#Apologies this is a rant

[viridianevergarden]

“He brought you a present.”

“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“But he is a good male.”

“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“He cares for you.”

“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

No. No it doesn’t.

He could be a Saint and it still wouldn’t.

I’m tired of people glorifying this guy and ignoring what he’s done too.

I’m tired of people saying “she needs to give him a chance!”

She does not.

She doesn’t want him. It’s obvious.

The irony of people dick riding the whole entitlement schpeel regarding Az but when it’s L and E all the sudden he is entitled to her affections because he’s a “nice guy.”

I’m sorry I’m a little heated lol. This isn’t meant to be taken too seriously.

But at the same time it is.

[lionofchaeronea]

Please forgive me for ranting, but...I am so tired of AI. Just so tired. I don't want Microsoft Copilot, or Google Gemini, or Meta AI, or whatever other energy-sucking, water-wasting, mediocrity-spewing LLM is currently being thrust upon me. I just want to be left alone to create in peace.

[frownyalfred]

The ao3 comment section and/or the notes of a Tumblr post are NOT a private dialogue between you and the author/poster. If you say something shitty there, other people can — and will — read it. It’s silly to pretend otherwise. Leaving unkind comments is doubly cruel because you are 1) saying something potentially hurtful and 2) allowing other people to see it.

Think twice before posting that kind of comment. Is it kind? Is it helpful? Would it embarrass the OP if someone else saw it?

[margindoodles2407]

Alright, everyone, say it with me: The Catholic Church Has No Power Or Authority To Change Her Doctrines Or The Moral Law

[running-with-kn1ves]

⋆˙⟡Webbed Infatuation⟡˙⋆

A/N: My submission for monstermag summer '25! I encourage yall to submit soon!

Summary: On a summer abroad trip in Italy, you find yourself getting flustered by your happy-go-lucky program guide. Little do you know, he's hiding more than just his feelings for you.

Warnings: Mercreature transformation, scratching, needy merboy

Your eyes melted at the sight of the computer screen before you. Again, you had stayed up far too late scrolling in the dark. Pinterest, TripAdvisor, pricey travel agents-- your retinas aching while looking at pictures of avant-garde French cities and Greek coastal villages.

It was all so enchanting, so foreign from the urban, dead-end life you were beginning to loathe. You had fantasized so often of an escape that it was beginning to grow into an obsessive form in every area of your life. That night you dreamt of opaline cathedrals and tasting hand-crafted delicacies, a faux afternoon of pure self-indulgent bliss. 

It was only a matter of time until you caved, taking the leap and signing up for a summer exchange program with a private university in Italy. Maybe it was a cliché destination to choose as a university student with no future financial plan and far too little self preservation; but nothing was as enticing as the crystal blue skies of Milan and a suave Italian accent that whipped you into butter. 

When you finally landed in the sweltering, overcrowded airport, you were quick to latch on to other students and your program’s native guides. Amongst bumbling foreigners like yourself were the sunny, pearly-toothed Italians who had the boldness and vocal cords necessary to lead you through seas of tourists. Before you could find someone to clutch at for safety in the winding streets, someone had already latched onto you. 

He was a peculiarly handsy guide who called himself Amadeo, kissing you on both cheeks and pulling you with an arm around your shoulder. He was rumored to be studying a masters in architecture at your host university, not that it mattered. He rarely answered any questions about the school or its courses, instead opting to finger feed you sweets and steal your wrist to lay an entwined bracelet upon it. 

If he wasn't leading you to new horizons he was trailing close behind, berating locals who had no problem ripping you off, swindling shop owners who seemed to melt after he said something along the lines of “l'amore della mi vita,”  with a quick kiss pressed to your cheek. If you didn't know any better, you might've thought he was flirting with you. But the not-so-subtle sensuality of Italians that you'd seen in dozens of young, loitering couples made you doubt any genuine romantic affection. For heaven's sake he kissed everyone on the cheek, often bumping shoulders with other students; it was in his nature to be a flirt. Why would his hand snaking to interlock with yours mean anything?

