips fall in a flat, irritated line at his imitation of you. 

“No girlfriend,” he reminds you, feigning indifference even though you can see right through him. Your plan was to go home, but you know him well enough by now. The set of his jaw, the stubborn way he won’t look at you, there’s no actual choice. You’re staying.

“Yeah,” you acquiesce with a low huff. “I’ll need to borrow some clothes.”

“You know where they are,” he tells you, still not meeting your eye. He’s never been this sensitive after you’ve rejected him before. What’s his problem? Eyes narrowed, you get to your feet, glaring at him the whole way up the stairs. He never loses the indifferent look, passive-aggressively turning the TV up. 

Usually, you just grab some pants from the guest room. But with Autumn descending, it’s been getting colder, especially in Stu’s drafty old house. There’s a soft yellow sweater that you’ve always tried to steal from him, and he’s never let you get away with it. 

Nabbing it would probably ease up the weird tension. He is a freak, he does love seeing you in his clothes. You figure it’s a solid plan and slip across the hallway, quietly opening his bedroom door. 

As always, his room is a hot damn mess. The bed’s unmade, sheets completely untucked, and half of them sprawled across the floor. There’s a clearly well-loved nudie mag lying open on his nightstand, boobs bared boldly to the world. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn toward his closet. 

Your brows furrow, head tilting at the closed door. As odd as it is, Stu never closes his closet. It’s just another tedious task to him. Besides, he likes to just ball all his clothes up and toss them in wildly. You know his family’s old maid threatened to quit if she had to clean his room ever again. But you wouldn’t believe that looking into the closet now. 

It’s not just clean, it’s pristine. Clothes hung up, sorted by color and sleeve length. Jeans all neatly folded away. The box of old books and junk he had just lying about are tucked up on the top shelf. “What the hell?” You whisper, looking around like you just stepped into Narnia. 

Hell, maybe it’s a portal to a bizarro dimension, it would make more sense than him cleaning up after himself. Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on Stu’s oddities, you’d just be standing here forever if you did. 

You start in the yellow section of his closet, then drift toward the sweaters. And, of course, the only one you want isn’t anywhere to be found. It has to be buried somewhere in here, and you’re not giving up until that sweater is yours. You dig through his folded pile of jeans recklessly, hoping for a bright spot of yellow to be buried somewhere within them. 

Tugging a little too hard on one of the stacks, something hard clatters against the wooden floor of his closet. “Ah, shit,” you hiss, shoving the jeans back and kneeling to try and spot whatever fell. Lowering your head to the ground, you peer under the hems of his shirts on the lower rack and squint into the shadows. 

There’s a vague shape of something, and you reach toward it. Head tilted the other way, your arm stretches under the sweaters, blindly groping for whatever you sent tumbling. Your fingers snag on fabric, and you grin, thinking it’s the sweater you’ve been coveting. 

Pulling it out, your smile stills, heart rapidly increasing speed until it feels like it’s going to beat out of your ribs. There’s a twisting pain in your stomach, anguish and immediate denial flooding through you as you stare down at the mask in your hands. 

It’s just a cheap drugstore mask. Around Halloween, you could find it anywhere. You could easily dismiss it as something Stu bought as a fucked up joke. Were it not for the flaking copper on the chin of the howling mask. Your fingers tighten around it until you think it might crack. 

Slowly, you tilt your head back toward the shirts. This wasn’t what fell. A part of you screams to just chuck the mask back and pretend you never saw it. You could go downstairs, continue your movie night with Stu, and pass out beside him on the couch. Lying to yourself would be so damn easy. It’s just a mask, half the guys in school bought one because they thought it was a fucking joke. 

But your body isn’t interested in weak excuses. Bowing over, your hand swipes across the wood once more, wrapping around the object that fell. Before you even drag it out, you already know what you’re going to see. A pulsing pain spreads through your chest, eyes watering as you stare down at the knife in your hand. 

A serrated hunting knife, to be exact. The same one Dewey said was used to kill Casey only a week ago. God, how had you not seen this? How could you have been so blind?

Stu had been the number one suspect, but Billy had been his alibi, no one could place him at the scene of the crime.

There has always been something twisted about Billy. It only got worse when his mom left. Maybe this was all his idea, maybe Stu was just dragged into this, but he doesn’t really want-

Your thoughts fade into a dull silence in the back of your mind. There’s no excuse. Stu has always been different, just slightly off. His jokes nearing the wrong side of dark. But you never would have thought him capable of something so brutal. 

Footsteps sound up the stairs, and your brain shocks itself awake. Quickly, you toss the mask back under the clothes and shove the knife into the jeans. Wiping your eyes, you leap to your feet and rush out of the closet just as Stu barrels into his room. 

The both of you pause, staring blankly at each other. You, a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He, the drooling wolf, waiting to pounce. 

Slowly, his eyes drift toward the closet, the light you left on, and the door you hadn’t had time to close. He turns back to you, and something twisted curls at the edges of his lips. Adrenaline shoots so fast through you it nearly knocks you off your feet. 

“Looking for something?” His tone is light, barely audible, as he takes a step closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to back away from him. 

Something too strained to be a smile curls your lips up. “Um,” you lick your lips, swallowing down the dryness coating your tongue. You laugh nervously and take a step toward his bed. “Just that sweater I love. 

He stalks towards you, and your eyes widen, heart fluttering in your chest. Just when you think he might run you over, he steps around you and heads toward his dresser. You turn, afraid to take your eyes off of him. 

Peeking above the corner of a drawer is a yellow sleeve. He slips it out easily, holding it out to you with a grin that shows off all his teeth. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking around the words as you snatch the sweater out of his hands. 

“I made more popcorn,” he tells you, eyes wild as he stares down at you. “Halloween’s on.” It’s a simple invitation to a movie, but it feels like there’s a knife to your back. You have no choice but to step out of the room and head down the stairs. Every bit of you screams to act natural, to pretend that there’s nothing wrong. 

How could you be? Your best friend, the boy you’re practically in love with, is slaughtering your friends. He’s running rampant through your town and killing girls just because they broke up with him. 

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you see him already looking at you. The smile is gone, now he’s just watching you with this bemused expression, like he’s waiting for you to break and make a run for it. 

You take a seat on the couch, lean against the pillows, and glue your eyes to the screen. Suddenly, Jamie Lee Curtis babysitting is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Stu takes his seat beside you, sinking into your side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Stiff as a board, you can’t find it in you to return the touch, too petrified by the thought of all the blood on his hands. 

He doesn’t care for your trepidation, taking your arms and wrapping them around himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as he speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Avoiding Stu has been easier than you thought it would. Usually, he’s more persistent in making you hang out with him. Especially when your parents are both out of town at the same time. But he’s been suspiciously quiet since you prematurely ended your weekend stay last week. 

You managed to make it through the night. Though, while Stu dozed on top of you, you had been wide awake. Limbs stiff, eyes unblinking, the whole night had been spent on high alert. You’re not sure if he knows you know, or just suspects it. Either way, you should have turned him in by now. 

The second you left his house, you should have gone straight to the sheriff. You know who's behind the Woodsboro murders. You know who the infamous Ghostface is, and have a suspicion who his other half might be. You could have stopped all this. 

Casey and Steve would be avenged. If you had something, another person wouldn’t have been killed two days ago. You didn’t know him personally, you’d never even seen Stu or Billy interact with him. But this felt less like an attack on him and more like a threat for you. 

Keep quiet, or you’ll be strung up by your intestines. 

Triple checking all your doors and windows are locked, you head upstairs to your room. Prepared to camp out for another sleepless night. If you turned him in, you wouldn’t have to live with this paranoia anymore. Every corner you turn wouldn’t be prefaced with the idea that he might be waiting behind it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pick up the phone and call the cops. 

You lay back on your bed, listening to the radio in the hopes it might lull you to sleep. It never works, but you hold out hope. The shrill ring of your home phone echoes throughout your empty home. Sitting up on your elbows, you glare at your closed door like it might shut the damn thing up. 

Abruptly, it cuts off. The empty halls of your home fall silent once more, the low droning of your radio barely audible above the blood rushing through your head. You hold your breath, eyes peeled on the door in front of you, waiting for… something. 

The phone goes off again, and you jump, shooting off your bed and grabbing the bat by your nightstand. Slowly, you open your door, peeking your head out before you attempt to cross the hall to your parent’s room. There’s a phone in there, and you’re more comfortable up here than you are beside your glass patio doors downstairs. 

You practically kick the door open, jumping inside the room like you’re prepared to bludgeon someone with your bat. The shadows are thick inside, but you don’t see a cloaked figure waiting for you within one. Feeling confident enough, you run toward your parent’s nightstand and grab the phone. Running back to your room as fast as you can and slamming the door closed behind you, you sink to the floor. 

Thumb hovering over the button, you let out a shaky breath and answer. “Hello?” You try and instill confidence in your voice, but you can’t hide the tremor. 

“Hey,” Billy’s voice croons on the other end, he says your name, and a shudder rolls down your spine. 

“Billy?” His name is a hoarse croak as you feel your heart thud dully inside your chest. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to tell you something.” He pauses, and you bite your lip, nails digging into your palms as you wait for him to speak. “I’ve always wondered,” there’s a click, and then a raspier, unfamiliar voice speaks, “what do your insides look like?”

Something slams against your front door, and you drop the phone with a shrill scream, jumping to your feet and whirling around. You hear Billy’s distorted cackle echo through the speaker before abruptly cutting off. On the floor, three low beeps sound out. Bending down, you pick up the bulky phone and press it to your ear. Nothing but white noise. You toss the phone on your bed and swallow down another scream. No service. 

You’re all alone. 

The startling realization of silence rushes over you, gooseflesh rises along your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The banging downstairs has quieted and your house is once more silent. But it’s no longer the same vacant stillness it was before. There’s someone here, it’s an instinctive feeling. Long buried prey instincts warning you of a predator sniffing you out.  

Creeping quietly across the floor, you avoid the creaky wood that would give your movements away and once more open the door. It seems foolish to put yourself so boldly out in the open. Being cornered in that room is no better. No matter what, it’s just you and him all alone out here. 

You wonder, as you peek your head around the banister, if this is just Stu stalking you. Is Billy getting rid of a liability? Is it both of them?

One, you could handle on your own. But if it was the both of them, the only thing you could do was go down swinging. If you were going to die tonight, you weren’t going to let it be easy for either of them. 

Your front door is wide open, an easy escape. There was no point in running. Either one of them is waiting outside for you, or they’ve cut the brakes on your car. You crouch, peering through the railings and silently making your way down the stairs. Try as you might, you don’t see signs that anyone has come inside. 

Besides the door, there are no clues to give away where they might have gone. You don’t want to play the role of the bimbo in their sick fantasy. Despite the instinct to call out for someone, you swallow it down and continue through your home. 

Beyond the stark terror of facing your own mortality, there is also the pain of being so thoroughly betrayed by Stu. You know the truth of what he is, of what Billy is. And you kept it quiet. You buried his dark secret like it was your own, protected him. This is how he repays you?

This is his answer after years of you loving him. How could he?

You stand in the middle of your living room, bat hanging limp by your side. The aching pain of grief and fear stills your body. The fight wanes inside you, debating whether or not prolonging this is worth it. The others all fought back, and they died bloody. Maybe if you just gave in, it would be quick, painless. Stu could at least grant you that. 

