#so still pretty young in the grand scheme of things

[aroandawkward]

I get so emotional thinking about the kids who will grow up knowing words like aromantic and asexual...

I visited a junior school (for ages 7-11) the other day and they had a display of pride posters including one for ace! My 13 year-old neighbour identifies as aroace and has told her parents!

I get so emotional thinking about the aspec kids who will grow up knowing that those identities are an option, knowing that it's a valid way of existing in the world, knowing that it's okay if they don't ever feel (a particular kind of) attraction.

[jeannedarcgerard]

tbh when i was a Teen i was in an irl city-wide GSA type of group and they were super toxic. like i'm a bisexual cis girl who's pretty masculine and they made me use they/them pronouns because it "was obvious i'm nb" when it was not my identity like i was just not feminine enough to be seen as a woman? idk like mid 2010s queer culture was weird and imo some circles were pretty toxic. you'd be "cancelled" for innocent things like saying you liked chick fil a when you were a kid but you don't eat there anymore

thanks for the input ? sorry idk what this is in response to lol i came out for the first time in 2016 i think and like obviously some queer ppl are toxic just like some people from every group but my queer family, community, and history is really important to me. sorry that happened to you though that really sucks

[angeliclovely69]

Soul Ties - 1

Pairing: Lute x Fem!Reader

AU: Soulmate(You are born with matching tattoos)

Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Spoilers?, Adam being Adam, Gay, kinda similar to ACOSF, implied drinking problem

Summary: A relatively young Seraphim is forced to train with the Exorcists after breaking the rules. However, when she realises just who will be training her, she doesn’t mind. She enjoys the view.

Note: I have never read A Court of Silver Flames, but my friend said this is pretty similar. In what ways, I’m not sure, but I can assure you it is not intentional. Also, it wasn’t supposed to end in smut, but I couldn’t deny myself.

—

Stars. You fucking hate them. Pretty as they are, you have never seen anybody else with them marked into their skin. The black signature ran down your back, four stars in a line imprinted on the skin of your spine. They burn as you walk into the training ring.

She is waiting there as you were told, talking to who you know to be Adam, the first man. You only catch the last part of their conversation, the woman’s words. “Yes sir.” Adam’s eyes meet yours, “I forgot you were hot, little Seraphim.” He laughs at his words, you don’t, and neither does the lieutenant.

You are the second youngest Seraphim, only older then Emily by a hundred years. Not young in the grand scheme of things, but young for a high ranking angel. Everyone knows your age is why Sera allowed you to get away with your disobedience for so long. She figured you grow out of it, but when you came to work hungover, she had no other option. She had to punish you, if only for the sake of her reputation. She gave you two terrible choices.

Fall or train.

Simply no choice at all, really. Falling means admitting you failed. You can’t, that would mean everyone was right. Training isn’t going to be easy, you have never worked any muscles besides your wings, and even that was just from flying.

“Lute, this is who you’ll be training.” Thank god goodness he said her name because when Sera mentioned it you’d still been hungover. “Pleasure.” The white haired woman met your eyes now, her own sharp, determined. She doesn’t answer your statement, simply blinks as if thinking too hard to process.

“Do I have to?” She directs her attention to Adam, who just flips her off and flys away. “Fuck.” She mutters. Her eyes close for a moment, then she directs her full attention back to you. “Can you do a sit-up?”

“Can you actually try?” She is getting frustrated. Terribly so. You are making her job harder. You have been sitting watching her do her workouts for about an hour. You don’t answer, just look around the room. You trained for about 20 minutes with Lute before the space began to fill with other Exorcists.

You are embarrassed, to put it simply. How are you supposed to want to train when literal warriors surrounded you. You are stubborn, and she is mean. She doesn’t care if you fall. Why should she put in all the effort when you don’t even bother to do anything?

“I will not train here.” You really aren’t trying to be difficult. Sure you don’t want to train at all, but you aren’t the type of angel that would ever make someone’s life harder, well…ignoring Sera.

You want her to understand. She doesn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Your words go unanswered as the white haired lieutenant leaves, angry and confused. She understands this wasn’t your choice, but why the fuck can’t you do anything?

Lute asked Sera how you usually act when she originally told about the arrangement. According to Sera you could be stubborn, a little headstrong, but you would behave to the best of your abilities. Not only so that you wouldn’t be punished, but also because you hate making people angry. Any time you did, you ended up crying. Even Sera.

Sera had assured Lute that you’d try, but she couldn’t be sure how you’d react to the training, or Lute herself. Lute doesn’t know what the last part meant, but it doesn’t matter. She is going to end this arrangement. If you don’t care, she doesn’t either.

“How’d it go?” Sera asks, voice almost cracking. She is scared, Lute notices. “She didn’t do anything.” Bluntness laces her tone. Sera frowns. “Really? Nothing?” Lute wants to nod, but hesitates. “She did train at first, but then other exorcists came in, and she stopped. She just stared at me while I trained.” Lute rants.

The seraphim’s face seems to lighten, as if realising something Lute hasn’t. “What?” Lute doesn’t understand why you are the way you are. Doesn’t really care. Sera does understand, though.

You grew up as almost a younger sister to Sera. You aren’t related, but something about you draws Sera in. Draws everyone in, to be completely honest. You are, in a way no one could place, different. Not in the conceited way. No. Your soul just doesn’t belong where it is. You were almost too kind. Too gentle. Sera hates that she has to punish you, but you’ve been going through something she can’t handle.

“When the others came in?” Sera questions, confirming a thought process Lute still hasn’t caught on to. “Yes! I said that already.” Her tone is harsh, and one look from the high seraphim, has her nodding a silent apology.

“Did you not question the reason?” The seraphim’s voice is gently coercing the answer from the lieutenant. Lute simply shakes her head, her frustration growing again. She knows the reason, you are a lazy brat.

“Tell me, have you ever been embarrassed?” Sera’s smile is light. “Yes.” Lute’s single word was harsh. The seraphim gives her yet another pointed look. “Sorry…”

Lute has never been able to tame the frustration that always bubbles underneath her skin. A type of frustration that doesn’t belong in Heaven. Rage that killed hundreds. That was her purpose. Death and retribution. Her very soul screamed anger, pure uncontrollable rage.

That’s why Adam has chosen her. Chosen her over everyone else. Made her his lieutenant. His right hand. She obeys orders and allows unnecessary demands. That’s what this arrangement is. Unnecessary.

“Then do you understand?” Sera is calm, too calm compared to Lute’s frustration. Lute shakes her head. Not trusting herself enough to not let the frustration show again. “Do I need to explain it to you?” A nod. Short, subtle.

“In the simplest of terms, she’s embarrassed. Classical trained soldiers. Heaven’s greatest. The universe’s greatest. Compared to a girl who can barely walk up stairs without losing her breath. She’s probably the most proudly stubborn person I’ve ever met. She doesn’t want to fall on her ass.” A nice- no. Lute processed the information slowly. Sera asks if she understands. Another nod.

Lute doesn’t say anything else, just leaves the room. She isn’t sure where to train you if you are uncomfortable in the public space. Unless, she let’s you use her personal space. No. That isn’t happening. She’ll just have to make do.

It doesn’t work. The next day you do the same thing. For the first 20 you are engaged, then the others fill the room, and you sit off to the side.

“Fuck this!” Lute yells in the locker room, slamming her fist into the mirror. It shatters. “Fuck!” She yells again. You left a while ago, and Lute had to stay. You aren’t her only assignment after all.

Her back is burning. Her entire body is burning. Rage is practically seeping from her skin. She takes off her shirt in an attempt to cool down. It’s late, extremely late, and for once the training area is empty. At least it should be, it was a bit ago. Now, though, she can hear panting. Distant, airy. She debates putting her shirt back on, but she shrugs the thought off. The Exorcists have seen her shirtless before.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the woman doing sit ups in the middle of the ring isn’t an Exorcist. It’s you. Panting. Sweating. She stares for a minute. Can’t stop herself.

When she finally catches herself, she walks over to you. “Shhh. Don’t talk.” Her tone isn’t soft, but it’s no where near harsh either. Improvement. Your eyes widen in surprise. You didn’t realize she was there. Fuck. How long was she there? Was she judging you?

She catches herself liking the look in your eyes. Liking your eyes in general. It takes a moment of staring for her to blink. “Go to bed. Ah. Sh.” She cuts off your attempt at an argument. “Go to bed. For training tomorrow meet me at my private training area. This time. It will be there from now on.” She doesn’t say anything else as she walks away.

She silently thanks god for it being dark. She doesn’t need you knowing anything about her.

[comradekatara]

i don’t go into it explicitly in my essay so i may as well cite my armamentarium of examples here. please note that some of these examples will be pretty uncharitable towards zuko, but i figure that zuko’s actions receive enough (overly) charitable interpretations that he can stand to be criticized harshly from time to time.

when he said to aang “nice try avatar, but these little girls won’t save you,” he was being overtly infantilizing and dismissive to extremely capable girls his age in a way that emphasized their gender to diminish their capabilities. this is quite overtly misogynistic.

the way he treats katara in “the waterbending scroll” is pretty fucked up. i know that a lot of people find the way he seductively circles katara after tying her to a tree, threatening, and bribing her to be hot and even romantic, but in this scene, he is explicitly imitating ozai (we see him employ this same tactic of circling ominously with zuko in “the awakening”) to scare katara into submission. this is not only sexist in the sense that he is attempting sensuality to threaten a young girl (only a few years younger than him, but still, not great), but also just creepy and horrifying and bad in general.

“well aren’t you a big girl now?” is what he says to katara once she can finally hold her own against him in a fight. katara is only a few years younger than him, but he treats her like an incapable child, and uses that patronizing infantilisation to taunt her like he did with the kyoshi warriors. (and in fact, he continues to do so in book 3, but more on that later.)

zuko shouts “girls are crazy!” after azula manipulates him into falling into the fountain. i think this example is pretty negligible all things considered, seeing as a couple of girls did just deviously orchestrate a plot to humiliate him for kicks, but it’s at least equivalent to sokka saying “leave it to a girl to screw things up” to katara in terms of making unfair generalizations about an entire gender in the quest to insult your annoying little sister. but pretty much every sibling says something like this as a kid, so it’s pretty innocuous to me in the scheme of things.

on his date with jin, zuko remarks “you have quite an appetite for a girl.” this is obviously sexist, but it also makes me sad for what it reflects about the eating habits of every single woman he grew up around (compounded by the fact that they’re nobility and thus must adhere to strict gender roles as informed by class). i wonder if seeing jin eat was the first time he ever saw a girl actually enjoy her food.

zuko’s treatment of mai throughout all of book 3 is highly misogynistic. he expects her to coddle, comfort, and support him unconditionally while he never once considers her feelings, desires, or thoughts. i don’t even think zuko knows that mai is a human being (with a rich inner world of her own). at the beach, he behaves in a way that is controlling, jealous, volatile, and borderline abusive. he insults her, calling her dull and unfeeling; he polices the people she talks to; he feels entitled to her unconditional affection even when he treats her terribly. even when he gives her the conch shell, he asks “what? don’t girls like stuff like this?” which is incredibly patronizing and presumptuous. he demands that she act as his perfect mommygirlfriend, takes out all his frustrations and inner turmoil on her, is entirely thoughtless and inconsiderate when it comes to considering her feelings beyond giving her the most shallow, superficial gifts (and for a prince, giving someone cheap desserts and/or beach trash is not exactly a grand romantic gesture), and can’t even bring himself to break up with her face to face. mai does an incredible job of supporting zuko as best she can despite being incredibly unhappy herself and frustrated by his behavior, and somehow she is still framed by the fandom as being a bad girlfriend to zuko, when in fact the reverse is true.

zuko is also incredibly patronizing, dismissive, and downright cruel to ty lee. he basically calls her shallow, stupid, oblivious, and myopic, when of course this only betrays his own obtuse inability to read others, as ty lee is quite possibly the most perceptive, intuitive, socially clever, skilled, and brilliant character in the show. like many other characters in the show, including azula, zuko falls for ty lee’s bubbly ditz persona, and assumes that her hyperfeminine affect signifies her shallowness and stupidity. this undervaluing of femininity is of course not unique to zuko, and even the most feminist women are prone to make assumptions about people who present themselves in the way ty lee does (even katara says that ty lee doesn’t seem like a threat), which is of course also why ty lee deliberately presents herself in this way. she knows that she will be underestimated, which is all the more imperative to achieving her primary goal: survival. however, just because ty lee encourages this perception of her doesn’t mean that zuko is let off the hook for falling for it, or for being cruel to her.

