#this one has a lot to unpack
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demaparbat-hp · 4 months ago
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Oh, Lala...
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year ago
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Turtle Takedown Teamwork.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#tulu xuanwu#Something about changing the action sequence to something gentle is hilarious to me.#The lesson here is “Be nice to turtles. They are gentle creatures. And many are very endangered.”#don't get me wrong here; I love this scene a lot. LWJ's string technique is one of my favoyrite things.#We do get a fair amount of LWJ fighting but I always loved how the theme of strings comes into play.#There is actually a lot to unpack with LWJ being associate with 'strings'.#The musicianship: Of dedication and rigor in one's practice.#The tension between following along a path or composing your own way forwards (playing what has been written vs composing)#A string is a tightly coiled/taunt entity; The same tension that makes it sing so beautifully can be it's downfall if pushed too hard.#And as a non-musical string - something that binds. Be it to his sect and family or how he binds his fate to WWX -#LWJ cannot exist without his binds. It is not something which ties him down though. It keeps him together.#And he himself *is* a bind. He 'ties wwx down' in ways that are initially negatively viewed ('come to gusu' - feels like: come be trapped)#But later it is shown how (despite being introduced as a free spirit) WWX truly wants to be bound to something and someone.#Marriage is a bind he wants. He wants to be tied and grounded by LWJ.#It's starting to sound like innuendo. Let's call his fondness for being literally tied up smart thematic writing.#Finally. Sex scenes that are important to the plot and characters
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kacievvbbbb · 1 month ago
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I can imagine Shanks being all concerned and scared that Mihawk is lowkey suicidal and this whole quest for World’s Strongest Swordsman is just a really trussed up suicide mission.
And then Mihawk being all nonchalant and rolling his eyes like “I don’t want to die. 🙄 I just wouldn’t mind if it was you that killed me”
And that….,..that terrifies Shanks more than he’ll ever admit
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feyreswaterybowels · 9 months ago
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⭒The Silent One⭒
#4 Azriel x Fem!OC
⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: Cassandra visits Vale. They get the information they need and Cassandra…gets revenge and we see a glimpse of her powers lurking under the surface.
Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence. mentioned/implied rape. mentioned/implied castration. female rage. protective!azriel. protective!bat boys.
Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked, looking at Rhysand then Azriel. 
“Is everything okay?” Morrigan asks, setting her bags down, Cassandra following suit. 
“We tried to question Vale today,” Rhysand responded, straightening out his suit jacket. Glancing at Azriel, who still wore that look of pure death. 
“Tried?” Morrigan asks, her own arms folding across her chest. 
Rhysand took in a deep breath, looking at Cassandra, a slight frown on his face. 
“He said he’ll only answer our questions if you’re in the room—” 
“No.” Morrigan cuts him off immediately, straightening her spine.
“Mor,” Rhysand warns. 
“You’re actually considering it? You would let her be in a room with that—that monster,” She snarled, stepping closer to her friend’s side.
Cassanda’s eyes met Azriel’s again, less intense as if to comfort her but his shadows still a fury around him.
“He wouldn’t get anywhere near her. It’s not your decision, Morrigan,” Rhysand said, mouth in a tight line. 
“It’s not yours either, it’s Cassandra’s,” Azriel said, “He doesn’t have to touch her to cause more trauma. You do not have to see him if you don’t want to.” 
“But it would be a great help to easily get the information from him,” Rhysand said, giving his brother a warning look. 
Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip. Morrigan was still standing partially in front of her, legs spread apart, arms crossed as if she would fight Rhysand if he tried to step towards her. Rhysand had an expecting look on his face and Cassian looked…awkward? Maybe he didn’t like his friends arguing this way. Cassandra knew she didn’t. 
“What would I do, just stand there? Would I—would I have to talk to him?” She asked, and Rhys shook his head. 
“No, of course not and yes you would just be there in the room,” Rhysand answers and Azriel hisses. 
“That is not the full truth,” He says, siphons surging on the back of his hands, shadows darting in every direction. 
“Azriel—”
“Tell me, Rhysand, please. I can handle it. I want to help but I have to know what I’m getting into,” She said, straightening herself out, stepping from behind Morrigan. How could she expect them to believe she could handle things if she stayed cowering behind Morrigan or Azriel? She could do this.
Azriel fixed her with a look, as if he was proud of her actions. 
“He initially asked for Neema. She shut that down quickly. He then specifically asked for you because he…wants to look at you,” Rhysand explains and Cassandra felt her stomach flip, nausea overcoming her. 
“I can get the answers we need in other ways without traumatizing her further,” Azriel growls at his brother, noticing her distress, “Cassandra, you don’t have to—”
“Look at me,” She repeated breathlessly. Blinking her eyes furiously to fight the images trying to flash before her. “That’s what he used to do. He couldn’t touch me because I would be damaged goods—he’d get less money for me. So he would make me stand there unclothed and look at me while he touched himself or Neema. Just let me look at you is what he would say.” 
She heard the harsh breath Rhysand let out, she didn’t look his way. 
“Cassandra,” It’s Azriel’s voice in her head but she shakes her head, breathing deeply.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out. 
She opens her eyes and looks into those hazel ones, patients and concern swirling there. 
“You’ll be there?” She asked, and he nodded instantly. 
“Of course, I’ll be there,” He answers.  She nods to herself. Thinking. 
“What happens to him after he’s questioned?” She ask, would he be let go? Locked away?
“He’ll be killed,” Rhysand answers bluntly. 
“Good.” Is her answer. “I’ll do it.” 
“You’re sure?” Azriel asks, worry creasing those brows while a relieved look comes over Rhysand’s face. 
“Yes,” She answered. “When?” 
“The sooner the better,” Rhysand said, and though he still looked relieved that Cassandra agreed she could see the apology in those violet eyes. 
“I would like to put my things away first,” She said, Azriel crossing the short distance between them. 
“I’ll help you bring your bags up,” He offered, giving her no room to protest before he scooped her bags up easily. 
As they entered the house she could hear Mor as she began yelling at Rhysand. 
Azriel let her lead the way to her bedroom, she was getting fairly good at navigating the halls. She liked to roam around in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping. This house was huge but she was sure she could get to the main areas of the house with little to no help. 
When they got to her room she pushed the door open and walked in. She looked over her shoulder to see Azriel standing at the door. She raised an eyebrow in question and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. 
“I can’t come in, remember,” He says, and she was glad to see some of that light amusement return to his eyes. 
“Oh, well, come in,” she said, he looked skeptical for a moment before slowly extending his leg through the doorway before stepping fully in. 
“Rhys doesn’t mess around with his wards,” He says when he notices the look on her face. “If you hadn’t invited me in and I tried to just walk in I would have ricochet off it straight into the wall back there.” 
Cassandra let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the bed for Azriel to put the bags down. 
“Did you have a good day with Mor?” He asked gently and she turned to him with a small smile and nodded. She was grateful he asked. Talking about the day would distract her from what they were going to do after this. 