There’s a brief flash of movement in the reflection of your patio door. It’s slight, like a shifting shadow. Only one thing gives him away, the white, howling mask. Instinct overrides sensitivities, you whip around, bat flying. There’s a low groan as it smashes over his head. 

Reaching up, he snatches it in his hand, using it to jerk you forward. You’re quick to let it go. Instead, you aim for his throat. Hands outstretched as you reach up, gripping his neck as tight as you can. There’s shock in his stuttered breaths, like he hadn’t thought you would fight back. You were beginning to doubt yourself, too. 

Turns out you’re too stubborn to die. 

The bat clacks loudly against the wood as he stumbles back into your mother’s glass coffee table. His legs kick up, tripping you and sending you stumbling into his chest. The both of you go plummeting backward, glass shattering around him and the wood crumpling like a tower of cards. 

Jagged shards cut at your arms and bare legs, but you know he takes the brunt of it. Your grip on his throat is unrelenting, you pick his head up and slam it against the wood. He lets out a dazed groan, and you would laugh were you not trying to stop your best friend from killing you. He seems ridiculous, wearing this stupid cheap mask and moaning like a cartoon character with a bump on their head. 

He bucks under you, hips pressing up against yours as he flips you both over. Pain rips through your back as the glass digs into your skin. Letting out a low whine, your hands slack on him for just a moment. It’s still long enough for him to get the upper hand. 

He straddles your waist, pinning you below him with his weight as he kneels on your swinging arms. You’re utterly paralyzed, with no other choice but to stare up at him as tears stream, hot and slick, down your cheeks. 

Stu rips his mask off, eyes wild as he grins down at you. “Damn, sweetheart,” he laughs, and it only makes you fight harder against him. Screaming through your teeth as you try to buck him off of you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He tosses the mask to the side and motions to the knife in his hand, “Surprise,” he practically sings the word, watching for your reaction. You bite your tongue, hiccuping on a sob as you stare up at him through blurry eyes. “Right,” he concedes, tilting his head, “you already knew.”

You can feel the blood pooling beneath you, the glass digging further into your shredded skin. It only makes this all the more unbearable. “Stop,” you beg, voice breaking as you struggle to hold back the tears. “I didn’t tell,” you shout at him. “Why are you doing this?” The tears break around the rage slipping through your voice as you glare up at him. 

“What are you talking about?” He snaps, his amusement waning the harder you cry. 

“Billy!” you shout the name out, just barely managing to wiggle one wrist free. He snatches it up instantly, the knife falling beside you as he leans over you, digging your hand into the glass above your head. “He said you wanted to see my insides,” there’s no controlling the sobs now. You don’t want to die. You don’t want Stu to be the one to kill you. Somehow, though, you think this would have hurt worse if it was Billy holding the knife. 

Stu’s face falls before quickly twisting up into something angry. He backs off, easing his weight just enough for the press of glass to sting a little less. “No,” he utters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the plan.” 

Stu looks nearly manic as he stares down at you. Something unfurls inside you, years of friendship have you reaching up with your free hand. You don’t know what your plan is until he’s leaning into your touch, eyes never leaving yours. 

His hand grips your waist, easing you into a sitting position. You want to curl up into a ball and go hide in a dark corner. You want to shove glass down his throat and run. The knife looks particularly appealing beside you. 

But you do none of that. You let him tug you closer, hand tightening to the point of pain around your waist, but you don’t think he realizes, and you’re too afraid to point it out. “You’re our final girl, baby,” he practically fucking giggles, and you struggle not to flinch from the sound. “He was just fucking with you.”

“Yeah?” You snap, fingers trailing toward his hair and yanking until his face crinkles with pain. “Then what the fuck,” venom coats your tongue, voice low and deadly, “are you doing right now?”

He smiles, leaning into the way you rip at his hair. “Screwing around,” he laughs, and he sounds like a goddamn idiot. Scoffing, you release him, jerking out of his grip and ignoring the way it pulls at the wounds on your back. 

“God,” you crumple into yourself, shoulders hunching forward as you hide your face behind your hands. “I can’t believe I ever thought you could love me. You’re sick, Stu,” you snap, holding back more tears. 

Blood and glass surround you both, the shattered fragments of your friendship. Stu looks more hurt than when you strangled him. He reaches for you, and you jump back, shaking your head. ‘I was never going to kill you,” he swears. But what does the promise of a murderer mean to you?

“I don’t believe you,” voice a whisper, the tears spill over once more. He looks between you and the knife like he can’t decide what to do. You wait for it, for the snap before he just plunges the knife into your gut. Twisting it and dragging your death on. 

Instead, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around yours and forcing you into his embrace. “Stop,” you claw weakly at his shoulders, snagging your nails in the cheap cloak. You shake your head, but the fight is over before it even begins. Your arms curl around his neck, and you sink into his familiar embrace. 

His gloved hand skates over the wounds on your back, and you whine, arching away from his touch. He offers a whispered apology, but you don’t believe it. “Billy’s not going to touch you,” he swears. “I’m never going to hurt you.”

“You already have.”

His arms only tighten around you, pulling you into his lap as you cry. You might not believe him, but he knows the truth of it. You’re his best friend. The only person besides Billy he’s ever actually cared about. 

You are his perfect final girl, and he’s never going to let you go. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Scream, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[butch4butchlovr]

It's a little annoying how in conversations critiquing how arcane treated Vi, no one brings up her butch identity. Like, yes, everything that happened to Vi would still be bad if she wasn't butch, but to me, it's even worse due to the fact that she was made to be a very butch character.

1. They took away everything that made Vi butch.

Her love for her family and her community, her morals. Vi was seen as butch not just because of her clothes but because of how loving and protective she was for those around her. She wanted to be there for her city, and she told Ekko that herself in s1 when he took her to the firelight tree. Yet in season two, they took her family away from her yet again, purposely acted like Ekko and Vi's relationship did not exist, and had her become a class traitor because these writers didn't give a flying fuck about her character or what the identity of 'butch' meant. Hell, we barely see Vi struggle with becoming a cop in the first place.

(a bit of a side tangent)

Plus, why should Vi care that Jinx bombed the council anyway? Because it resulted in the death of Caitlyn’s mom? The very person who, along with many others, were fine with putting someone like her in either the fissures where she could work to death for their profit, or negligent enough that someone can throw her in a dangerous prison with no trial, throw away the key, and not give a damn? Why was this not touched on? (I know why) This should've been conflicting for both Vi AND Caitlyn since they both know that topside is corrupt.

There's no reason for Vi to give up her morals like this, even if she sees Jinx as dangerous. The only reason why Jinx exists is due to the council's negligence and Silco's grooming. Vi, of all people, should've understood the nuances of Jinx's attack due to the constant violence and oppression the council and enforcers enacted on the undercity and herself.

2. Vi has the traumas that many butches and studs have gone through.

The police brutality, the need to protect others and not feeling strong enough to do so at times, the constant pressure of needing to be strong (mostly due to being the eldest daughter). So many of us clung to Vi due to those reasons, including myself. Heck, lesbian history shows how much butch lesbians were brutalized by cops, yet Arcane didn't take these traumas seriously, especially the police brutality that Vi was subjected to.

Not once do we see Vi struggle with her experiences from prison. These people beat her every other day for seven years, just for her to come out of prison with no semblance of ptsd? Then, they had Vi get hit by her cop girlfriend with a gun and never touched on it again. What was the point of having Vi go to prison and purposely mention that she was beaten to an inch of her life MULTIPLE TIMES, just to have her be hit by the very cop that these people want her to have a romantic relationship with? It really does seem like they wanted to use both prison and butchness as some cool aesthetic instead of actually treating it as the delicate topic that it is.

3. Reaffirming people's lack of care towards butches as people

People already don't take our traumas seriously as butches, a lot of the audience didn't take Vi's traumas in s1 seriously BECAUSE she's butch. Yet the writers reinforced the same harmful rhetoric of dehumanizing butches, sexualizing us, and romantizing our pain.

Each time Vi was close to mental breakdown or had a mental breakdown, it was not taken seriously. Vi almost breaks down to Caitlyn and begs her not to change. What happens? Caitlyn kisses her. When Vi is stuck in a prison cell again and starts to break down and punch the walls, what happens? Caitlyn comes in and cue sex scene. (That's supposedly supposed to reclaim trauma btw)

The WHOLE ENTIRE pitfighter montage was a thirst trap. Here is a butch who is having a severe mental breakdown about the things she had just experienced and the only thing we get of it is shots of Vi self harming (alcoholism, pitfighting), shots objectifying her, and her hallucinations.

We don't get any commentary on how this affects Vi. We could assume it's harmful just like her prison trauma was, but we don't see glimpses of it at all afterwards. Vi literally stops drinking after the montage and we don't see how it affects her. People keep preaching about show don't tell, but when it comes to shows and movies in general you need a balance between both showing AND telling. We see this with how they handled Jinx's mental health in s1, even in bits of Caitlyn’s arc in s2, yet we never see an ounce of this treatment towards Vi.

And certain fans don't help either. They'll defend Vi being hit, defend the lack of exploration on her trauma, and defend the very sex scene that ignores literally everything Vi has gone through during the show. Hell, they get angry at the mere thought of Vi receiving an apology. I mean, what else can I expect from a fandom who thinks Vi can't read and expect Caitlyn to teach her, or wanted Vi to be a virgin so Caitlyn can teach her about sex, or expects Vi to be so unhygienic that Caitlyn needs to teach her how to wash her own ass. (Do y'all see a pattern?)

The treatment of Vi in s2 by the writers is butchphobic. The way people defend how Vi was handled is butchphobic. Defending abuse towards Vi, saying that it didn't harm her that much or that she's been through worse, is butchphobic. Saying that she got a happy ending in a city that hates her and her community, with a woman who has harmed her and showed prejudice against her and her people, is butchphobic.

(And yes, Caitlyn’s line about Vi's blood is prejudiced, it is not just about her being related to Jinx. Mentioning that someone's blood is tainted has been evidence of countless prejudiced ideals towards minorities, ESPECIALLY the lower class.)

The way Vi is treated overall by the writers and by certain caitvi stans is butchphobic and misogynistic and I wished this was mentioned more when talking about it.

[superbat-lmao]

Bruce shows up at the Kent farm because he wants Martha’s blessing to marry her son.

It’s an outdated custom, but Clark is sentimental about the oddest things, so Bruce resigns himself to it.

He made sure to show up in some of his most relaxed clothes and brought some of Alfred’s cooking. To anyone else he would appear to be any random passerby, which was the objective. Ma Kent expressed a distinct distaste for Bruce’s masks, either as Brucie or Batman.

It was difficult to hide his nerves.

He hoped by following all of her past critiques of him he would pass muster. You aren’t at a board meeting, million dollar suits have no place in a pig pen, or, You must bring that butler of yours with you, I would love to trade recipes.

When Martha eventually opened the door she smiled easily until she really took in his appearance.

“Bruce! What’s happened? Are you alright? Where’s Clark?”

Caught off guard, Bruce blinks.

“No Mrs. Kent, it’s just me. I had something I wanted to discuss with you-”

“Dressed like that? And what have you got there?”