It all seemed so cut and dry, even if you laid at night pressing your fingertips to where his soft lips once kissed, fumbling with the keychain of an Italian flag he bought you. So, you ignored the beating of your heart, letting him string you along another field trip for the weekend, even with your gut telling you to turn around and crawl back home. 

 A small town of limestone resting on the breast of the ocean was your main source of exploration this time, Amadeo’s soft, tanned hands pulling at yours from rocky beaches to wineries. He was noticeably more eager in the past evening than normal for him, capricious in his decisions and erratic tugs at you. There was a nervous look as he watched the sea, almost as a child would appear when gazing from afar at the deep end of a pool. 

Amadeo arranged for your group to stay in a local inn, the inside just as dingy as you'd witnessed from the outside. But your guide promised it'd be worth it, that it had the best view of a shiny canal opening to the Adriatic, propped against the west of the inn’s cracking bricks. Like a fool, you yielded to trust him, smitten by his smile and silly auburn glasses that made his ocean eyes sparkle. 

While your fellow exchange students shared rooms with balconies adorned by woven flower baskets, you stayed on the tiny bottom floor with Amadeo, your low beds right next to a floor-to-ceiling open gap that was once a window, measly pale curtains protecting you from a ledge leading to the bottomless water. Even with bright shops sparkling from across the canal, the unlit areas of dark green sea were deep with lurking creatures, occasional blips flicking up to create torn ripples.

Amadeo had gone quiet once the lights were shut out, not a word released from him as the innkeepers and students went off to their rooms. The small town quieted besides for gentle laps of water against stone. A part of you wished you could ask him what was wrong, why he spent the entirety of dinner locked in your shared room watching the canal with a foreboding gaze, distancing himself.

 Even with your body exhausted and the thick clog of salt and sea up your nostrils, your heart fluttered at being in a place you once only saw in your dreams. The day’s long hours of walking in the summer sun with only acquacotta and gelato filling your stomach left you craving for sleep. Slowly, concern for Amadeo drifted into pleasant dreams of him, his blurring body curled away from you in a quivering hunch. 

Your sleep only lasted what seemed a few minutes, an abrupt sound causing you to stir. The open space between you and the canal was almost frightening, a silver moon bouncing off of old family photos laying the walls, dim picture frames and polaroids of the Amalfi coast. The only thing that familiarized you was Amadeo, watching over you. 

“...deo?” You muttered, your voice cracked and dry. The arid night left your throat parched. 

“Shh, cuore mio. Sleep.” He hushed, seemingly out of breath as beads of sweat trickled down his neck.  

Your legs were scrunched up, held still by him as he sat at the edge of your small twin-sized mattress, squeaky from a rusty bed frame. 

“What time’s it?” You mumbled, delirious and looking for your phone in a mess of faded bedsheets. 

Amadeo grabbed your forearm, gently brushing his fingers down it at a jagged pace. He held your limp wrist with a tender squeeze, trying to affirm and control it. 

“Just rest, my love. Ignore it.” 

His whine held a touch of needy desperation as you squirmed. With a free hand Amadeo rubbed at your knee, massaging it with a roughness that made it seem like he was ready to pry apart your leg. He was quick to make a trail from your outer thigh to beneath your pajama shorts, where the cotton’s end met your flesh. His hands were warm, almost sweaty in their attempts to caress your skin.

“What’s the matter, huh?” You try to fight sleep, knowing something must be wrong if he dared to come and harass you in the middle of the night. If it weren’t for the exhaustion of your endeavors only a few hours ago, you might’ve even been flustered at the way he touched you. “Can’t sleep?”

“Could say that,” He teases, huffing as he presses kisses to your knee. “Not without you, bellissima. Not here anymore.”

An array of small, devotion-like kisses fall from his pouty lips, decorating from the tops of your knees down to the middle of your thighs. 