“It was amazing, Azriel! I've never experienced anything like that. It was a bit overwhelming if I’m honest but Morrigan made it easy to enjoy myself,” She smiled again as he perched himself on the end of the bed, his attention focused fully on her. She grabbed one of the bags pulling it over—the one with all of the pastries in it. 
“We went to this lovely little bakery,” she started, pulling out various treats. “Morrigan told me to pick out anything I wanted—everything looked and smelled so good, it was hard to choose.”
“It does smell delicious,” Azriel agreed, eyes scanning over the arrangement of food laid out on the bed, wrapped in papers and boxes. 
“These two bags are just some clothes Morrigan helped me pick out, that one is a gown, I’m still not sure what I would need it for but it is very pretty,” She told him, grabbing that bag, unzipping it to show him the gown, the one that perfectly matched his siphons. If he noticed he didn’t comment. 
“That is very pretty, you could wear it for Starfall coming up,” He said, a small smile on his face when she looked up at him. 
“Do you think it would be possible for me to visit my mothers grave that day?” She asked, as Starfall was one of the few good memories she had with her mother. 
“Of course, you never have to ask, we can go visit her any time you’d like,” Azriel promises, “What else did you get?”
Cassandra smiled at him, showing him the rest of her haul from the day. He snickered at the books but just as Morrigan had, said he would be more than happy to help her learn to read. It made her happier than he probably realized. 
After she finished showing him everything he stepped out of the room so she could freshen up—change her clothes and mentally prepare herself. 
She changed into an outfit that was a bit too big for her. Long sleeves and long pants. She didn’t want him to see her skin, she didn’t want him to see her at all. But what he did to Neema? To so many other girls? To her? She couldn’t sit by and not help get answers, justice. 
She knew Azriel noted the outfit she was wearing but chose not to say anything. 
“We’re going to winnow there, are you okay with that? We haven’t done it since that first night,” Azriel asked and Cassandra simply nodded, stepping closer to him, tucking her wings close to her back as he wrapped an arm around her. 
The place they arrive at was beautiful yet terrifying. 
“Where are we?” She asked, looking around. He doesn’t answer out loud as he leads her down a dark avenue. 
“This is the Hewn City. The rest of Prythian does not know of the existence of Velaris. They believe Rhysand only rules over this part of the Night Court—the Court of Nightmares.” 
“Oh.” Is her answer, she tries not to look at anything or anyone as thet move through the streets of this underground city—no, not underground, inside of a mountain. She wondered if it was the same mountain the House of a wind was on—she would ask later.
The walk was mostly silent. They walked across many bridges and flights of stairs. Going through most of the city. Down and around and down some more. Her legs and feet hurt and just when she was ready to tell Azriel she couldn’t go anymore they halted. 
Cassandra looked at him in question. He simply nodded towards the wall, she didn’t see anything. 
“He’s behind here,” Azriel explains, his eyes scanning her face. 
“Okay,” she nodded slowly, not totally understanding since there was no door. 
“Rhys will be there the entire time. Cassian will be there the entire time. I will be with you the entire time. Don't be fearful. Don’t let him scare you. If you find yourself feeling uncomfortable tell me immediately and I’ll get you out of there. He’s chained up, he will not lay a finger on you. If he even tried he would die,” Azriel promised. She looked up at him, unease filling her and took in a deep breath as he added , “Would you feel safer if I gave you this?” 
She looked down, in his outstretched hand laid a black hilted dagger with a sharp and shiny blade. 
She reached out, taking it gently from his hand. 
“I’ve never used one before,” she whispered, looking down at the knife in her hand. 
“You won’t need to use it, but if you did Truth Teller wouldn’t let you miss,” Azriel spoke confidently. “You ready?”
 She looked up at him and nodded her head. 
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
Azriel hated this. Hated it. His shadows hissed in ear not to bring her in. To protect her. To grab her and take her back to the House of Wind. 
And though he wanted to, he wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved to make her own decisions but this just felt so wrong. 
But after he sheathed Truth Teller and tied it around her waist he felt slightly better. 
She didn’t know the weight of the dagger, its power or what it meant to him. All that mattered in this moment is it made her feel safe and it gave him some peace of mind that if somehow this piece of shit got through three warriors she had a weapon that could kill. 
“Lets go,” he says, offering his hand to her, she places it there gently and much to her surprise they turn to the wall and he led her straight through. 
On the other side was a dark hall, no doors, lit only by a few lights and she grasped Azriel’s hand tighter. 
“This is where we keep a majority of prisoners that haven’t been sentenced for crimes or are being questioned,” Azriel explained, voice low and quiet.  
“Is Kamari here?” 
“No, she’s in a cell under the House of Wind. She’s not dangerous—a terrible person yes, but not dangerous to anyone she could potentially interact with. We don’t want this guy anywhere near the females and too many of them live and work at the house. That’s why he’s here. No one can get in here except Rhys, Cassian, myself and anyone we choose to allow in,” Azriel explained, stopping at another seemingly empty stretch of wall. “How are you feeling?” 
“I’m okay,” she said, fingers twisting at her side. “I’m scared to see him.”  
“You don’t need to be scared but do you want to leave?” Azriel asks, taking a step closer to her, ready to scoop her up and take her home. 
“No, I want to do this,” she shook her head. 
“Okay, he’s right on the other side of this wall,” Azriel explained, trying to prepare her. “When we first walk in, his back will be to us so you don’t have to see his face straight away. You’re welcome to stand but there are chairs if you’d like to sit. Rhysand will be in charge of the interrogation if you believe he’s lying about something or leaving details out don’t hesitate to tell one of us. Rhys says he’ll have communications open so you can talk to him or Cassian easily if you need to. You do not have to speak to this guy but he will try to speak to you. He’s going to want to scare, to tell you all of the things he’s done—he knows what his fate is after we get what we want from him. You have the power here. You say stop then we stop and I take you out of there.” 
Azriel watches as she takes a shaky break, closing her eyes to calm herself. When she opens them Azriel is still standing there patiently. 
“Okay. Okay, I’m good,” She nods her head in a way that’s reassuring to herself, grazing her hand over Truth Teller before dropping her hands to her side. 
She watches as Azriel approaches the wall, stepping through easily as they had done before. Another deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms across her pants before she too walks forward, straight through the wall. 
The room is a bit brighter than the hallway and it takes her eyes a moment to adjust before they fix on the figure in the middle of the room. His blue skin and the clothes he’s wearing looks dirty, he’s chained to a chair and his head turns slightly as if sensing she entered the room, but not enough to see her yet. She wanted to cling to the wall and beg Azriel to come back to her side.
But she didn’t. 
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering.