“Alfred sent it with me. Everything’s alright, I just wanted to abide by your suggestions.”

He bears her scrutiny for 37 seconds before being ushered inside. He cannot stop himself from going over his actions and the best course for rectifying them. He is unaware of what would be a cause for such concern.

She fusses over him and Alfred’s dish until he is sat at her kitchen table, empty handed.

“So, Bruce, honey, what was it you wanted to talk about? Must be important if it got you to fly all the way out here by yourself. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but you boys are a rare sight indeed these days.”

Without appearing obvious, Bruce tries to brace himself for a moment. The words are difficult for him to say, and Martha’s kindness has always been hard to bear the full brunt of.

“I had hoped to discuss something with you.”

There is no exasperated sigh, but he does see her patience at his silence as he tries to string together what he’d like to say.

“I would like to ask for your blessing.”

Martha’s eyebrows pinch together for less than a second before her face slackens in surprise. Bruce does his best not to fidget, or indeed move a muscle.

“My blessing.”

“Yes.”

“In marriage.”

“Yes.”

“To Clark.”

“Yes.”

Martha sits down on the chair across from him, keeping a hand on its armrest to steady herself.

“Goodness.”

Martha turns almost mechanically to face him. He still hasn’t moved.

“You haven’t discussed this with him?”

“Two years ago we discussed the institution of marriage and its surrounding customs as part of a mission involving marital law.”

“But you haven’t discussed the possibility of you two getting married on Earth?”

“No.”

Martha holds the fabric of the table cloth between her thumb and forefinger, pressing it against itself to make slow circles.

“Why do you think you need my blessing?”

There is a distinct pause as Bruce thinks this over.

“Clark values your opinion as well as Earth’s customs. It is not exactly standard practice, nor a custom rooted in a particularly ethical social mores, but it is one I think he would see sentimental value in. If I have overstepped-”

Martha is kind enough to cut him off.

“No, no, no. It’s just. You’ve really surprised me is all.”

“I will, of course, submit to any questions or trials you require to illustrate my sincerity.”

Her forehead wrinkles as her eyebrows race toward her hairline. It’s a look Clark has made after some of Bruce’s more severe injuries when he had suggested returning to patrol. It is endearing to see where he gets it from.

“Trials.”

“Any requirements or standards that I must meet.”

“Ah.”

They lapse back into silence for 3 minutes and 12 seconds before Martha sighs gently. A cold feeling passes through Bruce at the realization he has somehow already failed.

“I’m so sorry honey. This is just such a surprise. I think I have a couple of questions for you, but I had just never considered anyone would be asking for my blessing. Being a Mother of the groom doesn’t usually have that in the job description. Is there a reason you picked Earth customs instead of Kryptonian ones? Clark says you’ve spent an awful lot of time in that ship of his.”

“Kryptonian marriage customs do not place emphasis on courting rituals, only the ceremony itself. I had planned to ask Clark if he wanted us to follow them or incorporate them into Earth’s customs or even forgo customs altogether, but that’s only a consideration if he accepts. As it stands, I would estimate there are two aspects of Kryptonian marriage customs he would likely incorporate and a majority he would be disinclined to, given his current frequency of preference for Earth customs. Although I have prepared everything in case he does wish to follow Kryptonian customs.”

“Prepared everything?”

“I would have to substitute the Hall of Justice for the Palace of Marriage, but I have done my best to acquire a jewel from Diana that could stand in for the Jewel of Truth and Honor. I have also acquired rings or bands to the specifications of custom, depending on his preference, and commissioned the parental statues.”

“Parental statues-?”

“However, I estimate that Clark would choose that option if Superman got married. I believe his original preference would be to have a ceremony here. Though if he agreed to a ceremony with media presence, it would likely be at the manor. I do think he may find three separate weddings to be excessive, but if he did want more I would be willing to-”

“Bruce!”

He paused, looking up from the checkered pattern of the tablecloth to see Martha smiling, faintly. The cold feeling had spread while he was talking and he tried to push it away.

“Honey, I think I’ve done a poor job of this. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock, you showing up here dressed like you work in town, with a home cooked meal and detailed wedding plans, but you must forgive me. I feel my age catching up to me sometimes and it can take a minute for my brain to catch up with you youngsters.”

She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Lord knows that Clark was always an idealist, he was a happy child who loved so much. I used to quite literally have to ask him to come down from the clouds.”

“I don’t think I have ever met another person as grounded as you are. Literally, Clark has told me stories about that cave of yours. All that to say, in my own marriage, Jonathan and I tried to strike a balance.”

She paused, looking out the window in the kitchen for a moment.

“I think the both of you have polar opposite approaches to the same thing. That your practicality balances out his optimism. And that he is a counterbalance to your cynicism.”

“I am so proud of the both of you boys. To have found each other and support each other. That boy loves absolutely, and while I can’t speak for him, I would support him in whatever decision he would make.”

“But I have also come to know you and your children. I see your dedication and commitment to everything you put your mind to. Family is important to you, and I am glad my son has met someone who loves as fiercely as he does, even if it looks a little different on the outside.”

Martha’s hand reaches across the table and folds neatly over his own. Bruce finds it’s the easiest thing in the world to match her smile.

“Of course you have my blessing. I’m sorry if I made you think you didn’t. It’s just that “bat-preparedness” as Kon puts it, is a bit beyond my speed. I’m so glad you came by. I’d be delighted if you stuck around for a while to really explain to me what some of those ceremonies entail, but then I don’t know how much time you set aside today.”

The cold feeling had morphed into a warm sort of liquid, like Alfred’s hot chocolate. Slowly, Bruce relaxed his muscles and posture to be more at ease.

“Thank you. I would love to stay. My schedule is free for the next few days actually. I had been planning to ask if you wanted anything done around the place, or for me to take a look at that tractor again. Jon mentioned you were having trouble with it and I know none of my boys have been by in a few weeks or I’d have asked them to take a look.”

Martha leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Bruce’s temple, effectively stunning him for a moment. She laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh you sap, you better get used to it. Come on, you’ll have to show me how you’re setting that thing to rights each time.”

As they got up and made their way towards the tractor, Martha asked one final question.

“I’m surprised Clark didn’t stop by halfway through your explanations. He told me he showed up once during one of your patrols unannounced because your heartbeat suddenly picked up. Lois made fun of him for weeks. How did you know he wouldn’t be listening?”

Bruce smiled slightly as he rolled up his sleeves to take a look at the well worn machinery.

“Easy. I’m on light duty for the next two weeks and the rest of the League got called on a mission for the Lantern Corps. He won’t be anywhere near this solar system for at least four more days. Perfect opportunity to stop by.”

Martha snorted beside him as he pointed out the different systems. She was warm and solid next to him, something that made him smile and think distinctly of family.

Bonus Below the Cut: Kryptonian Marriage Customs from Google.

[sapphiresaphics]

You’re right. It is polite to do that. But it’s also… I dunno… kinda boring? And it often doesn’t push the story forward.

Let’s look at it this way: We know that initially they planned on several additional seasons and ultimately were only given 2. We don’t know when that cut back was dictated to them from up on high, but it’s very easy to assume it happened sometime between season 1 and 2’s production. Very likely after most of season 1’s setup had already been finished and animated.

And, given how little time they had available to them for season 2, they opted instead to focus on ways to communicate this stuff non-verbally most of the time and to trust that we, as smart intelligent viewers, can piece together stuff ourselves.

They have a grand total of 18 episodes in total for this entire show. There are other shows that have double that number for just one season. Time is of the essence and every frame costs hundreds of dollars. So if it’s not really relevant it goes on the cutting room floor. Arcane is nothing if not EFFICIENT with its storytelling. And that’s a stylistic choice the creators have made.

And let’s not forget this doesn’t just exist around Caitlyn. Vi never apologizes for punching Powder as a kid. She apologizes for leaving and calling her a Jinx, but never for punching her. Vi also punches Isha. It’s an accident, but she still never apologizes for that either. Ekko never apologizes for kidnapping Vi and Caitlyn. Jinx never apologizes for killing Ekko’s friends. Jayce never apologizes for killing a child. Ambessa never apologizes for slapping Mel. Heimerdinger never apologizes for letting the undercity’s problems fester for so long. Mel never really apologizes for using Jayce and Viktor as investments. The list goes on. So WHY is it ONLY on Caitlyn in these critiques about the show?

A couple more little quibbles and distinctions:

Vi was never forced to become an enforcer. When Caitlyn asks her to become an enforcer, Vi turns her down. It’s not until after Caitlyn almost dies during the memorial attack does Vi reconsider the offer. And she doesn’t do it because she was pressured into it, she does it because she wants to keep Caitlyn safe. The only thing Vi trusts are her fists. If she’s there, she can take care of Jinx while also protecting the woman she loves. Even if it means putting on the Enforcer uniform.

Also, Vi doesn’t care about Zaun all that much. She never fought for the city. In fact, she has been actively hostile towards Zaun since Season 1. Let’s not forget that she went in performing vigilante Justice and got a kid killed in the process. Her goal has always been to protect her family, and that means people like Jinx and Caitlyn.

As for the “I’m sorry I was wrong?” Caitlyn DOES that. It’s just non-verbally. See, when Caitlyn has Jinx locked up she doesn’t know what to do with her. She has seen first hand that Jinx can be trusted. She is not the maniacal raving lunatic that killed her mother anymore. She has changed. She tries to talk to Jinx, but that doesn’t help her make a decision.

So she lets Vi choose. She intentionally leaves the prison empty of guards and allows Vi to steal the keys to free her sister. She has no guarantee that she will ever see Vi again, and she suspects that Vi and Jinx will just run away together. That’s why when she goes down there and finds Vi locked in the cell instead of Jinx, she knows what happened. And when Vi is at her lowest, thinking she betrayed Caitlyn by going behind her back to free Jinx against her wishes, Caitlyn tells her “no, I let you do this. Because I give up on hating your sister. You are more important to me than my hatred of Jinx and you should be free to make your own decisions about who you get to love.”

That’s WHY Vi jumps on Caitlyn in the prison cell. Caitlyn just told her that she was giving up stoking the flames of the fire that tore them apart. This is akin to a loved one giving up alcohol or smoking or going to therapy or basically tossing aside their abusive habits because their love for their partner is more important to them than their vices. That was like the BIGGEST apology Caitlyn could ever give Vi. No amount of “I’m sorry” does THAT justice.

I get it, you wanted her to SAY the words. But the show doesn’t do that. The show is a VISUAL show and ACTIONS speak louder than words ever could. So Arcane does Caitlyn’s apology through her actions. To assume the worst in Caitlyn after such a grand gesture is kinda silly IMO.

No disrespect, I just find a lot of this stuff to be kinda nitpicky. The show is a visual show. It tells its narrative visually. It always has. It always will. Demanding Caitlyn say “sorry” when no one else ever does and ignoring that she performs one of the greatest acts of love you could give a partner is frustrating to say the least.

“Caitlyn never apologizes for her actions so how do we know she’s remorseful of them?”

Well you see… when Caitlyn gets asked if she likes men or women by Vi, we never get an answer from Caitlyn there either. But then later in the episode we SEE her behaving differently and flirting with a woman. So that answers our question for us. We don’t need to hear her say “I’m a lesbian” or “I like girls” because the show SHOWS us that she likes girls.