Slowly the wetness of his tongue, like that of a slick eel, began to wake you up. A perspiring grope at your thigh made you flinch, your foot pressed at his abdomen as a warning. 

“Wasting your time, darling,” He smiles, still hunched against your right leg laying in his grasp. Your sleepy lips turned into a taught, worried frown, scanning over the bright moonlight that once shone sweetly on his opal-white, slightly crooked teeth, instead now illuminating needle-like razors. They almost seemed painful in his gums, thick as bone in his stretched mouth.

The horror reached your eyes before it could escape your parting lips, a webbed, sickly green-grey hand slipping over your mouth. 

“Shh, hush now,” He whispered, sibilant and harsh. “tu sei speciale, it's okay, you’re with me.”

A dark tongue left his mouth, a hint of purple running over his teeth that appeared sharp enough to pull the skin from your muscle. What had happened to him? Was this all part of some wicked dream induced by your fatigue?

“Ama..eo….p..ease,” Your voice was muffled beneath his wettening hand, his skin covered in a thin layer of moistness that seemed to transform him into something inhuman. Slits of skin carved in the sides of his throat, widening with each pant that left his mouth.

Amadeo’s body had slowly become gaunt and long, collarbones jutting out as his thin cotton shirt pooled around him. The soft green of his eyes transformed into a murky color that lightened as he let out a hiss of a laugh. Slowly, his damp lips came down to kiss your navel, putting the entirety of his newfound weight on the lower half of your body. 

“Divine… So divine all for me,” the hand covering your mouth scratched at your cheek in time with your jaw’s frightful flinch. Brittle nails drew a stinging pain as his hand flung away, the sight of blood shocking even Amadeo. 

His ease has disappeared as he brought the back of his webbed fingers to graze the four scratches, almost tearing up at the sight. If you had thought he was unpredictable before, his temperament had gotten a world of a lot worse.

“È colpa mia, no no,” He wiped the blood away, licking it from his knuckles before coming to clean the rest of your scratch. “I’m sorry, I promise, it will be fine.” 

He seemed to forget his knowledge of English, babbling in broken Italian and heaving as he grasped at your clothes, kissing up your stomach in repentance. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, fear laden in your voice as the burn from your cut started to rise, slower than the blood had. “Amadeo please! Are-- are you sick?” 

You were no longer hazy with sleep now; something was very, very wrong here. Even the slapping waves of the once still canal thought so, pounding against the stone inn.

“This is what I am,” He grunted, digging beneath your shirt like a child throwing a tantrum, tightening it over his head. “It’s what I always do! But I can’t leave without you, even if you are hurt.” He mumbles, now raspy beneath your shirt as the slick of his skin and tears soak into your stomach. 

Was it right to push him away, as your mind had told you to do, or should you pull him close in a sympathetic embrace? He seemed untouchable in the sun, grabbing your chin and nuzzling your cheek each time you met for a new adventure, leading you by the hand to teach the rich history of seafaring towns and rustic cities. But this…. You didn’t know this distraught, monstrous man; maybe you never really knew him at all. 

“What….are you?” You look at his slippery feet, something akin to a vast fish’s tail grazing at his tailbone. His sharp hands dug into the flesh of your stomach, holding it against his cold face. “You’re not…”

“You hear of Colapesce legend? Il monstro delle acque nere, the sea snake?” Your guide unleashes his claws into your hips, like a cat preventing its prey from squirming. “Sirena Leucasia may be more famous for your Hollywood movies.”

“I have no idea what those words mean. Please, just let me take you to a hospital--”

“No!” He huffs, slinking off of you in a slippery fashion. Amadeo tries to pull you toward the edge of the bed by the wrist. “No doctors. Just… maybe I will show you.”

His accent grew thicker, the words almost garbled in his mouth as he hunched forward, beckoning you to come off the bed with him. Round glasses once pushed against his nose sat broken on the floor beside your slippers, the lenses cracked and wet. 