She knew the three men in this room wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her. She scanned the room, there were two chairs further away from where the male was sitting while Rhysand sat in one directly in front of the male just a few steps away. Cassian stood with his back to a large stone, giving her a small nod when they made eye contact and Azriel stood there behind the man—in a spot she could see him from wherever she chose to stand, a look on his face she hadn’t quite seen before. She could tell only one thing about that look though, he would enjoy killing Vale. 
Cassandra made her way to the opposite wall of where she had entered, choosing not to sit but to stand, using the wall as support, keeping her wings tucked as she leaned back against the wall. 
“Come on High Lord, give me my sight back now. You said I would be able to see her,” Vale hissed, the sound of his voice like a shot of ice down her spine, she suppressed the reaction easily enough. 
Rhysand looked over his shoulder at Cassandra, silently asking her if she was okay, if she was ready. She simply nodded. He waved his hand and those eyes, the ones she still had dreams about suddenly zeroed in on her. It took everything in her to suppress any reaction that time. 
A grin spread across his face as his eyes tracked her body. Up and down, taking in every detail. 
“Wow. Look at you,” he said, licking his lips, “you look even better than I remember. I…wish I could see more.” 
“Yeah, well you can’t,” Cassian is the one to answer. 
“What no hello?” Vale grinned again. 
“She’s not required to speak to you, that wasn’t part of the deal,” Rhysand’s voice thundered through the room. 
“Not that she could anyway” Vale sniggered, nodding his head, eyes still trained on Cassandra. “Alright come on, ask me the questions.” 
He sounded bored but Cassandra wasn’t stupid and neither were any of the males in that room. There was fear in those black eyes. He did indeed know his fate. 
“How long have you been in the business of purchasing females and selling them to sex houses?” Rhysand asked. 
“I don’t know, a year maybe,” Vale groans at the look Rhysand gives home. “Look, man, I drink and smoke myself out every day I lose a good bit of time.” 
“I was at the pleasure house with Kamari for 2 years and with him for almost a year.” Cassandra says, and Rhys nods in acknowledgment. 
“Wanna think a little harder about that? It’s definitely been more than a year,” Rhysand said, Vale narrowing his eyes into slits. 
“How could you possibly know that? Why ask if you’re just gonna say I’m lying?” Vale bares his teeth at Rhysand. 
“Why lie in the first place? You know your fate, lying won’t change that. You know I could enter your mind and destroy it in a second while getting the answers I seek. I’m doing you a courtesy by asking this way.”
Vale is silent for a moment before glancing at Cassandra. “Four years.” 
“How many women did you buy and sell during that time? How did you find them?” Rhysand asked, Vale took a deep breath, looking up at the roof as if thinking. 
“Probably eighty,” He says, Rhys’ face hardens further at that—Cassian’s mouth falling open slightly. 
“Eighty women in four years? Or 80 every year for four years?” Rhys asks through clenched teeth.
“Eighty in all four years,” Vale confirms and while it’s a relief, that’s still a lot of women. “Most of them were sold to me by family members who owed me money, but couldn't pay it back so they sold me a daughter, wife, sister instead.” 
“How did you learn of these pleasure houses buying females from people like you?” Rhysand asked. 
“Word gets around the streets. There’s only three that will buy the females. The Velvet Pearl, Hidden Desires and Lavender house. Kamari recruits men to find the women and sells them for money—usually addicts looking for a fix. She buys her drugs from me, that's how I got started.” Vale explained. 
“How many of them did you keep for yourself?” Rhysand asked, and Vale just laughed. 
“Not as many as you might think. It never even crossed my mind to have a little fun with the merchandise before selling to the pleasure houses. Neema—she’s the only one I ever kept seeing as she’s my mate and all,” Vale confessed and Cassandra couldn’t stop the gasp she took in. 
“That’s right,” Vale grinned. “The bond snapped into place the night her brother sold her to me.” 
“And you thought that was the proper way to treat your mate,” Cassian snarls. Vale simply shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Cassandra. 
“If she hadn’t been my mate though, I would have kept you,” Vale said, smiling at Cassandra. “Everything I did to her I would have done to you—including removing those horrid wings. Tell me, which one of these bastards got the pleasure of bending you over and fucking you—”
Vale’s rant is cut off when one of Azriel’s shadows wraps around his throat. The blue skinned male chokes, eyes widening. 
“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” Azriel hisses, only letting up his shadow’s grip when Cassandra nods her head at him. 
“At least any one of these males could get a woman into their bed without having to rape her,” Cassandra retorts, Cassian snorting out an amused laugh, relaying the message when Vale looked his way, turning back and snarling at Cassandra like a rabid wolf.
The interrogation went on for what felt like hours. Vale answered the questions Rhysand asked. Cassandra confirmed if he was being truthful or not for certain things. And they all stood there as he described every awful, vile, disgusting thing he did to the women he bought and sold. How he had brutalized and assaulted them before selling them off to be salves for pleasure houses. 
He knew none of their names. None except Neema. He didn’t even know Cassandra’s name and she was standing right there in front of him. 
He did however know the names of all the ones who sold the females—they now had a list of where to start, of how to find the females that had been sold off to the three pleasure houses. 
It’s was when they were getting ready to leave that things started going sideways. Azriel had check in many times with Cassandra to make sure she was okay. And she had been, despite this feeling in her stomach, this thrumming that made her skin feel like it was vibrating. 
“So, I guess it would be out of line to ask for a turn with you before I go out?” Vale laughed, leering at Cassandra. And it was Cassian’s fist that landed the blow to his face. 
“Fuck! You know,” Vale continued with a  laugh, blood dripping from his mouth, “your father almost sold me your sister instead. Pretty little thing she is.” 
He just wants to rile you up. 
He wants to scare you.
He wants a reaction. 
“Only he wouldn’t have got as much for her cause she’d had sex with some male. She was used—but man, if he had I would have kept her, too, I would have taken both of you and kept you just like that little bitch in my basement—“
Cassandra snarled and something inside of her snapped. Before anyone could blink she was across the room Truth Teller gripped in her hand and pressed against Vale’s throat as she crouched over him. Black eyes widened in shock—fear. Good. He wasn’t expecting it. 
“Cassandra?” Azriel’s concerned voice sounded muffled and far away. She didn’t take her eyes away from the man cowering beneath her. 
“She can shield?!” is Cassian's alarmed shout. 
“Cassandra?!” Rhys calls out, feeling whatever shield was around her vibrate as he sent a blast of magic into it. 
“I don’t think she can hear us, Rhys!” Azriel calls out. 
Cassandra could hear them but the look on Vale’s face was too satisfying to look away from. She pressed the dagger harder against his neck, digging it into the skin there, scenting his blood. 
“Are you afraid?” She asked, faces only inches apart. She wasn’t sure how she was talking to him but she didn’t care either. Not when the smell of blood mixed with urine as he pissed on himself. 
“Please, p—please,” he begged, trying to pull away from the blade digging into his throat. 
“Cassandra, come on, let the shield down, love!” 