Often times if you have a concern like this, it IS addressed in the show. Just not in blatantly obvious and vocal ways. You actually need to pay attention.

So like… yea, we don’t really hear Caitlyn say outright “I feel remorse for my actions” but there’s like a MOUNTAIN of evidence (Kirammountains worth haha) that show she feels this way. From her confrontational arguments with Ambessa, to her pointing a gun at singe, to her sneaking around tracking singe, to her betraying Ambessa, to her shouting “I know!” when confronted by Vi, to her saying to Jinx “hating you I’ve hated myself,” to her ultimately letting Vi free her sister thus proving to Vi that she’s letting her hatred for Jinx go, to her sad “are you still in this fight, Violet?” at the end of the show… using the context clues the characters provide through facial acting and body language we can TELL that she’s remorseful.

Imagine that!

[bratbarzal]

Maggie you doing blurbs has made my whole week! Could I get “you celebrate this corny day?” “just say you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with, next time, ‘kay?” but with friends to lovers instead of enemies? With Quinn pleeeease <3

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

4. “you celebrate this corny day?”��“just say you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with, next time, ‘kay?” with quinn (I took creative liberties with the exact phrasing of this but the essence is there lmao!! also love you for customising it, if anyone else is requesting feel free to jumble the tropes!!)

"You can't seriously be into all this stuff," Quinn huffs as he watches you pick up another heart shaped pillow down the seasonal aisle in the grocery store - your cart still empty despite being there almost 15 minutes, now - and the object in your hand having no conceivable difference to the one you picked up just before it. "It's so corny."

All he's heard for weeks now is Valentines this, and Valentines that, all his teammates going the extra mile for their significant others like it isn't just the same as any other Friday.

Dozens of roses, candlelit dinners, boxes of chocolates and God-forbid any of them forget a card, because how could you possibly ever show someone you love them without a folded bit of paper.

It's all so stupid.

"It's not corny, it's cute." You throw back over your shoulder, making a point of lifting the pillow higher just to show him, "Look, it's got ruffles!"

"What's the big deal about ruffles," he scowls, stepping past the cart and closer to the display that houses all the valentines themed garbage - pillows, keychains, water bottles and little plushies. He never thought you'd be into all this stuff - you barely even like Christmas - but here you are, fawning over anything you can find that's pink, or fluffy, or both. "You have like 90 pillows back in your apartment, I can barely fit on the couch anymore."

"There are 8 pillows max between both of my couches, Q, and they're decorative." You retort, rolling your eyes at your best friend as his face turns, nose scrunching in a petulant scowl. "I'm not taking interior design critique from someone with a sauna in his kitchen."

"It wouldn't fit anywhere else, you know that." he grumbles, snatching the pillow from your grip and throwing it back with the others.

"What's got you so annoyed about Valentines Day, huh?" you pick up the next item along, a fluffy keychain with cherries shaped like hearts - or hearts shaped like cherries, you're not quite sure - swinging the loop around your finger until you have enough momentum to launch it his way. "Did no one give Quinny a rose?"

He catches it, clumsily, against his chest, holding it in front of him to get a good look before he throws it straight back. "I'm not annoyed. You shouldn't have to buy any of this garbage to show somebody you love them. Just think it's a made up holiday set up to make money off of schmucks. "

"Hey, don't call me a schmuck," you jab a finger into his arm.

"Don't call me Quinny," he jabs back.

"If you don't have anybody to spend Valentines with and you're feeling lonely, you can just say that," You tell him, purposely bordering on condescending, picking up one of the stuffed animals - a bear, holding a heart that reads, I love you - and wiggling it his way. "See, we're all lovers, no one else here is gonna judge you."

He watches the way you pout down at the bear, tapping at its nose with your finger and hesitantly putting it back, like you don't quite want to.

"We're the only ones here, period," he scoffs, "No one else is weird enough to do their grocery shopping at 10pm."

"It was the only time you're free and I need you to haul the big bag of cat food into my car," you pout, remembering how much he had scolded you the last time you tried to do it on your own and hurt your back - promising that the next time you needed to top up, he'd come with and get his own shopping done at the same time.

"Whatever, you don't have anybody to spend Valentines with, either."

"I have Ziggy," you shrug, referring to your cat with the little white patch of fur around it's eye like a lightening bolt - the cat that Quinn had grumbled about when you first brought her home from the shelter, but who he always sought out whenever he came over to your place. "We're gonna watch Bake Off and eat dinner off of matching heart-shaped plates."

You hold up two red ceramic plates to him with a big smile before putting them in the cart, ignoring when he chuckles to himself, and edging past him to finally make your way off of the seasonal aisle.

"Hold on," he calls after you, appearing by your side with another plate in hand. "Ziggy already told me she'd be my Valentine, so we're gonna have to share."

"She's way too high maintenance for you." You snort, bumping your hip against his, "Especially if you think Valentines gifts are corny. She's not a cheap date, Q."

"Just like her mother," he sighs, dramatically, jumping back when you swing your leg out to kick him. "Hey, watch the shins, cat lady, you can't afford the damages on these things!"

He ignores the glare you give him as you watch him retreat, jogging back over to all the Valentines stuff and picking up two bears - the one you were just holding, and a smaller copy - one for you, and one for Ziggy.

"Here," he throws them into the cart, too. You pick the bear back up, twisting your lips as you look at the two of them side by side, and look back up to watch him walking backwards down the aisle, a glint in his eye as he watches you. "Don't check out without me, I need to go pick up some supplements."

"Big macho health-nut thinks I'm the corny one," you speak to the bear like it can even hear you, putting on a grumbly voice in an attempt to mimic Quinn.

"I'm sorry I called you corny!" He calls, further down the aisle, now.

"You called me a schmuck, too!" You call back, cheeks flushing at the lopsided grin he gives just before he rounds the corner at the bottom.

It's a smile he can't really shift as he makes a bee-line for the health aisle, content now that he actually has plans - isn't going to be sitting alone in his apartment with no one to spend his Valentines with, and doesn't need to fork out thousands just for it to mean something.

And when it rolls around a couple days later, and he's sprawled out on your couch, pillows tossed to the floor, and Bake Off flickering almost silently on your TV, he lays back with that same smile etched into his features.

You're asleep under one arm, and Ziggy is purring under the other, and for the first time ever, thanks to his best friend and your overly fluffy cat, he thinks that maybe the holiday isn't such a joke.

[raayllum]

Why Callum Made His Choice (7x02)

Or choices, and why I think each of them were a long time coming. The according choices down below:

Defending Runaan

Betraying his brother

Leaving with Rayla

Resigning as High Mage

Let's go, because sections of this have been sitting in my drafts since the season aired because I thought it'd be fun, but now it's been long enough that now there's Dreaded Discourse (???) over the topic; this meta is not mean to be a rebuttal to any version of critique of events, merely an explanation behind Callum's actions/characterization, and why he did like... absolutely everything in the exact manner I'd always thought ahead of time that he would with his reasonings, processing, framing, and actions. Okay? Okay.

Just a warning: this got really long, do not read it in one sitting, there are sections for a reason. Or if you are, grab a snack and a drink first. Stay hydrated.

Okay now we can go.

Why does Callum defend Runaan?

This one is, I think, the simplest to answer in some ways, purely because 3x06 gave us the answer a long time ago.

I hate him. He's the one who took my mother. Looking at him, seeing him... It makes me sad, and angry, and... confused. See that spear? It was her spear, my mom's, and my stepdad put it into his heart. How am I supposed to feel about that? Glad? Happy that we got revenge? Or maybe regretful, and sad, because... Because that was Zym's dad. I feel so sorry that this all happened.

Callum is a deeply relational person. He aligns himself with Rayla in 1x03 because of Ezran and then trusts her because she's willing to lose a hand for his little brother. He does dark magic to save Rayla and free the dragon because he knows she won't leave without it. He forgives and works/trusts Soren in 3x08 because the man helped save his little brother. While Runaan's bow initially throws him, it ultimately does not matter to him because that's Rayla's dad and she loves him, and that's enough for Callum. His extreme relational viewpoint is also why he's so loyal to Ezran and to Rayla, and why crossing/putting either of them at risk (hi Viren, hi Claudia) cause those relationships to continually and rapidly deteriorate without looking back.

Callum has also had practice with Avizandum and Zubeia. As he points out to Ezran:

You forgave Zubeia. Who did you think gave the order for Runaan to kill Dad? But somehow you got past that. You forgave her, because everything was complicated. Humans, dragons, elves. We've all made mistakes. That doesn't mean we have to keep making them.

Callum also cares a lot about fairness. At first, he defends Runaan because he's being blamed, in Callum's eyes, for something he didn't directly do (destroying Katolis). Then they discuss things more directly, and Callum says the above. And while Ezran isn't wrong that killing Harrow would be enough on its own, I think we can clearly see that Ezran's anger and despair at feeling wildly out of control needs somewhere to go. He's not angry at Runaan solely because of the destruction of Katolis, but the destruction of his home is absolutely a contributing factor.

He wanted to kill/destroy Sol Regem in order to let out anger and exert control, but couldn't because the dragon was already dead. He was so focused on forgiving Zubeia and putting his feelings aside regarding Avizandum ("Everything Avizandum did was to protect Xadia" including murdering your mother) that the majority of his anger got channeled at a safer target: the assassin who directly did the deed (because Rayla defected, and Zubeia changed her mind). Who was already dead.

Basically: Callum points out that Ezran is holding Runaan uniquely responsible, and in a way that isn't particularly helpful or in line with Ezran's previous values: "This is exactly the cycle of violence you worked so hard to end." The cycle they both worked to end. If Callum had any complicated feelings about Runaan (as indicated in TTM) or about Zubeia / Avizandum, he worked through them a while ago, and given that Ez had done the same for 2/3, it's not an unreasonable expectation that Ezran would do the same. Harrow was Callum's dad too, after all.

Furthermore, Ezran is so angry that, according to Callum (who in many ways knows Ezran best), he isn't himself right now, either. Punishing Runaan by imprisoning him is not what Harrow would want and only serves to exacerbate Ezran's own worsening mental state and Rayla's to boot.

It's also not like Callum says that what Runaan did was okay, but that the situation was complicated, and Callum has faith that Ezran will do the right thing eventually in letting Runaan go. Literally, Callum just wants the man to not die and for Rayla's family to be together again because they can be. Especially in 7x02. He's not going to let Runaan die (because it'd hurt Rayla) anymore than he'd let Zym (because it'd hurt Ezran).

This is especially true given that the first shows of loyalty Rayla ever displayed towards either of them was 1) turning on her family (father) in order to protect him and Ezran, and 2) offering to fight against her family/people in order to save Harrow when she had literally only known these boys for a few hours, AND Callum's statement from 2x07 of "If we really want to change things, we can't just keep watching while humans and Xadia hurt each other." (More on 2x07 and 7x02 parallels here.)

If Callum (and Ezran) had chosen in 1x03 the way Ez is choosing in 7x02, they never would've left to return Zym to Xadia, period. After all, "why is there any moral confusion at all" about reuniting a family, a parent and child and allowing them to live their lives, when the parent has committed such terrible acts that took your father away from you? Kids shouldn't have to pay for "the choices their father made" (3x02) but "a life for a life"—one dead and one in jail forever while the person who ordered him to never faced any of your ire—is just "justice" after all.