“Come, I promise you will be safe,” His weary smile was frightening, the poorly disguised deception hidden by a cold kiss to your knuckles. “Come, come.”

You stumble out of the creaking bed, following him more out of pity as he skitters towards the open ledge meant for sea gazing. The curtains were billowing roughly towards you, salty wind airing the room in a nauseating flutter. With small steps you observe his tail dragging against the ground. It appeared to grow heavier with each movement, walking becoming impossible for him as he practically crawled. 

“Follow, you see, vita mia.” He murmured, ushering you forward with a webbed hand. His fingers shook, growing bluer with each fingertip. 

“After this, we’ll go to the hospital, okay Amadeo?” You looked at him, weary of the gleam in his eyes. “Right?”

“Yes, yes,” He sputtered too quickly, pulling you onto the stone ledge of the canal. The once safe, emerald water had turned an impossible black. Only a few street lights and a passing boat made Amadeo’s sickly face visible. 

His smile was so wide, delusional in its giddiness as he held both of your hands in his. He stepped closer to the water, only a foot away as he didn’t dare to look back. 

You had followed to pityingly entertain him; perhaps a breath of fresh air would do some good for whatever illness he had concurred. But somewhere along the sight of his animalistic grin, the nail marks digging into your skin, it dawned that your naivety had gotten the best of you.

“Ama…” His hands found your elbows, digging viscous fingers into them to drag you into his chest. He had no need to take another step, your weight and the slip of your feet providing all the power necessary to fall splashless into the canal. 

A short shriek fell from your lips before you were submerged into warm, cloudy water. The tips of something slimy touched the bottom of your foot, causing you to thrash about in Amadeo's arms. 

You desperately opened your eyes, ignoring the sting behind your eyelids as bleak water blinded your vision. Amadeos’ body shone like a twinkling, scaly blue hue. What looked dulled and grey on land was reflecting the minimal light shining in the canal, his skin covered in thick, silvery sapphire scales, occasionally broken by the tan human skin he once wore. That evening his sweat was a sweet scent of summery orange blossom that you once shyly inhaled. Now, water overflowed in your nose and lungs, brined dirt coating the back of your throat as Amadeo clutched you in his arms. The stench of fish and seaweed became suffocating.

‘Cuoricino’ he mouthed, wiping at the scratches left on your cheek in an unfitting tenderness. His distress had become a gentle, benevolent smile, still haunted by the features of a wild creature. The intense gag of salted water down your throat had turned your broken screams soundless, shivering at the sensation of a slippery tail making its way around your legs. 

[viridianevergarden]

Couple that with their selective inability to comprehend what they are reading and understand what is actually said with given context. It’s insane. The delusions are abhorrent.

I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve seen people say that they want Elain dead or she’d be better off dead if she doesn’t end up with Lucien. Also the fact that if she still does or doesn’t end up with Lucien, she should become evil and all powerful? What? So that her own sisters can beat her or kill her off? Yes I have seen people say that.

I have never in my life seen misogyny of this level over a fictional woman either. It’s honestly asinine and scary to see that people genuinely think this way. Imagine how they think that viciously over fictional women, how they must think about real women.

And the worst part is Elain just exists. She really hasn’t done anything bad or terrible at all. She’s just more traditionally feminine and speaks up about her agency in the only she way she can at the moment. All she ever does is help in any way she can. Thats it.

Honestly, the behavior makes me hate on Lucien because they all glorify him like some god to justify their hate.

Fuck the “nice guy”

The misogyny in this fandom is insane. I’ve never in my life seen such hatred and negativity thrown at a fictional woman in all my life until I saw the comments from eluciens / gwynriels on various platforms saying the most disgusting things about Elain Archeron.

It genuinely makes me scared for how they view real life soft and feminine women. I’m appalled.

Elain Archeron and Elriel deserve better.

[linkcharacter]

Oh I have so many thoughts on aroace Curly, I think it brings so much on the table when analyzing the game's story.

