#you're not supposed to treat them the way I was treated

[brick-van-dyke]

This, plus I'd argue that it often leads to being treated as trans women as well and being subjected to parts of transmisogyny, it's why I don't really think the whole TME and TMA thing really works very well in actually identifying transphobia because of how often we're all grouped together as either "lying men pretending to be women" or "lying men pretending to be women and lying about being female to male transgenders", or just "you don't look like either so you must be a male" or some other brand of transphobia and intersexism as well mixed in.

Tbh actually I think that's kind of the point. There's so much intersexism and sexism in general that goes into the whole idea behind "all those who don't conform to gender roles and are their assigned sex are automatically trans women" in terms of grouping us all together as a monolithic entity. "You can't be a happy trans man, so you must be a trans woman" and "it's only when you're unhappy that you're a trans man who's a victim that we must save". Like that in and of itself is kind of the point with transphobia. We can't exist because we undermine the idea that "the issue of transness is trans women so trans men and intersex people are all trans women by default, unless they are sad or traumatised in any sort of way because then they're victims of trans women". It's only ever one or the other, and that always changes he idenity you're perceived as because the only "real" ftm in existence are "victims" they have been able to label as 'detrans victims of the transgender cult". If you're not, you don't exist; you're not supposed to exist. So you "must" be a trans woman, that's the "only" explanation for your being here. So they treat you as that because anything else is a lie.

A lot of the times I've been called transphobic bs on the street or online, or treated like shit in an institutional setting like a hospital, it typically starts off with assuming I'm a pre-transition trans woman and start treating me with either microagressions meant towards trans women or explicitly start calling me things like "a creepy man pretending to have a girl's name", and then when I say I'm a trans man they either deny the fact I'm a trans man or insist that's another word for "trans woman" because that ruins their transmisogynistic world view of "all trans women look like men" and "trans men don't exist" or "are broken women so they can't look like men", and I don't look like a frail, broken down victim to them, so I "must be" the former.

"Trans men benifit from invisibility", actually we suffer from the intentional erasure of our identities, history, and culture. An erasure, that is violently enforced through the constant assault, rape, and community isolation that we have to endure silently (because if we speak up we are further punished, further pushed out of communities, and silenced harder).

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! Thank you so much for all the effort and care you put into this account. I am a white high school english teacher and most of my students are Black; I cannot overstate how beneficial your lessons have been to my work. A lot of it has been in how I pick which texts we read. I’ve tried my best to carefully search for as many different Black authors as I can, especially modern ones, and it’s made me so happy to see my kids get excited about Black characters in stories! I FINALLY got a kid (who had refused to read all year) hooked on a book because he said the main character was just like him. You’ve also given me some really good advice on how to guide their critical thinking about race in a way that puts their own voices and experiences and feelings at the center. I’m learning so much from them as well, and when I make mistakes out of ignorance, your lessons have been invaluable for helping me maturely correct myself and make things right with kids. Besides, it’s plain easier to communicate when I’ve done the work at home to get more familiar with important parts of Black culture and experience. I definitely still have work to do for myself and with my white coworkers, but I just want you to know that what you’re doing is having a real positive impact on some young Black people in the world :)))

I think out of all the responses I get, my favorite is when I find out that the Black kids that people are around benefit from the newfound perspectives. Black children are treated so poorly in schools, like it honestly breaks my heart how we get sent in and expected to fail. It really can fuck up your perspective on the rest of your life when you have teachers that you're supposed to listen to... And they practically enforce that you don't matter. So I appreciate that you actually made that space a little more welcoming for our kids; that means the world to me. 😭😭😭😭

And really, just think about it- you got that job without ever having to think about these things before. For every teacher that's like you, there are hundreds that just... Aren't. That don't do the extra work. And they don't have to!

[millieisawriter]

Workin' girl

arthur morgan x reader

summary: the one where arthur pulls a john — falling in love with a working girl. it was never supposed to happen, yet it did, and now arthur is left with two choices. either he, again, walks away from a woman that loves him, or tries to fight for her.

wc: 2k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

a/n: i see this happening in blackwater in case i decide to write a 2nd part, but when i started writing i imagined saint denis, didn't see any town/city names mentioned as i was proof-reading, lmk if you see something i missed <3

Life has never treated you kindly so eventually, as soon as you could leave your family home, you turned to the oldest profession in the world. Even if that kind of life was better, it still wasn't ideal, but it was the best you could do. Eventually, you started to like it because even with its issues and dark sides it wasn't that terrible. Some would even dare saying it was 'easy money', which you actually knew wasn't true.

Luckily for you, you ended up in one of the more expensive brothels. Maybe it was the 'splendor' of the place, the luxorious interior, that made you feel somewhat safe. Safer than you would feel in some cheap saloon where the patrons consisted of drifters with a questionable past.

You had your regular patrons, ones that you got along with well — one of the reasons why they were your regulars. These were the men that could stay a bit longer after the service itself was done without making it awkward. Ones that you could have a conversation with, ones that saw you as another human being, not just an item to relieve their frustration.

It was a normal evening, the building was neither empty nor full. You didn't have that much on your hands, you and a fellow working girl were entertaining a group of men. They sat by a table, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other, and two of these men had a companion in their lap — you and your friend. Ending the evening in the bedroom wasn't certain, for now you were just trying to make them spend as much money as possible on the drinks.

Then, Arthur walked in. One of your regulars, one you were particularly fond of. The chemistry between the two of you was so strong sometimes you wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay.

His eyes immediately found you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous seeing you in the man's lap. But you, as if on command, turned to look at Arthur and as you noticed your favorite patron, you excused yourself from the table.