That said, the slightly thornier decision (especially to Callum emotionally), I think, is his choice to betray Ezran as a result of defending Runaan, so let's get into it.

Betraying his brother

While on a certain level betraying Ezran means siding with Rayla, I do think that's a simplification. It's one both Ezran and Rayla tug at ("So you're on Ezran's side now" / "High Mage. We need you at this council meeting") with poor Callum in the middle, but I don't think it's a good reflection of the situation on either end because it's too simple, and both Ez and Rayla's framing/judgements are heavily clouded at first by their emotions.

I think Callum coming to bail Rayla and Runaan out, and offering to help her on the bridge, is far less about choosing sides as it is about Callum's fixer tendencies, which I've discussed before (in Nov 2021, christ it's been a while).

He is very solution oriented, sometimes to the point of obsession (leaping after Ezran in 1x06 and 4x01; forgetting Sol Regem is there in 3x01 in running to Rayla) and his anger most commonly comes out directed at the person he perceives as being an obstacle to Fixing the problem for himself/his friends. This fixer tendency is is also why he's such a caring considerate guy most of the time, manifesting in his desire to nurture and care for those around him, and closely tied to his pursuit of magic (so he can have agency/the ability to help).

He's devoted himself since learning about the coins to giving Rayla back her family, regardless of who that family includes, and regardless of what else is on the line. We see this repeatedly in 5x04 wherein he risks all of their lives to stay at the Great Bookery because once he gets fixated on finding a solution, he does not have an off switch, regardless — just like in 7x02 — of whether Rayla is asking him (never mind directly telling him not to) to help her.

Now, Runaan is trapped again, but it's not at Viren's hand (though Ezran, snapping at Soren to arrest someone despite the crownguard's hesitation, and his focus on security/power, isn't not acting like the former high mage) but his brother's. That's no good. And Rayla is more likely to fumble the bag without his help; this, plus the fact that Callum does agree with Rayla that Runaan deserves to be free, is why he willingly offers aid even before the situation escalates. It is also a parallel to Claudia ("You do anything for family." "It's too much to ask" "It's love" / "You don't have to ask. I would do anything for you") so no, I don't think it's meant to be entirely healthy either, because Callum's intensity often times gets people into more trouble, not less, but I digress.

As for the escalation itself: he can't just let get Rayla and Runaan on the boat, when the crownguard plus Soren and Corvus are actively chasing after them, and neither Rayla nor Runaan know sky/ocean magic or how to wield it, which is the only reason they get successfully away at all. He had to go with them to ensure their escape, for more reason than one.

But as stated: He is always going to pick the thing that gives him a solution to a Problem, and therefore pick the person with the problem that he thinks he can solve. And he tries, with Ezran to be clear, though more on that in a bit.

This fixer tendency is also why he's willing to repeatedly do dark magic, and why he's willing to sacrifice the simple quiet life that he wants if it means his loved ones get to live ("If you love them, Rayla, Ezran, all of them, you'll do anything to save them [...] It's not about you, is it?"). Rayla needed saving in 7x02, she was the one at physical risk, Ezran was not. Rayla was the one with an emotional problem Callum could easily solve (free Runaan = happy Rayla) and Ezran's was not (because it was more complicated).

And this is also why even once Ezran comes in with the Nova Blade in 7x09, presenting another way to defeat Aaravos, Callum is willing to through with doing dark magic even though he no longer needs to in the same manner, because if Ezran kills Aaravos, then:

AARAVOS: Your window is closing, dark mage. Act quickly, or the brave king and Dragon Prince will seal my fate, and set the world on fire. (7x09)

AARAVOS: Very soon, your brother will embrace dark magic to save those he loves. [...] I have seen it written in his eyes. (7x07)

This is also why he picks going to Ezran over trying to save Harrow in 1x03 ("I'm coming, Ezran!"—book 1 novelization), because he had no skills at the time to use to save Harrow, but he could get Ezran out safely.

He will always pick the person he can physically save, who needs saving in that moment, with whatever tools he has at his disposal, in whatever way he thinks is most likely to work. And no one comes above Rayla or Ezran to him. It's that simple.

Callum is also incredibly personal; he is rarely truly politically motivated. Ezran constructing the betrayal as "he betrayed all of Katolis" I can guarantee is not something that heavily factored into Callum's headspace as a concept, but he does frame it as a political betrayal (hence his resignation) rather than a personal one:

I'm sorry, Ezran. I can't be your High Mage anymore. But I'll always be your brother.

Whether that framing is correct is debatable, but given him and Ezran's talk at the end, I do think Callum comes to conceptualize/understand it as both. That said, Callum isn't the first one to disavow their 'brotherly' bond; in some ways, Ezran is, because he says that he needs his High Mage, not his brother. This is an important sticking point in some ways because Ezran and Karim are also being deliberately paralleled, and have been for seasons:

EZRAN: Sometimes it's hard, but when I struggle, I think about the people I love who are counting on me to do the right thing. Not the harsh thing, not the strong thing. The right thing. Do you love your sister, Prince Karim? KARIM: Wha-? I... Of course. She is leading our people down the wrong path, but she will always be my sister. EZRAN: Then you can still choose love. It's not too late. (6x07)

It's also worth noting that Ezran offers Karim and his people—blatant traitors to the crown of Lux Aurea and people who have tried to kill Janai multiple times—the option to "leave, and build your own future far away from here," which is what Runaan was planning to do befor he got arrested. That Ezran "looks into the face and hears the words of those he judges" (7x07) for Aaravos before he gives Runaan the same opportunity.

Furthermore, Karim is someone who completely disavows the personal to only focus on the political. His sister becomes a traitorous queen who he looks at only with contempt, despite stating "I love you sister, I always will"; his baby is not his child, but his heir. Ezran is not acting like himself/Callum's brother, but as his king, and that includes reaffirming/pulling rank ("I have to stop you. I'm sworn to King Ezran" / "Well, King Ezran, how determined are you to stop me?").

But Callum always treats Ezran like his brother, and does try to fix things, on Ezran's side. He goes to him in 7x02 and advocates for setting Runaan free and—as the person who first identifies the cycle in the series (1x02)—if Callum says something is perpetuating the cycle, he's probably 99% right. He is there to understand, accepts Ezran's anger, but also challenges it. It seems like maybe Callum is getting through to him (with Callum and Zym's framing being paralleled like, so incredibly on the nose) but then Runaan and Rayla are caught.

Ezran has the chance to do what Callum considers "the right thing" (and what Ezran does throughout all prior seasons) and let them go. He doesn't. Instead, he moves to arrest Runaan and Rayla and drag them back to the Banther Lodge by force... for what? Would that actually make him feel better? Or is it just giving him the means to feel control after feeling wildly out of control? He doesn't even go down to see Runaan at any point to see him suffer; he just wants to know Runaan is in jail and separated from his family.

Ezran is then also paralleled to Claudia further, specifically when Callum betrayed her by immobilizing her, because she didn't want her prisoner (the egg) to be taken and reunited with its family, either.

CLAUDIA: Callum, what are you doing? CALLUM: The right thing, I hope. I'm sorry Claudia. (1x03)

EZRAN: Callum, what are you doing? CALLUM: The right thing, I hope. (7x02)

Then Ezran threatens to kill him / risk killing him if Callum doesn't move out of the way, in an even more direct Janai-Karim and Soren-Claudia parallel. (Claudia's rage in the finale also lampshades this with Soren attempting it even less tbh, with "Were you really going to go through with it? Kill me, your sister? I could kill you both!"). The background guard lady even looks surprised after Ezran raises his hand, so the threat is more than apparent even to the characters within the setting.

AANYA: My next shot will be more than a warning.

But Ezran decides trying to kill/wrangle back Runaan is not worth killing or possibly his brother, and Callum reaffirms they are brothers and always will be, and leaves it at that.

This shift from political "king and high mage" to "we're brothers" is also directly stated/reaffirmed in their reconciliation scene as being the most important thing: "Because we're brothers." "Brothers," leaving whether Callum will be high mage again up in the air, but his place as Ezran's brother—and Ezran as his—is not. Callum is wiling to betray Ezran on one front, but refuses flat out to entirely relinquish the bond on any other. He hopes he's doing the right thing, and he hopes that even in doing so ("I know it was hard, but it was the right thing. You know that. I know you do") they can reconcile.

EZRAN: Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting. (7x02)

CALLUM: It was okay to be angry, but I couldn't let the bad feelings stick. Because we were going to need each other. Because we're brothers. I still need you, Ezran. I know it's been a hard time, but I really hope— EZRAN: I need you, too. (7x09)

We also do see Callum support Ezran throughout both 7x01 and 7x02 (until he can't/won't)—embracing him (which Ez, in shock, does not return), following his orders to investigate with Corvus, explaining his side to Rayla, attending the entire meeting even after Rayla leaves, though he regrets it. What Callum is doing, therefore, is living in the moral confusion — the complicated nature of their complex lives of hurt and breaking the cycle — that Ezran is refusing to now that he's been set with a new challenge, willing to inflict pain on others because of the pain and loss Runaan had inflicted on him, and Callum knows this.

EZRAN: Violence, loss, pain. More violence. Stop! Stop. I just want to yell stop. But that’s not enough. It won’t work. I think about a positive vision, a faith we can all share, that we might build a future together in hope. A future where we can be safe with each other.  But… It’s not that easy or simple. Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away. Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again.

CALLUM: No, that's not what I'm saying. It's just... It's complicated. (7x02)

CALLUM: The three of us have been through a lot together. We'll get through this too... right? [...] Give Ezran a bit of time to process all this. [...] Ezran will do the right thing. He just needs a bit of time to get there. (7x02).

CALLUM: You forgave Zubeia. Who do you think ordered Runaan to kill Dad? But somehow, you got past that. You forgave her, because everything was complicated.

AARAVOS: Childhood innocence gives way to something complicated. (7x02) / I have seen generations of humans and elves accept the darkness that lurks in all of us beside the light. There is no black or white, only shades of gray. We must all carry complexity. (7x04)

CALLUM: Dear Ezran. A few days ago, I started writing you a letter about how sorry I am that I hurt you, about how sad I am that there's a rift between us, and about how certain I am that somehow we'll find a way to repair things. (7x07)

EZRAN: I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try. (7x09)

So yes, Callum betrays his brother to protect their father's killer — the same way Callum betrayed his friend to reunite the person who ordered the hit with her child; the same way Ezran defended the murderer and explicit murder of his mother — because that killer is person is your best friend's father.

REX IGNEOUS: Or is the Dragon King too busy picking fights with little humans at the border? That was always his favourite sport: stomping on ants and calling himself a conqueror.

EZRAN: Everything Avizandum did was to protect Xadia! (4x08)

So just to sum up, Callum betrays Ezran for 4 main reasons:

If he didn't help Rayla break Runaan out, it was more likely something was going to go wrong (and he was right). If he didn't save her with the ice spell, she and Runaan were going to end up hurt and/or arrested or worse.

Callum is determined to treat her like family (even if Ez is not) and to break the cycle as they were instructed by Harrow, and as Ezran has done himself many times.

Rayla had an emotional and then physical problem that Callum Fixer McGee could fix; Ezran had an emotional problem that he was basically stonewalling Callum on.