Amanormativity ties in with the reoccurring mentions of the nuclear family, from Wrong Organ making 1950s mock advert posters, to Swansea talking about how getting a wife and kids didn't bring him any fulfillment in life.

In the cake cutting nightmare sequence, where Jimmy talks with Dream Curly about the mediocre cake, Dream Curly begins to talk about how sometimes you can only get the subpar stuff in live. Sometimes he'll get promoted, buy a house, fall in love. But other times he'll just have some awful fucking cake with his friend.

I think there is that subtle implication that Jimmy does buy into Amanormativity, with him projecting his beliefs on Dream Curly that a platonic relationship is lesser then a romantic one. But we never see Curly suggesting that he wants such a thing in the pre-crash.

With Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire (although I think Jimmy would view it as Curly not having the skills for it) to get a romantic partner, he would heavily lean into getting the one thing that Curly couldn't get in life to one up him.

THATS EXACTLY WHAT IM THINKING!!! AMATONORMATIVITY BE DAMNED!!!!

Looking at Mouthwashing through an aroace lens is interesting

"Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire", well said, well said! And references to the nuclear family fit in very cleanly thematically for Mouthwashing.

Jimmy leaning into amatonormativity is a smart observation. Jim internalizes all the social norms and standards on what you have to do to have a normal and desirable life, who sees everything Curly has and what Jimmy wishes he had, and is offended that Curly isn't satisfied, that he has the "audacity" to be unhappy. Curly meanwhile only wishes for his life to be something he doesn't have to run from, because by all means, he has already reached a point where he should feel accomplished, but isn't. Curly doesn't want to be a freighter captain his whole life, he doesn't want to settle with his sustainable position, he just wants to be happy. Like Swansea who has reached the "ideal" outcome of his life, having a wife, kids and a good career, it will never feel as good as embracing all what society deems undesirable yet right for you.

Jimmy does imply to seeing himself as lesser as a friend, "fall in love" being a goal and a "cake with a friend" being something he "has to settle for", it's all in the subtleties with underlying themes of "what you're "supposed to want" by society's expectations" against "what feels right for you". Jimmy is frustrated that Curly is going to "leave the dirt behind him", when in actuality, letting the crew and him go is the last thing Curly wants. Curly wants to be with his friends, he deeply cares about his crew, and about his close friend.

Mouthwashing as a whole reads to me as platonic through and through. Swansea and Daisuke having such a meaningful familial bond, Curly and Anya being sweet, playful and caring without romance, Anya and Daisuke having something of a siblings dynamic are dear to me. Also it's really rare to get to see representations of "toxic friendship" in media. Its always toxic romance this, toxic yaoi that, toxic family there, however in reality, friendships aren't excluded from being as rotten and abusive as the others, yet they're often overlooked. Jim and Curly are especially unique in this way. It's very impressive how they managed to showcase Jimmy's mistreatment of Curly in such a platonic way (at least that how I read it). Jim too, like Curly, in general avoids hints at romance and attraction explicitly related to him during his gameplay, not with Curly, nor with Anya (dear god thanks for that at least). It's all spite, annoyance and parasitizing off of these two. (That man's dry and lowkey hates everyone and everything) No attraction attached, no desires except hoping it hurts.

Curly to me is very much aroace, or at least on the spectrum. Like, the trivia fact that one of Curly's fondest memories is that of his friends putting in effort to make a shitty awful cake, tells us all we need to know on how dear his friends are to him. Platonic relationships mean so much to Curly, even when it's Jimmy fucking Mouthwashing, the worst friend ever imaginable.