while i don’t fault zuko for this as much as i do his treatment of mai, katara, or ty lee, his lack of generosity towards azula is a problem. obviously there are extenuating factors informing why he views azula as a rival. their fractured relationship is a tragic product of ozai’s abuse, and neither zuko nor azula is entirely at fault for how they view and treat the other. but zuko never makes any attempt to understand his sister or why she behaves the way she does, and never shows her the affection or concern azula shows him (in rare but nonetheless important moments), even after she has clearly undergone a nervous breakdown before their final agni kai. i know that zuko would view azula with hostility and suspicion no matter what, and a lot of it is of course deserved, but i cannot help but wonder whether his misogyny serves to reinforce his assumption of her that she is a manipulative, hysterical, dishonest harpy whose sole purpose in life is to make him miserable. lol

zuko constantly dismisses suki throughout “the boiling rock.” when sokka first points her out, zuko frowns at the notion that sokka is suddenly going to give a girl the attention he has, up until this point, been the only one receiving. of course suki does monopolize sokka’s attention, suddenly making zuko the third wheel where he was formerly a partner, but it’s hardly suki’s fault for being sokka’s girlfriend. he only barely apologizes for burning down suki’s village (which is probably the worst thing he ever did in the entire show, btw), and basically ignores her existence throughout the rest of the episode. in “the southern raiders” he refuses to read the room and barges into sokka’s tent despite sokka and suki clearly having a romantic evening planned. suki is perfectly nice and friendly to zuko despite having absolutely no reason to forgive the guy who burned down her village, but zuko is nonetheless dismissive of her as if she isn’t even there. which is rude, but also, kind of funny, so take this one with a grain of salt because it honestly makes me laugh??

ultimately, the way zuko treats katara, not only in book 1, but up until they become friends at the end of “the southern raiders,” is genuinely egregious. despite having that incredibly meaningful moment in the catacombs together, zuko doesn’t register it as significant in the way katara does, and cannot comprehend why katara would feel particularly, personally betrayed by him compared to the rest of the group. at the beginning of the episode, zuko pushes suki out of the way from falling rocks (dismissively) and then jumps directly onto katara and rolls her away from the rocks (patronizingly) as if she is some kind of baby whose legs don’t work. when katara is rightfully pissed off that a guy she hates has pressed himself directly on top of her and won’t get off, he scoffs and says “I’ll take that as a thank you” as if she is simply a truculent, ungrateful child. he later completely invalidates katara’s feelings, following her after she leaves the group, and yells at her for her audacity (because she is still not best friends with the guy who betrayed her trust and facilitated the near murder of her best friend), and barely seems to understand the source of her rage, assuming that she is displacing her anger towards her mother’s killer onto him instead of simply acknowledging the ways in which he has tangibly harmed her. he interrupts sokka during one of the only truly happy moments in his entire miserable life to ask him to rehash the most tragic, horrific day in his whole horrifically tragic life, and in this moment he reveals that he somehow does not even know katara’s name. until sokka refers to katara by name, zuko only refers to her as “your sister” (and at no point refers to her by name throughout the show until later in this scene), dismissing katara while simultaneously begging for her approval, which he admits he doesn’t even know why he craves, as if he doesn’t even respect her as a person but simply wants her approval because her totally valid anger towards him is just a pesky irritant he wants removed. he then imposes his own desire for revenge onto katara, not even realizing that his passionate fury is a product of his own personal feelings being displaced onto katara’s parallel situation (both their mothers were killed in their place as a sacrifice), and simply assumes that katara would benefit from going on a dangerous revenge quest with him. it is only once zuko realizes the sheer extent of katara’s power and empathizes intimately with her complex feelings of rage, grief, and guilt regarding her own mother that zuko comes to respect katara deeply, and from then on out their friendship is one of mutual respect, understanding, and a deep, prevailing love. but until the antepenultimate episode of the entire show (assuming that the four parter finale counts as just one episode), zuko constantly infantilizes, patronizes, dismisses, belittles, ignores, and trivializes katara.

“zuko has no frame of reference for sexism” his uncle literally sexually harassed (and possibly even assaulted depending on how you define it) a female employee on the job (june in “bato of the water tribe,” if you’re wondering). yes zuko is rightfully appalled by that, but mostly because his uncle is displaying desire for a far younger, hotter woman, and zuko finds all displays of iroh’s desire disgusting. to say he’s in no way familiar with patriarchal logic and the mistreatment of women in society is just plain absurd, when not only do we see him mistreat women, but we also witness him witness other men mistreat women—in particular, a man whom he admires and strives to emulate in all aspects of his life.

and finally, while this point is fairly obvious, the question “how is zuko sexist?” is just patently ridiculous for the simple fact that he was raised in an extremely patriarchal society and internalized rigid roles and hierarchies of class, race, and gender. so like, even if we didn’t have manifold examples of him behaving misogynistically in various ways across the show, he’d nonetheless be sexist because of course he is. like, real talk, what do you guys think sexism even is if not being informed by patriarchy and its assumptions? answer quickly

[giuliettagaltieri]

One Way Ticket

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Desired

Warning: doubts, emotions, angst

Word Count: 2605

2 of 7

Everything works in his favor.

Coriolnus had a past so devastating, he was certain he could withstand just about anything.

And then you pull this stunt.

It is upsetting to be rejected especially when one blurts a statement so confidently.  So certain you would agree right that instant.

But he is Coriolanus Snow, and he knows how to be patient when he needs to be.

However, being patient does not equate to simply standing by.

No, your refusal itches at him deep like how one would have the desire to pick at a scab, not allowing the skin to fully mend.

So, he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Whatever sense of peace you know was thrown out a window as he always has an issue or crisis that needs your pretty little scheming head.  You were astounded at the lengths he would go, even feigning ignorance at the obvious solutions and he smothers you with honeyed compliments.  It was humiliating.

Try as he might to sound genuine, it was rather condescending coming from him.

And when you keep each other company in your offices, he tells you how good it would be for a young President, such as himself, to finally settle.

But you are not as easy.  When that failed too, he started to adopt a new tactic.

A bolder one.

Romancing you.

It was the grand opening of a park he donated when he was still a starting politician and today, it was finally done.  You stood beside him, smiling at the cameras and to those who came to celebrate with you.

You clap your gloved hands along with the others when he cuts the ribbons.   

“Oh.”  You gasp softly when Coriolanus sweeps to place a fleeting kiss on your lips and the crowd cheers.  You stare at him in surprise but he smiles charmingly at you. 

Why must he have to be so handsome.  He makes it so easy for you to forgive him.

He wraps an arm around your waist and turns to the crowd.  “Please excuse us.  I will be stealing Miss Swansworth for a while.  Enjoy.”

You let him steer you inside the vast park, there was a beautiful line of trees that casted a beautiful shade and rose bushes along the pathway that emit a fragrant scent.

“One of my projects back at the University.”  He nods at the roses. 

At a closer look, they seem different compared to ordinary roses.  They seem to glimmer. 

“They can survive under harsh weather, their scent is enhanced, and they won't wilt easily.”  He says proudly and you smile admiringly at him.  Your relationship with him has been difficult recently but you are glad he did not simply cast you away like you feared he would.

“You know, if you were not so deadest in taking control over Panem, I believe you would have made a good florist.”

His face twists.  “Florist.”  He spits like the word disgusts him, making it all the more comical.

“Well, you are so passionate about flowers.”  You chuckle as you look at the light flow of your dress.

Coriolanus studies you closely for a while before looking ahead.  He slips his hands in his pockets with his thumb jutting out.  “I can be passionate about other things too.”

You watch his broad back as he walks ahead of you to lead you further in the park.

Eventually, you reach a pavilion, one hidden from view as tall topiary are purposefully placed around.  There were more beautiful flowers perfuming the air.  Pursing your lips, you let Coriolanus guide you to the table at the center of the pavilion and he pulls your chair for you as an act of chivalry.

“Thank you.”  You say kindly as you sit down.  He gives you one of his handsome smiles and sits across from you.

“Tea?”  He asks but is already pouring you a cup.  You eye the assortments of cakes and refreshments around the table.  Steam rises from the cup he carefully pushes your way, it was prepared just recently.  You scan the area discreetly, but there were no Avox around, you seem to be alone with him.

You take your cup and blow softly and then take a sip.  Coriolanus does the same.

Gently, you set the cup down on the saucer with a quiet clatter and he follows suit.

You make an attempt to grab a macaron but he beats you to it and puts not one but three on your plate.  His recently found habit of overindulging you is starting to surface once more.  The smile is still on his face and you wonder how long he can keep that up.  Choosing to play along, you smile back at him sweetly.

His chest visibly swells, so impressed with himself.

At the top of the dessert stand, a small opaque cloche rests. 

Coriolanus thought he was being sleek but with the number of times he sprung a proposal on you, you can guess that a ring might be resting on a cupcake or something pretty in there.

But still, you choose not to say anything and just enjoy your panna cotta, purposefully not touching the macarons he gave you.  And you enjoy how his eyes keep on flitting to them.

When you pour your attention to your food and not on him, Coriolanus shifts in his seat.  

He has a feeling this might be it.  There is a good amount of privacy, the atmosphere is romantic, and you seem to be in a good mood.  Spending his money on these outrageously expensive desserts was a good decision.

It takes everything from you not to roll your eyes when he leaves his seat to stand next to you.

As you are still not looking at him, he clears his throat and you decide it was time to finally stop playing coy and meet his eyes.

“Y/N.”  He sighs, air charged with his confidence.  “I was not the sweetest nor am I the kindest man to you.  But you have shown me just how much a man can change with the right woman and right affection.”  He grabs the small plate from the top of the dessert stand.

He removes the cloche and reveals a smooth little Swedish princess cake and on top of it, the prettiest rosette icing.  

And a ring sits on top of the tea cake and you look at him blankly.  

It was an enormous ring!  And he seems pretty impressed with himself.

It was very intricate, very detailed, and very heavy looking.

It was too much.

Coriolanus blows out a sigh.

This was difficult for him, not the proposal but what he is about to do next.

You tip your chin haughtily as he gets down on one knee.  He was stiff as he did so.  Looking very out of place at that height, even if it was for you.  His knee burns under his weight as his tight suit restricts him from large movements.

But his brilliant smile captures your eyes once more and he lifts the cake up to you, making your nose crinkle just the slightest.

“Will you marry me?”

You look him in the eyes with a brow raised.

That’s the best he can do?  That generic statement?

His smile falters under your mocking gaze.

“Corio.”  You chuckle.  “Really?”

Coriolanus scoffs, slamming the cake on the table and you hear the saucer crack.  You purse your lips as you watch him stand abruptly with his back turned to you, he places his hands on his waist as he stares into the garden around the pavilion. 

“Fuck it.”  He mutters as he runs his hand on his mouth, bristling under the weight of your countless rejections.  You see his cheekbones pinking and you stand to wrap your arms around him from behind.  His back tenses when you rest your cheek against it.

“Do not be angry, Mr. President.”  You spoke calmly.  Trying to see how much you can push him is thrilling you to the core but you also cannot risk him being fed up with you.

Coriolanus does not acknowledge your actions but you feel his body relaxing under your touch.

“I just don’t understand.”  He fumes, his hands gesturing around him and you chuckle in amusement.  “I have done everything.  I even bent the knee!”  He pushes you off harshly and you pout as he steps away.  You hate how you quickly miss his warmth.  “What more do you want from me?”  He demands as he steps dangerously close to you. 

Your playfulness dissipates as he renders you speechless.

He brushes your fingers that tried to fiddle with his coat.  “I just…”

“You what?”  He spits and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know!”  You yell back with equal frustration before looking at him in defeat.  “I just don’t know.”

He is silent as you draw further and further into yourself, eyes no longer able to meet him.

“I am very fond of you, Coriolanus.”  You confess and he scans your face for lies but all he sees is naked vulnerability.  “I am just not certain about this.”

“You don’t want to marry me.”  He concludes, his patience stretched to its limit.

“That is not what I said.”  You say with a hint of panic and exasperation.

“Gods, you’re making Livia Cardew’s temptations enticing.”  The words spilled from his tongue without him thinking and the consequence was almost instant.

Your eyes harden like cold marbles, you are quick to move around him to grab your bag from the table.

“Y/N.”  Coriolanus blocks your path from the steps of the pavilion, his regret now biting at him as he heard your contained sniffles.  “Come on, darling.  I did not mean it.”

You push past him as you start walking away, with him quickly following you.

He wanted to strangle himself after catching sight of your tears.  Tears you are trying so hard to suppress.

Mentioning names of other women was insensitive for his part.  Especially when he is aware of how deep your affections for him are.