Ezran had numerous other people in his corner to rely on (Zym, Aanya, Opeli, Soren, Corvus, Barius, his general guards, etc). Rayla had literally no one but her imprisoned father, all of her former friends and allies (Soren and Corvus) turning on her without question because the boy she was willing to lose a hand for told them to.

Rayla had greater need of Callum in the situation and in the moment, so his loyalty to her won out; if her and Ezran's situations had been reversed, Callum would've picked Ezran in that moment and situation without question, because that who he is. He picks whoever he thinks needs him more—over others, and over his own potentially hurt feelings.

None of this means, however, that Ezran didn't need his brother in S7. So let's talk about:

Why did Callum leave with Rayla?

There's the practical and the emotional ones, I think.

Practical:

As discussed, Rayla and Runaan wouldn't have made it in the boat without him. There is no way anything other than magic would've made it move fast enough to get away, and neither elf is inclined or aware enough of sky or ocean magic to make the boat go that way. Callum literally had to go with them.

If Callum had stayed, he would've likely been arrested himself, putting Rayla in a difficult situation of either sending Runaan off on his own to then bail Callum out, or leaving without him when he was in a bad situation. He wasn't going to do that.

If Ezran had arrested Callum, it also wouldn't have made him much happier or actually fixed anything. Callum might've (as in canon) apologized for hurting him, but Callum wasn't going to take back what he'd done, and this was probably just going to exacerbate Ezran's issues further.

At the time Callum left, Ezran wasn't focused on rebuilding Katolis and had made this plain. He was instead focused on collecting weapons, travelling to Duren and back to do so, and we only see him return to the castle's immediate surroundings when Aaravos shows up.

The emotional ones:

After 2 years of separation, and the only times they are separated usually being when Rayla is the most in danger, yeah, Callum doesn't want to be separated from her. She's his best friend and his life partner, and he and Ez have willingly & happily led far more separate lives for a while now (more on that in the next section). He wants to go with her. Sue him.

Callum believes that Ezran needs time to process his anger. He knew he wasn't able to get through to Ez, and that the betrayal would hurt him. It's not unlikely, then, that Callum thought time and distance would help, and that they could try to mend things later.

Katolis did not factor in (but I'll get to that in a bit).

Callum rarely experiences regret unless it puts the life of someone he loves directly in danger, and rarely questions the validity of his actions, especially when he think someone is wrong. (This is also why he'll never regret using the torture spell on Claudia, for example.)

Callum also knows Rayla and we see that, without him, Rayla would've dropped Runaan off at the Silvergrove and then immediately dipped. He wanted to go with her to emotionally support her and also knew that Rayla would let him vs not letting anyone helping her. Until Rayla is reunited with her family and let back into the Silvergrove, she does not have a support system outside of him; Ezran does.

As for having a good time at the Silvergrove... We see Callum's first day there, whereupon he's mostly focused on what Rayla and her family's situation is going to be. Runaan and Ethari make up for failing Rayla by giving her unconditional support and forgiveness, literally binding their fates to hers for the trial and supporting her when it doesn't go well and they think they'll be banished too. Callum has come all this way to reunite her with her village/family and considers her his family; yes, he's going to join in on the group hug and be happy when he's encouraged to. The next time we see them in the Silvergrove, it's been 2 weeks, and Callum is still a little awkward/nervous, but again, mostly focused on giving the family time to spend together and wanting to be integrated, because well...

CALLUM: Be with you. [Kisses her] Yup, I could do this. Pretty nice life. (7x05)

He wants a life with her; he likely has plans to marry and have children with her. It'd be like if Ezran wanted to have Zym around always and had issues with Zubeia constantly; it wouldn't exactly jive. Secondly, Callum's feelings about Runaan were always something I'd figure he wouldn't deal with directly right away, instead focusing on peace/Rayla, and then it would sneak up on him that it bothered him / was something he had to confront ("I just hoped, if I didn't think about it, maybe it wouldn't be true"). Less than one month passing in-show time with no real issues, especially with an entirely repentant Runaan? Yeah that's completely on brand to not be on screen because it'd only happen later.

In regards to Callum making peace and engaging more happily with Runaan... He's definitely not going to do anything else when 1) Runaan's not provoking him first and 2) in front of Rayla. Callum needing to adjust in the fic cited below (written by me and thosefiveadoraburrs in January 2020) semi-early into his relationship with Runaan is exclusively because Runaan is being a prickly asshole. Barring that, and even with that, the integration going smoothly is pretty easy for Callum at first because he's so focused/driven by his love for Rayla. Period.

"The point is that while I don’t care what you say about me, as I’ve heard far worse from other elves like you, Rayla does and you are still her father and she deserves to have you in her life and to have a good relationship with you. So when she’s not around, you can say whatever you want, even to my face. I don’t care and I don’t plan on rising to it anyway. But when she is around, you keep that shit to yourself, because it’s only going to upset her, and she’s been through more than enough.” [...] "You were so young," Rayla said, "so young, when you lost your family. And even if you’d been older, I don’t think their absence would hurt less, but I’m not surprised you notice it more because of how you had to grow up largely without them." [...] "It’s just… on any side," Callum said, "I can never just move on from what I’ve done, or what people think I’ve done, and I wish they would just let us be , sometimes. Without knowing that people think I should be regretting whatever decisions I’ve made, because they’re wrong. I never regret what they think I do.” 

Furthermore, from my pre-S6 fic:

Halfway through [their chess game], though, Ez rubbed at his temples again, and this time Callum asked about it. “You okay?” “Yeah.” Ez frowned as he surveyed the board and then moved his rook. “It’s just Zym. Normally when we’re far away, our emotions don’t blur too much... But because we’re both stressed about the same thing...” “It’s a lot?” Ez nodded, picking up a pawn and then setting it down on the same square, considering. “There is one thing you and Rayla could do to help, maybe.” Callum thought of the Summit that would be a few days’ long trip to Duren and tried not to squirm in his seat. “Oh?” Please not... “Well, we finally got the go ahead for the Summit next week. And the rest of the Pentarchy might take the urgency of hiding the prison more seriously if you and Rayla came along,” Ez said. “Since you’re High Mage, and Rayla’s Xadian. Since we don’t have Zubeia to rely on.”  “Yeah.” Callum focused on the board rather than Ezran’s expectant face, waiting for a yes he didn’t want to give. And what excuse could he offer, really?  Ez would probably pushback if he just thought they wanted to make a beeline for the Starscraper because of the Nova Blade. Ugh. Two secrets at the same time was the worst. And he wasn’t about to drag Rayla out to Duren just to be a token Xadian when he’d spent that morning trying to convince her that putting her parents above other missions that weren’t hers was actually okay for her to do. “Well, let’s see,” he said, hoping that’d be enough. “Don’t have to rush into anything.”

“He saw the egg and he would’ve still killed both of us!” “You think I don’t know that?” “Then how you can not care?” Ezran cried, voice cracking. His nose was runny, eyes stinging again. He bit something back. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t lose this argument just because he was crying. There was a fire in his chest that couldn’t be doused. “I do care, but I also care—I care more about Rayla,” Callum countered, because of course that’s what he’d fucking say. Ezran turned away from him, rolling his eyes and not in the mood to see Callum gesture at him. “She’s our family, why isn’t that—” [...] “You had Opeli and the rest of the council,” Callum said. “Don’t you get it? We’re all she has, we have to be on her side, she doesn’t have—she loves him. And that's enough for me."

“[About betraying and abandoning Ezran to free Runaan] What’s done can’t be undone. We can’t take it back.” Rayla chanced resting a hand on his shoulder. She had to accept his honesty if she was going to ask the question. “Do you wish you could?” “No.” He finally looked at her. “But I wish it could’ve gone differently, I...” Softening, he took her hand from his shoulder, running his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re family,” he said resolutely. “I won’t forget that, even if Ez has.” [...] “So you think it was the right thing?” she prompted more softly. Callum sighed, angry again—but not at her. “I don’t know if there’s always a right thing to do, anymore,” he muttered, sitting in the spot she’d vacated on the bed. “You just... make the choices you can in the situations you’re in, because the alternatives are so much worse. Other paths that you won’t—that you can’t live with.” 

But the big thing, I think, is that in Callum's head... nothing is more important than your closest interpersonal relationships. He's devastated by the loss of Katolis in general, yes—"Katolis was destroyed and that... that is devastating" and his sobbing before Soren finds him—because it was home, even if it was a home he never felt entirely at home in, due to his uncertainty with Harrow and place as a prince. But Callum also cries in 7x01 when he sees the king's tower has collapsed, and thinks he's lost Ezran.

In 1x06, Rayla gives her reason for travelling with the boys, yes, citing:

RAYLA: I could take it any time I want to. CALLUM: Then what's stopping you? RAYLA: Cause it as to come from you. Human princes returning the egg of the Dragon Prince, that's the gesture that matters. That's what could stop the war and change the world.

And it's not good enough for him (hence his angry little face persisting even after she explains) because that's not the reason he wants to hear. He wants to hear that she cares about them. That they're her friends, which is why that's precisely what he says to her on the ice before handing over the egg: "We're lucky to have you as our friend. I do trust you" even before he knows the truth about her binding. He wants the personal. Needs the personal. That's what matters. But that's not what Ezran draws on for any of their interactions. And if it's unfathomable to understand how or why Callum could walk away, then the good news is that said perspective ALSO made it into the fanon s6 fic through Corvus:

Corvus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can understand why the assassin would want to be free. I understand why Rayla would want him to be, too, and she loves the boys immensely. But I cannot understand Callum’s hand in it, the lengths he’s willing to go to. It is not as though he is the only one who could ever free the man. And Ezran is his brother and his king. His baby brother. [...] His responsiblity. It’s our duty as older siblings. He’s a sorry excuse for an older brother to just walk away like and abandon Ezran like that.” 

Because in the "family member picks breaking the cycle even if that means leaving their younger sibling / more emotionally distressed family member behind (often with others to support them): The Show", such as Janai marrying a human + sparing the architect who had every opportunity to think about the pain she'd cause by putting out the soul flame of Yonnis' parent even when Karim thinks she's not focused enough on the destruction of their home; Soren leaving his abusive warmongering father and killing him even if it devastates Claudia; Astrid abandoning her brother/family to warn everyone about Aaravos; Rayla fighting Runaan on the battlements; Viren leaving Claudia on the beach show, surprisingly, there's going to be patterns that Callum and co. will fall into.

If you're interested more in Ezran's side of things, his emotional processing throughout the season / construction of his identity, and how/why he was perpetuating the cycle, you can check out this meta here.

For now, let's finally talk about the final real section of our meta, which is

Why did Callum resign as High Mage?

On the one hand, Callum's resignation shows that he does conceptualize what he's doing as a betrayal, as noted, and as something that would cause a rift, as verbally stated in 7x07. He "knew my leaving would hurt you" just the way that Rayla leaving him did so. He also knew that at this time, to him, it was necessary. He knows that he can't do this and stay on as High Mage. He also knows, at this point, that he doesn't want to be high mage.

Because "that was devastating, but that wasn't Runaan." Because Callum doesn't personally care about Katolis as a kingdom/castle, and quite honestly, he never has. Post-S3, when things would've been politically terse, as shown in Through the Moon, he was willing to leave Ezran in Katolis on one day notice to go have a vacation exploring Xadia.