[therandomfandomme]

We're all going feral over the whole "Mercy? Mercy?" which is so valid of us, but the way mercy comes back as a theme in this final saga is really interesting to me, because before this, Odysseus is asked for mercy, for forgiveness:

"Old king, our leader is dead

You've destroyed the serpent's head

Now the rest of us are no longer a threat

Old king, forgive us instead

So that no more blood is shed

Let's have open arms instead"

"No"

He has become Poseidon, the one that first forced him into believing that mercy isn't something he can afford ("Look what you turned me into"), which is made doubly poignant with Eurymachus echoing the open arms of Polites ("Greet the world with open arms"). Now I'm not saying he should have forgiven the suitors for what they were planning on doing, however, this interaction directly informs this one later:

"Throw down those weapons

And I ensure you'll be spared"

"After seeing what the king will do to us

We wouldn't dare"

Because Odysseus doesn't show mercy to Eurymachus, Melanthius doesn't want to take the risk when Telemachus extends mercy to them, which then leads to the starting interaction.

When extending mercy and creating a kinder world is discussed again, it's by Athena. She is the original god, who pushed him towards a lack of mercy, who found that a warrior of the mind is one that showed not mercy and Odysseus believed her during the war, even threw a baby of a roof about it, and it wasn't until after that he rebelled her teachings only to be forced into it by other gods (Poseidon and Zeus most specifically). To which this is said:

"If that world exists, it's far away from here

It's one I'll have to miss, for it's far beyond my years

You might live forever, so you can make it be

But I've got one endeavor, there's a girl I have to see"

"Very well"

"Father, she's waiting for you"

I especially want to highlight that Odysseus says it is beyond his years. He has become that monster and he can't undo that in the years he still has. If this is to happen, then it must be the future generations that Athena has to influence to make that world. Having her reply to that getting interrupted by Telemachus is very purposeful to me. Because he does still extend mercy, he is the new warrior she trained and she trained him differently because her belief changed.

But I also think having her show Odysseus her face with the lightning scar as she agrees is very telling. When she pushed Odysseus to be ruthless she had not been on the other end of no mercy, which is what makes Odysseus turn against her ("Unlikе you, every time someone dies I'm left to deal with the strain"). She now has been on the other side of it by the hands of someone Odysseus also faced and they were both shown the same lack of mercy. For Odysseus that was his final turning point where he chose no mercy, while Athena did chose mercy.

And in the end, she did get some mercy from Zeus in response from it. Zeus also learned from her, from the lesson Odysseus taught her, which was taught to him by Polites. And that mercy gets paid forward allowing Odysseus to get home (yes, I'm emotional about Polites helping Odysseus get home in the end). Almost every time mercy is shown, his journey progresses (Lotus eaters, Aeolous, Circe, Zeus).

Athena has been through not receiving mercy, but she still believes, is still working towards that future. And while she accepts Odysseus words about him being beyond such a world, she doesn't agree with him. Her reply feels more like accepting a dismissal rather than an agreement. And Telemachus shows up as a reminder that she is more correct than Odysseus in this, and he leads them into Penelope.

God, I love Penelope. With her, Odysseus tells someone yet again that he has changed ("I am not your kind and gentle husband") and that he would understand if she did not love him anymore. And then we get this banger:

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

Penelope shows him mercy in this. She has asked him what he has done and she is given the option to not want him anymore after hearing about the monster he's turned into, but she doesn't. She forgives him. He asks for forgiveness and she grants it. That is mercy.

Not only that, but she also affirms that he is still him. The usage of husband here is important to me, because he says he's not her husband, who was gentle and kind, and she tells him that he is. He believes him beyond that world where people are empathetic and kind, but the roots of that world he created in Ithaca and with Athena allow him to come home. He isn't a monster beyond redemption, he is also a part of that kinder world, regardless of what he has done.

And then you have the music echo the Just a Man melody when Odysseus sings:

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home

Even after all the years away from what I’ve known

I'm just a man who's fighting for his life

Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife

I'm just a man"

He is brought back to who he was when he was still just a man, before he became a monster. He did trade the world to see his son and wife and that makes him just a man.