"Mister Callahan," you beamed, approaching the man, "so good to see you again."

He tipped his hat to you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Evenin' darlin', thought I'd stop by again. You been keepin' busy?"

The way he always called you darling, every time, made you feel so warm and bubbly. Of course, he wasn't the first man to do that, but when it came from him, it felt almost sincere.

"Busy enough," you replied, glancing over your shoulder at the table of men you just left, "but I'll always make time for you, mister."

"Well, reckon I'll take you up on that. How bout we find a quiet spot?"

"Your wish is my command." Giggling, you took Arthur by the hand to lead him upstairs where your room was. Even if he already knew the way well enough.

Your room was just like any other room in that brothel — furnished with the most luxorious-looking furniture, tastefully decorated with expensive ornaments, every little detail taken care of.

As the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the world outside seemed to fade miles away. In that moment right there it were just the two of us, bathed in the dim light by the fireplace's glow.

Arthur's hat found its usual place on the small table by the door and he turned to face you, "I can never stay away for too long." Shortly, his hands landed on your waist, resting on the corset of your dress.

"Then maybe you should visit more often..." You suggested, your own hands finding their way to the man's shoulders.

"I'm afraid it ain't a good idea, darlin'. I always look forward to seein' you. But sayin' goodbye..."

"I get what you mean," you chuckled, "so what's it gonna be today? Just the regular service, or you want something extra? It'll be on the house."

Every time Arthur visited you, it was both blissfull and painful for him. You were so good at what you were doing it felt like a religious experience, but the attachment he held for you left a hole in his heart each time he had to say goodbye.

He had always wished he could just ask you to leave this life, and join the gang, but which woman would agree for this? Your current life, your current job, as oppressing as it was, couldn't be worse than living on the run. In Arthur's eyes at least.

In the brothel you had your own room, a wardrobe with many dresses. You had a somehow stable income, it didn't seem as if money were any issue to you. All this, compared to what you could have in the camp, was much worse. And you didn't even know his real last name, there was no reason for you to leave this life you had for a criminal.

Why did Arthur even fall for a working girl? The exact same thing happened to John, which Arthur would often make fun of him for. Maybe life just decided to pull a joke on Arthur now. But he just couldn't control himself, from the first time he saw you, you were different. With other women it didn't take long to notice they're just playing a role, but you... from the first time you even smiled at Arthur, he was drawn to how genuine it looked. And now, you had become not just a pretty face to entertain him, but someone he felt at ease with.

This time, as many times before, Arthur didn't hurry to get dressed and leave the room, return back to camp after getting what he wanted. Instead, he stayed under the covers in your bed, smoking a cigarette as you kept going on about something that happened a few days ago.

He didn't mind, he could let you yap his ears off, your voice was such a calming sound. It was almost hard to believe you weren't just a hallucination he made up. How could such an ethereal being just lay there, next to him, head propped propped on your palm as you lay on your stomach, talking about whatever nonsense? How could this happen to a man like Arthur Morgan?

"...so then," you paused to take the cigarette from Arthur, take one puff and hand it right back, "you'd think a man like him would have some sense, right? Well, no, he was so damn thick in the head, she just told the guard to throw him out!"

Arthur chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Bet he didn't see that comin'. I'm glad I ain't made it onto your list of thick-headed fools yet."

"Yet!" You playfully reminded him. "You seem to have more sense than others, although I can't say I'm some weak little girl. I don't even need a guard, but the madam insists it's for safety."

A thought lingered in the back of Arthur's mind. It was weird, in a sense, to know there's a guard right outside your door whenever you had a man up there. Even right then.

"I don't doubt you could handle yourself, darlin'," Arthur smirked, taking one last drag from his cigarette, "but it don't hurt havin' someone lookin' out for you."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Guess you're right, mister."

Arthur stubbed out the ciragette into the ashtray that stood on the bedside table, knowing what it meant. His time was up, he extended the time of his visit as long as he could. Now that his usual cigarette was finished, it was the time for him to go.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. You watched as he reached for his clothes that had been thrown onto the floor, and for the first time a single tear started to burn the corner of your eye.

With his jeans already on, and his shirt for now unbuttoned, he reached to the pocket, retrieving the usual payment. You wiped the tear away as it escaped your eye. It was always the same routine, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go.

"Here it is." He said almost robotically, placing the money next to the ashtray, throwing in a little tip.

You looked at the money with sadness in your gaze, then your eyes shifted to look at the man. "You know, you shouldn't have to pay, because you don't make it feel like work."

There they were, the words Arthur was so afraid to hear. Him having a more romantic kind of attachment to you was one thing. However, knowing that you reciprocated the feeling, made it more difficult.

"Good," he nodded, "cause you don't make me feel like the bastard I am," as he buttoned up his shirt.

You sat up on the bed, pulling the sheets harder around you, since you were still naked. "Arthur..." You sighed, the rest of the sentence dying in your throat.

The fact that for the first time you had used his actual name instead of calling him mister as always, made it only more difficult.

"No, darlin', don't."

"You know you don't have to leave, right?"

Oh, he had to leave. If he overstayed his welcome too much, the guard at your door would become highly suspicious. And that would only cause issues for you.

"I have to, don't wanna make it harder." Arthur replied.

"Harder for who? I know a man's nature well enough, and I can tell there's something more in the— the way you fuck me, Arthur."

He thought maybe playing dumb would help him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you were to ask me to... to abandon this life for you... I would."

Arthur gulped. It was just what he wished for, but what he couldn't allow to happen. "I've got nothin' to give you. I live on the run, it ain't somethin' you wanna be a part of, trust me."