And it's not the first time he's left Katolis on short notice with zero concern, doing so in 4x03 (whereas Soren goes as Ezran's sworn crownguard, and Ezran hesitates) solely because Ezran is leaving. It happens again in 5x01 when Ez is away with Soren and Corvus on his dragon diplomatic mission, with Callum making the plan to leave for the Great Bookery the night before and leaving very early in the morning, even though he's currently the highest ranking person at court. We see Callum's discomfort at court first hand in his opening scene in 4x01, showing immediate wariness about his position as High Mage and his lack of mind to political matters:

GUARD: High Mage Callum, the King's council is assembling in the throne room. CALLUM: Oh, pfft, you don't need to call me that. I-I know it's my official title but all that high mage stuff is so... stuffy. Just call me my normal name, Prince Callum. Or just, y'know, just regular Callum. [...] Okay, I'm sorry, now I don't remember what you came here to tell me.

After which he immediately delays going to the meeting to check in on his magic book coming in from Xadia, though it hasn't arrived yet. Rayla's arrival causes Callum to oversleep and be MIA for Zubeia's greeting, leaving Ezran to momentarily flounder till Soren steps in, though no one seems surprised or concerned that Callum isn't there, just awkward. He doesn't go with Ezran to deal diplomatically with any of the dragons either, leaving it entirely in Soren and Corvus' hands, and he has no concern over leaving in 6x01 either, while Ezran hides his sadness about all his friends leaving to go elsewhere (Soren and Zym for Zubeia, and Callum and Rayla for the Starscraper). He and Rayla go rogue over Janai's orders as well, leaving Janai to reflect, "I may be queen, but even I don't have the power to stop those two once they set their mind on something," which is such blatant foreshadowing it felt like neon lights were flashing in my face.

We see this thread steadily even from 1x01, whereupon Callum only reaffirms Harrow is the king as a wall up to thinking of himself as his son. Harrow being royalty was a hindrance to Callum being comfortable of thinking about him on an interpersonal level, not a help:

EZRAN: Why don't you just call him Dad? CALLUM: Because he's the king. And I'm his stepson.

which is also why Ezran talking about the burden of kingship with him in 7x02 goes over Callum's head, because Ezran isn't actually focusing on the fact their father is dead; he's focusing on how it forced Ezran to be king, and being king is so the opposite to how Callum operates, it was never going to click.

EZRAN: Our king. Our father. [Takes off his crown] I never asked for this. I wasn't ready to be a king. I'm just a kid.

And one of the reasons I say the opposite is because of everything laid out above, patterns wise, but also because of his Tales of Xadia bio, which states:

I'm beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom.

There are also scenes from Dreamer's Nightmare which help reaffirm this, where Ezran states that "As princes of Katolis, it's our duty to put you all [citizens of the town] first," only for Callum 1-3 pages later argue for the complete opposite, because:

EZRAN: [When Callum wants to wait for their dad / the adults to wake up and solve things for the town] I'm going either way, but I'd really like to have someone come with me. Someone who's good at solving mysteries. CALLUM: Fine, I'll go. But only because I'm your big brother.

EZRAN: The whole town is in danger, Callum! Let me go! CALLUM: No! I have to keep you safe! I promised King Harrow [...] but I keep failing, and I'm just so scared you'll get hurt.

I don't think either of these supplementary materials are necessary though, to get this aspect of his across, given that scenes like this were written well before the latter came out, and Callum's entire Tales of Xadia bio just reaffirmed exactly how I and many others have seen him since S1 came out:

"And Ez doesn’t need my help,” Callum added more cheerfully. “If he needed me, he’d say so.” He said it with so much confidence it took Soren a second to tell if it was a joke or not, but no. The young mage honestly believed it. How was a good question, and the answer would’ve been more so, given everything. Those first few months after the war were crystal clear in Soren’s mind: Ez weathering the political waves alone, wearily drafting peace treaties and legislations while Callum scoured Xadia, searching for Rayla and growing more and more irate every time he returned home empty handed. The way Ezran had single handedly held him together, Callum unable or unwilling to truly confide in anyone but his brother. How Ezran had let Callum hole up with that stupid mirror for hours on end rather than eliciting magical solutions to everyday problems, because at least he was focusing on something other than heartbreak. How many council meetings Callum had skipped or been late to, never operating as acting-king when Ezran was away on diplomatic business. Callum’s temper on his 16th birthday reigning summer storms down on the castle for weeks straight. His lateness to Ezran’s meeting with Zubeia that Soren had stepped in for; the way it had been him and Corvus, not Callum, accompanying the young king to his entreatment of the dragons and Domina Profundis. Ezran’s steady, strong nature, the way he could be so silent and quiet it was easy to forget how young he was sometimes and how much he’d been through, how much he’d missed their friend and father and his childhood. It’s not fair you have to struggle through this alone.  “Yeah,” Soren said quietly. “Sure.” 

Callum does not care about being crown prince or high mage. He isn't focused on supporting Ezran as king; he's focused on supporting Ezran as Ez, as his brother. Those are separate things from being Harrow's son and Ezran's brother, even if they can overlap. He cares about Katolis on a certain level, yes, but not on a big one; he cares about it because he cares about Ezran. And Ezran asking Callum to stay in the meeting as High Mage was never going to work. If Ezran had asked him to stay as his brother, maybe — but Ezran doesn't.

CALLUM: I'm sorry, Ezran. I can't be your High Mage anymore. But I'll always be your brother.

And in typical Callum fashion, whether he goes back to being high mage remains to be seen, but he does put in the majority of the effort in their actual reconciliation. He approaches Ezran first, he's the one walking over, and the one who speaks first.

CALLUM: Hey. EZRAN: [Uncertainly] Hi. CALLUM: So I've been thinking about this toy banther I had when you were just a baby. I loved it more than anything in the world, and you broke it. EZRAN: And... you're bringing this up now? CALLUM: I was so mad. I said I hated you, and I would hate you forever. And Mom said that it was okay to be angry, but I couldn't let the bad feelings stick. Because we were going to need each other. Because we're brothers. I still need you, Ezran. I know it's been a hard time, but I really hope—

Callum loved that toy more than anything, and Ezran broke it, and he got over it, because he loves Ezran more. He's saying it's okay for Ezran to be angry (x2) and it's okay if Ezran hates him. Just that even if Ezran is, and even if Ezran does, Callum still loves him and needs him and considers him his brother. That he hopes they can reconcile.

And Ezran accepts it—much to Callum's surprise and then relief— because he never needed his high mage. He needed his brother, and that's what Callum still is—what they'll always be.

EZRAN: I need you, too. CALLUM: Brothers. EZRAN: Brothers.

Conclusion

Back when they were both children, Callum and Ezran didn't have anything to put above each other and the immediate proximity of their bond. However, the events in the first 3 seasons change this forever. Callum finds magic and falls in love, and Ezran returns home to be king, and gains Zym and his council as constant supports.

Ezran puts going home to be king above continuing to travel to Xadia. From there, they spend more and more time and seasons apart. This is similar to Soren and Claudia, who have an increasingly fractured bond, but who also know aren't doomed to be miserable because of their separation or betrayal; they forge new friendships, bonds, and sources of laughter. But neither set of siblings ever forget their love for each other, even if they grow and their priorities expand to include other things. For Ezran, Zym and his kingdom are incredibly important to him; for Callum, Rayla and the life they're building together, as well as stopping Ezran (or anyone) from causing permanent unnecessary harm to one another in their little family is also a priority.

None of this is to say that Callum's way of dealing with things is flawless, or that they won't have more conflict again in the future (I'd love it, although I expect there to be more of a focus on Ezran-Zym conflict going forward) but being a little flaky/unreliable in a political sense is just who Callum is, even if he will always come through on the personal manner in the end.

Sibling relationships are complicated, and they can both mutually fail each other and Rayla, and then still come back together in the end. And I'm very glad that they do.

Other fun details:

Callum's letter refers to the dragons as big help, a gentle nod to how Ezran described them in 3x08

Callum confirming that he babysat Ezran regularly growing up, which fits with Callum's tug of war between being a parentified older brother with his own immature / peer adjacent sides

Callum sits closer to Ezran at the council table once he's no longer high mage, whereas before he always sat further apart

Ezran is symbolically embroiled with fire throughout the season (king of ashes, the fire ruby plan, the Nova Blade having the risk of setting the world on fire, the fire in his eyes that are meant to parallel Aaravos' etc). Callum is associated with water, nabbing Rayla's water reflection motif in later episodes, and with greater emphasis on his connection to the ocean arcanum in spell usage and its links in dark magic. The two then meeting in the middle is interesting symbolically, to say the least.

[deuxadeux-if]

heyyyyyyyy

hi omg. sorry i have been literally radio silent eeeerk. first and foremost thank all of you who messaged me to let me know about dashingdon shutting down. i haven’t logged in here in a hot minute, and it surprised me how many of you reached out. thank you :,)

bullet points on ray’s life:

graduated college! i now have a bachelor’s degree.

work is going fine! i am a full-time bartender. it’s fine, not a permanent fit for me probably but it’s okay for now.

i miss writing, but i don’t have much time to commit to it. i haven’t written anything in two (maybe even three?) months. this is partially because i’m trying to take a break to do other creative things, and partly because i love writing full-time. i’m not sure how to move forward writing in spare moments—the thought of doing that makes me a little sad. as such, i am avoiding it for the moment. lol.

my birthday is in a little less than 2 months. i will be 23! it is weird. i still feel like a teenager sometimes. sometimes even younger.

since i’m not writing at the moment, i spend my free time drawing, reading, and listening to albums. i also go on walks in the woods with my boyfriend when we’re both off work.

now about dashingdon. i thought about it quite a bit for the past week or two, and i don’t think i will be returning to deux à deux for the foreseeable future. i haven’t deleted any of my files, so it’s all there if i want to return to it at any point—but i think it will be a while before i even consider picking it back up again. a few reasons for this:

i need a much, much more concrete outline for the rest of the story, and as of right now, i don’t know what that would look like.

i don’t have much free time, and i have very little money. it feels best for me, at least right now, to fill my spare minutes with hobbies that are private to keep my sanity intact lol.

i want to spend 2025 thinking about writing more than actually writing. i have done a lot of speed-writing, just putting words to the page and blazing through—it feels like a good time to practice other skills. like sitting…thinking…stewing. i think this will help in the long run.

deux à deux needs to be consolidated. i think there only need to be 4 love interests, max, and i need to solidify exactly what parts of MC are set in stone (personality? gender? age? etc.)*

this is embarrassing but it’s fine. i need a better backbone when it comes to making stuff. i tend to accept all critique as essential. this is one way to go about creating things, but i don’t think it’s how i want to. i would prefer to make stuff that i just like, exactly how i want to make it. whatever response it garners is just how it is. i need to cultivate that vibe before putting deux à deux out there again.