“I remember begging you like that before you took my tongue. I shouldn’t let them kill you, everything you did to me, to Neema, to all those other girls you deserve to have done to you,” she snarls, Truth Teller thrumming in her hand as if encouraging her to slit his throat and watch him bleed out. 
“What the hell is happening, Rhys?” Cassian’s voice rings outside of that shield. 
“Fuck!” Azriel hisses as he tries to touch that shield, his hand bouncing off of it immediately. 
“I should take your eyes,” she declared. “So that you can never look at anyone again. I should take your tongue the way you took mine. Chop off your cock so you can never fuck again. I should do all that and let you live with it every day of your miserable life!” 
He cries out, struggling under her and she laughs. Right there in his face she laughs.
This is the male she had been afraid of?
This is the male that tortured her everyday in that basement? This pathetic excuse of a male. 
“Absolutely pathetic,” she spits, snarling at him. 
She drops Truth Teller from her hand, falling somewhere between their bodies as she grips his head on either side. “Look at me!” She bellows, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Panicked terror looked back at her and she smiled. 
“Kill me, just kill me, please!” He begged, thrashing under her, her wings spreading to keep herself stead where she was crouched over him—drowning out the voices beyond the shield. He’d had no remorse for anyone else, he deserved no remorse. She leans down, close to his ear, changing her grip on his head. 
“No,” she mouths against his ear as it echoes in his head. Then her thumbs are pressing into those black soulless eyes, his screams echoing around them with nowhere to go, pressing and pressing until they pop. Turning into a bloody mess under her hands. His screams don’t stop as she speaks. 
“You’ll never see again,” she said, grabbing Truth Teller once again sliding it along his exposed skin. “You're lucky I don’t take your hands and tongue. I won’t take your life either. You’ll suffer the way me and so many other girls did.” 
She slides off of him, his screams turning into whimpering cries. 
“Cassandra?” The voice sounded normal again and she looked up, green eyes meeting violet. “Are you okay?” 
“Am I okay?” She asked, glancing at the man she had just maimed without a second thought. 
“I’m not worried about him, are you okay?” Rhysand asks again, taking a step closer to her.
“I’m okay,” she nods, slipping Truth Teller back into its sheath, not hiding the angry tears that welled in her eyes. “I want him to have to live with what he’s done. Death will be too kind for the offenses he’s committed—for the way he’s violated so many.” 
“If you no longer wish death on this male so be it, we will lock him away to rot for the rest of his days,” Rhysand promises and I nod my head. 
“I only have one request,” I tell him, glancing at the man still moaning and whimpering—whispering to himself about his eyes being gone and begging for mercy. 
“What is it?” Rhysand asked. 
“Take his cock,” I demand, there’s no question or judgement in those eyes. He nods but Azriel is the one to speak up. 
“Done.” 
Tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @mariahoedt @railingsofsorrow @fightmedraco @nickishadow139 @a-courtof-azriel
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beanghostprincess · 9 months ago
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Sanji and Usopp during The Sabaody Incident™ won't leave my mind.
Usopp standing in front of Sanji protectively because he is wounded and he can't fight, so Usopp will do it for him ("I'll do what you can't do").
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There is just something about Sanji's expression when he realizes he might actually lose Usopp. This is my interpretation, at least. He is literally frightened.
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Usopp helping Sanji stand up to run away. This is crucial for something I want to point out later: Sanji needs help to stand up. (Also, Brook disappears trying to protect them both and saying he will do anything to save them even if it costs him his life. I am feeling sick).
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Sanji being self-sacrificing and blaming himself for not being able to protect them/act sooner is not new. But he does manage to gain the strength to fight when Usopp is the only one left with him and the possibility of losing him is even more real now.
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The thing that I love the most about this is not Sanji sacrificing himself for Usopp, because he does that. He is like that. But Usopp not running away or moving in the slightest because he refuses to leave Sanji on his own.
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Something I'd like to point out too is that Sanji actually touches Kuma before Usopp disappears. He tries to fight and protect him and Kuma could've easily sent Sanji to Momoiro Island right away, and yet Sanji was just sent flying far from the scene and forced to see Usopp disappear in front of him.
And I am not saying that "not being able to protect both Brook and Usopp (especially Usopp) is needed for Sanji to realize he has to become stronger and find more reasons to go back with the crew" but not being able to protect both Brook and Usopp (especially Usopp) is needed for Sanji to realize he has to become stronger and find more reasons to go back with the crew.
Not to mention that we can't deny (right after Water 7/Enies Lobby) that Usopp is one of Sanji's strongest bonds within the crew. This specific scene focusing on them both is more than enough to prove it.
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Sanji seeing Usopp disappear in front of his eyes without being able to do anything to save him.
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Remember what I said about Sanji needing help to stand up seconds ago? Well. This is him the moment Usopp disappears. What adrenaline and the power of love do to a mf.
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They are so "I can lose everything, but not you. Oh God, not you" shaped.
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ashleyslorens · 1 year ago
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kissing vs no kissing shows
+ bonus
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radiostaticyuri · 10 months ago
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Vox's hypnosis actually works on Alastor. The thing about it is that Vox's hypnosis works like real life hypnosis. (ie. It can only make someone do something they already want to do). Normally everyone wants to do what Vox says because hes Vox. Alastor is different, because he doesn't buy into basically anything that Vox is selling.
It gets a little more complicated when it comes to the two of them spending time around each other, though, because Alastor doesn't even know what he wants. Alastor doesn't realize that's how Vox's hypnosis works. He thinks it can just make you do anything, so there will be times where Vox will try something and it won't work, and there will be times where it does work. Alastor just thinks he's more able to resist Vox because he's an Overlord. This isn't true.
Hypnotization is one of the few ways Alastor can be made to say or do something genuine even when he's not exactly ready to, and not being in control of his own actions is one of his greatest fears. So, naturally, any time Vox successfully hypnotizes Alastor, Alastor ultimately comes out of it feeling gross and violated.
Which Vox doesn't care about, because what's the big deal? Alastor wouldn't have done it if he didn't really want to deep down. Whatever he told Alastor to do, it probably resulted in the two of them having a good time, so Alastor has nothing to be upset about. Plus, Alastor has never told Vox no. His behavior after the fact suggests he's unhappy, but he's never outright told Vox to stop because doing the nice thing even though he wasn't prepared to still conflicts him. What if he says no and then they never do the nice thing again because he can't suck it up enough to initiate anything without the hypnosis?
Alastor ends up using it as a crutch. If he doesn't want to admit to having liked something, he can just say "well I was forced to do it." The fact he would admit something like that is telling on its own, because it implies he's even more unnerved and humiliated by the thought of people knowing he enjoys intimacy than he is by the thought of people knowing Vox has power over him.