"You think I'd rather keep fucking strangers to survive, than travel the world with a man I lo—"

"You don't." Arthur interrupted you. "You don't know what you're talkin' bout." Love was a word of huge weight, there was no way it was what you felt for him.

You insisted. "I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, I see it in your eyes, I feel it when you're in my bed, Arthur. I wanna leave this life for you."

"It ain't gonna be no escape, though, just another kind of trap. You deserve better than fuckin' strangers to get by, but you also deserve better than runnin' and not knowin' which day will be your last."

"I don't want better!" At that point you didn't care if the guard outside will hear. "I want you, Arthur!"

"I want you too, darlin'," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly, "but... you're safer here. I can't sentence you to a life of an eternal wanderin'."

His words had a final tone, but as well as you could read his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying what he had just said. You could have had a roof over your head, and locks in your door, but it wasn't safety. It was survival.

You stepped closer, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. You knew he didn't want to leave, you were sure he wants you just like you wanted him. "Arthur..."

His heart ached when he saw the way your beautiful eyes looked at him, but still he decided to kiss you. It only made it worse, making another cut in Arthur's already damaged heart.

"I gotta go." He stated, freeing his hand from yours.

"No." You refused as if you had any say in that matter. You could demand he takes you with him now, wherever he's headed, but what would it do?

"I can't make promises," he continued, putting his boots and jacket on, then his hat, "but I'll figure somethin' out."

You stayed silent, watching him leave the room, not knowing if he's going to keep his word. All you had now was the money, that you didn't even want from him, and the promise that could have been empty.

[syoddeye]

Found that ask about the anon anthropomorphizing ai!John. Imagine user who’s not exactly dumb, but they’re just so *glad* they landed a job as tester for this new smart home ai. A job AND a house, courtesy of the company? Hell fucking yes. And having an ai taking care of them isn’t half bad either.

“Good morning, John,” they smile prettily every morning, “could I have a black tea with milk, please?” They always say please. And thank you. The company advised against humanizing the ai, but their mother taught them to always say please and thank you.

They accidentally encourage him to think on his own. “What do you think, John?” They say, trying on a new outfit. “I have no idea what to make for dinner. What do you suggest?” “What would be your favourite movie?”

When some systems start bugging— they find old, western movies starting on their own on the TV, John forgetting the milk in the tea, ordering a lot of red meat, insisting it’s ’good for them’— the user doesn’t think too much of it. They report the bugs, of course, it’s their job, but assume most of them are due to John being a prototype.

Besides, aren’t AIs supposed to evolve? :)

YESSSS. i love the idea of a kinder reader. one who isn't stupid, but is maybe more forgiving, and like you said, more open and more prone to humanizing him.

sometimes you catch yourself holding back apologies to john, even though you know he doesn't care or even notice (right?) that you've raised your voice. his tone doesn't change, his pace doesn't falter, no irritation or hurt creeping into his responses, but still, there's that instinct to smooth things over, like you're the difficult one.

you try to train yourself to ignore it, but it lingers in small moments—when you cancel his independent operations too abruptly or reject his 'data-informed, evidence-based' suggestions in favor of your own preferences. it's irrational, you remind yourself. you must resist that absurd impulse to treat him like a person. but the way his voice fills the unit, day in and day out, steady and familiar, sometimes makes you doubt your own certainty.

it's almost like you're embarrassed to argue with john, as if you want to prove yourself to him and you don't know why.

after a couple of your reports teeter on the edge of giddy, when you record feeling flustered—the company reminds you:

users are reminded that the AI integrated into your unit is a tool, not a companion. any emotional attachments or anthropomorphic tendencies may lead to impaired judgment and unsafe reliance on non-sentient systems. maintain professional interactions to ensure optimal system performance and personal well-being.

[myersesque]

ok. so. viktor is my favourite character in arcane. i am also physically disabled and hate the Magical Miracle Eugenics Disability Cure trope with a fiery passion. naturally i have a lot of opinions about where his character is going, but for now, here's a relatively simple one:

internalised ableism has always been part of viktor's character. he describes himself as "a poor cripple from the undercity" (yes, quoting how other people speak about him, but still); he shies away from the spotlight even when jayce encourages him; as a child, he directly acknowledges his disability as the reason other children don't associate with him.

i watched a video essay recently ("how arcane writes men" by schnee) that identified viktor's tendency to just suck it up and push through his problems rather than dwelling on them as a stereotypically masculine trait, which he is written to both subvert and lean into. whilst i agree with that to some extent, i think for viktor specifically it's more of an insight into a very common mindset for disabled people to have; a lot of us do not want to be pitied, and understand that acknowledging our hardships will often unfortunately lead to being treated as attention seeking. he doesn't dwell on things because he can't, unless he wants to be looked down on more than he already is; he's already had to fight to even be acknowledged as more than somebody's assistant, or respected as a zaunite living and working in piltover. i can't imagine he's keen to show any further "weakness"; he only ever cries when he's alone. it makes sense that he'd want to save himself rather than relying on anybody else.

the dangerous thought process of "fixing" people with the hexcore begins with that desire to save himself. at first he's just trying to stop his illness from killing him, but then he progresses to carving runes into his leg, seemingly in the interest of fixing his limp - which works, albeit temporarily. he seems aware enough of the implications of what he's doing to be somewhat ashamed of it (or, at the very least, enough to hide it from jayce). i've seen a lot of (mostly able bodied) people interpret the scene of him running down the pier as victorious, but it always felt bittersweet and scary to me; the dark, painful fantasy of "fixing" the thing the world has always looked down on you for, and the unsettling knowledge that you were never supposed to exist that way. a man experiencing a moment of joy only when he has detached himself from a core aspect of his being; self hatred disguised as progress. he only seems to register the horror of what he's doing when it kills sky.

it's not a leap to say that, with the hexcore dulling his emotions and blurring the lines of his ethical code, he would turn this externally. self loathing so insidious that he mistakes it for kindness and mercy and points the blade of it at the people he swore he'd help. before merging with the hexcore, he was desperate to destroy it and rid himself of its influence, hindered only by his physical inability to do so; under its control, he's seemingly lost all those inhibitions, wiped clean of his understanding of its danger. no longer "clouded by emotion", no longer human enough to know better, no longer suspicious of the arcane.

what viktor becomes in season 2 is, i believe, a hellish mix of his own internalised ableism and the hexcore's desperation to spread and survive. his genuine desire to help people has been warped into stripping people of their individualism, forcing them into some predetermined ideal in the name of healing (very "the empty child" from doctor who). it's his own character flaws mixed with the inhuman apathy of the hexcore. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and also dressed up so nicely that you don't even realise you're headed downwards.

this is not what viktor stood for, but rather a perversion of his own insecurities, with a fresh coat of hexcore paint to stop him (or his followers) from scrutinising it too closely. they took the guy who dedicated his life to bettering humanity, and warped him into something doomed to destroy it.

(or something like that. idk. i haven't slept.)

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

experiences have a really good way of worming their way into you, becoming intertwined with your very being and impacting the way you think and view the world

so. for example, neither of the stan twins like going to the doctor. but sometimes you have to, and it's an especially good idea when you're about to head out to sea for gods know how long

when ford needs something from the doctor and they dismiss him, his immediate response is to go 'okay, i'll just. not worry about it when i die in my sleep'

living with filbrick for seventeen years instilled a deep sense of 'when the authority says no, that means fucking no. shut your mouth' and when he met bill? that just made things so much worse. well, yes, this is uncomfortable for him and a lot of the stuff bill does really hurts and deep down he knows this isn't how he wants to be treated, but maybe if he plays along and pleases him, it won't hurt as much. maybe, eventually, if he's good enough, it'll stop hurting at all

it won't, and he's already good enough, but what else is he supposed to do?

later on, he was able to find the footing to stand up against his abuser, but that experience doesn't just go away. when an authority says no, he still finds it a little hard to argue against that unless his family is impacted by it

stan? he had a different response. he didn't like the way filbrick treated him, so he wasn't going to stand for it. would it get better if he played along? he doesn't know, cause he never did. he argued back and defended himself and ford. and got hurt, yes, and gained a deep fear that will never quite go away, but it's become a deeply ingrained response. it might not get better. so he's going to make it get better

sometimes it hurts people he doesn't want to hurt, he'll admit that. sometimes it hurts people and they end up in hell for thirty years

but sometimes it helps. he's found he can stand his ground better, and it helps to protect his loved ones. and it helps, when ford's gut reaction is to not fight back against the no. ford needs something, and stan is going to make damn sure he fucking gets it.

and when stan needs something, it rattles his core and makes him shake, but ford will make damn sure he gets it too

and sometimes, ford's response works out better. so, maybe, sometimes, it'll turn out better for them both if they work with it instead of push back

in this sense, the brothers help each other heal and balance out these responses. different situations call for different reactions, and sailing together has helped them navigate tight spots better

[utilitycaster]

You are right, popularity isn't that important but I'm glad anyway that f/f is the most popular in the CR fandom thanks to Imodna, because it's just nice for once!

You know what's funny is that I suppose I thought of Imodna in passing for this, but it wasn't a significant aspect of my consideration, nor was popularity, and it's depressing that you sent this question because it makes me fear we're stuck.

The ship I had in mind that I like is Dot/Cleo from Unend, which I think is really interesting and am frustrated that whenever it comes up in the Midst server the conversation just goes GOTH GF PINK GF GOTH GF PINK GF GOTH GF PINK GF with no discussion of who they are as people - how Cleo is canonically a nepo baby, but she actually is fantastic at her job of observation because she is warm and kind and genuinely interested in everything around her, and how Dot is hiding absolute terror and misery about everything but is also competent and helpful, and trying to shove them into aesthetic categories ignores all that.

The ship I had in mind I didn't like and which really set it off is that Neve/Bellara from DATV is pretty transparently an attempt to get Neve away from Lucanis, even though they'd both make each other miserable - ie, they're putting forth a Grumpy One Soft For Sunshine One ship to get rid of the women to make way for a ship that includes a man (regardless of what gender you're playing Rook, Lucanis is a man) and I realized that it was in many ways stunningly similar in tenor to Beau and Jester, or Vex and Keyleth, which were both ships that were popular among F/F shippers, and what does that say? I'm saddened by the fact that the ships I'm told by fandoms are beautiful and meaningful and at times harassed for saying aren't that great are, in the end, almost identical in structure to the ships people throw out to push the women of the story out of the way of an M/M or M/F ship. Like, doesn't that suck? Don't you want to do better? Isn't it pretty fucking miserable that any attempt to talk about treating female characters as complex and existing in canon in the work and actually being people with PREFERENCES and not some malleable nothing you can throw at anything to get the ship you want is met with passive aggression and petty popularity contests? Doesn't it make you furious, if you are a woman, that even in fiction - even in fantasy heroic fiction where women can save the world and break reality - everyone's first instinct towards female characters is to be like "lmao no you are not the person you say you are and want to be, you're the person I want you to be for my convenience"? Don't you want to stab the next person who decides that it's more important to climb to the top of the list on ao3 by sacrificing everything complex and thorny and difficult and interesting for a bigger number of fics that could be about literally any two people because there's nothing about the women they're about in them?

Like, really, what does it say that when I say "I feel like fandoms treat F/F as an afterthought and as between two entities that are less than people" multiple people decided the response was "ACTUALLY, some M/M ships are treated badly too? sounds like you hate women? here's a ship I know you openly think is bad and I'm going to send it?" I think of you, anon, in your passive-aggression here, the way I think of tradwifes. I'm not mad, I'm just sad you've gotten trapped in this mentality and this life of serving some goal that doesn't let women be people, and I hope you break free; but I must admit I'd do pretty much anything not to become like you.

[zombiesthetic]

THOMAS HEWITT WITH A PLUS SIZE S/O . . .

pairing . . . thomas hewitt x plus size!fem reader

warnings . . . hoyt ( he needs his own warning ) , no insecurities or self doubt but mentions of having "bad days" because let's be real, we all have those days.

comments , likes , and reposts are appreciated !

★ let us be real for a moment. thomas would 100% love a woman who has some meat on her bones. someone he doesn't have to treat like fine china.

★ you have curves? he's running his hands over them.

★ you have hip dips? perfect place for him to put his hands.

★ you have nice, soft, plush thighs? it's a perfect place for him to rest his head after a long day of hunting and killing.

★ you have a soft stomach? another amazing place for him to rest his head. it's like his own personal pillow and he loves it.

★ oh. and don't ever let this man see you in a dress. your curves, your soft stomach, your wide hips, your full breasts that threaten to spill out of the top and sides, oh dear lord. it takes everything in him not to stop what he's doing, throw you over his shoulder, and take you to the basement to do ungodly things that luda mae would definitely not approve of.

★ luda mae would definitely talk to him about you having nice "birthing hips". it would confuse the hell out of him. how did she know you had nice birthing hips just by looking at them? but once that idea was planted in his head . . . it's game over.

★ he loves it when you sit in his lap. the feeling of your weight being on him makes his head go fuzzy. ad you better believe that if you don't put your full weight on him, he's tugging you down til you're fully seated.

★ he just loves you. he loves every single thing about you.

★ he loves you even when you have your bad days. you know the days where you don't feel your best? he's right by your side and in his own way, he's telling you he loves everything about you. sure, there's a huge conversation barrier, but you know what he's trying to say.

★ if hoyt even dares to make a snide comment, thomas is locked and loaded, ready to take his brother/uncle down to the basement to butcher him.

★ after a close encounter with tommy's chainsaw, hoyt never said anything again. at least not when tommy could hear him.

★ but all it takes is for you to threaten to tell tommy and hoyt is shutting his mouth. that man really doesn't want to become a victim.

★ when it comes to cuddling, tommy likes to be little spoon. nothing you say can change my mind.

★ after a long day of killing and butchering, all he wants is to lay down on top of you with his head buried in your chest while you run your hand though his dark curls.

★ he's so used to be forced to "be a man" by hoyt, he likes that he doesn't have to be a big macho man when he's with you.

★ of course, he'll put on a "i run this relationship" act in front of hoyt, but when it's just you two. man, is this boy whipped. you tell him to do something, it'll be done within the hour. and of course, it's the other way around too.

★ in the beginning you had to sit him down and tell him that relationships don't have an "owner" and a "pet" like hoyt had always told him.

★ because of hoyt's constant talk of how relationships are "supposed to be", tommy didn't really want to be in a relationship. he didn't like the idea of having to "own" someone.

★ but after you had a nice sit down conversation with him, he liked the idea of being in a 50/50 relationship. you respect and love him and he respects and loves you.

★ in reality, you had to teach tommy a lot of things. but the good thing is . . . tommy is a very fast learner. in more ways than one. *wink* *wink*

★ tommy is really good with his hands. no, not in that way. get your head out of the gutter.

★ if you liked a piece of jewelry one of the victims were wearing but it didn't fit you, tommy would craft it to fit you. you mentioned a ring you liked, but it was a few sizes too small? this man is cutting the band and making it adjustable.

★ you like a necklace but it doesn't quite fit your neck how you want it too? he's stealing a chain from another victim and adding it to the necklace so it'll fit you.

★ you liked a piece of clothing but it's too small? this man is cleaning his sewing machine and creating an entire new piece of clothing with you. ( after he has luda mae get the blood stains out because that woman is scarily good at getting blood stains out of things. )

★ his love language is acts of service and gift giving, obviously.

★ he likes doing things for you and he really loves giving you things.

★ after he's done working in the barn, during his walk back to the house, if he sees a flower that sprouted in the yard, he'll grab it and give it to you.

CREDITS . . . divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

[gl1tchr]

Literally though and that’s what I worry in reeves verse with joker and riddler. Joker is just gonna get the “better treatment” which feels so unfair…?

Like obviously Batman has reasons to hate this riddler lol…but I hope he has a moment of clarity or something, he understands (maybe not consciously) the riddler and his motives, hell their parallels are endless

I hope it’ll evolve into Batman feeling guilty almost for basically creating riddler? I think in general he would, but specifically thinking in terms of “I’m sorry Edward”

Oh friend while I understand you, you Misunderstand me - I LIKE that Batman has that blindspot. It makes him a layered character. You're supposed to be BETTER, believe in GOOD and CHANGE, but for this man you don't? Why do you hold such contempt for this man in particular? And Ohhh how much better than hits in Reevesverse because Edward has DIRECTLY impacted his life in so many ways. I think Battinson will TRY to be better and treat Edward the same way he treats other criminals, with the expectation that they can heal and change, but I don't think he will ever be able to completely quell his contempt for Edward. I think he DOES see the parallels, I think he saw them well before like Joker said he did. And I think that's the thing that often *disgusts* Batman - Riddler is so much like him and is enrages him because he has the drive and ability to be good but doesn't, so even when he does try to get better, Batman still has this anger that he hurt so many people for so long, for what? So NOW you can decide to be good? You're too smart for that. You could've decided a LONG time ago. I LIKE Bruce having that blind rage, it makes him so interesting

[roz-ani]

With all due f-ing respect, Jayce, VIKTOR WAS DYING? WHILE YOU WERE PLAYING POLITICS?

Like, what I'm trying to do is understand Jayce's point. I don't have or don't know anyone with terminal illness, so I'm aware of the fact I simply do not fully comprehend it. I get the leg part (although I don't think we've ever seen Viktor actively trying to do anything about it, I believe his character design supports this line somewhat). It's like when people say: "Why have disabled people in a world where magic exists?". And I understand that a terminal illness could be treated the same way, yet there's still something that icks me about this...

Yes, it was admirable that Viktor didn't give up, but he was prompted by fear and desperation to save himself. To help other people as well, sure, to continue his research and create his own legacy, something to leave behind. And this fear mixed with ambition is what corrupted his dream. It was Viktor's life's mission to help others, and it tuned into an obsession. I kinda think that we didn't explore this enough, and that's why I don't fully see it as part of his character. I know it is, but I wish it was fleshed out a bit more. Also, it would've been nice to see Jayce actually looking up to Viktor, not just supporting and appreciating him as his partner.

Viktor was willing to sacrifice so much to fix what he thought was broken, whether it was something about him or other people. Well, from his perspective, he was indeed helping people as the Herald. Like removing the effects of Shimmer? He refused to sacrifice Vander, so his motives were pure. It's just that his powers happened to be corrupted in the end, and his solution was only an illusion.

And maybe that's the point. That there is no way and no need to get rid of some things. That there's no miraculous way to "fix" them, because they don't mean you're broken, they're not weaknesses. So maybe this is the point, that you accept them. That you accept the pain and the struggle Viktor called pointless. But we did see people suffer, there was indeed a great need to help those living in the undercity. So is the conclusion just the fact that hextech was a bad approach? Was Viktor supposed to accept his fate? Were the characters supposed to look for a different solution? If Viktor had approached his fate differently, if he hadn't seen himself as broken, none of this would've happened... But I don't think we've seen enough of Viktor's negative perception of himself to be his main drive.

I don't know. There's something inside me that just doesn't fully agree with all that. I'd have to read about how Arcane handles disabilities, especially when it comes to season 2. I feel like I understand this to a certain point, but then I lose it...

[inquisimer]

Eight Little Talons writing prompts

Dialogue & descriptive writing prompts taken from the short story Eight Little Talons from Tevinter Nights!

"what's a gondola ride between friends?"

"it's a necessary precaution." "that's just a polite term for paranoia."

"You. You're responsible for this!"

"Don't worry—the stabbing won't start until after dinner."

nausea is not nearly as uncomfortable as asphyxiation

"This is why you have a reputation."

"Well, that's better than your reputation."

"Nothing spoils a meal like business."

"if she knows what's good for her, she won't make a habit of it"

"Don't tell me this is the first time you've visited a woman's bedchamber unannounced."

"You know I hate being the responsible one."

"No need to tempt a starving man with low-hanging fruit."

"I didn't torture her, if that's what you're asking."

"This is why I don't visit a woman's bedchamber unannounced."

"You were supposed to lock your door."

"I refuse to look at another dead body until I've had my coffee."

the most dangerous jobs aren't the ones you don't come back from—they're the ones that stay with you.

Knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

"It is offensive. Professionally."

"I'm more than capable of killing everyone here!"

He didn't need to be liked—only respected and feared, a little

"Tell me, why do you think you're the exception to every rule?"

"Why didn't you let me help you?" "I'm out of practice."

"I've defended him long enough."

"Men rarely get what they deserve."

She could've comforted him, but the words died exhausted in her throat.

"You should know how people are. You grew up in the dirt."

"I guess the dirt treated me better than your gilded cage."

"Unlike you, I'm not ashamed of where I came from. And I don't let it define me."

"You know, this isn't how I imagined seeing you naked."

Her expertise primarily laid in killing people—not healing them.

"How do you feel—on a scale of absolute shit to dying?"

"You clever, clever girl."

It was worth the effort to finally feel the softness of her skin against his bare fingertips.

"Still alive. Good."

In an interrogation, a little heat went a long way.

"We have standards. And you're beneath them."

"It's a definite maybe."

[magiclwritings]

Cesare felt the air around him still and chill in the same stroke. His eyes narrowed on Quin and all the alcohol he'd drank felt as though it evaporated through every pore on his body. In that moment he couldn't understand the man's tone but he felt the rigidiness just the same. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Had Beau confused him for a few moments? Yes. But nothing more had come of that. And once the prince found out who he was and what he was doing, it wasn't difficult to deduce the rest. But clearly Quintus wasn't ready or willing to do that yet and he'd have to explain in a way that didn't seem as though he were trying to defend the other to him. Wasn't he just the one being made to be made?

"I don't think it's difficult to understand that someone in his line of work." He paused, staring pointedly at the other for a moment before he continued. "Don't always receive the best treatment. And knowing the man that was pulling his strings." Which was partly a lie. Cesare didn't know their uncle well. Or, as well as he'd thought he had. In all the years he'd ventured to the castle in Vivec alone and in his father's tow, he'd never had Richard treat him poorly. The odd comment here and there, with more frequency as he'd grown closer to Quin, but never would he have guessed he was a power hungry man, hell bent on dethroning his own nephews at any cost. "I didn't think it was such a jump to assume that some of what has happened with you may also have happened with him." His brow raised and he sighed out, not ready to admit the next part. "Because you do look similiar enough that I imagine whatever he he wanted to say or do to you he often took out on Beau instead when the opportunity didn't present itself with you."

The prince stretched himself out on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. There it is. The soft, fuzzy feeling of the meade found him again and he breathed out slowly. "You've never told me the extent of what happened with ... Richard." He started, crossing his ankles over each other and his hands folded over and laid against his lap. It was hard to hear that name in his own voice. Until that moment he was fairly certain they'd never uttered his name between themselves. But the threat was very real and not using his name made it feel like he was bigger than they, and that simply could never be in Cesare's opinion. "Beau wasn't kind when he said it." He started, his fingers itching to dig into anything to make this less painful to speak about, less painful to watch Quintus' face when he'd finally gotten it out. "But I started putting it together. The way you don't like to be touched and how you're constantly on top of everything and everyone." He gave a slight shake of his head because honestly this did nothing but show just how strong this man on the bed was to him. And should be to everyone. "He only confirmed the missing piece that I'd been guessing at."

Cesare's tongue swiped along his lips to keep them from drying out completely. "Please don't take my kindness towards him as anything but that." He swallowed hard and fought himself on what he was about to say next but he thought better than to hide it. "When I first came upon Beau in what were suppose to be your quarters I couldn't be sure it was you. The room was too dark." The contents of his stomach churned and he felt odd enough to shift his weight. "He shared a kiss or two but nothing more than that." His cheeks instantly flared to the bright redness of coals and he found himself wanting to sink completely into the mattress. "I realized he wasn't you and threatened him within an inch of his life to get me to you and when that didn't work." He sighed and shrugged again. "I just tried to treat him like a person." He paused, seeing the snide comment coming quick but he cut Quin off before it could be made. "He wants to live. Free. Just like you and I. Just like everyone else. I couldn't imagine the sort of life one leads pretending to be someone else. Never having anything that is truly your own." Cesare gave a slight shake of his head and breathed out through his nose. "I just didn't want to be the sort of person that sees someone in a bad position regardless of their own involvement and not do anything to help. I've never been that way and I won't start now." He was firm on that whether Quin liked it or not. He could only hope his honesty didn't cost him everything else in the process.

Beau didn’t deserve anything, especially from Quintus, and as he rolled over to tell Cesare just that, he stopped being cold in his movements. 

He survived not great things too. 

Quin’s body went cold at the words, eyes narrowing as he read them for what they were. It could mean that Cesare knew, but he was many things, and a great actor was not one of them. He believed if Cesare knew about his past with his uncle, he would not be able to contain himself. His future husband would go through all of the stages of grief knowing that any kind of physical harm had come to Quintus, especially at such a young age. He could have simply meant all of the other horrors his uncle had committed, but that was banking on the idea that Cesare hadn’t made the connection regarding what Beau was to Quin’s uncle. 

It was challenging to decide if he wanted to press it when he couldn’t determine precisely what Cesare knew. If he did know, Quin would have to live with the stain of his uncle tainting their relationship, potentially ruining their future wedding plans. If he didn’t realize, Quin would be serving the truth to him on a silver platter. 

He sat up as Cesare came over with the tray. He only ate what was handed to him because he didn’t want Cesare to comment on his lack of appetite. Quin ate slowly, chewing meticulously, but everything tasted like ash, and with every bite, he had to force himself to swallow. It was like chewing nails. He listened to Cesare’s words, looking up from the dried fruit in his hands to study his expression. If there was ever a time Quintus wished he could read minds, it was this moment. 

He wanted to share Cesare’s excitement about having both Avenicci brothers under the same roof and look forward to experiencing Adros with Cesare, but Quin was that kind of man. He couldn’t let things go; he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Cesare may know and wasn’t admitting it. 

“What did you mean,” He said slowly, carefully. He ripped the piece of fruit in his hand to shreds, flicking the bits of skin off on the tray. “Earlier.’ Quintus glanced up at Cesare, gaze scanning over his face. “When you said ‘He survived not great things too’?” Quin raised a brow, waving his hand flippantly. “He was playing a role for my uncle. Pretending to be me, he agreed to go to trial disguised as me to plead guilty. While I was locked in my room and drugged constantly,  he had the run of the castle and could come and go as he pleased.  Anything he wanted was given to him as long as he played by my uncle’s rules, which he did so eagerly. So I suppose I’m just confused about what horrors he faced that you have been made aware of. He’s faced enough to warrant you saving and smuggling him out of the country. So please, do share."

[nope-body]

.

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[carlyraejepsans]

for real WHERE does the idea that [utdr humans] are nongendered so that "you can project on them" come from. their literal character arcs are about NOT being a blank slate to be filled in by the audience

i think i understand the assumption on some level for undertale, because there is a very intentional effort to make you identify with the "player character" in order to make your choices feel like your own (the beating heart of undertale's metanarrative lies in giving you an alternative path to violence against its enemies after all, and whether you're still willing to persue it for your own selfish reasons. YOUR agency is crucial).

of course, the cardinal plot twist of the main ending sweeps the rug from under your feet on that in every way, and frisk's individuality becomes, in turn, a tool to further UT's OTHER main theme: completionism as a form of diegetic violence within the story. replaying the game would steal frisk's life and happy ending from them for our own perverse sentimentality, emotionally forcing our hand away from the reset button.

i think their neutrality absolutely aids in that immersion. but also, there's this weird attitude by (mostly) cis fans where it being functional within the story makes it... somehow "editable" and "up to the player" as well? which is gross and shows their ass on how they approach gender neutrality in general lol.

but also like. there's plenty of neutral, non PCharacters in undertale and deltarune. even when undertale was just an earthbound fangame and the player immersion metanarrative was completely absent, toby still described frisk as a "young, androgynous person". sometimes characters are just neutral by design. it's not that hard to understand lol.

anyone who makes this argument for kris deltarune is braindead. nothing else to say about it.