*i doubt i would ever make MC genderlocked for deux à deux, though. not really my vibe.

so! since i’m not going to be writing deux à deux for i-don’t-know-how-long, i will not be transferring it over to the other site (i forget what it’s called) that is replacing dashingdon. i’m sorry if this is horrible news—i was pretty committed, initially, to writing all of deux à deux within the year once i started. then i graduated college and realized that (unfortunately) money was real and i had literally none of it and no real income. so, for now, real work it is—writing will happen when it’s a good time, but i’m not rushing it.

sorry again for the unfortunate update, but i figured it would be better to be straightforward. thanks again to all of you who reached out, it was really sweet to see all of your messages :,)

hope to see you all again soon.

— ray

[archaardvarkarchive]

So that’s a “no, I do not have a record of the ratio of successes vs. not, and it was a highly biased sample because these are primarily people who already knew me that had either some goodwill stored up to weather harsh critique, or were already ideologically similar to me in general.”

I guess, reflecting on it, it’s impossible to measure the reaction of random people in a crowd who pass by, but highly doubtful you’re saying stuff like ‘you’re a piece of shit’ to strangers or mere acquaintances’ faces and it’s going over well.

Did you say what’s on the patch to these people you’re listing?

If not, if you wouldn’t say it to someone’s face, why is it ok to put it in print? Riddle us that one.

It’s good that you’re doing other things than the patches ofc, but the question was about the phrasing of the patches.

You tried to move the goalposts and make it about the content of the message, implicitly make it sound like “are you saying I’m not allowed to de-normalize harmful practices” and not about the success rate of method or delivery. Good try, but nope.

You also fought off some ghost that was in favor of fast fashion. Dunno who you were thinking of but good job knocking down that mental strawman, I guess?

patches i have made recently!!

second patch’s font is directly based on shein’s font, first one is improvised by me (i’d say freehand but that shit was not freehand i did like 3 sketches before moving to fabric)

feel free to save and directly copy my shit (though i’d also love to see it if you make them :)! )

[the-universal-sun]

little lee waking up from night terrors and ford and fidds comforting him?

Hey guys, sorry it’s been a while, I’ve had my first and therefore worst ever case of writer’s block, but I really wanted to get something out for you guys! I figured making them head canons rather than a cohesive story would help get me past some of the writer’s block. I don’t think this is the best work, but you guys have been waiting long enough! Again, thank you for sticking around with me! Please enjoy reading these head canons as much as I have enjoyed writing them! Please stay safe and warm and healthy!

As always, I am open to helpful comments and critiques on my writing! Sending all my Love!

-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-

-Stan never likes Ford and F to know he gets nightmares. He's not embarrassed, but the old fashioned sentiments and being manly their father drilled into him are still present. Talking about his emotions makes him feel weird. He'll hide that he had a nightmare if they ask him about it, about what he was mumbling in his sleep for, and avoid them for the rest of the day

-When feeling smaller, it's both the same and different. It really depends on what the nightmare was about. If Lee had a nightmare about a scary movie someone (Ford) let him watch or about some of the specimens around the house that someone (Ford) showed him while little, those are the nightmares he'll wake up crying from, getting up and searching for comfort from his caregivers

-He'll go and stumble into Ford's room, clutching Poindexter in a death grip, his crying waking up Fidds who blearily makes his way out of his room and into Ford's, too. Stan will climb into Ford's bed and shake him until he wakes up, crying and sobbing, babbling about "Scawy Monsters" with 12 eyes.

-It takes Ford a while to wake up and comprehend what's happening, Fidds giving his a small slap upside the head, for "showin' Lee those devil creatures" while he was in his headspace. Ford will jump to action, pulling Stan up in his arms and into his lap, frantically trying to console the loud sobs

-It does not work, Lee will hide his head in Ford's neck and sob and rock, his brother just shushing and petting his hair, rocking with him in efforts to calm him down, but failing in his efforts. Ford's still not quite used to understanding the reasonings behind peoples emotions and action, so he kept trying to explain away what Stan had a nightmare about

-It's not until Fidds brushes Lee's hair back and kisses his forehead, softly murmuring "you must have been pretty scared, huh, Pumpkin Pie. Don't worry, we've got ya', we'll protect ya'." and Stan calms down that Ford realizes oh, he just wanted some comfort

-Once Stan has mostly calmed down, hiccupping and clutching Poindexter and Ford's arms, being gently rocked and soothed by both of them, he'll gently clamber out of Ford's lap and sit in between him and Fidds, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his eyes

-If Lee wasn't sacred and sad, it would've been the cutest sight either of them have ever seen

-They just there for in silence, Lee hiccupping and sniffling, feeling so embarrassed for crying over a stupid nightmare like a stupid baby. Sometimes, he'll get too into his own head, mean and nasty thoughts getting the best of him. Ford and Fidds are quick to notice, crushing him their arms, whispering sweet words in his ears, telling Lee how sweet he is, and how he's so good and smart.

-It doesn't clear up his thoughts all the way, but it does make Lee feel better, a small smile growing behind the pacifier Fidds slipped in his mouth

-When Lee’s all calmed down, he's exhausted, poor little thing is just tuckered out from all the crying, but he's too antsy to go to sleep again; what if he has another nightmare?

-No need to fear, though, Fidds snagged some books before he left his room to console Little Lee. He presents 3 books: Goodnight Moon, Babe, or Mister Magnolia. Lee, of course, chose Goodnight Moon. It's his favorite bed time book and he needed the comfort after such scary nightmares!

-Lee gets settled in Ford's bed, pulling his twins arm over him, clutching Poindexter, and snuggling into Fidds' side, ready to be read to

-Let's be real, he doesn't make it past the second page, he was already exhausted from his nightmare and the crying, all he needed was the comfort of his Sixer and his Fidds to feel comfortable enough to go to sleep

-If the nightmare while Little is about his Pa' or about his decade of homelessness, those are the kind of nightmares that he wakes up from silently, still crying, but in the way someone who's had to learn to be quiet cries, silent hiccups and heavy breathing.

-He muffles his sobs into Poindexter’s fuzzy stomach, holding his breath as long as he can to get his crying under control

-It’s nightmares like these that leave him his most vulnerable, teetering on the edge of being Big or Little; he’s either almost ripped out of his headspace or plunged right into it, depending on his headspace when he went to bed

-Lee won’t go to Ford or Fidds, too scared and upset to leave his bed, he cries and cries, it’s only if either of them check in him that they see their Little Lee crying himself sick

-If that happens, he’s being immediately scooped up and carried to Ford’s bed (it’s the biggest) to be tucked into to his brother’s side and coddles and cuddled until his Big Tears have settle down some

-Ford and Fidds pet and pat him, talking about their latest project over his head, he doesn’t comprehend what they’re saying, but Lee likes hearing their voices and feeling their chests move under him

-When these nightmares happen, Lee doesn’t need a story to lull him to sleep, he’s already exhausted, the warmth and sound of his caregivers easing him enough to slip off, cuddling his Teddy Bear

[wilderhyperfoxations]

Chains of Eternity- my biased, terrible little review

This will include spoilers, so you've been warned. Although I like this game (my tumblr and even this post are a testament to that) sometimes things you like can fall short. So, let's get into my various critiques of COE. The start of the story felt pretty strong. I do wish we saw Valen, BECAUSE WHERE IS THAT MAN, but sure, right. I felt like there were too many side characters during the first few quests, and this trend continues through the whole arc. I really liked Faramor… so where the hell did he go? He sort of disappeared without much of an explanation. He had no character development, or it simply wasn't portrayed in a cohesive way. But his VA was very good. Also, controversial, but while I did enjoy Lorsan's cameo- it did not add anything. Same with half the characters this season, they really came out of nowhere, and could have been utilized in a more interesting way. The whole immortality talk also felt unconvincing- sure it's bad but if you're really afraid of death it's a small price to pay, and you'll watch people die even if you're mortal, so… weak argument there. Cyran. God, Cyran, they barely used him, too. Which I really wished they did. Also the King/Duke(?) was kind of barely there. They did nail Yolena and made the ending that much more WHAT THE FUCK. There were some bigger overarching issues, such as: Structural issues, Promise, payoff, Setup, Too much fluff, Pacing, Lore. Structural issues- the story structure did not feel sound nor satisfying due to the lack of promise at the start and the lack of payoff at the end (ex.- in WOI, it's "Merlin wants to leave Rustport, Sinbad wants to be a Captain, Sonja wants to kill her dad" and all of those things come true and make a satisfying story). This is pretty much the same as "setup"- there was not much of that. Too much fluff- too many characters and frivolous parts that I felt could be trimmed. Most characters could be cut out and the story would still work. Pacing- unlike WOI, which felt like it lasted ages, or even the first few storylines that were pretty even, this one was choppy. The start dragged and then the end sprinted. The whole thing whizzed past me and there I was, left befuddled. Lore- confusing! In the story not much is elaborated on, but then in some heart-to-heart's there are comments on why graveborns were made that… actually make no sense, or are unsupported by the wider narrative. How would they improve this? Honestly. Just more editing and more time. This one must've been rushed, or something, because WOI was stellar for any game (and again Sinbad's VA was FIRE, nothing stood out to me this time). And if I were to edit this story, I'd introduce Valka earlier, and give her some clearer goal than just "am sad, don't deserve your praise, blah". State it more clearly that she wishes she could make things right. And the villain, who I neglected to mention- all villains besides the WOI ones have been last-minute. Cryonaia was intimidating, but, she was… not setup. If the story spoke of her earlier, or incorporated her into some legend, her reveal would mean more. Otherwise she's just another hypogean. Also, what was her goal? What was she trying to do? Who the fuck knows. I found her vibe unclear. Tell me if I missed something, but I do doubt I missed anything major. Altogether, if this was a book, I'd give it a 2 or 3 stars for "you tried and you almost got here but your editor must've been drunk and passed out for months or something".

[taamlok]

being snarky tonight so i can be all about love tomorrow

here's the thing. i also experienced a disappointing game release during the last week of october 2024. life is strange: double exposure was extremely poorly received by the fandom for undermining the point of the first game and destroying one of the only canon lesbian relationships in gaming in an incredibly vindictive and malicious way. that's not me saying that, people who were on the dev team have admitted on reddit that the deck nine execs hate chloe and character assassinated her on purpose. life is strange is incredibly important to me, it's one of my favourite games of all time and has fundamentally changed me as a person. chloe and max's relationship specifically is special to me on a personal level: i literally realized i'm gay because of them; i have a chloe quote tattoo planned. i despise double exposure and i wish it had never been made.

however, i haven't posted about it since maybe early or mid-November? because at the end of the day it's a game, and i can choose to ignore it. i don't have to accept it as canon and i can just enjoy the other games and the comics as my canon ending. i'm sure there are fans of double exposure, but i don't like fuelling myself on negative feelings so i don't see their content. i have no ill-will toward anyone who does find something enjoyable in it. i don't think they're stupid and i don't see them as my enemy or ruining the fandom. i certainly don't think they're "gaslighting" me for enjoying a video game and saying so. i don't enter their fan spaces to pick fights with them and then play the victim when they push back. i don't post transphobic takes about the trans woman character and then say it's fine because it's "critique". i just found something else to play that i like, followed the lis1 and pricefield tags and moved on.

my point is if you're STILL regularly posting hate about veilguard, especially in the main tags, you are seriously chronically online, a massive loser and need to get crucial. go spend 50 hours collecting shards in the hinterlands while you wait for your war table mission timer to end and quit being the fun police. you're embarrassing yourself.