The other problem is that he can be especially deranged sometimes and pull a "haha well i was actually just pretending to be hypnotized. I did it because I wanted to, not because he made me." But sometimes, he doesn't actually know. Because he doesn't believe Vox's hypnosis only gets people to do things they already wanted to do, sometimes he psyches himself out and doesn't know what he actually wanted to do vs what he didn't actually want to do. He gets really frustrated about it. In the end he's only really hurting himself, unless he somehow finds a way to gaslight Vox by lying.
But Vox is just like. Lol this is a win for me i get to do awesome stuff with alastor no regrets im getting all the attention from him EVER this is awesome
Its a really dubious thing because Alastor is just made so uncomfortable by the hypnosis, but Vox won't stop, but Alastor won't tell him to stop because what if once he stops they never do anything nice together again? And admitting any of that stress and fear to Vox would undo him. It'd shatter him.
I have lots of scenarios about this in my brain it can fuck them up so bad. Vox using his hypnosis to make Alastor confront every single desire he thought he locked away in a box at the back of his mind. Vox being endeared by that vulnerabiltiy, so positively intoxicated by it that he doesn't see that instead of fixing Alastor, it's making him worse.
Or maybe he does, and maybe he prefers it that way just to see Alastor express something other than his facade, to know Alastor actually cares even if he won't say it, to command Alastor's attention in a way no one else can.
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orchidbreezefc · 1 year ago
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edgar woe.begone: low empathy, high masking
THESIS: my reading of edgar woe.begone is that he's a low empathy autistic who has no innate intuition for social cues and has had to teach himself everything about social interaction from scratch, which is an interpretation that i think explains a lot about him.
now, i am very critical of edgar as a person. i think he's a less than good person and a bad boyfriend. but let me be VERY clear right off the bat: these symptoms don't make anyone a bad person. these symptoms aren't even bad per se. theyre all disabling symptoms that make social interaction more difficult for the person who has them. like any symptom, they have to be managed and compensated for.
some people under the neurodivergent/mentally ill umbrella, as with any group of people, are bad people. being a bad person flavors one's approach to their mental illness, and mental illness in turn flavors the manner in which they're a bad person. the mental illness isn't what makes you bad, but it does affect how your shittiness manifests.
disclaimers done, a good place to start is the way edgar speaks, especially with jeremy's performance. edgar always sounds very reasonable, approachable, and agreeable, and there is never an ounce of genuine emotion in his voice. he talks like an autistic person with zero innate intuition for social interaction who has taught himself to speak in the way that he's learned will get the best response.
edgar's customer service voice is the only one we hear and likely the only one he uses if he can help it. we know edgar's a tactician, a persuader. why use any other voice than the one he's carefully fine-tuned to make people like him and be receptive to what he's saying? this isn't even necessarily cynical: what do you want him to do, talk in a more uncontrolled, emotional way--that he's not used to managing--that will make people like him less?? what good would that do?
edgar likes control. he's more comfortable when things are in his hands, and only his. propagation definitely factors in here--if [link: my theory] that propagation is what solidified the certainty of edgar's death is true, it's no wonder he wants to control and limit the spread of information. edgar prefers to be in charge of making the plans, ideally alone.
this is part of why mike is perpetually out of the loop, even regarding decisions that concern him--which is pretty damn paternalistic. but there's a more wholesome aspect as well: edgar genuinely thinks he's doing mike a favor.
edgar knows mike has undergone and is undergoing a lot, and that he's terrible with plans and a major blabbermouth. if edgar can take care of a problem without mike having to worry his pretty head and perfect eyebrows about what to do, without knowing it ever existed, isn't that so much better? that's edgar being a good boyfriend, actually. he's helping!
it probably doesn't even occur to edgar how much this limits mike's agency, how much it hurts mike that edgar refuses to let him in, how this puts them on unequal footing, how fucking patronizing it is to not let your boyfriend make his own decisions about his own life. oh, how the tables have tabled since him originally telling mike that keeping the story of woe.begone from him didn't protect him, it impeded his ability to make informed choices.
here's where the low empathy creates problems--edgar doesn't have that innate intuition for how mike's feeling, and he doesn't (effectively) manage or compensate for it, and he definitely doesn't communicate with mike enough to know how he's affected by this shit (avoiding too much information sharing is good, remember?)
and mike certainly isn't going to tell him! mike is a goddamn simp. he's not going to establish boundaries. he's not going to put his foot down and demand better treatment. as if he fucking deserves that in the first place, pshaw. the only time he pushes back is in season 10 when he doesn't remember their relationship, and edgar is deeply shaken.
edgar is devastated to learn he hurt mikey, because he does genuinely adore that man. he would get lasso lessons from michael and rope him the moon if he could. his low empathy and efforts to manage everything himself keep him from realizing that mikey, a hyperempathetic mess who gets sentimental about pens, seriously suffers from being shut out like this.
edgar's thought process must be equally inscrutable to mikey, who just figures it would be asking too much to be an active and equal participant in his own relationship and life. edgar's perfect and great, so if mikey deserved that, he would already be giving it to him. if mikey's unhappy with any part of their relationship, no he isn't. he's lucky he has edgar at all. he's lucky he has anyone.
recall michael's agonized admission that "everything is about rugby, dammit" 10(++++) years and edgar's literal death later. we can only guess at how bad his rugby was, but we do know michael never talked it through with edgar. he tells mike this was him 'letting it go' actually, when the fact that theyre having this conversation at all is proof that he extremely hasn't. this is what 'letting it go' looks like to michael: burying an issue forever and giving up on ever getting closure.
so yes, edgar does authentically deeply love his mikey-bear. unfortunately, if you never establish the communication to bridge the differences between your own methods of operating and that of your partner, love will only get you so far. and the first time around, where it got them was michael fighting back tears in an apartment in latvia over a wound from edgar that he suffered in silence until the day he died.
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justanotherhh · 8 months ago
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every day i contain my desire to slander lucifer on this blog.
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arolesbianism · 7 months ago
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
GUYS.
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New dupe real! Also new pod????? Olivia is that you girlie speak to me
#rat rambles#oxygen not included#screenshots are from the steam page#there is ofc a Lot to unpack here gameplay wise and Im guessing some things will be tweaked design wise but Im lore pilled so.#anyways Im not sure how I feel abt this dupe's design but I will still welcome them with open arms hello#but more important here to me is the pod#because erm. thats a very very different looking pod.#I dont wanna jump to any conclusions or speculate too hard because chances are its just olivia getting new drip#but like. what if its not. what if this is like a new new printing pod#I assume that if it is a new pod then olivia will like be able to connect with it somehow but idk#because it rly depends on how ambitious theyd wanna be with this dlc given that to rly make a new pod thats super not olivia theyd have to#do a lot of work to make that change prevelant in the rest of the gameplay#now chances are if it is a new pod its one that doesn't have a human consciousness inside it#even if it was there rly arent many options for who it could be and no good options from a narrative standpoint#now this pod looks quite gutted so maybe it is just a normal printing pod that got kicked back online when olivia sent some guys to kick it#now heres the most negative thing Ill say abt these screenshots. the fox critters are rly ugly imo#I like the bunny guys tho WAUTWIATSWAUT WAIT#ARE THEY THE SAME SPECIES AS THE ANCIENT SPECIMEN SKELETON?#I dont think they line uo perfectly if I remember correctly but the big one has the same tusks and is also yknow big and fat like the#specimen is described to be in tbe story trait logs#Im willing to bet so much that theyre at least related in some way#maybe the one that was initially sent back in time was used as a basis for these guys or smth#my main reason for saying this is that I have to imagine these guys have to have some other purpose than being data storage#its seems that you can shave their coats which is probably the main thing but I imagine they probably drop a good amount of meat too#also important to note that they are grazers which is good to know#also I think the upside down plant is going to be this planet's muckroot equivalent#oh and for the fox deer I assume theyll be farmed for their antlers which will probably shed wood or smth#not a clue what the new plants will do but idrc#Ill care abt the gameplay after I get my new lore <3
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arrowheadedbitch · 5 months ago
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I was rewatching librarians and realised that when Baird mentions Ezekiels other file, the others aren't around, which means she must have vaguely mentioned it again in front of or at least near the other LITs before they ask him about him in the truth chamber scene
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good-beanswrites · 7 months ago
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That LCSYS and OoA crossover got me wondering about Fuuta.
How does he feel about being in Mahiru's place and Amane being in his place? How does he act around them?
How does he act during his interrogation?
Poor guy isn't cut out for this role, but he's doing his best! I had some format fun with this one -- I took your OoA chapter of his interrogation and put Fuuta's LCSyS thoughts in between, I think it worked out well! I discovered some new things about Fuuta's mindset in the au through the process of writing, it was really interesing :0
(Trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts, including a brief mention of Haruka's situation. There's also something about Fuuta repeatedly stopping Es from getting Shidou.)
Fuuta heard Es' footsteps approaching. He took a measured breath. In and out. His exhale trembled a bit from nerves. He figured he could use that to his advantage.
Es entered the cell and took in the layout. Fuuta was propped up in a hospital bed, his neck and torso securely braced and his left arm in a sling. He was kneading a Jackalope stress toy with his right hand, digging his nails into it. More stress toys stood on the table to his right, and Es almost tripped on one a few feet ahead. As Fuuta saw Es approaching, he dropped what he was holding and swatted the rest out of his reach.
"Been a… while, Warden," Fuuta said. Es was expecting more malice in his tone, but he sounded like his life force was draining.
Fuuta hadn't liked the idea of playing the damsel in distress. He wasn't some sickly bedridden patient with a quivering voice and trembling limbs. Thankfully, Mahiru and Mikoto had talked him into taking a different angle: some of their favorite books and movies featured a battle-weary hero, weak from the fight and scorning the cowards that didn't fight alongside him. That seemed doable, he thought. He put an extra pant into his breath, hoping to evoke the thought of messy wounds from his brawl with Kotoko.
"Fuuta… you…" They pulled a chair to the side of the table and took a seat. "Are you okay?"
That's their opening? What kind of fucking question is that?
He kept Mahiru's pointers in his head, picturing a bloodied and bandaged knight, or maybe an action hero resting up after getting riddled with bullets. He forced his voice to come out more tired than he felt.
"…look like it?" Fuuta responded. If he was angry, his voice did a terrible job of showing it.
Es didn't know how to respond. Do I look like it? was obviously a rhetorical question, but they needed to show some tact.
After a moment, Fuuta spoke up again. "…look awful… don't I?"
Still unsure of what to say, Es nodded slightly.
Heh. Good. Time to twist the knife a bit. Play the confident card, make them feel guilty. They'll see how strong I am -- how strong I've always been -- and what a mistake it was to let me fall so far.
"Could've been worse. Could've died."
Es stared down, pondering their next words. Several seconds passed.
Fuuta watched them. He felt a sinking in his stomach. Their sullen silence wasn't what he'd been anticipating. He wouldn't have been satisfied with a lot of possible responses, but he'd still been expecting something. Where was their respect? Their remorse? Their pity? Anything? He reached his arm out.
A loud knock on the table got their attention.
"Oi… talking to you." Fuuta's irritated glare met Es as they lifted their head.
"I'm sorry," they said, "I'm… I'm not sure what I can say."
"Don't know what to say? I almost died because of… you don't know… Even so, it's a miracle I … If Shidou had taken any longer, would've been over for me. Don't blame him, though.
I think I've said too much -- Shidou said only a few sentences at a time...
It was impossible to keep it short, though. Es just told him that they have nothing to say in defense of his near-death. Did he really mean so little to Es that they wouldn't even dignify him with an explanation?
"…Oi, say something."
"Sor-"
"Sorry won't cut it." Fuuta sounded more pained than angry.
That was easier to accomplish now that he was actually feeling some pain. After everything, all Es had to say was a half-hearted "sorry."
So, they really don't care about me...
Es took a breath. "…Kotoko did this to you?"
Well then, I guess I'll just have to make them care.
"No sh… agh…" Fuuta gasped for air.
"Fuuta!" Es got up and walked to his side. "I'll go get Shidou-"
"Don't!" Fuuta's eyes betrayed his desperation.
Only when my pain is thrown directly in my face do they give a damn. And they were going running off to Shidou, anyway! Though maybe...
After they locked eyes for a few moments, Fuuta let out a chuckle. "Look … you … down on me, like always. Must be so happy to see…"
"I- no, I'm not. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't think Kotoko would-"
"Beat me to near-death? What'd you expect … you affirmed her…"
"I…"
"…thought she wouldn’t have … same crime here in…"
It seemed Es was finally listening, finally trying to open themself to him. And all of the sudden, Fuuta hated it. He felt paranoid under their gaze. He wasn't sure if it was fear of them seeing through his false injuries, or fear of another judgement from them. Regardless, he felt his pulse race with the way they were watching him.
"Oi, quit standing… staring…"
"I’m sorry, I didn't think-"
"Useless… apology…"
But what else could Es do besides apologize? Stand their ground and contradict Fuuta while he was in that pitiful state?
Fuuta was tired of their weak apologies. If Es had the conviction to name him guilty, they should toughen up and admit it.
With a deep breath, Fuuta forced himself to stay slumped into the bedsheets. He was getting riled up, but couldn't afford to look to strong.
"Really didn't think it'd… turn out… Me too. All I did… call some bad person out… say what's wrong was wrong…"
Es' gaze had become intense again. Those eyes, staring into his. Studying his injuries. Studying his expression.
Staring.
Staring.
Staring.
"Their reasons were b-" Fuuta gasped and clutched his chest. Es began to turn towards the door, but Fuuta grabbed their cape with his right hand.
Why can't they just offer help themself? Why do they go running off to someone else at the first sign of trouble? Am I really so disliked they can't face me?
Es swatted his hand away. "Hey, you can't just grab me like that."
"Don't dare…"
"Fine, I won't get Shidou. Yet." Es stood in place and waited for Fuuta to regain his voice.
Fuuta pretended to catch his breath, using the time to muster up something to say. If he wasn't so insistent on Es taking some responsibility for themself, he'd consider letting them call Shidou and just end this whole interrogation. He was ready to jump up and start swinging.
He itched to leap out of bed and give Es a real piece of his mind. He repeated the others' advice and pleading for him to keep his temper in check for the sake of the experiment. He thought of Amane -- how eagerly she awaited her own interrogation. All of this had been her plan, after all. As miserable as he was, he wouldn't ruin everything before she got her turn.
No, I will not steal her trial.
"You judged me… said I was unforgivable… without the whole story… How's that any different?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's so hypo- khh!" Fuuta slammed his hand on the table, trying to play it off as an emphasis, but that didn't mask his pain.
"Careful, Fuuta! You'll hurt-" Es gave up on that concern when Fuuta glared.
Pssh, like they actually care.
"Someone died because of you. You're saying I'm the same?"
"I didn't think they'd die!"
"But you knew people would dogpile them."
"I wasn't acting alone. Anyone else… out of my control… Why'd you pick me…"
"Milgram has judged-"
"Milgram doesn't make any f-"
Maybe Es should have put their foot down and called Shidou regardless of Fuuta's wishes. But something compelled them to hear him out. "Don't push yourself."
He tried to gauge if they were being sincere. He wasn't sure if he only mistook it as genuine concern since he was hoping for that so very badly.
Fuuta was clearly annoyed, but he took a breath and continued. "Still don't see it? We're just the same!"
"Me? The same as you?" Es couldn't deny Fuuta's point. They both made their judgments without thinking that someone could be seriously hurt—or dead.
That's got their mind turning, huh? I've got 'em now -- even if they don't feel like taking responsibility for my condition, I can subtly get them to take responsibilty for anothers'.
Fuuta was not known for his subtlety.
"I'll tell you. They were just in middle school. Maybe closer to Amane… than you…"
"Amane…" Es already knew this from what they gleaned from Fuuta's first video, but it didn't register how close in age their victims were. Wait, why were they thinking of Amane as a victim? "Amane… huh… I noticed you two have been spending a lot of time together lately."
"You kidding? Don't change the subject... You don't talk about her like… Only one who cared before everything went to hell. You made her go through it. Decided she wasn't forgivable… painted a target… She could've died too! Then we'd be exactly…"
"Don't put me on the same level as you."
He took another moment to calm himself. His "broken" arm clenched into a fish underneath the blankets. It made sense that Es wouldn't want to talk about the other prisoners during his interrogation, but their avoidance of Amane made his blood boil.
"Are you not-"
"I'm just doing my job. Nobody told you to go online and decide who are bad people and harass them. You made a game out of judgment. This is what I'm supposed to do."
Fuuta laughed at Es for still failing to acknowledge their similarities. Then he winced in pain. Then he kept laughing and mocking Es for taking their job seriously.
It was difficult to keep up the act the whole time, but he was always quick to recover each time he slipped up. He was doing this for the others. All hope for himself was lost, but at least he could do this for the others.
Es snapped back. A pointless, cyclical conversation. Fuuta stopped Es from calling Shidou no less than three times.
If he had to sit here and suffer through this interrogation, so did Es.
Eventually, the bell brought the conversation to a halt.
Silence.
Why was Fuuta so quiet?
"Hey… Fuuta?" Es leaned over to get a better look at his face. His eyes seemed glassy, and he seemed to be breathing more slowly. "Fuuta… I'll go get-"
"Don't. Not worth…"
"Worth what?"
"If you're not going to… forgive… what's the point… living?"
Fuuta would just chalk it up to getting too in-character, when the others asked.
"Don't say-"
"Everything hurts so much."
This feeling of betrayal. Of loneliness. The fact that I was the first named unforgiven. The fact that I'd be the first attacked, making me the victim -- not a hero, nor a warrior. The fact that you knew all along. You knew I was none of those things. You saw right through my act, to the real me, the one who is a victim. And that's why you acted the way that you did. You're trying to do your job without hurting me any more, as if I'm something fragile to be handled carefully. And that hurts most of all.
To keep things on track, he added,
"Painkillers don't help… Strange wonder I survived. Is it really worth it?"
"Worth it…" What could Es even say about that? Anything they could think of was either more unwanted pity or…
A cold accusation that Fuuta was bargaining his life for forgiveness. Es's thoughts flitted back to Haruka's interrogation- no, that comparison was unfair. Haruka's loaded intentions were worlds away from Fuuta's resignation. How could Es dare…
"I understand… this job requires resolve…"
"Resolve? You really have resolve… just kill me. With your own two hands. Don't hide behind the rules."
Look who's talking...
"I can't do that. I can't sink to the prisoners' level. It's my job as the warden to make a fair judgement. I… I have to judge each and every one of you… no matter how much they plead, cry, or bargain… even if they are dying right in front of me."
"What is even the point? You give a damn about my life, forgive me! If not, kill me… get it over with."
The words came tumbling out. Fuuta tried not to think so hard about what he was saying. It was all in character. That was it.
For some reason, he got the sinking sensation that he'd be pulled aside later to explain himself. He wasn't sure who'd get to him first. Yuno? Shidou? Kotoko? Now that he thought about it, it would probably be Mahiru.
"Bargaining tactics won't work with me."
"Not like I care. Or… if I get out of this alive, I'll… kill… you…"
"Fine by me. If we truly are the same, then I'll have had it coming. Now, Prisoner no. 3, Fuuta, sing your sins."
Fuuta breathed a sigh of relief.
Fucking finally...
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likealittleheartbeat · 10 months ago
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"Scholars often dismiss physique references to ancient Greece as a mere ruse or rhetorical framework--a "classical alibi" or "discourse of validation"--to avoid censorship. But an examination of the lives of the founders, contributors, and members of the [physique studio and pictorial] Grecian Guild [1955-1968] tells a different story. The Grecian Guild was instrumental in helping a community of men struggling to find a discourse to explain and valorize their sense of themselves, particularly men outside of urban gay enclaves. Benson and Bullock [the founders of the Grecian Guild] took a discourse about ancient Greece that gay men had been using for nearly a hundred years and gave it mass distribution. They used it like gay men used reference to "the Greeks" or Mary Renault novels--as a way to signal their homosexuality. It was a rallying cry that brought in customers and helped them imagine a better world. As historian and biographer Benjamin Wise argues about the way Alexander Percy used the language of Hellenism, it was "a way of speaking out and covering up at the same time."
Invoking classical traditions in order to make an argument for gay rights has been largely forgotten in the twenty-first century, as such a line of argumentation has become politically and historiographically problematic. Indeed, much of modern LGBT historical scholarship and queer theory has asserted that a homosexual identity is a creation of a modern, capitalist world--that homosexual behavior in ancient cultures was understood in very different terms from the way it is today. Invoking classical antiquity also smacks of a Western bias that privileges European ancestry over other cultural and historical influences. Such arguments also raise the specter of pederasty and pedophilia--or at least age-discordant relationships--that play into the hands of gay rights opponents who relentlessly use the argument that gays recruit children to fight gay rights measures...
Despite these changes in cultural understandings and sensibilities, the use of the classical Greek trope to name gay organizations, periodicals, and commercial ventures continued for decades, even when the need for an alibi had eroded if not disappeared. The lambda or lowercase Greek "L" became one of the primary symbols of the 1970s gay liberation movement. During this same period Seattle's largest gay organization was the Dorian Group, and a Jacksonville, Florida-based gay magazine called itself David--a reference to Michelangelo's Renaissance statue--an indirect link to the classical tradition. Like the Grecian Guild, David offered membership in a fraternal organization with features such as a book club, a travel service, conventions, and even legal aid. As an online website, it continues to serve as one of Atlanta's premier LGBT news and entertainment sources.
...
While severely limited by the forces of censorship, the desire to create opportunities for customers to correspond, meet, and get acquainted attests to the palpable wish of gay men to connect with each other during this period. If few members attended a Grecian Guild convention, the possibility of doing so resonated widely. As a teenage Grecian Guild subscriber in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, Michael Denneny read the articles so carefully that he underlined the important parts. "That was proto-political organization, the agenda was very clear to me, and I think to everybody else who joined," Denneny remembered..."These magazines were really important to me," Denneny recalled. "They brought this whole possible world into being, which I'm not sure I could have visualized otherwise."
David K. Johnson, Buying Gay: How Physique Entrepreneurs Sparked a Movement
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pynkhues · 4 months ago
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Different anon here- I’m generally ok with mpreg existing. But the sheer volume of it in this fandom is pretty weird. Especially considering the source material… one of the great things about the unholy family (to me) is that it’s this family unit without the necessity for sexual reproduction. It’s so interesting because they all had lives outside of each other at some point so it’s part found family, part queer and yet biological parents. I think that’s one of the things I first loved about the 1994 movie and it’s a shame that aspect is overlooked
(x)
Yeah, I totally agree on all counts. Like I don't usually bat an eye at mpreg (whatever floats your boat! I'm very good at scrolling, haha) but there have literally been times I've opened ao3 and have counted five or six fics on the front page of updated works that are mpreg which feels really disproportionate to the amount of fic that actually gets posted in this fandom?
I - - mmm, kind of wonder a little if its tied to some of this gender essentialist stuff that's coming up more and more both in this fandom, and in social media generally? There feels like there's this real desire to shoehorn them into a quote-unquote 'traditional nuclear family dynamic' which really feels like it's the antithesis of the show. Like you said, the fact that they've all had lives outside of each other is, and the fact that as a family they are both one found and made is, I feel, pretty crucial not just to their interpersonal dynamics, but also to each individual character?
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chuchayucca · 8 months ago
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Tbh I'm surprised nobody else has brought up the idea of Richard being abused too
It feels like a lot of potential for it and an explanation (aside from their status) as to why Roy never got help for it either -- Richard thought it was normal.
Now this is just making me imagine a scene where Carmen remarks that Roy will "grow out of it" (it being his behavior) like Richard did in front of the other Hatz and Ross and Robert just share a Look
Anddd now I'm wondering how much Carmen knows
TW for discussions of fictional CSA/SA and mentions of alcoholism
Me too, I thought it would be an obvious assumption but I guess not.
Exactly, I’ve seen the fandom explore Carmen and Roy’s relationship regarding his CSA but never with Richard. I think it’s ashamed because there’s a lot you can write for the relationship, even outside of their CSA.
Omg that’s a good scene idea. The Hatzgang are realized there is a deeper issue, and Roy has to unfortunately unpack that generational trauma. I can see how learning his dad is a possible CSA victim, like him, starts pushing Roy to tell his parents but also discourages him because basically Richard unknowingly knew Roy was SA but never recognized it because he doesn’t know he was SA too. I also believe Richard normalized his brother’s actions too. It’s truly devastating how Richard indirectly contributed to the normalization of Roy’s abuse but he doesn’t know it’s SA. He believes those fun “games” him and his brother played were normal family bonding activities and is happy to hear his son is getting along with his brother, a brother he admired when growing up.
These headcanons might change as the series continues and the deeper I get into research.
I headcanon Carmen doesn’t know anything but has suspected something was off a few times. She never thought anything of Richard’s behavior at first because he alway been this way. When they became adults, she started questioning as Richard still had issues with intimacy at that point in their relationship and his alcoholism was at its worst. (Short ver: Richard started drinking at a young age to cope with trauma of his SA and the Uncle encouraged this, buying him alcohol for various reasons. Modern day, Richard is a functional alcoholic but has gotten better with his drinking)
As of the moment, Roy’s parents are unaware of Roy’s CSA. The day the Uncle died, Roy did get in trouble but for separate reasons. Carmen and Richard were mad at Roy for hanging out with “plebeians” and sending them to one of his uncle’s private properties. Roy doesn’t feel comfortable telling them yet because they’re snobby, judgmental people, so he assumes they won’t react well.
#sorry if the length bothers you#This idea has been taking up my brain#There is so much to unpack about this idea like Richard’s life in the past. the generational truama. and Roy’s life in the present#I also want to apologize if some headcanons are poorly implemented. I feel there was certain headcanons I have that wouldn’t make sense-#without other pre-lore headcanons to explain them and I didn’t know to add them smoothly#I have so many thoughts for this AU they obviously focus on Richard’s youth and Roy in current#I’m currently interested in fleshing out Richard’s youth and how he dealt with the CSA without knowing it#Especially the social side of like being a boyfriend and having dumbass friends who also are dealing with their own issues. develop their-#own terrible habits. and encourage one another toxic behaviors because they were stupid teenagers#I do have a scene in mind when Roy eventually tells Carmen and Richard about his SA and have written a little for it#Like I’d mentioned there’s a lot of potential with this AU and I want to see the fandom talk about Roy and Richard’s relationship-#More so regarding their CSA experiences. I believe it can be a powerful story to write#Though one thing I don’t like about it is how I have to write for the Uncle and give him a character#just a awful character to write for#eugh#BTW I do have a sensitive reader for this AU but criticism is still very much welcome#spooky month#spooky month roy#spooky month carmen#spooky month richard#answered asks#ChuchaYucca.text#tw csa mention#tw csa#tw sa mention#tw sa#tw alchoholism
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gothyanki · 1 year ago
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thinking about her (Gith the Liberator)
Thinking about how much I wish she were the deliciously messy, morally complex, and believably motivated protagonist of a Space Lesbians vs. Empire trilogy instead of a flat villain/historical footnote in the Fiend Folio. Unfortunately, DnD.
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