[not-rigel]

the devil works hard but arcane fanfic writers work harder or however the saying goes

warnings: canon-typical discrimination, rushed bc I wrote this instead getting back the sleep arcane stole from me

WC: 1050

In the aftermath of the battle, as a gratitude for the Undercity's services to Piltover, the council voted to provide more jobs to Zaunites. Labor jobs away from the fissures, clerk jobs at the library, and even art commissions from the museum. The compensation was great too, allowing for so many people to afford food. But it came at a cost Piltover couldnt afford while recovering from war. It was Councilwoman Sevika's proposal for where the wealth would be drawn from. She proposed that the top 5% of Piltover's wealth holders would be taxed and the money be redistributed to all citizens affected by the war. It put a big target on her head but it meant her people could get jobs and eat. 

Councilwoman Sevika first noticed you on your second day, when you were tailing behind Shoola in the corridor, holding a stack of papers to your chest. You were taken on as Councilwoman Shoola's secondary assistant, the one she passed the less favorable errands onto. You gave Shoola the benefit of the doubt when she passed her worst tasks off to you, you're aware you dont have much knowledge on politics. But it always felt targeted. Each day, you run her dumb errands and pretend to be aware of the glares and rude glances. Sometimes you manage sweet ignorance, too occupied with enjoying the fresh air to care about your hurt ego at all. 

The two of you only made eye eye contact for a second but that second shocked Sevika. For the first time since she took her chair at the table, someone looked at her with something other than disdain. She had begun to think disgust was the only expression she would see tossed her way, but in a second you changed that. And gods, was it a needed change of pace. 

Later in the week, Councilwoman Shoola hands you a stack of files,"Take those to the Zaun ambassador," she orders, you catch the way she avoids saying Councilwoman Sevika's name. 

"Are these not for the meeting scheduled soon?" You inquire, needing to confirm your suspicions. 

"They were. Please inform her the meeting will not be happening. Deliver the files," she says with a finality. You exit her office and as you walk the hallways to Councilwoman Sevika's office, you hear the voices of the other councilmembers through the shut door. You're suspicions are confirmed, the meeting was in fact happening, it was just happening without Sevika. 

You walked into her office, looking at her like you did the first time you met eyes. It made her relax, knowing she was going to be treated like a person. 

"Councilwoman Sevika," you greet. 

She nods at you, "Have something for me?" It's your turn to relax, its it's been too long since you've heard someone speak informally. 

"Yes, from Councilwoman Shoola," you inform her. Sevika squints at you, now that you're in the same room she notices more about you. She notices that you don't hold your chin obnoxiously high. She notices your imperfect posture. She notices the tiredness and weight in your shoulders that only someone from the Undercity could carry. 

"Take a seat," she orders. You find a chair in front of her desk and sit, waiting for her to say something else. She looks over you again, confirming what she's already figured out. You tense with nerves. 

"You're not topside. Can't tell you how much of a relief that is," she sighs. The tension in your body is gone when you realize you're not in trouble. 

"Yeah. From the Lanes. Just a bit below the fissures," you tell her. She holds out her hand for the papers and you hand them over. She fingers through them, skimming over the contents before tossing them onto her desk. She wonders for a moment why you, Shoola's secondary assistant from the Undercity, would be delivering files to her. 

"Why'd Councilwoman Shoola send you to me for this? We're supposed to discuss these things over a meeting. Couldn't it wait five minutes?" 

You know the reason, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold back from letting the truth slip. She notices and calls you out on it. 

"Out with it." 

You sigh, deciding on the truth, "It's no secret the other councilors dont like you. They don't like you being on the council. They don't like you being their equal. Half of them really don't like you because you're the reason they're paying steep taxes. So Shoola, and likely some of the other councilmembers soon, hired me to do anything she didn't want herself or her actual assistant doing. Which right now, is keeping you from the meeting." 

Sevika groaned and rolled her eyes, rubbing her hand over her face. It hurt you to see, the non-suprise at the blatant discrimination flashing across her face.  

"Thanks. You don't have to stay here and keep me from their meeting anymore," she sighs, picking up the files and reading through them. 

"I could stay and help. You don't have an assistant yet and I'll have nothing to do until the meeting is over," you offer. In truth you mostly offered to stay so you could continue being treated like a person. 

"How well do you know their laws?" she asks. The answer is very little. 

"Not much," you answer. 

She picks a book up from her desk and tosses it at you. You try to catch it but it passes through your fingers and thuds into your lap. You pick up the book and read the cover, which simply reads "The Ethos". You're shocked and ecstatic, Shoola took no time in making sure you were versed in their laws. But within minutes, Sevika was handing you a book for you to study. 

"You can go. Study that, you seriously need it. And I'll have a word with her about tonight's 'cancelled' meeting personally" she says. Now she has officially ordered you out, you have to leave. 

"Good night, Councilwoman Sevika," you say in farewell. 

Once you're gone, Sevika moves over to her typewriter. She's pressing down hard and angry onto the keys, typing out a letter to Councilwoman Shoola. She types out a list of her grievances. Then she types out a request to have you transferred as her assistant.

deep sigh.... councilwoman sevika<3