He managed to grab your hand and you try to pull away but your strength is that of a child compared to his.

“Let go.”  You say through gritted teeth, streaks of tears running down your cheeks.

“It was a foolish thing to say.”  He admits but you are having none of it.

You turn your head to the side and look up to the sky to keep your tears from falling.  “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”  He pulls you to his chest and presses a lingering kiss on your temple.

Coriolanus looks at the emptiness in frustration.  He worked so hard to build what you have today.  Is one slip of tongue going to crumble it all to the ground?

Even the smartest of men are lost to the world of women.

“Go marry that witch.”  You mutter.  “See if I care.”

Coriolanus held you close, his lips pursing at the venom of your tone.

“I’m not marrying anyone else.”  He says.

He does not know how long he held you in his arms, your pretty lips muttering antagonism against him but Coriolanus takes every insult as he keeps you trapped in his arms.

By the time the sun is about to set, you let him hold your hand and guide you away from the pavilion.  You did not speak to him when he let you in his car, fingers frozen in your lap as your eyes were cast far away.

Coriolanus chooses not to say anything and simply buckles your seatbelt for you and he drives to your apartments.  He walks you to your door and walks you inside.  You are too drained to even do anything.

Why were you even rejecting his proposals?  And like he said, what more did you want from him?  You have embarrassed yourself, making a fit as soon as he mentioned another woman’s name.  It was most unbecoming of you.  You close your eyes tightly, regretting the weakness you showed him.

You are grateful that Coriolanus does not comment on it.  He looks at your blank features as he gently pry your fingers from your bag to place it on your countertop.  Your breath hitch when he gets down on his knees again, his hands sliding on your bare legs as he unclasps your heels.

Coriolanus guides your hand to his shoulder as he slips your feet from the tall shoes.

“Corio.”  You say gently and he hums in response as he focuses on your other shoe.  “I must ask you something.”

He removes the other shoe and looks up at you, awaiting.  You inhale sharply, his eyes are the truest blue, reflecting the harsh glare of moonlight and the glow of the Capitol.  You sit down, your dress splayed prettily around you and you lean on the countertop. 

“Why do you want to marry me?”

You are scared.  He can tell by the waver in your voice and the way you held yourself.  Coriolanus sits next to you, wincing at the restrictive nature of his clothing.

For a moment you just look at the lit windows of the buildings opposite yours.  And the moving gleams of headlights as cars drove on the street.  Everything was silent aside from the muffled music played by the old couple next door. 

“Remember how you asked what would make me happy?”  He glances at the boutonnière by his coat and he plucks a delicate baby’s breath that frames a rose, he twirls it in his fingers.  “I think marrying you would.” 

“I’m not certain if we can find happiness in a political partnership.”  You mutter to which he only laughs.

“For someone so sharp, you sure are missing the point, sweetheart.”

You look at him with your eyes puffy and tired, not having the energy to start a fight.

“I want to marry you.  Your name and smarts are a bonus of course, but I want you.”  He grins as he continues to play with the baby’s breath.  “You make me feel things I shouldn’t.  I thought it was just admiration and fondness, simply fleeting elation.”  His voice cracks ever so slightly and your eyes wet again with tears.

“I was wrong.”  His own eyes were glassy but he remained calm.  “It was joy.”  He grabs your hand and you turn to see him holding the baby’s breath now twirled to resemble a ring and your breath gets caught in your throat.

“Y/N Swansworth.”  He sniffles, and then laughs lightly at how you can easily stir his emotions.  “Can I persuade you to make an attempt to seize real happiness with me?”

You close your eyes, and tears pour to your cheeks as you nod, letting out a broken “Yes.”

Coriolanus felt overwhelmed with joy, some of it spilled out in a laugh, the tightness in his chest loosening, he never felt more alive.  He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he slips the poorly made ring to your finger.  Oh, but it was beautiful.  More beautiful than the forgotten ring by the pavilion.  It was something his own hands have crafted only for you.

He kisses your palm and you cup his cheek.

“Thank you for being patient with me.”  You say as you place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Resilience has always been my strongest suit.”  He says and you laugh.  He smiles fondly upon hearing the sweet melody.  Yes, he prefers it so much more than your sobs.  “My affections for you are not delicate.”

Quest for Happiness

[irisbleufic]

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [19]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: violence, blood, injuries, mild non descriptive torture, indirect homicide(?), but also fluff. mixed in with all that.

Word Count: 5,514

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

#19: MY BOYS NEEDED ME

.

"i will hurt you for this. i don't know how yet, but give me time. a day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

-George RR Martin (A Clash of Kings)

.

Grogu was an overall well behaved kid in the grand scheme of things. Was he mischievous? Yes. A menace to any local wildlife? Absolutely. However, he was always very good about listening to Din. Well, mostly. That being said, Grogu was still a young kid mentally, and he was not immune to having complete and total toddler sized meltdowns when he felt slighted. The biggest temper tantrum Din had been witness to was ages ago when a sleep deprived Grogu lost his snack while Din was running on a hunt, and they had left the planet before Din could replace the cookies.

Today beat that in a landslide.

“Ma! Ma! Ma!” Grogu beat his silver ball against the glass repeatedly with each cry for you. The first twenty minutes of the flight had just been the child screeching in frustration, and had dissolved to this tactic when Grogu was too tired to cry. “Ma! Ma! Ma⏤”

“Grogu, stop.” Din called back. 

“No! Ma!”

“Ad’ika, please⏤”

“No! Ma!” Grogu began to rapidly slap the metal ball against the glass. “Buir, digur Ma!”

“I didn’t forget her, ad’ika.” Din sighed and tried to calm him for the hundredth time. “She had to stay behind. She’ll be there when we get⏤”

Grogu swapped back to screaming angrily. Din huffed and leaned forward to activate a holocall. The child paused in his tantrum when he saw the screen pop up and began to crawl down from his perch in the droid’s seat. The call was answered and your pretty features filled his screen. Despite his frustration of having to hear his child howl and beat glass for the last half hour, his lips spread into a broad smile at the sight of you.

You grinned. “Do you miss me already, Djarin?”

“Yes.” Din blurted. Grogu crawled out onto Din’s lap and began to cry in blubbering sobs while holding his arms up as if you’d be able to scoop him up through the screen. Your eyes widened, and Din wrapped an arm around his son and rubbed his back soothingly. “He didn’t realize we were saying bye to you on the tarmac. He’s been throwing a tantrum since we left.”

“Ma!” Grogu hiccuped in his sobs.

Din watched your own lip quiver as you shook your head. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s okay.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched in admiration as you remotely calmed the kid down. It looked like you were in the clinic right now based on the white coat you wore, and things must not have been too busy since you didn’t seem in a rush. Din stayed silent for the next fifteen minutes, scratching Grogu’s back, while you spoke to him and sang him songs. Eventually, Grogu fell asleep⏤ exhausted from his tantrum.

“Thank you.” Din sighed. “He was miserable.”

“I feel so terrible.” You set your hands on your cheeks with a frown. “I didn’t realize he didn’t know. I just assumed⏤”

“Not your fault.” Din replied. “I think we all just assumed, and he assumed you’d be coming along.”

“I didn’t think…” The words left your lips in a breath and the way you bit them back made him think you hadn’t meant to let them slip at all. “Never mind.”

Din shook his head, adjusting Grogu so his head could rest on his shoulder more comfortably, and connected the dots. “Of course he’d be upset to part from you. You’re important to him. He loves you.” Like I do, the thought drifted through his mind involuntarily but not unwelcome. Din chuckled, “You’re Ma.”

“I know. I love him too.” You mumbled and something about hearing you declare your love for his son so blatantly and without pause stroked the domestic part of him making him preen in pride. “But, he was so excited to fly again and the two of you used to do this all the time without me…”

Din wondered if you truly didn’t know how important you had come to be to him and Grogu or if an anxiety of some kind kept you from fully accepting it. Din didn’t mind reminding you every single day if he had to. He’d take on that job happily. He hummed. “Before, you didn’t exist in our lives. You changed everything when you came, ner kar’ta.” 

He saw your lips twitch up into a soft smile and he let out a comfortable sigh. You shook your head. “You’re more of a sweet talker than I ever would’ve guessed, Din Djarin.” Din chuckled. Your eyes left the screen momentarily and you pushed out an annoyed grumble. “I have four patients waiting for me. There was a small collision on the tarmac after you left. Nothing too serious, but⏤”

“I didn’t know you were busy.” Din stiffened. You had been on the call with him for nearing twenty minutes now. “I didn’t mean to drag you from work. You could’ve told me⏤”

“Relax.” You replied soothingly. The smile you wore took a mischievous edge and you winked at him. “My boys needed me.” It was embarrassing the way Din’s heart pounded in his chest like he was a small child experiencing attention from his school yard crush. The stupid, silly grin he had to have been wearing was at least hidden from view. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Have a good day, ner kar’ta.”

“Stay safe.”

Din ended the call and slumped back in his seat while rubbing Grogu’s back. Every other breath or so his small body would be racked with a shuddering sigh from all the sobbing he had gone through. Din blamed himself for this meltdown. He should’ve realized the toll this would have taken on his son. Grogu was young for his kind, but he had already seen so much loss in his life. 

“Ni ceta, ad’ika.” Din murmured softly.

Three days had passed since Din had left with Grogu. The worst part of it, other than just missing them as badly as you did, was living in that house alone. That’s what it felt like with them gone. Just a house, not a home. It was bad enough that you nearly caved and asked to stay with Nima for the time being. You hated getting back from work and not hearing Grogu giggle mischievously while you made dinner or hearing Din murmuring a lullaby to get the boy to sleep. It was painfully quiet and empty. Considering Nima was already worried about you though, you didn’t ask to stay with her. Instead, you had settled on sleeping in Din’s room. At least there, nestled in his sheets with his smell enveloping you, you found some mild relief. You had even dragged Grogu’s stuffed blue frog to rest with you. It was pathetic, you knew, and you were embarrassed to even mention it to Din during your calls with him.

For that reason, work had become your favorite time of day. Luckily, you had actually been a bit more busy lately than usual. Well, lucky for you. Not so lucky for the poor souls wandering in with injuries. 

“I kind of thought you’d be using a cautery.” Your newest patient of the day, a man who worked with the local fire department, chuckled. He was younger than you by a few years if you had to guess. The man, named Hale, was good looking, you couldn’t deny it, but his messy, slightly curled brown hair only made your heart ache as you thought of Din. “Figured I’d end up with a gnarly scar.”

“Nope.” You chirped and continued suturing the gash across his abdomen. It wasn’t too deep, he didn’t lose enough blood to require replacement, but it definitely needed attention. “You still might scar, but it won’t be very impressive I don’t think.”

“Shame. I was hoping it’d make me look a little bit cooler. Women like guys with some macho scars, right?”

Your mind drifted to Din’s skin. The various scars that littered his torso and arms. A sigh left your lips, “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Hale nodded once. He shifted in pain, wincing, and you reassured him that you were nearly done. Just a few more stitches. He cleared his throat. “So, is there trouble brewing that we should know about at the fire department?”

“Hmm?”

“Well,” Hale titled his head across the room, “The entire security force of Nevarro is in the clinic with Peli’s best mechanic and our only doctor. Sounds like trouble.”

His words made you glance over your shoulder to see Vanth and Mayfeld arguing over maker knows what while Nima texted away on her communicator. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. “No. No trouble. Apparently there’s just nothing better to do in this city than annoy me.”

Hale chuckled at your reply. A lot of people seemed to linger around you as if you were a ticking time bomb. These three were the worst of them. When you asked Din about it, he said he asked a few people to just keep a close eye on you. By a 'few people' he must mean all of Nevarro. You finished your work and bandaged over the sutures before helping him sit up. Hale pulled his shirt back on then cleared his throat while you began to clean up your supplies.

“So, uh, hey,” He gave you a nervous smile, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out and get a⏤”

“Whoa!” Nima cut in before the poor guy could even finish his sentence. Despite having been clear across the room, she was suddenly at your side and fully attentive. You resisted the urge to palm your face in exhaustion. Nima pointed in his face as if her next words were a threat. “Don’t you know nothing? She’s taken, big boy. She’s dating the marshal!”

The patient’s eyes glanced over at Vanth who had paused in his argument at Nima’s outburst. Him and Mayfeld were only a few steps away. Hale raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t he a little old to be dating her?”

Vanth’s eyes widened and he stormed over while Mayfeld howled in laughter. Vanth threw his arm around your shoulder then motioned to his face. “I am not too old to be dating her, kid.”

“We’re not dating!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

“Not because I’m too old though.” Vanth argued.

“Calm down, grandpa.” Mayfeld snickered. “You’re gonna stroke out.”

“I’m not old.” Vanth argued once more and you caved and allowed your face to fall into your hands.

Mayfeld smirked. “Your gray hair says otherwise.”

“At least, I have hair.”

“Hey!” Mayfeld’s laughs turned to outrage. “I’m not bald. This is a shaved look, is all.”

“Out!” You snapped and pointed to the door. All three of your guests shuffled to the door and you shot Hale, still sitting on the cot with wide and confused eyes, a sympathetic smile. “Give me one moment, and I’ll be back.” He nodded and you turned on your heel. Vanth, Mayfeld, and now Nima had picked up the argument out in the hall, but when you stepped out with your hands on your hips they all grew quiet. At least they had the decency to look ashamed. “What the kriff is going on?”

Nima shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“What do I⏤” You motioned to her. “I cleared you for light work in the garage, and yet you’re here hovering over my every step. And, you two,” You pointed at Vanth and Mayfeld who flinched at the end of your finger, “You two have an entire city to protect. Why the hell are you in my clinic?”

All three of them mumbled out an apologetic answer while not meeting your eyes. Nima crossed her arms and shot you a sheepish smile finally. “We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Keep you company!”

“And make sure no one makes a move on the marshal’s girl.” Mayfeld winked at you. Vanth added a grin at his words and offered you a cheerful thumbs up. Of course this would be the one thing these two agree on.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Get out of my clinic so I can get back to work.”

“You’re just gonna go back in there? He was flirting with you!” Nima argued.

“Yeah, and I think I’m gonna go in there and say yes to getting a drink.” You said and their eyes widened. You followed it up with a mocking grin. “Then, when Mando gets back and asks why I’m dating a random man from the fire department I’ll tell him it’s because you three pushed me to insanity.” Vanth winced, Nima shifted awkwardly, and Mayfeld grimaced. “How’s that?”

Mayfeld cleared his throat. “Would really love it if you didn’t do that. I don’t want Mando to try and kill me. Again.”

“Out.” You replied. The three of them rushed away and you rolled your eyes in response. It was sweet of them to care, but their lingering presence was going to drive you up a kriffing wall. You hurried back to the main room and shot Ren another apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about them. They mean well.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. So, if not the cowboy, then the other Marshal? The Mandalorian. You’re dating him?”

“I…” You shrugged. “It’s⏤ Not officially.”

“Alright,” Hale nodded, “That means I have a chance then? Maybe?”

Thoughts of Din rolled over you in waves, as if your body was trying to remind you of who you had⏤ as if you even needed a reminder. You could hear his voice in the back of your head murmuring soft words of care. The promise that when he returned he’d be making you his in every sense of the word ringing clear. You smiled at the thought and shook your head. “No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. I figured I had to try.” Hale shrugged and slid off the cot.

You instructed him on care for his injury and when to be back for you to remove the sutures. Aalya came in after he left and began to ask you questions about supplies and an injury somebody was calling the clinic about to see if they needed to come in. You found it hard to focus. Maker, you hoped they’d be back soon.

The city Daelar had run to was in a rural region of an already rural Outer Rim world named Thyreps. Din had never been here before, barely even heard of it, and from the looks he didn’t plan on making a return trip here⏤ ever. It was a dry, barren place. Hot as Tatooine, but cracked, dead ground versus rolling hills of sand. The city was moderate in size, it must have been the main population on this desolate word, but it was still small enough that if he parked the N1 on the local tarmac he’d be noticed. Din didn’t want to give Daelar the chance to run. He had places to be after all. Din wasn’t looking to drag this trip out any longer than he needed.

So, Din parked the N1 out in the middle of nowhere and hiked into the city. There was an inn on the outskirts where he rented a room. It was times like this he missed the Razor Crest. More than usual, he should say. He was laying on the bed, helmet off, and while Grogu slept in his sealed pram in the corner of the room. Daelar liked to go from his workplace to a brothel. Din planned on catching the man on his way home. Which left him with hours to kill.

Din sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and weighed the pros and cons of calling you. It was late. You were probably getting ready for bed if you weren’t sleeping already. He only hesitated a moment before grabbing his helmet. Worse case scenario, you didn't answer. Best case scenario, he got to see you and hear your voice. Two things he was missing immensely.

He made the video call and it rang for longer than usual. Din was a second away from disconnecting when your line activated. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim view he had of you. From the looks of it, the holo call was being projected from your communicator which was sitting on the night stand beside the bed. The only light in the room coming from the glow the holocall gave off. 

“Din?” You mumbled. Your eyes still heavy with sleep. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, ner kar’ta. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.” Din tried to soak in as much of your features as he could. Maker, you were gorgeous. His mind couldn’t help but drift off and think of a future where he’d get to lay next to you in bed. A future where all he’d have to do is reach out and you’d be there. “Go back to sleep.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m awake. Don’t go.”

Din chuckled, but he could tell you were coming to a bit more. Your eyes growing more focused on him. He watched you sit up enough to readjust your pillow before laying back down. Din’s eyes narrowed at the color of the sheets cocooning you. “Are you… Are you in my bed?”

Your eyes widened, truly awake now, and mumbled, “Uh… yes? I’ve been sleeping in your bed since you left. Sorry.”

“Don’t⏤” Din began, his voice firm. The thought of you simply sleeping in his bed should not be as arousing as it was, but his thoughts were running wild and the crotch of his flight suit’s pants were growing tight. “Don’t apologize.” He breathed out. “There is literally nothing you could say that I would like more, ner kar’ta.”

“Hmm.” Your lips curled into a grin. “I don’t know about that. I think there are a few other things I could say that you’d like. Want an example?” Din couldn’t find his voice, and you took that as the only approval you needed. “I’m wearing one of your shirts to sleep in. Just your shirt.”

Din let out an audible groan. His head fell back, lighting clanking against the headboard he was sitting up against, and his hand shifted down to readjust himself⏤ it didn’t help. Meanwhile, you were quietly laughing and the sound had him smiling under his helmet despite the sexual frustration grabbing hold of him.

“You’re trouble.” He shook his head.

“The sooner you get back, the sooner you can punish me for it.”

“Dank farrik.” Din groaned. One hand fisting the bed sheet to keep from touching himself. He blew out a ragged breath of air. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Of course, I am.” You chuckled. “I have to tempt you into coming back as fast as possible.”

“There is nothing you have to do in order to tempt me.” Din scoffed. “Just knowing you’re waiting for me in Nevarro is enough.”

“Sweet talker.” You teased. “How far are you from Mandalore? I see you stopped somewhere.” The question was a splash of ice water because he technically hadn’t explained the whole Daelar side mission to you yet. Obviously, you needed to know. For the length that he had known you though, you only knew him as the Marshal. Sure, you were aware of his past as a bounty hunter, but you hadn’t been directly exposed to that side of him yet. If there was anything that could scare you away⏤ it’d be that. “Din?”

“To be honest,” Din hesitated only for a moment, “I’m on Thyreps.”

“I’ve never even heard of that world.” Your brow furrowed.

Din nodded. “It’s pretty remote.” He knew what your next question would be and continued without you speaking up. “Daelar is here.” Your eyes widened and he watched as you slowly sat up. Revealing more of the shirt you had on⏤ his shirt. “Karga and I tracked him down. I’m planning to... make things right.” Din paused. His jaw locked and he had to force himself to relax. “Is… Is that alright?”

You stayed quiet for a moment and Din could feel his nerves fraying by the second. Finally, you nodded and there was a fire in your eyes. “Good. Make him pay.”

It was the most bloodthirsty thing he had ever heard you say, and Din felt a chill run down his spine. The start of this conversation may have dampened his mood briefly, but he was even hotter under the collar now. Maker, he wished he could touch you. The temptation to touch himself while on call with you was overwhelming. The only thing halting him being the thought that the first time he’d come undone in your actual presence he didn’t just want your eyes on him⏤ Din wanted your hands on him. He wanted you close enough that he could actually feel your skin. He’s made it this long, he supposed.

“You should get back to sleep.” Din said. It was true. You had work in the morning, and he had work in just a few hours. Your eyes softened as you mumbled for him to be careful and Din sighed before ending the call. First things first, he needed an ice cold shower. Then, skira. 

The sun was only just beginning to rise when Din spotted Daelar leaving the brothel. Stumbling out, more specifically. Din leaned against a wall across the street and just watched for a moment. Just the sight of the man made his skin bristle in anger. His hands balled into fists. As Daelar began to wander down the street, Din crossed the street and followed after him slowly. The side of him that enjoyed the thrill of a hunt was disappointed. This was much too easy. It wanted a challenge. However, the other side of him reminded Din that the sooner he got this done the sooner him and Grogu got home to you.

“Him.” Grogu huffed from the pram floating beside him “Him, don’t like.”

“Don’t like him.” Din corrected the order of his son’s words. “Good job, ad’ika.” Daelar turned a corner into an alley and Din sighed. Too easy. “Close your pram.”

Grogu grumbled a few words before hitting the front of the pram and letting the metal walls close over him. Din rounded the corner after the man, but came to a halt when he was greeted by three blasters. Daeler a step behind the ones holding the blasters wearing a smug grin.

“Hey, Marshal.” Daelar chuckled. “Funny seeing you in these parts.”

Din locked his jaw in irritation and shifted so Grogu’s pram hid behind him. Of the three people holding the weapons, there were two men, one human the other Rodian, and the third was a human woman. Din strategized in his head, studying the scene, and it suddenly dawned on him. He recognized that woman. Why did he recognize her? Her dark hair was tied up messily and there was an amused chaos in her blue eyes⏤ like she enjoyed that her day was starting with violence. It hit him then. Ari. The last time he had been dropping her off in Jakku. Why anyone would want to go to Jakku, Din didn’t know. 

She had been a quarry initially, but the price she was willing to pay him to forgo the bounty and help her out could not be refused. Ari had given him an ingot of beskar. Karga liked to joke that Din had a bad habit of accidentally making allies across the galaxy, something he thought was far-fetched, but this was damning evidence. Helpful though.

He set his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “I see you’re still trouble.”

Ari’s eyes narrowed briefly before snapping open in shock. She lowered her blaster with a laugh and bright grin. “Mando! How the hell are ya?” Din could swear that Daelar’s face lost all color. “Dank farrik, man. Last time I saw you, your armor was shades of red, brown, and broken. Look at you now. Shiny.” Daelar, obviously able to see he was losing his ally, turned and began to sprint away. Ari snapped her fingers. “No.”

At the single, simple word, both men turned and ran after Daelar. Din hummed, mildly impressed. The woman drifted closer, holstering her blister, and pointed at him. “What’re you doing out in my corner of the galaxy? Please don’t tell me I’m on another puck.”

“Knowing you, you probably are, but I’m not here for you.”

Ari thumbed over her shoulder just as her guys dragged Daelar back kicking and screaming. “You after that guy? He’s got a bounty on him?”

“Yes, but I don’t plan on turning him in.” Din replied. His jaw locked again. He glared at Daelar and the way the man’s poor attempts to escape became more frenzied it was clear Din’s rage was understood. Helmet or not. “It’s personal.”

Ari let out a low whistle and glanced back at the man. “Shit. I knew he was dumb, but I didn’t know he was ‘piss off a Mandalorian’ dumb.”

“You’re supposed to protect me!” Daelar screamed at her. “It’s in my contract!”

Din snorted. “You hired him? You should know he’s a medical fraud⏤”

“I am not! I was the best in my field, I’ll have you know!” Daelar howled.

Ari nodded. “Oh, yeah. I know. He’s a fucking idiot.” The man stopped in his temper tantrum to stare at her with wide eyes. She shook her head at him. “Why else would I have you working in my rival’s clinic, you dumbass? I’m hoping you accidentally kill some of his crew.” Ari glanced back at Din and waved her hand at him. “I’m in the middle of a terf war. It’s a whole thing. Would take a while to explain.”

“Yeah. I don’t care.” Din replied.

“So?” Ari clapped her hands. “What do you want him for? He insult ‘The Way’?”

Din shook his head. “He tried to kill my son.”

Ari’s eyes widened in surprise then hardened into irritation. Daelar cried out. “Liar! He was fine when I left! Your wife is a dramatic bitch. She has no idea what she's talking about!” Din didn’t realize his anger could possibly worsen, but somehow it did. Daelar was digging himself deeper into a grave and Din was eager to bury him. “It was a little viral illness, the common cold⏤”

“He spiked a fever. You left him for dead. You left her to deal with it.” Din growled. That night could have ended so tragically. He nearly lost Grogu. Din hadn’t even been there as it happened. Grogu could have slipped away, gone from him forever, and Din would’ve been miles away⏤ useless to him. That loss would have destroyed him. It would have destroyed you. Din can still clearly remember the tremble in your body as you cried that night. The fear so overwhelming, wafting off you in waves, that it nearly drown him just from being near.

“I⏤I didn’t know!” Daelar tried to excuse himself.

Ari drew her blaster again and pointed it at Daelar’s face. “Want me to kill him then?”

Daelar was sobbing now, pleading, and Din shook his head. “No. He’s mine.”

“Fair.” Ari holstered her blaster again then nodded. “Mandalorian’s gonna take him to go.” The men shoved Daelar to the ground, he thrashed against them uselessly, and Din watched one of Ari’s men pull out a pair of binders. Ari drifted closer once more and crossed her arms. “Look at us. I got a crew, and you got a wife and kid. Aw.”

“She’s not actually my wife.” Din admitted.

Ari smirked. “Yeah, but I hear the word you’re leaving off that sentence, Mando. ‘Yet’, huh?”

Din grinned under his helmet and chuckled. “What are you doing out here? Jakku then Thyreps? What’s your obsession with deserted and dirty worlds?”

“I got my reasons.” Ari winked. The men dragged Daelar over and Ari nodded. “Anything else I can do for you? This is the favor I owe you so you might as well make it count.”

“Can you watch my kid?”

“Huh??”

Din stepped to the side and the pram popped open as if on cue. Grogu babbling and upset that he had been in the pram for so long. Ari cooed, “Aw. He looks just like you.” Din tilted his head at her, exasperated at the joke, and she laughed. “Yeah, alright. He’s safe with me. Be back soon though, I got places to be.”

Without another word, Din grabbed Daelar by the collar and glared down at him. Ari gave him her frequency number before disappearing with Grogu and her men. When the alley was empty, Din bared his teeth and hissed out a threat, “Ni cuy' olar par skira.”

Din slammed his fist into Daelar’s face making him crumple to the ground with a groan. He grabbed the man again and began to drag. Every time the bastard tried to slip out of his grip or yell out, Din hit him again. By the time they made it to the edge of the city, Daelar’s face was bloody and the man was limp in his hand. The sun was in the sky now and the temperature was beginning to rise. Din used his whipcord to wrap around the man’s ankle and began to drag Daelar across the cracked and hard ground.

It took thirty minutes to get Daelar out into the middle of nowhere. He stopped next to the N1 and released his whipcord. Daelar laid on the ground moaning pathetically. Din stalked over and stomped his boot on top of Daelar’s chest, he heard a crack of bone even with Daelar’s screams filling the air, and Din pressed down to keep him pinned.

“I almost lost my family because of you.” Din snapped. “That’s why this is happening.”

“It’s not my fault.” Daelar cough and Din pressed harder. The man cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. Your son is alive isn’t he? He’s fine! Don’t kill me!”

Din pulled his foot back and then knelt down beside him. He released the binders then roughly grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him up, and hissed. “He’s alive because of my wife’s quick thinking. She’s brilliant, an actual doctor unlike you, and she saved his life. Because of her, he had a chance.” Din chuckled. “So, no. I’m not going to kill you right now, Daelar.” Briefly, Din could see a flash of relief on the man’s bruised and bloodied features. “I’m going to give you a chance to save yourself. You’re a doctor. Best in your field. You should be able to do it no problem, right?”

Daelar’s eyebrows furrowed and, without preamble, his vibroblade was drawn and Din stabbed it between two of Daelar’s ribs on the right side. The man screamed and Din pulled the blade out and stood. Daelar grasped his side, blood pooling out onto the ground under him, and his breaths were growing shallow.

“You⏤ You said⏤”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you. I didn't.” Din tucked his blade away. He motioned in the direction they came from. “City is that way. Save yourself.”

Daelar shook his head, trying to grab his boots, “It’s too far. It’s⏤ I’ll bleed to death. I’ll⏤ I’ll drown in my own blood in twenty minutes. Sooner if my⏤ my lung collapses.” His breaths were shallow and panicked. “What would you⏤ you have me do?”

Din tilted his head. “Well, if I were you, I’d get to crawling.”

Daelar screamed and sobbed as Din marched to the N1 and boarded. Even with the engines going, Din could still hear the man’s cries but it did nothing but make him nod in assurance. Considering Daelar nearly took his family from him, Din felt like he was showing mercy. He gave the man a chance. Granted, it was a piss poor chance and his odds were in a very low percentile, but you had been stuck in a similar scenario. The N1 took off, angling toward the city’s tarmac so he could pick up Grogu, and Din felt relief at a job being done. More than likely, Daelar was going to die in the desert, and in Din’s opinion that was still more than he deserved.

mando'a translations:

Buir: father (parent) Ad’ika: little one Digur: Forget Her Kar’ta: My heart Ni ceta: I’m sorry Skira: Settle a score, revenge Ni cuy' olar par skira: I’m here to settle a score.

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[aurae-rori]

AVENTURINE TRAILER ANALYSIS - THE GOLDEN TOUCH

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT & AVENTURINE’S TRAILER! 

TW FOR VERY VAGUE SUICIDE MENTIONS. 

Hey girlies, hold still. On another note, hello again! I will be going through visual analysis, symbolism, and talking about how this trailer ties multiple aspects of Aventurine’s character together. Some of the things covered here I will be covering in my full analysis of Aventurine himself, so feel free to give that a shot. 

My disclaimer! Although I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, I am NOT a professional. (Yet. When I do, Tumblr Will Know.) Any conclusions I come to are because of my own deductions, personal interpretations, analysis, and logic. You are free to disagree with what I say! 

I also do NOT know card numbers and symbols – what they mean and symbolize and all that jazz. Sorry guys. :( 

Now, let’s get into it. 

First of all, let’s fucking go, let this man ENJOY himself (well. A little. This trailer is not as happy silly as it seems, just like the character himself.) He gets to have a silly boogie woogie! Look at you go!! (He is not boogie woogie-ing.)

Second of all, time for game theories.  

The first scene is really pretty. It’s a coin falling down, toppling against a few stray objects before we flash to the next panel, the ground, as it rolls to the feet of a young boy. Gently, he reaches down, before picking it up, and then, in true Aventurine fashion, proceeds to flip the coin in his hand. However, this gesture actually holds more meaning than I originally thought it did. The coin that Aventurine has seems to transcend his definition of ‘time’ – his inherent ‘value’, or his ‘roots’, never changing. It also shows his connection to his younger self – how he’s still holding onto that child, still connecting to that child, and showing that this child is still a part of him, even if it’s only his past self. 

I believe that the coin that he always has flipping around actually represents Aventurine himself – it represents his ‘value’ as a gambling chip. In Aventurine’s eyes, interpersonal relationships are just like that – they are gambles, where people take advantage of one another and backstab each other. However, it also represents how little he seems to care for his own life – he tosses the coin around, does tricks with it, and is overly flamboyant – just like how he presents himself to the outside world. This single gambling chip is actually the presentation of how Aventurine sees himself and presents himself to everyone else, as well as encompasses his worldview – bet himself, going ‘all in’ with his own worth, or doing nothing. That worth has been with him his entire life – the worth of being a child blessed by a God from his home, being blessed with good fortune. 

Also, sick ass transition. Love that shit. 

Pay attention to the next scene – there’s a brief moment where it shows him walking through a hallway… through the lens of a camera. This could definitely be alluding to the idea of always being watched – I mean, he’s the last of his own race, of course there’s going to be eyes on him. People are going to be asking questions - how is he still alive? Why is he with the IPC? Can he be trusted, considering his race was known for scheming and plotting? 

And then, he tosses open the door in a grand display – a grand display of his fake persona. He opens the room to a whole bunch of robots, who are all gambling, and they stare at him in surprise. That’s Aventurine – flamboyant, showy, confident. He holds a captive audience and all of the others move to the side as he strides towards the slots machine – and as predicted, due to his good luck, he gets three in a row. However, what I think is important to note is that he slides his coin into the machine – and remember what I said about the coin representing his worth? This is what I mean by he bets himself. He is just another gambling chip that he will use to achieve victory no matter what. He is another pawn on the table who has made his way this far, and it’s all or nothing – his whole worth, or not worth the gamble at all. 

Also, at 0:42, we see a briefcase open up to reveal a gem – definitely a callback to the 2.1 trailblaze quest with his moment with Ratio. Damn, gay people. 

Then, after that, he slides many chips towards the table – and interestingly enough, they’re all copies of his one singular chip. This, your honour, is what we call a ‘bluff’. Pretending to be more than you are in order to appear more confident so that your enemies will fear you. Pretty good strategy, honestly. 

Also, cool editing with the machines falling into the Void of Cards. Maybe symbolism for how people fall into his persona easily and fall for his schemes? 

Epic ahh pose, 0:54. Love that for you, my silly homosexual lad. 

Also, him in the elevator going to the top at around 1:02? That means more than you think it does. Probably most likely a representation of how he had to crawl his way from the bottom to the top, and yet, now, it’s showing that he is at the top now. He takes an elevator instead of having to climb – he’s gotten higher, he’s gotten more status. His ‘all or nothing’ mentality pays off. 

And then, he’s set into an arena. Representation of life, honestly. His whole life is a stage, a play, something to be watched. He’s here to put on a good show. He’s being watched, which is a callback to my note about the camera at the start. 

Then, the horrors are set loose. He does his gambling stuff with the cup in his hand while he dodges the monsters. That’s him, alright – taking gambles in dangerous situations, relying on his luck, smiling through what should be terrifying. 

“The wager will be life and death,” but oh, that’s your usual wager, Aventurine. We all know how you have self-destructive tendencies. 

1:42. Hand behind his back. Oh lord, we all died. We all know what the hand behind his back means. We all know how much emotional damage that caused. 

1:46. The dice cracks. Just like his cornerstone, eh? Just like his façade, right…? :) 

And then, everything is drowned in gold coins. Yay! 

And then, he’s standing on a ledge. Possibly a callback to how he said that he had “tested death” in the dreamscape. What better way to test it than jumping? 

And then his enemies are drowning in coins. Probably a metaphor for his win against them. 

And then, here is where things get interesting at the two minute mark. He tosses his coin down, again, like at the beginning of the trailer. Kakvasha flipped the coin up, trying to get higher, and then, Aventurine tosses the coin down, keeping his connection with his younger self. It falls down to the ground, and Kakavasha picks it up with awe in his eyes. He’s still keeping in mind his younger self, still keeping him with him, even to this day. Holding onto his past like a lifeline. 

Aventurine’s trailer… while it does seem on the surface that you’re having fun, you’re really not, when everything is a show and a gamble, right? 

Alright, thanks for reading, everyone! :) 

[goingbuggy]

Shanks' Savior Complex

A few months ago, I posted a joke tweet about Shanks’ savior complex and Buggy’s inferiority complex. While Buggy’s feelings of inadequacy are pretty obvious in the source material, Shanks is constantly evading serious analysis because of how little he appears in the manga and how nebulous those few appearances are. So, naturally, I was met with a lot of confusion. (What do you mean by ‘savior complex?’ Why Shanks specifically?) I thought I’d address all that now in one comprehensive, all-inclusive post.

Before I dive in, please note just a few things:

A SAVIOR COMPLEX is a pattern of unconscious behaviors. It is associated most often with self-sacrificial people – those who help others even at the cost of their own personal well-being, mental or physical.

Within the field of psychology, ‘complexes’ are just constructs. My goal is not to diagnose. Rather, this post is a conceptual analysis using the idea of a “savior complex” to better explore Shanks as a character.

Now that all that’s out of the way, let me begin!

For a character who is so significant in the grand scheme, Shanks is remarkably absent for the better part of One Piece. Really. He is so nonexistent, actually, that the first chapter of the manga is probably the most we’ve ever seen from him uninterrupted. This is for good reason, though; Shanks is the catalyst for Luffy’s entire journey. He owes a lot to Shanks: his devil fruit, his life, and even his dream, to an extent. Luffy learned a lot about being a captain from Shanks, and much of his advice – like picking and choosing your battles, for example – Luffy puts to good use later down the line.

So, considering his role as Luffy’s mentor, it’s fitting that Shanks’ character is defined by RESPONSIBILITY. He’s goofy, sure, but don’t let that devil-may-care attitude fool you – Shanks is a knowledgeable pirate, grounded by the weight he carries. His dialogue and actions throughout the first chapter reflect this. When Luffy demands to be taken out to sea, Shanks refuses, claiming he is too young. While the rest of his crew wax poetic about the freedom and joy of being a pirate, Shanks is the one bringing them back down to reality, telling them not to fill Luffy’s head with “crazy ideas.”

Those who know him best seem to agree. “The captain’s just doing what’s best for everyone,” Beckman states. “The safety of the entire crew and ship rests on his shoulders.”

Although Shanks is realistic, he is not a pessimist, and he certainly still values dreams. Let’s not forget: Shanks entrusted Luffy with Roger’s hat. Not only that, he asks Luffy to give it back when Luffy has become a great pirate – not if. Of course Shanks has hope for the future and the new generation. He's just also experienced enough to know the dangers and horrors of the current world, and curbs his own expectations as a result. Yet again, Beckman reinforces this when he talks to Luffy.

The future needs a strong foundation. Anything is possible, including what Luffy wants to achieve, but there are necessary sacrifices to make dreams a reality.

I believe Shanks sees himself as one of those necessary sacrifices.

Oda may not have envisioned Shanks losing an arm in the original draft of the story, but this decision sets a precedent going forward, for both Shanks as a character and the series at large. Sacrifice is at the core of One Piece’s identity; previously, I’ve discussed its emotional significance as an act of love. But sacrifice also serves as the foundation for the new generation. Corazón’s sacrifice, for example, enabled Law to outlive him and change the future. Toki and Oden’s sacrifices enabled their children and the Nine Red Scabbards to change the future. Queen Otohime, Fisher Tiger, Shimotsuki Yasuie… although these characters died without ever seeing the future they hoped for, their sacrifices are the foundation upon which their successors enact change.

And who do we also see facilitating the changing world, ensuring the “new age” succeeds?

Shanks.

Whenever Shanks reappears in the manga, it is usually on the precipice of a dangerous conflict, or at exactly the perfect moment to intervene in said conflict. Take Shanks visiting Whitebeard, for example; here, he attempts to navigate the growing tension between Ace and Blackbeard, which eventually results in the war at Marineford. Although he fails at convincing Whitebeard to stop Ace’s revenge quest, it’s clear that Shanks has a vested interest in balancing the current forces at play, including marines and pirates.

At Marineford, not only does Shanks intervene to stop the war, but he saves Koby, a member of the new generation who will undoubtedly change the future on the marines' side of things. His words also reflect my point about sacrifice as a foundation for change. As he stops Akainu, he praises Koby for putting his life on the line: “The seconds of courage you bet your life on creating, for good or bad, have just now greatly changed the fate of the world!”

This aspect of his character remains consistent in Film Red, too. Even though he has grown to love Uta as a daughter, Shanks still encourages her to stay behind because her singing brings happiness to a world where "peace and equality don't exist." Afterwards, when Uta causes the massacre on Elegia, Shanks shoulders all the blame, effectively hiding the truth to protect her. He sacrifices his own connection with his daughter for what he believes is the greater good. Note that Shanks’ own personal feelings on that decision are never explored or discussed; obviously, Shanks loved his daughter, and it's safe to assume he didn't want to leave her. But he set aside his own happiness and made the hard choice anyway. (Sound familiar? The "savior complex" alarm bells should be ringing in your head.)

Even as an emperor, Shanks sacrifices his own strength, influence, and reputation. His fleet is “notoriously weak.” The pirates within it even admit that they never would have survived this long without Shanks protecting them. This fleet is another responsibility weighing Shanks down, and yet he takes on that burden anyway for their sake. 

We don’t have the full context behind Shanks’ decision at Loguetown either, but it’s likely that his refusal to go Laughtale right away ties back to responsibility, too. We know whatever Roger said to Shanks the day their crew disbanded rendered him to tears. (Did Roger’s answer to his question change his mind?) We also know he regards Luffy as Roger’s successor, and claims Luffy acts just like he did as a kid. (Shanks "crowning" Luffy with Roger's hat also parallels Shanks' moment with Roger visually, placing them in similar roles.)

Given this, it’s possible that Shanks believed he could take on Roger’s legacy, but later realized he would not be the one to change the world. Roger might have even tasked him with finding the “true” successor, who will “turn the world upside down.” (Shanks’ fixation with the “new age” would also make sense in that case.) This is all speculation, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway, because if this were true, Shanks would have sacrificed his own dream for the sake of the world. (Very fitting!)

But how does Shanks feel about his role in the bigger picture? The short answer: we don’t know, and I think that’s purposeful. Oda consistently draws Shanks looking wistful and resigned when it comes to his choices; although he has severed relationships and damaged his body, not once has he expressed resentment, anger, or sorrow. In fact, he's usually smiling.

Shanks also has his own monologue where he discusses the act of crying.

If you apply his advice to his own character journey, it raises a lot of questions. Does Shanks view his current sacrificial actions as “overcoming” his own tears from back then? Is that why we so rarely see him cry now? Considering how reserved Shanks is in expressing negative emotions, I think it’s possible. His emotional restraint could also be seen as “saving face” for the sake of others – something I’ve discussed before. That is my own interpretation, though, so take it with a grain of salt. 

Speculation aside, Shanks has shown time and time again that he prioritizes the future over his own life. His dedication to/fixation with the "new age," his role as a mentor, how he believes in putting his life on the line and "overcoming" negative emotions... these indicate a pattern of behaviors seen in those with savior complexes. Even if it's at the cost of his own mental/physical well-being, Shanks plans to facilitate the world as Luffy changes it.

Is the "new age" his dream, or did he sacrifice his real dream for the sake of the new age? Does that dream even matter to him, anymore? The reasoning for Shanks' motives is still unknown, but the answer must lie in whatever mysterious question he asked Roger – otherwise, why hide the context for his massive turnabout at Loguetown? Once the curtain is drawn back on that moment, I think we will begin to see Shanks in a new light.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for locking an ex-friend out of a long-time gaming account?

[Context]

I (F16) had a friend, who we'll call V (F30s). We met on an online chat game, with the main focus being decorating rooms and playing mini-games with other players. She had been playing for well over ten years at that point, while I was still pretty new (about a year or two, in comparison). I had a pretty large friend group on that game, and when I met her, I kind of brought her into this group.

Several months (6+ ish) later, the group and I decided to create a knock-off room of some of the most popular rooms on the server. We had mostly all met in these popular rooms and just wanted one of our own for the friend group and others like us. This was largely my idea, along with my best friend, R (16M). R contributed the most in terms of financial support, and we both took on designing the room. Everyone else pitched in ideas, but were largely unhelpful in the grand scheme of things. V was the most unhelpful, as she would get pissy about small things that didnt go her way, even when she wasn't contributing to the creation of this room.

Eventually, the room was completed how R and I wanted it, with some input from the others. V did a 180 and was soooo happy with how everything turned out. Everything was back to normal with her.

Now, our room was not successful. We did not end up one of the popular ones. While a little disappointing, it was fine because we were still hanging out with our friends and having fun. About a month or two in, I got a message from R telling me to log on quick, bc the room was in disarray.

I logged in and people were telling me V had trashed it (all of us in the main group had complete access to the room, so could make changes as needed). While it wasn't "trashed" per se, it was a mess and it did take me a couple hours to fix everything.

Friends filled me in and told me V had apparently been secretly making her own room (another knock-off like ours, but worse) with a guy who had said some disgusting things about me, and several friends joined her in tarnishing ours before leaving to be with her.

This was an utter betrayal as I loved them all and had trusted them with something R and I worked very hard on for all of us. There was never any indication that V was unhappy with anything, as we spoke every day and she was always saying how much she loved our group and how we were definitely gonna be the most successful eventually and blah blah. I mean, I recognized that she was just saying what I wanted to hear, but still. I thought of her like a big sister.

[End Context]

A few days went by, and R and I were talking about everything that had happened. I was finally over the shock, and I was just angry. R said he wished there were some way we could get back at her. I remembered that V had given me her password months prior for an event she couldn't complete, and I had logged in and done it for her. I told him that she said it was the only password she'd ever used, since she was young, and I bet she hadn't changed it.

I was wrong, she HAD changed it, but she had also given me her email for the login information, so I tried the password on her email. I got in. So I changed her game password through her email and logged in.

She had been online, but this game would kick you off if someone else logged in while you were online, so I knew I had precious little time before she'd change the password back and I'd be kicked off.

So I went into her room, mass-banned everyone in there (including some of my former friends, one was the gross guy I hated), destroyed the room as much as possible, and then privated it so no one could enter (idk why I didn't just delete the room, wasn't thinking clearly ig). I then typed in as many censored words as I could so the auto-filter would flag her and get her account suspended.

Her account DID get suspended (and the game team was notorious for having the worst support ever. Once your account was suspended/banned, you almost never got it back), and I was auto-logged out. I logged back into my personal account, and R and I freaked out, just super giddy. V used an alt account to confront us, and ofc we denied having any involvement, but laughed at her anyways.

She did eventually (a month or two later) get her main account back, but before that she had lost all of her stuff, so she couldn't reopen her room. I was pretty satisfied with this, but some of the former friends who sided with her told me it had taken a toll on her mental health. I told them that all of their betrayals had taken a toll on MY mental health, so why should I be bothered, especially when I hadn't DONE anything (wink).

All in all, I felt justified, and she did eventually get her main account back, and I stopped playing not too long after that, but I'd still like to know what other people think.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[autistic-skeletons]

Good Omens season 2 is about what religious trauma does to indoctrinated people, and here’s why.

so i finally watched Good Omens after my friends BEGGED me to ever since the first season first dropped and even though the ending stabbed me in the balls repeatedly for several hours i can’t help but marvel about how genius the ending really is and how crucial it is to both Aziraphale and Crowley as characters

i was hesitant to watch this show bc i was indoctrinated and conditioned by evangelicalism from birth (i’m literally the kid of two ex-missionaries and my dad was a chaplain for 36 years) and i knew that i could easily get triggered if i wasn’t careful.

i’m so glad i watched this show. there’s many reasons but i really just wanna talk about the ending of s2 aka The Divorce. it went entirely over my friends heads bc none of them grew up in the church but when i watched the ending it felt like i was watching pieces of myself at war with each other even though they didn’t want to be. to me, i was watching two people so broken by heaven and hell that they don’t understand that what they’re doing is hurting themselves more than it’s hurting each other. this is a pretty long ramble so i’ll continue under the cut

Aziraphale and Crowley are two halves of the same coin (literally soulmates) and are narrative foils to each other. obviously right, i mean, everyone noticed that. but what they truly represent in the grand scheme of things is the fallout of religious trauma. Crowley has seen the absolute Worst of heaven and the angels. he’s been outcast, scorned, and tortured for (assuming based on the opening scene of season 2) simply asking questions and questioning his faith. Aziraphale is the poster child of what a good angel is in the eyes of heaven and has reaped the benefits for millennia.

what is happening here is a war between two halves of a whole, Denial vs Bitterness.

as a young child it was drilled into my head over and over that my faith had to be as strong as a rock all the time or i would crumble like sand. i idolized all the bible characters and memorized all the verses and did all the good and right things i was supposed to. i was a standard in all the churches i went to, i was the example of what a good christian was, and i knew it.

then, over time, i began to see behind the curtain on what was really going on in the church and i was devastated. how could something based on love do all of that? why am i so scared to think freely? why do i feel like i can never be good enough? the more i questioned the more shame i felt and the more bitter i became, but i longed to go back to that innocence of being the best little christian kid in the church.

Aziraphale cannot truly comprehend the uncomfortable reality that what he’s been subscribing to all this time isn’t good for him. heaven has been hurting him for a long time and he doesn’t understand that. how can something he thinks is so right, so true, so good hurt him and his friends so much? no, it must be something he’s done right? it must be some bad apples right? the whole orchard can’t be bad right? he just has to fix this. he just has to make it better for him and for Crowley and then everything will be ok again.

Crowley can’t wrap his mind around why Aziraphale cares so fucking much. hasn’t he seen what heaven and hell have done? they barely stopped the end of the fucking world!!! they tried to destroy both of them with holy water and hellfire!!!!! they’re still trying to meddle in their personal lives after everything!!! why is Aziraphale so stubborn???? why does he choose something so asinine over him? Crowley has been there for Aziraphale a hell of a lot more than heaven has, can’t he see that?

both of them are hurting deep down into their very souls and they just can’t see it. that’s what religious trauma does to you. it strips you so bare of your personhood that without your religion, who are you? without your god, you’re just an empty shell. you’re nothing without “us”, without the church.

without Aziraphale trying and failing to fix heaven, he’s never gonna understand how corrupt of a system it all is.

without Crowley learning that Aziraphale is hurting just as much as he is, he’s never gonna learn that Aziraphale really had his best intentions at heart and just wanted to do what he thought was the good thing

without both of them realizing that they’re both wrong, they’re never gonna come together and really stand up for themselves and for their friends and for earth as a whole. without this grief, without this pain, without this separation, they’re never going to be truly free

and i, for one, cannot wait to see them kick some ass when they decide that enough is enough

[tcfactory]

I'm thinking about the timeline others have puzzled out for SVSSS/PIDW and about how 30-something is staggeringly young for sect leaders/masters in a setting where cultivation/golden core formation leads to immortality. Especially with the handwavy fantasy timelines, you can easily make a master hundreds if not thousands of years old, depending on how high you go with cultivation/how wild your setting is.

Not to mention that, while golden core formation is somewhere in the middle of the list of stages (there are variations, can be different names and number of stages, but here's one I kind of like: Qi Gathering, Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, Deity Transformation, Body Unity, Void Boundary and Mahayana and then you can ascend to proper godhood), the stages are supposed to be exponentially more difficult and time consuming. The peak lords forming their golden cores in their twenties-thirties is plausible, if they are a generation of prodigies, but it would still make them lower-tier cultivators in the grand scheme of things.

But then again the setting does seem to be pretty lacking in higher tiers of cultivation - everyone relevant seems to be Core Formation stage (that is, they have successfully formed their golden core) with maybe the Old Palace Master as a Nascent Soul cultivator - so maybe this specific setting just cuts out the higher stages and allows ascension at the end of Nascent Soul or Deity Transformation? It's still strange that we have some of the most powerful cultivators (YQY) be this young, because 30-something is bizarrely early for even Nascent Soul level, unless there's reincarnation shenanigans afoot and he carried over his cultivation level from a previous life.

Anyway, it makes me wonder if something happened to one or more of the previous generation in the fight against TLJ that forced an early ascension. Maybe someone got severely injured (or potentially even killed) so they decided to ditch the Qing generation before they could start losing (more of) their members.

Kudos to the current peak lords if so, because managing to keep the sect running competently and maintaining CQMP's standing among the other sects is quite the accomplishment, especially if their training had to be cut short. Imagine starting an internship and then getting fast-tracked to CEO before you could even finish the orientation course.

[foreverdolly]

29 & 49, austin!tex, dark romance. I basically want more in that same universe as your other austin!tex work honey

𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒 | 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧!𝐭𝐞𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompt: "I can't. . .please. . . I can't take it anymore." and "good boy."

word count: 2.5k

song: cinnamon girl - neil young

notes/warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT! a rosary is used for. . . stuff. this fic is absolutely filthy good lord. tex legit worships you and thinks of you as his own personal goddess. i hope you love this, baby.

Not before Tex, that is. 

Not before Tex, that is. 

Again and again, he had proved to you that he would never do anything that might put you in danger. You were the one thing in the world that he really wanted to protect. He’d been spiraling before he met you. He had been searching for a purpose, and now that he had found one? He wasn’t willing to ever let that go. Let you go. 

You knew that Tex was ultimately stronger and more capable in a fight, so he’d easily be able to keep you there with him even if you weren’t willing to stay. Yes, you had been taken against your will- but that didn’t mean that you had no control. If anything, you’d never felt more powerful in your life. 

Because Tex depended on you for happiness. 

You weren’t too far gone not to notice how unhealthy the relationship between you two was. It was codependent and it was unpredictable- but it was also passionate and real. He hadn’t been a very good person before he met you. He was pretty evil, actually. 

But he treated you like a Goddess. The man prayed to you before bed each night. You were his entire world. 

Maybe it was wrong of you to love it so much, but you did. It had been impossible not to fall in love with Tex. 

It felt nice getting away from the ranch for a few hours some nights. Both you and Tex were still formulating a grand scheme to get out of that house and away from Charlie. Though neither of you would say it, you knew that getting out as soon as possible was the best idea. 

The two of you would climb into whatever car was available and drive thirty minutes further up the mountain. The view was beautiful up there at night, what with all the stars and sprawling farmland. 

You hadn’t bothered asking whose car you were in when Tex hurriedly led you outside, excitedly jingling some car keys with his free hand.

 It was an old, weather worn truck. It had probably once been a beautiful mint green color, but now it was spotted with rust and small scratches. Still, the old thing started up without a problem when Tex turned the key. Smalltalk was hard when all the two of you did was spend time together. 

Surprisingly, Tex was fond of deeper, more intimate topics of conversation. He asked about whether or not having a family was important to you. He talked to you about theology and music. He talked about things that had happened in his past, and that those things most likely contributed to the way that he had turned out. How he had run into Charlie and got tied up in all of that mess. 

It was Tex’s desperate yearning for a family that led him on his current path of death and destruction. 

He was trying to change. Now whether it was because he genuinely disliked who he had become or solely to please you, you still weren't sure. 

Dropping acid in an old, rundown truck probably wasn’t a good idea. Especially since you were just off of the main dirt road. Tex had turned the headlights off, but anyone could bump into you on the way to their homes. You were too busy looking at Tex to really care too much though. 

His black dyed hair was starting to get even longer, his chestnut brown hair now visible at the roots. He was perfect with his big blue eyes and bubblegum lips. It was hard to keep your hands off of each other whenever you did any sort of drugs, especially psychedelics. All of your senses were heightened, and his skin somehow felt velvet soft against your fingers. You pressed your thumb against his lower lip, dragging it down ever so slightly so that you could get a better look at his lower teeth. One of his lower canines was slightly crooked, but other than that his teeth were perfectly straight. 

“I’ve never had one cavity in my life. I’ve been mighty blessed, I think.” He mumbled, his chest vibrating with each word. 

You were straddling him in the driver's side of the car, one of your knees tucked against the doorframe and the other one pressed against the armrest. You’d somehow ended up in his lap just a few seconds after the LSD kicked in. It was almost instantaneous with tabs. You’d learned to brace yourself for the odd wavy visuals. 

“Very blessed.” You nodded your head, biting your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from smiling. 

Tex seemed to notice, his own lips pulling up into a wide grin to match yours. His palm had been resting on the middle of your back, but suddenly became aware of the fact that he was now brushing his hand up and down your side absentmindedly. Your entire body broke out in chills. He noticed the way you shivered, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Does that feel good?” He asked, blue eyes flickering down to your lips and then back up to stare into your eyes. 

You managed to nod, your hands moving up his chest and over his broad shoulders. It was his turn to shiver then, his grip on you tightening, pulling you further into his lap. Your fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt, feeling the skin of his back. 

Some days there was nothing to do around the house to pass the time aside from fucking. Listening to album after album while smoking pot was only fun for a limited amount of time, and there was nothing left to do except to chase a different sort of high. You couldn’t count how many times you and Tex had sex over the two months that you had been staying with him. Some days it was nonstop. The second that he caught his second wind he was pulling you back into the room that the two of you shared. 

Even after all of that though, it still hasn't lost its novelty. Your fingers explored the expanse of his chest like it was a foreign land, tracing each scar like you were making a roadmap out of them. And he was beautiful in the pale light of the moon. He was staring up at you as though you were some prophet, sent down to lead him to a new world. 

A better world. 

One by one, the two of you began to peel off articles of clothing, not caring where anything ended up. The man took advantage of the unusual height difference, leaning forward so that he could place an opened mouth kiss directly in the middle of your chest. His long eyelashes brushed against your collarbone, his long hair tickling your shoulder as he moved down, down, down. 

And then he was cupping your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. 

“I’m so glad that these are mine.” He spoke so softly that you could barely make out what he was saying. 

There was nothing in the world that beat the feeling of Tex being seated up inside of you. You could feel every inch of him practically in your stomach, pushing up against your insides. It was deliciously painful now that you were on top, pushing him even deeper than usual. Tex had barely pulled down his jeans, in too much of a hurry to feel all of you to worry about his clothes. His belt buckle was digging into the sensitive skin of your thigh as you moved your hips against his. 

You didn’t care enough to tell him that it hurt, because you were positive that it would leave a mark. And you wanted that. Every bruise, bite mark or scratch was worn with pride. They were constant reminders that the both of you belonged to each other. 

Tex was usually the dominant one. He enjoyed taking care of you in bed. Being in control was something that he preferred. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you to take the reins, but because he enjoyed watching your expressions. He loved pounding into your small, soft little body and listening to your sounds of pleasure knowing that he was the one that was causing it all. It was hard for him to do much of anything other than fuck up into you, meeting you halfway as you raised up and down on your knees. 

Your thighs were burning and quivering, but you didn’t care. Suddenly you understood just what was so good about being on top. Tex was a blubbering mess, his eyes blown out wide, cheeks a bright pink as he tried to control his breathing. Still, you continued to move against him, even when he gently began tapping at your hip, trying to silently communicate with you that he was close. 

You didn’t care. You even moved his hands away from sides when he tried to stop you, moving your hips even faster against his. 

“O-Oh fuck-” He panted, out, his hand clumsily bumping into the armrest as he tried to grip onto something- anything as the pleasure kept building. 

You recognized that look in his eyes. Knew he was about to cum- but you wanted it. 

“H-Honey. . .” He was trying to warn you and try to get you to stop. 

But he was too high and it all felt too good. Your hips were moving relentlessly against his, and your pussy was so warm and tight around him. He pressed his face into your chest as he climaxed, repeating your name again and again like it was some broken prayer. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, pumping you full. Warming you up from the insides. You didn’t stop moving against him though. Even when you were sure that he was finished. 

He was a shaking mess, his eyes filled with tears as he pulled his face away from your chest so that he could look at your face. He looked pitiful, still shaking with the aftershocks of his climax as you continued using his oversensitive dick. 

“I can’t- please. . . I can’t take it anymore.” He was begging you. 

Despite his tears and twitching muscles, he didn’t make any move to try and get you off of him. He could have lifted you easily. 

You could feel that all too familiar tightening in your abdomen, and telltale sign that you weren’t too far off. Tex must have felt you tightening around him, because his hands, albeit a little shaky, moved to your hips. He helped you move on top of him, clenching his teeth and staring up at you. He was watching your face intently, wanting to watch you fall apart. 

“I-If you’re a good boy then I’ll reward you.” You panted out, bracing a hand on his bare chest. You were finding it hard to move anymore, the pleasure starting to render your limbs useless. 

The brunette’s blue eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. 

“You’re gonna reward me by comin’ on my cock? I know I’ve got more cum to give you, so please. Keep goin’. Don’t stop.” He had such a filthy mouth. He never had a problem with telling you exactly how he felt. 

Normally you would have said something to him to egg him on, but the promise of being packed full with even more of his seed had you falling over the edge. His large hand reached up and gripped onto your throat as he felt your walls clench down hard around him, keeping your face tilted down so that he could see it. 

See your precious lips part and your eyes roll back. 

“G-God you’re so hot. Holy fuck.” The urge to squeeze your throat even tighter was overwhelming. Because you were just so soft and small compared to him. The urge to hurt you in bed was overwhelming sometimes. He wanted to leave bruises. Wanted to claim you in as many ways as he possibly could. 

It was your turn to be oversensitive. Tex continued his assault, thrusting his hips up into you as you loomed above him, trying to breathe through the comedown of your climax. He wasn’t going to give you even a second to rest though, because now he had an end goal. He wanted to cum inside of you twice without pulling out, and then enjoy the sheer amount of himself that was bound to pour out of that well loved pussy of yours. Your moans of pleasure were growing in volume, and the brunette was sure that he had seen a house less than a mile up the road. The last thing he needed was to get the cops called on the both of you, and so with frantic hands he tried to find something that he could use to muffle your screams. 

In his desperate searching his finger tugged at a long string of beads that had been haphazardly hung over the rearview mirror. The clasp gave out easily, the necklace tumbling down into the passenger seat. It was good enough for him. He gathered the long necklace up into his hand before shoving some of it into your mouth along with two of his long fingers. You gagged around him, your cunt clenching around him yet again but in shock. He let out a low growl, his breathing becoming more frantic. 

The long string of rosary beads that weren’t in your mouth felt cold against your chest. There was something that was so blasphemous about the scene. Something that was so wrong and debased that it had Tex beginning to shiver beneath you, eyes wide and glassy. He curled his fingers inside of your mouth, pressing against your tongue. 

And then he was cumming again, his head lolling back onto the headrest, the muscles in his biceps pulling tight. He breathed hard, moving one of his hands to press against your abdomen, and was pleased to find that he could feel himself twitching inside of you. 

Claiming you from the inside out. 

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

[hello-nichya-here]

Do you like any of Lucrezia and Cesare's other love interests or do you only ship them with each other?

As usual, I gotta turn what could be a simple answer into an unnecessarily long rant.

All of Lucrezia's boring love interests and why I don't truly ship her with any of them

Okay, so despite the title, I don't think ALL of her love interests are boring... to the same degree. All of them made me roll my eyes and wish for their scenes to be over faster at some point, but some far less than others, and most of them actually had an impact on Lucrezia's growth as a character.

Djem

He was her first (non-incestuous) love. He is a painfully naive guy, and each time he and Lucrezia were being flirty it felt more like two children playing house - yes, even when he's talking about men being allowed to have as many women as they want, and the different rules for beating a wife VS beating a concubine.

He's trapped in a fantasy of having a peaceful, good life when he gets to Rome - no political intrigues, no one being murdered horribly, no one being two-faced. He's basically Lucrezia's prince charming. A handsome young man from a mysterious, foreign land, being all kind and sweet and obviously into her - with intentions so pure they never even kiss.

But his role in the story is literally to die by the hands of the people he now trusted wanted to be his family, so the Borgias could have more money. He's more of a means to an end than he is a character.

His death represents the first major confirmation that Lucrezia's life (and romances) will be filled with sorrow, and that will kill whatever innocence she once had, and while that's fine foreshadowing, it doesn't really make me wish he had lived longer and actually had a relationship with Lucrezia. And more importantly, it sets up the prescedent for Lucrezia to only go for men that are SUPER docile - to the point that's pretty much their only personality trait.

Paolo

While Lucrezia is being abused by her husband, Paolo is there for comfort her, give her a reason to survive, help her injure her husband greatly so he's confined to a bed and unable to harm her, and, yes, he is the one to first show her what a proper romance and consensual sex is like.

Lucrezia likes him because he's sweet and innocent, much like she once was, and she wants to experience that again through him - and those traits are what make her feel he's not a threat to her like her husband. And again, while that's fine as a theme in the narrative, it makes him just a slight variation of Djem's character - or rather of Lucrezia's need for her love interest not to have a spine, so she doesn't have to wonder if she'll one day be abused again. I pity them, but I don't want them together.

To make matters worse, because Paolo is a nobody in the grand scheme of things, he and Lucrezia could never be together - and not only is she aware of it, she made her peace with it, even if she wishes things were different. That's why she tells him never to return to Rome, meaning he'd never see her or their son again, for the sake of his survival - and then he is murdered anyway because Lucrezia's whole tragedy as a character is "Innocence inevitably dies" and since she only ever chooses generic innocent men as lovers, she's basically setting herself up for failure in each new romance.

Raffaello (And Calvino)

If Djem was the representation of Lucrezia's innocence while it still existed in her, and Paolo was her grieving it, Raffaello is the representation that she is a Borgia and will do as she pleases - and that her bad taste in men reached a new low that I don't think could ever be out-matched.

The guy is just boring, to the point that I didn't even remember his name. He's the generic artistic man that Lucrezia is actively lying to just to get in his pants - and the only reason she even wants to have an affair with him in the first place is because she's both deliberately trying to sabotage her father's plan to marry her off again. That's why she wants the unimportant brother instead of the relevant one, Calvino, who is there just so she has an excuse to be close to the one she's into AND because she liked her mom's idea of just having both brothers for herself just to prove she can - and then cast them aside once she's had her fun and thrill is gone.

These "relationships" are just so Lucrezia can experience being spoiled and demanding something she knows she can't have, and doesn't even truly want or need, solely because she was told "No, you can't have this."

It really is no wonder she doesn't really care when both brothers leave. The engagement and affair were never truly about them, but about Lucrezia saying "Screw you, dad, you're not selling me out to the first gross man you find!"

Alfonso

I'd say Alfonso was the one that was the closest to actually working as romantic pair for Lucrezia. He's personality is almost identical to the the copy-paste of all her love interests and he can be one hell of a pushover, but there's a playfulness to their early interactions, they have genuinely good chemistry on scene in which they nearly consumate their marriage, and he's HIGHLY amusing when he gets sick of being controled (and cucked) and just becomes a mess of a person ruining Cesare's day - it was stupid and got him killed, but he earned lots of extra points just by being the only one of Lucrezia's love interests who looked the Borgias in the face and told them to just man up and get rid of him already instead of hiding behind political schemes and manipulation.

But now matter how much he genuinely cared for Lucrezia and how sweet he could be, and how she clearly trusted him, his devotion would just never hold a candle to Cesare's, and simply lacked that Borgia ambition and ferocity that Lucrezia needed to truly be satisfied in a relationship.

That's why in season 2 she agrees when Cesare says she finally has a good man, yet in season three she reminds him that she could be married a thousand times and it'd always be the wrong husband, because she doesn't just want good - she wants her brother, because only a Borgia can truly love a Borgia.

Okay, now that we're done with Lucrezia's boy-toys, lets talk about Cesare's side-chicks.

The woman that exists solely to be stalked by Cesare

Ursula, Ursula... I never liked her. At all.

She didn't really do anything that made me see her as a bad or unlikeable person - but the whole point of her is that, from Cesare's point of view, she's not really a person, she's the object of his "affection" (unhinged obsession).

In his head, he's the brave, bold hero that killed the monster that tormented her, and was then rewarded with her undying love and, of course, sex - what he desperately wishes he could have done when Lucrezia was forced to get married to a man that would end up abusing her, and will be far away, where Cesare cannot protect her. It's no surprise that Ursula was introduced during said wedding.

From her point of view though, she's a woman who was trapped in a bad marriage to an awful man, thought she had found an honrable savior that was risking his own life out of love for her, only to then realize that he was actually a manipulative, violent, frightening monster that told her pretty lies and half-truths to seduce her and then murdered her (admitedly not innocent) husband to make sure nothing would stand on his way.

When she ends the relationship and literally becomes a nun to attone for her sin of adultery/being the reason her husband died, Cesare refuses to accept it. He corners, harasses, and even manhandles her. He never full on forces himself onto her, but there's nothing about her behavior that could suggest his attempts of courtship/reconciliation are in anyway wanted. She's terrified of him, ashamed of their affair, and wants him to leave her alone. She says as much, repeatedly - sometimes with tears in her face, cowering before him like she's bracing herself for a violent beating, full on sexual assault, or even for Cesare to just slit her throat.

Then, she dies horribly when an army attacks the nunnery she's at, raping and killing her. Cesare avenges her... and that's it. He never thinks of her again, and we never find out anything about her other than "She was constantly being victimized by bad men."

I feel sorry for her, but I don't really connect with her character because she didn't have any, and I REALLY don't like how Cesare acted towards her. All the selfishness, entitlement and downright cruelty that he would rather die than inflict upon Lucrezia he unleashed upon Ursula without a second thought - and like I said, she was not into it in the slightest, so this couldn't even be turned into a "dark, unhealthy, dysfunctional, terrying romance", at least for me.

There's simply nothing to like here.

Cesare's wife and how she was almost interesting

Charlotte had potential to be a cool character. She's clever and just looking out for herself, but she's not cruel or all that ambitious. She and Cesare clearly liked each other and enjoyed sleeping together, and she appreciates that he is making an effort - but like Cesare said, love is not an issue between them because they both know it won't happen and neither of them expects or even wants it from the other.

She's Cesare's wife due to convenience. It's a mutually benefitial agreement, not a marriage in the romantic sense. It's an interesting dynamic that can be functional, but doesn't really make me root for them because it deliberately lacks the main part of romance.

And unfortunately, she shows up in one episode, gets a passing mention some time later, and that's it. She exists to give Cesare the political claim he wanted, nothing more. He can enjoy her company when she's around, but when they're apart from each other he seems to completely forget she existed - and even though I remembered the character, I did not remember the name, because she's simply not that important.

Catherina Sforza and why she's the only one I actually like

Catherina Sforza is VERY different from all the other temporary love interests above for the simple fact that she is a fully actualized character that has a role in the story besides being just another temporarely delay to the incest couple everyone is rooting for.

She's cunning, proud, manipulative and ambitious - much like the Borgias. She and Cesare have a gruding respect/admiration for each other, and her seduction of him is both a ceasefire and her distracting him from his goals, trapping him in her little game for her own amusement, getting the upper hand on him... and then also submiting to him in bed. They're all about that power-play/struggle.

It's entertraining and it's HOT, and in some alternate universe where Lucrezia didn't exist, I could see Cesare and Catherina's short-lived fling becoming a proper affair that would last months or even years - before it'd inevitably end with one of them poisoning the other that is.

So yeah, I really like this ship, even if it can never have the literal soulmate kind of love Cesare and Lucrezia had.

[inky-duchess]

I have a sort of Femme Fatale upperclass idea in my head. Due to her familial situation and upbringing, she doesn’t look fondly upon society’s viewpoint that a women’s duty is to marry well and care for her husband’s household, and raise children.

in an attempt to bridge the lack of affection from her family during childhood, she clings to material things (ex: jewelry, makeup, because the lessons in her family that a women’s looks and ability to have children matter more than intelligence after a certain point stuck at least a little bit), and begins flirting with others - and later having flings.

This is around the 50’s/60’s era, I’m thinking, and in Japan, so this also takes place after the reformation of the school system, and she goes and gets higher learning to further divorce herself from family and gain dependence on the family money/expectations of being a young lady. (Around early her 20’s?)

She uses seduction as a way of building connections (honeypot, essentially), and also swindling people out of their money (via bars, casinos, personal parties thrown, it’s a speakeasy situation. later ties into an underground business venture with a partner), and I was wondering how she’d be hide it?

a women sleeping around, no matter how fabulously wealthy, would be ruined by that information getting out, so it has to be hidden. Especially in Japan, because for sometime before the war there was the good wife, wise mother line of thinking - and it still persists, I think, to this day just a little bit?

There’s a lot about the purity and fidelity of a woman that is very important, especially for said character - at least publicly - because it would get her in very big trouble both society-wise and with her family.

(plus, I’m pretty sure it only became illegal for a man to murder his wife on account of adultery in 1908? Which…considering at this point in the character’s life, it’s the 50’s or 60’s and in the grand scheme of things not that long ago….)

She had to hide it either with a marriage of convience with somebody or by hiring trustworthy servants or avoiding this behaviour in her homeland and go abroad where she'd likely get away with it easier.

[musashi]

its honestly just like so fucking insane to me that anyone in their right mind would defend miles' choosing death and i think it again speaks to a greater problem the ace attorney fandom has with projecting on him so thoroughly that they forget to hold him accountable and examine the nuance in his character.

i think miles is a fave for the traumatized/otherwise neurodivergent and a lot of people who suffer from suicidal ideation probably latched onto him, his canon PTSD, and his guilt complex long before he chose death. and i think for that reason he is REALLY hard to hold accountable for his wrongdoings, especially the ones he does out of a place of trauma. i think a lot of people in the AA fanbase are young and too.. idek the word... hurt? hurt themselves to want to think about the fact that wrongdoings done out of trauma are still wrongdoings.

i think its more likely that miles' choosing death in jfa was meant, in the original concept, to be 蒸発, jouhatsu, a japanese concept of "disappearing/evaporating persons" who leave their former lives without a trace due to a number of cultural factors. but that doesn't change the fact that it works as a very heavy suicide allegory, and in that regard it is a bit of wish fulfillment for the suicidally idealized crowd. i think everyone who suffers from suicidal ideation dreams of getting to watch like a ghost at the aftermath of their death, watching people mourn them, watching people finally, finally care.

and i think that is in large part why people do not ever really talk about how cruel and fucked up what miles did is. because they are living a fantasy through him. a fantasy where they die or disappear, and they are loved and missed and wanted. speaking as someone who has experienced this myself, i get it.

but in reality that is not how suicide works, at all. your loved ones will not all sit in a circle and excuse you of yourself because they miss you so bad and you were in so much pain. in reality, they will be thrust into a whirlwind of complex and tangled emotions as they struggle to process the loss of you. it will not be pretty. it is a horrible thing to go through, and it is a horrible thing to do to people, and these concepts coexist.

i have attempted more times than i can count. i have also been close to people who attempted. some survived. some did not. that doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. what matters is my response, every time, was anger. so much so that i could not be there for my friends who survived theirs because i was so furious that they would do something like that to me that i knew being around them would only make the situation worse. i have had to say, i am sorry you are going through this horrible thing, but i cannot face it right now. do you have people who can help you through it? i cannot be one of those people.

suicide is not a cleanse. it is not a button you can press to make all the pain stop and make everyone suddenly care. the only way you can do that is with courage, perseverance, patience, and yes, a little bit of luck. it sucks and it's worth it, but that's not what i came here to say.

i came here to talk about miles edgeworth i think. and how it is whack to me that people defend what he did. it is a miracle that phoenix and franziska forgave him. as i am now, i don't think i would have.