The whole musical asks the question when a man becomes a monster and I think while it is never explicitly answered, that the answer is: when he isn't shown mercy. And that by showing someone mercy, you can reverse that. That it isn't permanent. I really love the moral question of mercy vs. ruthlessness in that Epic has, so it was really interesting to see how it came back in the end :D

[imqueerandadeer]

BEGGING y'all to include trans men and trans mascs and non binary people in discussions about transphobia, it actually does affect us It's just not as obvious because most of the legislation passed that affects us are considered "womens issues"

that coupled with us being infantilized makes it seem like we don't have it as bad but uh no we do, the bathroom bills also affect us btw.

[theimpurelily]

My new ship just launched and one of them doesn't even have a fucking name

For real tho, this un-named Wan Jian Disciple is such a snarky bitch. I love him.

Kudos to @grubus for making such enjoyable OCs

[psilliguykai]

I’ve been thinking about Me and Mr. Wolf as an Elijah/Sydney song for a while now. This is me finally getting around to drawing it yayay ! Had a ton of fun with this one.

[viridianevergarden]

There’s no way I just saw a post talking about being pro Elain and then turning around to say that she deserves a mate who is devoted to her, who would -come hell or high water- do anything to keep her happy, who would protect her, etc. and then said Lucien was that person? 💀

I’m sorry- are we reading the same book?

The same lucien that thought in his mind that Elain had been thrown at him?

The same Lucien that compared her to his DEAD! Ex lover all the time?

The same Lucien who immediately questioned if she was worth fighting (betraying Tamlin) for?

The same Lucien who quite literally didn’t know Jack shit of what she actually needed? (Oh but help and sunlight was what she needed, right? Wrong <3)

The same Lucien who is apparently oh so devoted to her by avoiding her all the damn time like she does him and all he’s really ever done is get her two gifts because he felt obligated and was then forced to speak with her because Feyre basically told him to? Feyre did that with Elain too but she was adamant that she should GiVe HiM a ChAnCe because he’s “good”.

And then say that Az does nothing but diminish Elain’s wants and needs?

That he’s the problem and toxic because he hasn’t thought past his fantasies of her? (Which it’s obvious as to why but we have delulu people)

That all he does is stifle her and doesn’t let her speak by speaking for her? 💀

It’s not Pro Elain to say she deserves a mate (who she doesn’t want btw)

Vs

Saying that she deserves what she wants for herself on her own accord (which isn’t her mate btw)

I could rant on about why all these takes are dog water but I won’t because we’ve all spewed facts and debunked them a million times before.

I can’t anymore lmao it’s like they claim that grass is purple when it’s so obviously green.

[canisthelupus]

if i have to see one more fucking person mischaracterize javier in a very clearly racially motivated way (intentionally or not) im gonna fucking tweak out. "music is life hermano 😝" HE WOJLD NOT FUCKINF SAY THAT SHIT!!!

[bigclownshoes]

Can I just say how much I love how sexuality is portrayed in the apothecary diaries? Feminine sexuality is treated as this beautiful thing of nature. It can be used both as a political weapon to cripple nations, or simply a defense against the injustice against women that prevails in society. It is a way for women to make a living, and yet, it is also a source of delight and enjoyment! We see time and time again, especially with maomao's sisters, that while they do courtesan work to make a living, some of them do actually really enjoy it! There is such a beautiful innate power in feeling, well, beautiful, in this series and I love that. Even Maomao herself, she is so keenly aware of the dangers beauty brings (my girl literally got kidnapped and sold) that she hides herself behind handrawn freckles, and yet is so comfortable in her own appearance (albeit a little oblivious to the effects her gorgeous-ness has on jinshi apparently). Jinshi's sexuality is so multi-faceted as well, with his character obviously being so beautiful a little bit of makeup would send the entire palace into a frenzy, I adore how complex that beauty affects him. It's the reason he's here, and it's also the reason he can't leave. How fun! Also obviously with that trope of Maomao just constantly wanting to put him in drag I love that so much lol.

I love this series.

[wintermav]

Poolverine out of context…either they have a pain kink or they just like getting tied up…or both? Let’s do both.

[theythemmer]

Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched.