#social justice etiquette

[stil-lindigo]

fellow protest attendees, i am begging you to take safety measures, you simply can’t trust your government to not go after you if your face is clearly visible and documented.

hats, masks, bulky jackets if the weather allows it. In the aftermath of a number of BLM protests, people were identified from photos and arrested, just DONT take the chance.

[eccentricphilosoph]

We need etiquette and social rules for mutual understanding and respect. It’s not bigotry.

GIF by strawberry-jams

Sure, there are some unspoken things people do that are a byproduct of power and greed that truly aren’t necessary or healthy such as being inauthentic, lying, being wary of people as a default setting, etc.

However, overall, much etiquette is necessary in order for people to come to a mutual ground to have a mutual idea of what respect is and have a mutual ground of understanding. Social interactions are a big part of what make us human and we need things in place to help us better communicate and interact with one another. It helps everyone know what to expect from one another.

It’s not that we should get rid of etiquette so much as encourage people to be more authentic and open minded.

It’s not classist, racist, ableist, etc to make some rules that people should come to an agreement on so as not to cause issue. Because laws don’t cover social interaction, it’s necessary to have social rules in place. This only makes sense.

It’s not about lack of freedom, it’s about finding a way for everyone to mutually do little things for each other to get by every day.

No man or woman is an island. We have to work together as society to survive overall and everyone should do their best to follow basic etiquette.

You may not even realize how many things are considered etiquette you do every day or expect from others!

Etiquette and social rules that are necessary may include, but are not limited to:

Being on time so as not to waste others’ time and efforts

Not lying and being honest

Thanking people when they do a favor for you or give you a gift or are kind to you in a big way. People are making an effort to show you kindness, so you can only return it with gratitude and it makes them feel better and being grateful makes you feel good too.

Being mindful of others feelings, thoughts, and emotions when you can

Help your friends or family when they’re in need in any way you can, even if it can cause some discomfort because that’s just what we have to do to help each other to get out of uncomfortable situations. They should do the same for you

Taking responsibility for your actions

Apologizing when you’ve hurt another person mentally, emotionally, or physically, even when you don’t mean to.

Not expecting your friend to always help you if you’re not helping yourself

Keeping secrets when asked to

Not touching or messing with someone else’s stuff unless they give permission

Giving people proper physical space

Social justice is a form of etiquette

Not talking about sex, politics, religion, or money to any group of people you hardly know as some of those topics can be uncomfortable or can cause unrest because people have strong differing opinions and beliefs

Turning your head away from others and sneezing and coughing into your elbow

RSVPing (yes or no) to gatherings, parties, and events so as not to waste the time, money, energy, and efforts of the person inviting you. It’s more difficult if you don’t respond than if you say “no”.

Don’t say “yes” when you mean “no”

Not expecting someone you hardly know to play therapist for you (the fact you’re so depressed you haven’t laughed for a year isn’t something you discuss with someone you hardly know because it’s burdening them. Find someone you know better or get an actual therapist)

Not talking loudly or making loud noises unnecessarily in most public spaces, your workplace, or if you live in an apartment, disrupting others’ space through loud sounds

Just being respectful in general and making respect the default. Make it a rule to be respectful until someone does something that may cause less respect. Do not make the rule “you have to earn my respect”.

Not talking normally or loudly during a film or performance

Treat all employees at any establishment with respect, not like your servants

Etiquette for waiting for waiting in line and waiting your turn like everyone else. That is etiquette! Otherwise, it would be chaos if people didn’t acquiesce to stand in line for concerts, for the new iPhone, for checking out, etc

Holding the door open and not letting the door slam in the face of the person right behind you is a good thing to do

Letting others know when something is really wrong or bothering you so the issue can be resolved and not become an even bigger problem

Knowing not everyone will abide by etiquette, but you continue to do it as much as you can anyway because you know it’s important for *everyone* to do it in order for it to be mutually beneficial

*** I want to also say that these general guidelines aren’t rigid. Also, because it’s impossible for the human brain to treat each person they meet on an entirely individual basis, having some form of general guidelines for respect, mutuality, and communication is the most effective way, just like laws, to ensure we are all feeling happy, safe and respected.

[happinessisaconstruct]

Positivity is an over-practiced concept

Life more often borders on mundanity and agitation

So the expectation that every interaction will / should be pleasant is preposterous

It is important to realize- when agitation and annoyance is inevitable within ones self

(which it is)

-that every interaction with another will invariable bring stress and become somewhat bothersome too...

So, you should seek to exhibit honesty, grace, and patience with those you care about-

While not grossly inflating your confidence and / or happiness too~!

[jdragsky]

the "perfect" apology as taught in a libleft social justice context is bullshit — it's an etiquette ritual designed to prove your loyalty to a community, and isn't any better than any other way to apologize.

it's also invoked in contexts where expecting it is deranged (i.e demanding someone profess full culpability and acknowledge harm without providing an explanation or trying to defend themself, immediately, the moment they've done something which might be wrong? is a cruel burden to place on someone's shoulders)

i cannot stand how much of a cultural expectation people place on it and how weird people get when the etiquette ritual is violated

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐥𝐥?

content warnings: male reader, comfort/hurt/comfort, two old men, SFW, ill/chronically ill reader, misunderstood feelings, fontaine story quest spoilers!!!, Furina is the same gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, bear with me theyre in love they're just doomed by the narrative

clarification: case of collywobbles translates roughly to a case of butterflies in the stomach

the plan for this chapter changed as I was writing it and the title of the chapter became basically irrelevant BUT i still think it's fitting

" welcome back, caller @yuri1306! connecting your line as we speak... "

*dramatic drumroll*

hey guys it's finally out

A fair warning to all my returning readers: this may not be my best work, I'll be the first to admit that a lot of this was impeded by my writers block and I really needed to just push this out to get past it

many apologizes to @yuri1306 I did my best to try and encapsulate the entirety of your request my creative flow was not creatively flowing as well as it usually does :(((

That being said I don't think it's bad!!!

I still hope you all enjoy <33

“She really is quite something, is she not?” 

Neuvillette’s head pivoted to turn to the new voice. Unfamiliar at best, intimidating at worst. 

Furina de Fontaine’s inaugural speech; a historic moment and a moment none in attendance were soon to forget.  

Yet, instead of flocking to the stage to request audience with Focalors herself, you were here. 

You lagged behind the crowd. 

You chose to speak with Neuvillette instead. 

In accordance with social etiquette, he wiped the suspicious look off of his face.  “She is confident, assertive.  She has done well in establishing a name for herself in a social setting as brutal as the court.” 

You hummed, resting both palms on the intricate cane you’d chosen to accessorize yourself with.  “It’s a shame in all actuality.  She would have done better to take the harsh critique of the first half of her speech.  I would much prefer to see a face of humility and honesty leading the nation of justice.” 

Neuvillette did not respond. 

The silence was supposedly uncomfortable, and yet the regular churning nausea of awkward tension didn’t seem to constrict the Iudex’s airway. 

Carefully, you peeled a gloved hand from the handle of your cane.  You offered it to the judge politely.  

Cautiously, he gripped it in his own hand before giving it a simple shake. 

“I am [name], I have been appointed to serve as the acting chief advisor of Fontaine.  It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

“How did you-”

You raised a brow curiously, looking at the large crowd of people before looking back to the other man still currently holding your hand in his own.  “...forgive my cheek when I say this, Monsieur, but it truly isn’t difficult to pick you out of a crowd.  I must say, your predecessor didn’t mince his words when it came to describing your appearance, you are exactly as he described.”

Even as you hid the amused expression stretching the lower half of your face behind your fingers, the red tainting his otherwise pale skin was not as easily disguised.  Still, even in the face of his unmistakable embarrassment, he did his best to steer the conversation elsewhere.  “You’ve spoken to him?” 

You nodded, resting a hand on your cane.  “For someone as old as I am, I have my connections.”  You gestured towards the stage, “Lest another have been chosen for this position.” 

Another silence settled between the two of you.

He coughed into his fist, volume diminishing as he asked, “My predecessor, he didn’t… speak poorly of me, did he?”

He watched your expression twist with mirth, eyes glinting with poorly veiled amusement.  “No, nothing of the sort.  You can rest assured he was nothing but kind towards you.”  You paused, leaning on your cane as you seemed to think on your words, “Well, at the very least, he wasn’t cruel.  I’m sure you of all people know he’s become far too short-tempered for pleasantries.” 

Neuvillette sighed, posture deflating just the slightest bit.  

It was impossible to miss the chuckle that escaped at his expense. “In the very least, you were spared the worst of mentors.  I’ve heard that one of the remaining Adepti seems intent on meddling in their apprentice’s love lives.”

“You can’t be serious,” the other man responded. 

“Oh, completely serious,” You gestured for him to follow you out into the lobby; there was far less crowding, “I felt so terribly for the young woman last I made the journey to Liyue.  If you were to ask my opinion on the matter, Xianyun is far in over her head trying to meddle in the affairs of young love.” 

He blinked, “Xianyun?” 

You hummed, placing a contemplative hand under your chin.  “You’ve never left the boundaries of Fontaine, have you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Her Adeptal name is Cloud Retainer, aside from that, she is referred to by the name Xianyun.  She has currently taken on an apprentice in the shape of a young half-human half-adeptus,” you explained, trailing up the steps to and from the large theater.  “Ganyu has a very sweet temperament, but it seems as her master attempts to push further into her personal affairs, the further she’s moving to get away from her.” 

Neuvillette nodded his head, tentatively following your lead away from the large crowd.  “Is this related to why you are treating Lady Furina in a similar manner?” 

You paused, looking towards him.  “Oh, not in the slightest.” 

You could see the confusion growing further onto his face. You snickered behind your glove again, turning your back to continue trailing up the stairs.

Still, he followed you up the countless steps towards the lobby.  “I see… I suppose I’m having trouble understanding why you wouldn’t be at Lady Furina’s side in a moment like this.” 

You hummed, “Well, the hydro archon has already made her bed, I can do nothing but allow her to lay in it.” 

“I’m… not following.” 

You tapped your cane on the floor pointedly, “Well, Focalors has many plans to set in motion.  I play both a pivotal role in the production myself, but as of now, my only obligation is to play the role of a spectator.” 

Neuvillette’s brows furrowed. “...Has she asked you to be away from her in these moments?” 

You shook your head.  “Not directly.  But upon watching her grand performance upon the equally grand stage, what choice am I left with?” You pushed open the door to the lobby with one hand, pressing your back against it to allow Neuvillette to cross the threshold first. “Lady Furina has portrayed herself as the almighty, someone completely untouchable by the likes of man or any other power.”  

“Are you upset by her decision to do so?” The Iudex inquired, gripping his own cane closer to his chest.

You shook your head, "Not at all.  But let’s think for a moment what it would look like if the moment she steps off the stage, all questions are instead directed to her advisor.” You followed after him in the next breath, trailing towards the entrance to the grand theater. “In most scenarios, her all-powerful archon of justice is immediately crumpled in the eyes of the common person.” 

“...” 

You shrugged, “At least, when I put myself in the shoes of the lay person, I am not fooled.  She can put on as grand an act as she wishes on the stage, but when she is no longer in a space that is built for a performance, the reality behind the facade is suddenly revealed.  If Furina de Fontaine really is all knowing and all knowledgeable, why would she need to hide behind her advisor in the face of questions?” 

Neuvillette almost audibly heard something click in his brain.  “You are staying away so she can better maintain her image?” He pushed the door to the Epiclese open, welcoming in the sunlight.

You snapped your fingers, “Correct!” You dusted your shoulder off as you passed through the door.  “She MUST rely on herself. There is no glancing to the sidelines for reassurance or answers, this solution removes all distractions.”

The Iudex nodded, thoughtful.  “I believe I’m beginning to understand.” 

“I’m glad,” you took in a deep breath of air as you began to make the long trek towards the Fountain of Lucine,

“We are, of course, going to be working together for a very long time.”

“I figured I would find you here.”

Against the noise of rain pelting against his back, the Iudex lifted his head from his contemplative stupor. 

The dreary grays of the backdrop seemed to melt together similarly to how his thoughts slowly blended together to form one big amalgamated lump.  Still, in spite of the hail Mary of all storms  boring holes into the fabric of your umbrella, you stood face to face with him in the rain. 

“...”

“...”

He gave a half-hearted sigh, any coherent thought swimming in the puddles sloshing against the bottoms of his shoes. 

“Why are you out?” 

You didn’t answer to start with.  He didn’t know if it was because you were thinking over your words or if it was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of water against the pavement. 

“Well, why are you out?” 

Answering a question with another question; typical. 

“I am troubled.” 

You hummed, moving your umbrella off your shoulder.  You held it between the two of you, equidistant so it’d stop the rain pouring all over the other man’s handsome features. 

“Troubled about what, Neuvillette?” 

The skin between his brows creased as he tried to come up with a good answer. 

He was a judge, someone that is meant to be completely unbiased in the face of the law.  He is to hear a case, come to the correct conclusion, and be able to live with himself at the end of the day. 

“A case.” 

You waited…

…and waited…

…and then waited some more. 

“...a case?” You tilted your head to the side. 

Neuvillette struggled to hold eye contact, letting his gaze drop to the rising flood.  “It was a case of theft, a single mother.” 

You gave a knowing hum.  “I see.  Have you come to the conundrum of justice versus fairness?” 

Again, you waited on a response. 

“...It isn’t so much that I haven’t seen cases like this before, it was something about the desperation on her face as she begged for leniency I was unable to grant her.” 

You nodded again.  “Still, am I correct to assume you have come to the moral dilemma of fairness versus justice?” 

His frown only deepened.  “I do not understand what you mean.” 

You poked a finger to your temple, “Well, logically, you are aware that theft is a crime.  You know that it is just and correct to dole out a sentence for a crime."

“...”

You poked him in the chest, “But you feel like the sentence is unfair because she had no other choice.”  

“...”

“You, as the Iudex, are unable to give her leniency because she committed a crime, but your heart wants to right the injustices she and her child are forced to endure,” You gestured towards the streets.  “The Court of Fontaine rarely sees those less fortunate unless they are begging.  Despite being the ones in charge, those in the Court are shielded from the problems of the common person.  You aren’t used to seeing someone in a situation where crimes become a necessity.” 

“...I suppose I am not.” 

You nodded again, “You see her, you hear her cries, you know her reasons, and yet, as a judge, you are unable to save her.  You must be wondering, why is that?” 

Like a lost puppy, Neuvillette’s head bobbed up and down. 

 "I’m afraid, I cannot answer,”  You reached into your breast pocket, blindly searching for your pocket watch.  “We can only have faith that the system will work in its due time.  Pray that the Fortress of Meropide treats her well, ask of Focalors to look over the poor child in the House of the Hearth.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a smile.  “What can be considered a misfortune can actually be a blessing in disguise.” 

Neuvillette tilted his head to the side. 

You gestured to the falling water,  “Rain may be commonplace in Fontaine, but in areas of Teyvat, rain is so rare it’s considered a sign or blessing.” 

“...That may be so.”

You adjusted your grasp on the umbrella.  “I am not originally from Fontaine.  Where I am from, rainfall this heavy would be considered a wonderful blessing.”

“...”

You waited for a response from him.  However, he didn’t seem to have one to give. 

“...”

You reached a hand out to him.  

He stared at it for a moment.  

You did your best to smile. 

“What is this for?” 

“Well,” you began, “You seem to be in low spirits.  I thought perhaps I would do my best to help shift your perspective.   There will be no convincing you unless there is some kind of change of pace.”

He frowned.  “Do you intend to lead me somewhere?” 

You shook your head.  

“...Well, what do you intend to do in any case?” 

You gestured to the water cascading down the sides of the plastic umbrella, “I want to celebrate a bountiful rain.”  

His sour expression only seemed to deepen as he looked around.  “I don’t understand what there is to celebrate.  We are in Fontaine.  Rain is an impediment to daily life.” 

You sighed, “Well, I want to help reframe your thoughts.”  You pointed to him, “Your perspective on the rain is inherently negative.  You believe it’s nothing but a nuisance.”  

“...”

You placed a hand over your heart, “It might have been a while since I’ve made a trip home, but still, everytime the rain is plentiful, it brings a smile to my face.” 

Once again, he didn’t respond.   Wordlessly, his gloved hand slipped into your own. 

Tentatively, you dropped the umbrella to the ground, facing the full wrath of the droplets soaking into your expensive suit.  

Immediately, Neuvillette’s face twisted in alarm. 

Still, you took his other hand in your own, beginning the steps to the traditional Fontainian Waltz.  

His mouth opened to speak, but it seemed without the shield of the umbrella, you couldn’t hear the sound of his protests.   Instead, you dropped one of his hands to bring him into a messy twirl. 

He flailed awkwardly for a moment, cheeks lighting up a red hue as he did his best not to slip on the wet bricks. It was more than obvious he was used to dancing the lead.   Even in his embarrassment, it seemed he didn’t have the heart to stop you. 

At the sound of a jovial laugh, even as the sky cried around the two of you, he felt his burning cheeks begin to light up in flames. 

Slowly, but surely, the clouds began to part. 

Another twirl, a few more shuffling paces, a misstep from him, more snickers at his expense.

Another handful of steps, and this time he would be the one to twirl you around.

It seemed time melded into a loop, nothing more than a concept that happened to slip your mind. The rain dissipated to nothing more than a fond memory.

As the dance came to a close, you coughed into the palm of your glove, trying to clear your throat.  “Are you feeling any better now, Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

“Just Neuvillette. Monsieur feels much too formal.”

Your polite smile stretched upwards just a little more as your shoes created little ripples in the surface of the unnaturally large puddles.  “I’ll take it that you are feeling better, then?” 

“Much.  Thank you.” 

You nodded again, “Well, I want to continue our discussion from earlier–about the mother and her upcoming sentence.” 

“...hm?” 

You chuckled, “Did you forget already?” 

He shook his head, “Of course not!” He tapped his cane against the ground, “It’s simply the fact I lack understanding for why you are bringing up the subject again.” 

You hummed, playfully incredulous.  “Yes, yes, anyways, let me make my point,” You cleared your throat once again, “Think of her sentence as a new beginning for both her and her child.  The Fortress of Meropide is by no means a kind place, but it is no crueler than the same streets that forced her to become a thief in the first place.” 

He tucked an arm behind his back. 

“Just as you viewed the rain as a nuisance, she views her sentence as a punishment.  In reality, I believe the situation is a blessing in disguise,”  You made a circular motion with your wrist, “Both her and her child will be cared for by their respective shelters.  She will have a job to occupy her time, a source of income, and her and her child will go to sleep in a warm bed, well fed.  Mother and son are only going to be separated for a short period of time, hopefully when they are reunited, the mother will have found steady employment in the Fortress.”

“Your health is beginning to get worse.”

Your eyes trailed behind you. “I'm surprised you noticed, my Lady. You've been busy as of late.”

Furina clicked her tongue, shaking her head dismissively. “What kind of archon would I be if I was not aware of my personal retainer’s health? You underestimate me.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking her nose affectionately. “I am your advisor, not your retainer nor your assistant. I am aware of your struggles, you don't need to pretend when it's just the two of us.”

Her cheeks puffed up angrily, rubbing the red blurb on her face. “Even if nobody is around, that doesn't mean you can embarrass me!”

You reached into your pocket to pull out a handkerchief, laughter turning into coughing behind a palm. You held the cloth over your mouth, feeling much too weak and pitiful for your own good. “Apologies, Lady Furina,” you sputtered out, “I will refrain from putting you in such a position in the future.”

She huffed, turning up her nose. “I expect nothing less from you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping your face with your kerchief. Stilling your breathing, you gave a cursory glance at the “Hydro Archon”. After so long of suffering, it pained you to know that she was indeed so far away from the finish line. “My Lady, I am afraid my time may come sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes widened. “You can't mean you're...”

You shook your head, doing your best to suppress another laugh for the sake of your throat, “No! Gods, no. I am anything but fragile, I will make it perfectly fine.”

She let out a groan, immediately taking to beating on your arm indignantly. “You infidel! You made me believe you were going to pass away! How cruel!”

You shielded yourself from her attacks playfully, backing up and raising your hands to stop her, “How terrible, Furina! You're attacking a sick man in broad daylight!”

She let another irritated groan slip, smacking your arm once more, “Only because you attacked me first!”

You cocked your head to the side, “I did not!”

“Did too!” She pointed an accusatory finger, “You attacked my emotional wellbeing! How was I supposed to be able to recover from the death of my most treasured advisor?”

You placed a hand over your heart, “You mean it, my lady?”

Her cheeks puffed up again, swelling a brilliant claret. She only grew more incensed as you continued to poke at her. Though, instead of using your words, your failure to quash a smile was more than enough to provoke her.

Still, as the merciful and benevolent archon she was, she pardoned your sins.

She crossed her arms, “When are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

You felt a prick of anxiety inject its way into your nervous system. “Ah, Neuvillette, how lovely to see you again.”

Furina also paused in her tracks at the familiar voice. She remained silent.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance again, Lady Furina, [name],” he offered out a hand for you to shake. Hastily, you tucked your handkerchief in your breast pocket. “What is this about leaving?”

You took his hand in your own, “Nothing drastic, simply an appointment I must be on time for. Regrettably, I will be unable to spectate the proceedings of today’s trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I see. There will always be the archives in my office in case you'd like to catch up with the case material at any point.”

You nodded, humming with a courteous smile. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”

Furina finally took the chance to speak up, “You have yet to answer my question, Monsieur. As your superior, I believe I am privy to such information.”

You diverted your attention from Neuvillette, pondering for a moment. “Around 15:00? I believe that should be ample time to make my appointment.”

Neuvillette perked up immediately, “Ah, is this in regards to your cough?”

Nodding, you turned your attention to the Grand Theatre, “Unfortunately it is. Usually, I would've recovered by this point, but because it's persisting I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Furina pulled her own small pocketwatch from where it was stashed. It popped open with a quiet, ‘click!’ “It seems we’ll have to cut this chance meeting short, Guests will be arriving soon for the trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I suppose we should be heading inside to take our seats,” He made a vague motion with a gloved hand, “Shall we?”

“Furina, would you be so kind as to allow us a moment alone?” She cocked her head to the side at your suggestion, but she relented.

“Alright, but before I leave, can I request just one thing?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Dutifully, you nodded.

She beckoned you closer with a finger.

It was your turn to raise a brow at her.

Still, you leaned in.

She tugged on your sleeve.

You leaned in even further.

“Come back in one piece,” she whispered, pinching the shell of your ear.

You gave a yelp as you tugged your head away from her assaulting fingers, rubbing the new crescent marks her nails left behind. “Now, was that really necessary, my Lady?”

She gave a triumphant smile, though you could tell by the way it wilted at the corners, she was less than thrilled. She placed a hand over her heart, giving her signature bow, “Perfectly necessary. Now, allow me to excuse myself.” Still, as she stood, she pointed an accusatory finger, “Keep this brief, after all Monsieur Neuvillette has a trial to preside over.”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over your own heart, mirroring her as you lowered your head, “I wouldn't dream of delaying any proceedings.”

She allowed herself one more parting glance before scampering off into the building to take her seat.

Watching her figure disappear, you finally returned your gaze back to Neuvillette. You coughed into your fist, trying to alleviate the pressure in your trachea. He only observed you silently.

“Neuvillette?”

“Yes?”

“Take a walk with me,” regretfully, you tacked on, “I'd enjoy your company one last time.”

It was unlike such a building to be so quiet. Still, given the hour, the Palais Mermonia lay dormant.

Only the Iudex and his retainer remained. Despite his more than spacious residential quarters, his chambers were too restrictive on this night in particular. They felt empty. They felt devoid of something, he just didn't know what.

So, instead of sleeping, he found himself running his hand along the cold marble walls. Trailing the corridor without a particular destination in mind, the candle in his other hand flickered and cast its shadow against the dark. It dawned on Neuvillette that he truly neglected the rest of his home the longer he walked. A vast dining hall, an equally large kitchen, a comically extensive library; all completely left to rot as he worked himself to death.

As he reached his hand to turn the knob of another door, he felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. One that wasn't present when he entered any of the other rooms.

Why?

…

He didn't know.

He let his grip lay slack on the handle for another moment while he wracked his brain for any ideas. What was this room? Had he been here before? Why could he feel his hand shaking?

Finally, he put those thoughts out of his mind when the lock clicked open and the wooden door swung open with a loud ‘creeeaaakkkk’.

‘Ah,’ he realized, ‘This was one of his rooms.’

A grand study, unchanged by time, greeted him. It was as if you'd never left. Sprawling bookshelves climbing up each wall, ladders haphazardly laid to lean on the dusty spines of forgotten books. An even larger than life desk at the far end, spotted with unsigned paperwork and long dried up ink pots. Even sadder, a single lamplight lily wilted in its pot at the corner of your desk.

He felt his heart crumble when he realized he had been the one to put it there.

The little makeshift lounge was equally well-preserved. A porcelain tea set he remembered so fondly collected dust at the center of the coffee table. Your favorite book lay across the arm of your favorite cushioned seat, a pressed flower bookmark denoting where you'd left off.

Neuvillette was almost tempted to pick up the novel himself, but he was afraid of two things. One, he didn't want to ruin this serenity, this moment frozen in time. Two, he didn't know if the book would actually hold itself together based on its age.

The armchair groaned as Neuvillette rested his weight on it. He felt a little bit like a loser, sitting alone in the middle of an empty room. Especially because the longer he sat, the more alone he felt. How long had it been since you invited him into your study like this? Could he even remember? It'd been around a century since you'd left…

…or had it been longer?

It only seemed to homogenize and blur the more he tried to remember. Years were starting to look more and more like the last the longer his monotonous life droned on.

It was so bad he couldn't remember how long ago it was he saw your face, but he remembered it. He definitely remembered what had been said.

'“Since you're needed elsewhere, I'm afraid much of what I want to say will go unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I apologize for trying to deceive you, I truly am sorry,” you tapped your cane against the ground, “I was so close to getting away with it, too.”

“Deceiving me?” His expression shifted, “About what?”

“I’m leaving, yes,” You sighed, “But I'm afraid I won't be coming back.”

It felt like his heart stopped completely.

“I didn't want to drag you into matters that were already settled between myself and Focalors, but I know how you feel about me,” you awkwardly switched the hand gripping your cane, “When I thought about how devastated you'd be when you'd learned I'd lied to you, I decided I had to tell you.”

“But why?” Neuvillette asked, “Why would you only tell me now?”

A grimace overtook your features as the skies began to softly weep his sorrows, “You mustn't cry Neuvillette, Fontaine will need your strength now more than ever.”

“Do you really expect me to be strong in a moment like this? Am I not allowed to mourn?” He went to reach for your face, but his arm fell back to his side dejectedly. “You really won't be returning?”

“Knowing what I must do, I also know it will be the last of me.”

“Do you really need to leave today?” The Iudex grappled for some kind of opportunity, “Just one day, if I can have that, I can make peace with this.”

You shook your head, “I've put this off for too long already, I was afraid Fontaine wouldn't be ready for me to leave, I was even more afraid Furina wouldn't be able to continue on without me.”

“Not even a day?”

“I've made up my mind.” You finally let yourself rest a gloved hand on his cheek, watching his posture deflate while he leaned into your touch, “I'm eager to make this sacrifice for Fontaine, but I'm less than eager to leave you behind.”

“Why must you be the one to do it?” His voice came out like a whisper.

“I can't tell you,” you brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping the rain away from his eyes, “But I want you to know before I am gone that you were loved, Neuvillette. I loved you, and I will die loving you.”

“Don't say that, please, don't say that.”

“Then, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, anything I can offer.”

You smiled, “Take care of Furina, and take care of Fontaine.”’

How cruel, Neuvillette thought.

How cruel for Furina to leave him such a painful reminder this close to the very bed he slept in every night.

How awful for her to keep her hopes up when Neuvillette knew you wouldn’t return.

After all, what other reason would there be for her to keep your office so well maintained, so perfectly preserved and untouched.

It felt like Neuvillette was sitting in an empty tomb.

The wooden legs of the chair shrieked against the tile of the floor in the deafeningly silent study. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, but he couldn’t decide on whether he wanted to leave or if he needed to stay longer.

Still, he paused in front of your former desk.

He didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he sat down in your nice leather office chair, rolling himself in so he could rest his head on the cool wooden desktop.

He didn't know why he was disappointed it didn't smell like you anymore. Of course it didn't smell like you, it'd been at least a hundred years since you were here. But maybe if he dug deep into his memories, he could pretend it did.

If he had gotten to have just one day, he could've made peace with your passing.

But how do you say goodbye to someone you considered to be your forever in just a few short moments?

Neuvillette couldn't come up with a good answer before he fell asleep again.

“Tall, lean, and emaciated. It was entirely unexpected for him to wake up at all.”

Furina clicked her tongue, dismissively. “I may not be the Hydro Archon any longer, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to freely criticize me. I asked to see him, I care not what state he's in.”

The attendant bowed stiffly, shoulders scrunched up. “I-I apologize, my lady,” He stammered, “I was unaware of what your intentions in meeting up with this man were, I believed his physical condition to be-”

She gave an irritated huff, puffing up her chest to express her discontent. Instantly, the man’s jaw snapped shut. She waved her hand. When the attendant didn't move, she waved her hand again.

Still, he didn't move.

“Helloooo? Do you have any idea what's going on?” Her expression shifted to be entirely displeased, “You are dismissed.”

“O-Oh!”

She watched the man scurry off like a sad puppy with its tail between its legs.

Finally, she turned her attention to the rather large door to the private room tucked away inside the infirmary of the Fortress of Meropide. She was left alone with her thoughts. Consequently, she could now focus on the nerves creeping up her spine.

It had been a month since the prophecy had been fulfilled, since she had saved the entirety of Fontaine.

She was free to be Furina now, free from her duties as the human half of Focalors.

It was exactly why she felt so confused about her anxiety of whatever lay beyond this door.

Her hands were clammy, her breathing accelerating. Her vision was starting to swim, and oh archons, was that a stress migraine brewing? For all the hard work she put into this, she didn't seem to be feeling the payoff.

But she couldn't be thinking like that now!

Instead of letting her doubts and worries consume her, she placed a shaky hand to the cold metal handle. Her movements were unsure as she wrapped her fingers around the bar. It felt like all the strength in her arm evaporated the longer she held onto the handle without doing anything.

So she used what little strength was left to sharply tug the door open.

"..."

“Furina?”

"..."

By the gods.

“Furina-” the voice was an exhausted rasp, “You have to tell me the seal didn't break, the prophecy didn't happen, I can't have failed-”

Her mouth opened to reassure you everything was fine, but the next moment her lips were curling as she tried to bite back a sniffle.

You took this to mean the worst, eyebrows curling upward in despair. A shaky hand reached towards your face, layering over your mouth.

Still, even when seeing you so worried and disappointed in yourself, she couldn't bring herself to cough up any words of affirmation.

'You didn't fail! Everyone was saved!’ she wanted to scream.

But instead she took a shaky first step over to the terribly thin cot you were situated on. Her arm absentmindedly raised to reach toward you.

“No, no, no, no, no-” Your hand raked through your already disheveled hair.

She took another step.

You pressed your hands together, hands clasped tight as you looked to the skies above, “I'm sorry, Egeria, Focalors, I promised I would- I swore-”

She began to walk.

“I promised Fontaine would be in good hands- I never meant to lie to you, Archons above if you may hear, forgive me-”

She could feel her own tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she watched you begin to openly weep, to pray and beg for some kind of mercy you did not need. She felt like a bag of bones as she took a seat next to you on the edge of the cot.

Your attention finally snapped to her, “Furina, my darling Furina, to you I am the most sorry-” You took a gasping breath, chest shaking as you heaved out another weak cry, “You have suffered in silence for centuries without me and I was unable to do the very least I promised to you-”

Her arm felt equally weightless when you picked up one of her limp hands to wrap up in your larger palms. Before you could continue to beg for forgiveness, her facial features twisted into just the smallest smile.

You almost didn't notice it until she started laughing.

With a renewed vigor, she wrapped her other hand around one of yours. Tears of relief streaming down her face, she all but shouted a victory cry in the middle of the quiet infirmary room, “We did it! We really did it! You don't need to be forgiven because we did it!”

As she celebrated, her happy tears flowed down her face, you didn't know how to respond at all.

“We… did it?”

She nodded quickly, all but shaking. “Yes, it's over, [name], we can finally rest.”

You blinked again, all but ceasing your tears.

“We can… rest? But- but what about-”

Your mind filtered between all the different things you could say.

What about your promise to Egeria? The deal you made with Focalors? You had sworn you would lay your life down to pave the pathway for a free Fontaine, a Fontaine without a curse lingering overhead. The seal you had sworn to protect until your last breath, it had broken… but it was still okay.

You were still here.

But what had happened? Were there any complications or bumps in the road? What about Furina? What would she do in her life as a cursed human? What would YOU do? And then there was…

“Neuvillette!” You suddenly snapped back to full alert, “What about Neuvillette?”

She smacked your arm, “You managed to survive and your first thought isn't even about yourself!” She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek, “300 years has done nothing to change you.”

It was as though her words went in one ear and out the other, “What has become of him? Is he alright? He’s been well, hasn't he? Please tell me nothing too awful has happened to him.”

This time, she smacked your arm with an added aggression, “[name]! Neuvillette is fine! Would you please relax?” Still despite urging him to relax, she couldn't help the way her hands seemed to move on their own. Tiny claps, each ringing in the empty room with a joyous sound, “It's only seeming to sink in now that we are free.” She paused again, “Free, isn't that such a beautiful word?”

You nodded, but your thoughts wandered. “Indeed.”

Furina tutted, crossing her arms, “And what exactly has your mind wandering this time? Don't tell me it's still Neuvillette!”

You sheepishly averted your eye contact.

She pouted, “Well? Out with it!”

You sighed, “Does he know? That I am still…”

She hummed thoughtfully, “I didn't think to tell him. I was far too busy trying to find you, you rascal.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “However, I can assure you he will be nothing less than overjoyed to see you.”

You swallowed a lump of spit, “He will?”

She nodded, “Even all these years later, he hasn't moved on. You're lucky he is as loyal a man as can be, otherwise he might have moved on.”

“He waited… 300 years? Without any other relationships?”

“I would hardly believe it myself if I were you, but I've seen him make the trek to your old study with my own two eyes!” She folded her hands in her lap, “He really is as loyal at they come.”

You frowned, “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Why not? After all, you two were in love, weren't you?”

“I..." you began, "...don't know. Silly, irrational fears, I guess."

But you definitely knew.

How does one go about saying hello without a proper goodbye?

Especially when there wasn't supposed to be a "you" to say "hello" to in the first place.

“I came as soon as I heard-”

Furina stood from where she was seated just outside your room in the infirmary, “You’ll have to wait,  Siegewinne is with him right now.” 

His knuckles turned white around the handle of his cane, “Surely, she wouldn’t be bothered if I just stood in, if I could just–”

“Neuvillette,” Furina warned, “Whatever Siegewinne orders is in the best interests of her patient.  It isn’t our place to question her.” 

His hands were shaking as he tried to plead his case, moving closer to the door, “Lady Furina, you don’t understand.  I have to see him, I must see that it is truly him, that he is truly alive–” 

He was rambling at this point, so dizzyingly frenzied he could barely feel Furina’s smaller hands curl around his biceps, “Calm down!” 

“I-”

“No, no more arguments,” she shook him gently, “You need to pull yourself together before you become another patient.   You’re paler than I’ve ever seen you.” 

He went to open his mouth again, but one look from the former archon sent his jaw snapping shut.  The two stood in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.  

“...”

“...”

After a long moment, punctuated with labored breathing and more words exchanged through the eyes than could be described, the Iudex finally peeled his lips open to ask a final question. 

“Is it… really him?”

Furina let his words hang in the air for a moment before asking a question of her own, “Will knowing help you settle down while we wait?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I feel so strongly that I must know.”

She chewed her lip contemplatively, weighing both options in her head.  Before she could decide, the lock on the door quietly clicked open in the tensely blanketed room outside of the infirmary.

The door opened with the knowing creak of old, heavy metal.  The pitter patter of little steps on the dark floor seemed to snap Neuvillette out of the little stance he was in with Furina.   He surged towards the door like a bullet, almost tripping over himself and almost knocking Siegewinne over in his haste.  

He couldn’t quite remember what all happened in the intermission.  Things like fumbling over questions, getting answers he couldn’t remember anymore were plucked out of his mind like the petals of a dying flower.  

Yes, your condition was stable.  

No, you could not consume solid food seeing as you’d just taken your medication.  (Much to Furina’s dismay, she had brought some of your favorite pastries. ) 

No, you would not be taken off of bedrest anytime soon. 

But yes, despite it all, you were in proper condition to accept visitors.  

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see beyond the closed metal door, but it wasn’t what he actually ended up seeing.  This wasn’t how he remembered you.  But it also was too close of a resemblance to assert that you were someone else or even an imposter wearing your skin. 

‘Such dull eyes, such pale skin…’

He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve.  Unconsciously, he found himself gritting his teeth, standing in the open doorway while he waited for you to acknowledge him.  He was reluctant to disturb the tranquil stillness that settled over your room.  He was afraid that if he moved or spoke, something would happen.  Something would crack and the illusion of your return would shatter and scatter into a million pieces on the floor.  

But the way your eyes lit up in recognition, the strained smile set on your face,  it was starting to sink in that you really weren’t gone forever.  You were right there, you were breathing, and you were alive against all odds.  “Neuvillette? Is that really you?”  Sweetly, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkled, “You really made the trip to the Fortress just to visit me?” 

He could feel himself getting choked up at the sound of your voice, as rasped and painful as it sounded.  No matter how grating it would’ve been to anyone else, it was as soothing and melodic as a chorus of angels.  Even as he swallowed the spit clogging his airway, he still struggled to speak,  “Of course I did.”

“...”

“...Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“...”

“...”

Carefully, he tugged the heavy door closed behind him.  He sat in the rather uncomfortable folding chair positioned at the side of your cot, nails digging little smiles into his palm even through his gloves.   What was once comfortable silence thickened and lay over your heads like a thick fog.  

Eventually, the sharp-edge of your voice cut through the mistlike tension like a blade, “Neuvillette, I have a question.” 

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, it felt like he was on the defensive.  The Iudex could not ascertain why, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood anxiously. 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured, weakly clearing your throat, “I’m just curious about something.” 

Your words did little to quell his worries, but still, he nodded his head as if they did.  “What is it?”

Your limp arms rose from the bed, fingers weakly and clumsily fidgeting with one another.  “...Did you wait for me?” 

“Hm, I suppose I did.” 

It seemed his answer only caused your thumbs to twiddle more aggressively where they lay, “Well… Why?”

He went to answer, but like they seemed to be doing more and more today, they caught in his throat on the way out.  

Why had he waited? 

Had he meant to wait? 

Or was that just a product of his incessant work schedule?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, just barely nipping at the skin with elongated fangs.  Ultimately, he settled for answering as truthfully as he possibly could, “...I didn’t see any reason to seek anyone else.” 

Your thumbs stopped fidgeting, fingers interlocking, “What do you mean?  Did  you not fear being alone?” 

He tilted his head to the side, “Did you ever fear being alone?” 

“...”

His body posture seemed to relax, “I had enough when I was with you, there was never any longing for something I felt I could not have again.”  

“That is…” You trailed off.  It seemed the words were lost in translation as you went to finish your thought.  The same tense silence settled between the two of you once more. 

“...”

“...”

“You… aren’t upset with me?”

The Iudex looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.  “What in the world could I be upset over?”

You averted eye contact, “I lied to you.  I told you I would not survive and then I turn up again as sick as a dog without much to show for it.” 

Neuvillette frowned himself, “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit.  You and Lady Furina managed to fool the Heavenly Principles and save the entirety of Fontaine, is that not something to be proud of?  Do you value your sacrifice so little?” 

“Of course I value my sacrifice!”  You countered, indignant.  Still, your voice lowered to little more than a murmur as you managed to spit out, “I’m afraid I just seem to value you more than that entirely.” 

His eyes, always imperceptibly sharp, seemed to soften just a little bit. 

“You might not realize, but while time seemed to pass here and things changed, giving up my physical body to maintain the seal on the Primordial Sea meant I was stuck without any senses.  It was such an incredibly lonely existence,”  Your eyes trained on your lap, “I did not expect to survive, and I was sure that even if I did survive, it wouldn’t be for long.  To be able to sit here even a month later is more than I allowed myself to hope for.”

“...”

“...So why is it that I feel that was a lie?”  Why is it that I hoped you would wait for me and I would be able to see you again?” Your expression dropped even further, “Why is it that I am still hoping you hold some kind of affection for me, even if I know it would be entirely foolish to love a man you expected to never see again?” 

“...”

“...”

Tentatively, his hand reached out to rest on top of your interlocked hands.  

You looked up to meet his gaze. 

“...If I still did?” 

You laughed, as forced as it sounded, “I would call you a fool.  A fool who is in love with a man that will likely take eons to recover, and even if I did manage to recover, I would only manage to remain a hollow shell of who I was.” 

His lips pulled into a tight line,  “I think you are the fool for once.”

You frowned. 

“You provide me with a feeling of wholeness that I have the inability to find with anyone else.  Whether you are the same as you used to be or weaker, bedbound, whatever you wish to call yourself, I will never be able to find that feeling with another.”  He squeezed your hands in his,  “You are indispensable, so fret not.  No matter how long you take to recover, I shall stay by your side every step of the way.”

there's a note attached to the side of the phone booth, read it?

" writers block tried to get me but it didn't work 💯💯💯 "

This is the longest its ever taken me to update I start banging my head against the wall

Constantly conflicted about writing and then feeling sad about not writing and suddenly, oh shit college !

I will say that once I fall into a rhythm updates will definitely become regular again but probably not as quick as they used to be. I fear I am no longer the man that can black out and publish 7.5k words of smut and or gay hurt/comfort every other day.

Aside from that I am good and well!!! Expect some more content from me in less than a month from now

I was considering doing a 200 follower special, but I fear that has been pushed off the table in favor of focusing on the long-form book I've been brewing up and planning.

Of course, I'll still be writing the requests I have in the queue, but the updates will probably be staggered with updates for the long form book

thank you, god bless 💯💯

- love, operator t-19

[delulustateofmind]

Forged in Fire: A New World pt2

A/n: this can be read by itself but here is the link to part one in case you would like more context. It is loosely inspired by 'I stole the male lead's first night' I wrote this because I could not for the life of me sleep, so if there's errors then I apologize, also my requests are open!

Summary: You wake up in a strange place :) Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Mostly crack, Angry!Azriel, lots of cursing

WC: 3.1k

Taglist: @kksbookstuff

*****

You had failed to realize some rather... critical things that had led up to this moment.

For one, you couldn’t read the Prythian language, though you could speak it. Then there was your complete lack of understanding regarding the social caste system and etiquette. And, of course, visiting that suspicious fortune teller at the Renaissance fair three weeks ago—an absolute steal at five dollars—had somehow landed you in this otherworldly situation.

It was your third day in the Night Court. You sat by the garden, surrounded by beautiful flowers and basking in the sunshine. But the serene setting did nothing to calm the storm of your thoughts, especially with the absolutely terrifying shadowsinger sitting next to you. You tried not to lust over him, but Azriel was a sight to behold. The book did not do him justice, nor did the fanart. In person, this male was an absolute lethal god—lean muscles, absolute slut hips, and an ass that could stop traffic. You tried not to drool as you sipped your tea at the table, attempting to focus on the floral beauty around you. Azriel was reading reports, occasionally sending glares your way.

You knew he hated the Vanserras, and he probably didn’t enjoy this babysitting duty when he could be spending time with Elain or doing spy things. Until he finally spoke.

“What the actual fuck, Y/n?” His cold tone sent a shiver down your spine. You gulped the sip of tea you’d just taken, staring into his golden eyes that seemed like shards of ice. What did you do?

You just stared at him. How could you respond to that? How could you respond to the cold, golden gaze he was sending your way, or the way he kept playing with the ring on his... wedding finger?

Fae don’t do human weddings.

“Wait, you’re married?” you stuttered out, looking at him with wide eyes. He scoffed, smirking at your shock.

“Yeah, to you. We got married right before the war, in a private ceremony. We’re mates, for fuck’s sake.” Azriel was furious. He stood up, his wings flaring out in anger. His shadows twirled around your wrists, locking you onto the chair as he moved closer to you.

“How utterly convenient you lost your memory, you have a heart condition that you never told me about, and I don’t know the fact that you visited a witch right before our ceremony?” His tone was dangerously low, like the calm before a storm. He wasn’t yelling—no, that would draw attention. His words were like shards of ice, cutting through the air with a menacing chill.

“How come you didn’t say anything? I mean, I arrived like three days ago,” you said, trying to sound casual. Maybe you could play this off. Everyone here thinks you have amnesia, that you are definitely not from another world and have entered the world of a popular fae smut series. You got this.

Okay, maybe you don’t got this, as Azriel moved closer to you, tilting your chin up to look at him as he gazed down at you. You were honestly surprised you hadn’t pissed yourself yet. They don’t call him the spymaster for no reason. “What was I supposed to say?” he started, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I haven’t told my family that I was mated to a maid for the Vanserra family, who now turns out to be their sister.” Whoever’s body you had just taken over, can have their body back and deal with this mess.

You pleaded to yourself mentally as he continued. “You’re just so full of surprises. Honestly, it’s really my fault, to begin with,” Azriel said with a bitter laugh. “I mean, I should have investigated my mate, but I figured, no, my mate wouldn’t lie to me and then after the war not talk to me for three weeks because she nearly died at Autumn’s camp, which I didn’t even know you were there.” Oh, he was mad. Heated. The absolute rambling this male was doing—fuck, you should pay for his therapy for all of this.

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you,” you began, feeling a strange tug in your heart—was that the mating bond? Perhaps mentioning it would make the lethal predator before you less mad. “I still feel the bond, though,” you whispered, pulling Azriel from his heated rage fit.

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, a mixture of anger and pain. “I just wish... you would have told me all of these things, that you would have prepared me for all of this,” he began, waving his hands as if showcasing the whole mess. “Rhysand knows we’re mates. I told him when you arrived.” Azriel scoffed, his bitterness evident. “I was surprised when it was you, standing there looking so shy, the way you bowed your head towards us. A Vanserra would never do that. That was the first sign that I knew you actually had lost your memories. That you were different.”

The rambling seemed to continue.

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in every movement. “You think I haven’t been trying to figure this out? Trying to understand why my mate would forget me? Why she would hide things from me? This isn’t just about the past three days. This is about trust. About knowing that my mate, my partner, would keep secrets that could get her killed.”

“I never wanted to hide anything from you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of his words. “I don’t know why this happened, but I’m here now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, the anger in his eyes dimming but not disappearing. “You have no idea how much I want to believe you,” he said, his voice low and filled with an emotion that made your heart ache. “But it’s going to take more than words. We’ll start with that witch, and we’ll go from there. But until then, no more secrets. No more lies. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling the gravity of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders. You were in over your head, if you had to the chance to talk to whoever’s body you took over. You were going to scream and shout at them for this. 

Azriel’s wings folded back slightly, and he released your wrists from the shadows, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “We need to talk to that witch, one of the spies said they found the location” 

You nodded as he took your hand in his, his wedding ring brushing against you. A reminder that you were not the one he fell in love with. Within moments shadows surrounded the two of you, as you appeared in front of a shop with a cauldron shaped sign and an old oak door. A sign that said ‘Come in: We can change your life! No Refunds!” hung on the door. 

Azriel gave you a look that said ‘Really? You went here of all places for magic’ he pushed open the door for you, you trailed behind. What was peculiar was that the lady looked exactly like the lady from the renaissance festival. 

The witch’s eyes flicked up as you entered, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Ah, welcome back, dear,” she said, her voice smooth, like an eerie melody. “I see my spell worked.” 

Azriel gave you a confused look as you pulled him outside with you. “We will be right back,” you said to the witch before bringing Azriel outside. “Okay, you said no secrets, right?” The male simply nodded with a confused expression. You continued, your voice hesitant as you looked around to make sure nobody was walking the empty street. “I am not from this world. I am from a modern world where you and your family are a part of a hit faerie smut series.” You said it so bluntly that you didn’t notice the way his face looked. The look was unreadable.

“You’re saying that I am a book character?” he stated. You knew you sounded crazy and were praying that Azriel was not going to send you straight to the dungeons.

You nodded, feeling a sense of desperation. “Yes, and I don’t know how I got here. I visited a fortune teller at a Renaissance fair, and the next thing I knew, I was here, in this body, with no memories of this world.”

Azriel's expression shifted from confusion to something more guarded. “And you expect me to believe this? That my entire life, my family, everything I know is just... fiction in your world?”

“I know it sounds insane,” you pleaded, “but it's the truth. I’m not trying to deceive you. I just want to figure out how to fix this, how to make things right.”

He took a deep breath, his golden eyes searching your face for any sign of deceit. “If what you're saying is true, then this witch is our best chance at getting answers. But if you’re lying...”

“I’m not,” you interrupted. “I swear, Azriel. I want to find out what happened just as much as you do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment before nodding curtly. “Fine. Let’s see what she has to say.”

You both re-entered the shop, the witch’s eyes gleaming with interest. “Had to have a little chat, did you?” she asked, amusement in her tone.

“Yes,” Azriel said, his voice cold and authoritative. “And now we need answers. She claims she’s from another world, one where our lives are just stories. Can you confirm this?”

The witch’s smile widened. “Ah, yes. A classic case of cross-reality displacement. Rare, but not unheard of. The spell I cast was meant to fulfill her old self’s deepest desire, and it seems that desire was to escape her mundane life and find herself in a world of magic and adventure.”

“Old self?” you asked, your voice tinged with urgency.

The witch shrugged delicately. “The actual Vanserra. When I spoke to you, she had already set the spell in motion. It was only a matter of time for you both to flip-flop.” She said this in an amused tone, showcasing with her hands. “Your souls were swapped. Thankfully, you both existed in two different universes. At least you still look like yourself!” She laughed and muttered under her breath, “That’s not always the case.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, his expression darkening. “So you’re saying the Vanserra soul is now in another world?”

“Precisely, a human world to be exact,” the witch replied, still smiling. “Two souls, two worlds. It’s a perfect balance, really.”

You felt a wave of panic rising. “How do we reverse it?”

The witch’s eyes gleamed with a mix of pity and amusement. She moved to a back room behind a tacky purple curtain. “Now let’s check on the actual Vanserra using this doll.” She returned, holding up a rather awful sewing job of a cat with two buttons of separate sizes for eyes. “Ah, just as I thought, the Vanserra accepted the swap. You see, when she came in here, she would claim she was bored of this life. Bored of the mundane. She wanted a life of change, so I gave her your world. It’s more human, so of course, a shorter life span, but your world is rather peaceful.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean she accepted the swap? And what does that mean for Y/n?”

The witch shrugged delicately. “It means that once one soul accepts the swap, the other must accept as well. The balance must be maintained. The Vanserra is content in your world, living a new life, free from the burdens she faced here. She has accepted her new reality.”

The witch handed you the poorly sewn cat doll. “You could always communicate with her via your dreams. Given the situation, she hasn't reached out, perhaps hoping you would accept this world. To do this, you must sleep with this cat.” She gave you a look that said, 'You want my help or not, kid?' You stayed silent as you accepted the creepy, poorly sewn cat doll.

Azriel eyed the doll skeptically, then asked, “So she can talk to her in this dream state, but if the other has accepted, what does that do?”

The witch shrugged. “Provides closure, knowing that you are stuck in this world. You said you wanted adventure, right, kid? Well, here it is.” She gestured grandly with her hands.

You began, your tone edged with annoyance. “I wanted adventure as in, I don’t know, changing my degree or winning the lottery. Not my soul being transported to another world.” You gestured to Azriel. “Let’s say I do accept this role. What do I have to do?”

The witch hummed thoughtfully. “You must do five cartwheels, a handstand while saying ‘I choose this life,’ and then your soul will be sealed, and both eyes on the cat will match.”

Azriel gave her a look of utter disbelief before turning to you. “Can you even do a cartwheel?”

You nodded confidently, flexing your non-existent muscles at him. “Absolutely. I’m practically a gymnast,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The witch clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Now, if you’re ready, you can begin. The sooner you accept, the sooner you can start living your new life fully.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed but resigned. After the witch had swindled the two of you out of two hundred gold, he kept your hand in his as he winnowed you both to the Healer’s cottage.

“We’re going to bed and getting this whole thing situated,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you down the hallway to your bedroom.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” you began, but he interrupted, “I am going to sleep next to you to make sure that you are safe and sound.” The look he gave you was one of ‘Don’t test my patience.’

As you both lay in bed, you stared at the ceiling, trying your best to sleep but unable to quiet your mind. The song lyrics of Kendrick Lamar’s "Certified Lover Boy, Certified Pedophile" played on repeat in your head. Azriel, too, was wide awake, his presence a mixture of comfort and tension.

Slowly, sleep began to take you. You found yourself being led by a black cat into the dreamscape.

In the dreamscape, you met someone who could have been your twin, except she had the most perfect posture known to man, the exclusive Vanserra glare, and was wearing a ballgown.

“So, you’re the one who took my spot?” she said, looking you up and down. Surprisingly, you were wearing modern clothes in the dreamscape.

You nodded. She continued, “Your world is... perfect. I mean, I don’t have to worry about beasts or my abusive father. I have my own apartment, music that can play at my fingertips. Your world may not have magic, but it is... magical.” She sounded amazed by your everyday life, one that now seemed mundane to you, having always wished for fantasy and adventure.

“But you hurt your mate,” you stated angrily, remembering the pained look on Azriel’s face when he learned that the real Vanserra had accepted her life in a human world, that this world was not enough for her.

The Vanserra’s eyes softened with a hint of regret. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just so desperate to escape. My life here was a constant battle, a fight for survival. I didn’t realize how much pain I would cause him... or you.”

“You could have at least tried to work things out,” you countered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Azriel is suffering because of this. He loves you—loved you—and now he’s trying to figure out what to do with me, someone who’s not even from his world.”

She looked away, guilt evident in her expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the consequences. I was selfish. But I can’t go back now. I don’t want to go back. Your world is everything I dreamed of.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” you asked, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness. “I’m stuck here, in a world I don’t understand, with a mate who’s heartbroken and confused.”

The Vanserra met your gaze, a newfound determination in her eyes. “You have to make this life your own. Embrace it, as hard as it may be. Azriel deserves happiness, and if I can’t give it to him, then maybe you can.”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the ritual. “I guess this is it,” you said, looking around the dreamscape one last time before focusing on the task at hand.

One cartwheel. You felt the shift in the air, the magic beginning to weave around you.

Two cartwheels. Your movements became more confident, your resolve strengthening.

Three cartwheels. The world around you seemed to blur, the dreamscape fading into the background.

Four cartwheels. The energy of the ritual thrummed through you, a pulsing beat that matched the rhythm of your heart.

Five cartwheels. As you landed, you transitioned into a handstand, your voice steady as you declared, “I choose this life.”

The Vanserra twin gave you a smile, a mixture of relief and encouragement in her eyes. “Good luck, Y/n,” she said softly, her form beginning to dissolve as the dreamscape faded completely.

When you woke up, you surprisingly had tears in your eyes. Azriel was already awake, gently stroking the hair out of your face. The poorly sewn cat doll was clutched in your hands, and its once mismatched eyes now both gleamed evenly.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. His touch was tender, a stark contrast to the intimidating persona he often projected.

You nodded, still processing the weight of what had happened. “I... I talked to her. The real Vanserra. She’s happy in my world. She’s not coming back.”

Azriel’s expression was a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and something else you couldn’t quite place. “So, this is really happening,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re here to stay.”

You nodded again, feeling the truth of it settle deep within you. “Yes. I’ve accepted this life. I’m going to try and make it work. For both of us.”

He sighed, a sound that was half-resignation, half-hope. “Then we’ll figure this out together.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the bond between you grow stronger with every passing moment. “We will,” you agreed, a sense of determination filling you.

Azriel pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Welcome home, Y/n,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

[whumpinggrounds]

Writing Wheelchair Users

Hello hello hello it’s another Disability Writing Guide from me! As always, this is a general guide gleaned from my personal experience of working with, taking classes on, researching, and having friends in disabled communities. This is writing advice, not a primer on disability justice (although I’m always happy to talk about disability justice).

Okay. Disclaimer over. Onto the writing advice.

Different Types of Wheelchairs

Before you write a character that uses a wheelchair, you need to know why they need the chair. Different disabilities mean different types of chairs. Some questions to get you thinking -

Manual chairs: Are they temporarily disabled, or is this long-term? Is the chair for indoor and outdoor use? What different types of terrain will the chair need to navigate? Is the person active and able to move themselves, or would someone else be pushing the chair? What kind of postural support does this person need? Can they transfer themselves in and out of the chair?

This guide is helpful for figuring out some of the options that are available and why a person might need them. Please do the research to ensure the type of chair you pick makes sense for the disability you’re writing about. Do not pick a chair based on aesthetics, or avoid a chair because some of the functions seem complicated.

Power wheelchairs: Many of the same questions apply about posture, indoor/outdoor use, and types of terrain. Ability to move oneself does not apply, nor does temporary disability or transferring ability.

How is the chair steered? If someone doesn’t have strong fingers, joysticks can be ultra sensitive. I’ve seen a chair that someone steered with her head, and have heard of chairs that are steered by tongues. Just because someone has very limited mobility doesn’t mean they can’t be independently mobile to some extent.

If the character does a lot of work with their hands, it may make sense for the chair to have a tray for them to work on. This is more common in power chairs than in manual chairs.

Not a question, but power wheelchairs generally have a top speed between 5-10 mph, with the average on the lower end of that scale. Sometimes they can be made to go faster, but that’s generally not useful for the person using the chair, and can damage the chair itself. Before you make your character’s wheelchair insanely powerful and fast, please think about if that makes sense for your setting, your character, and their disability. It’s fun, but it’s pretty unrealistic, and wheelchair users hear enough jokes about them “running people over.”

I know there are fancy wheelchairs out there that like, go up and down stairs. These are unreasonably expensive and never really work the way they say they do. If you want your character to be realistic, be extremely cautious about them having the latest and greatest mobility tech.

All wheelchairs are expensive. That being said, power wheelchairs are much more expensive. The more features it has, the newer it is, and the more customized to a person’s needs, the more expensive it will be.

Wheelchair Etiquette

I think I get a lot more disability stuff on my social media because I talk and think and read about it more, so I’m going to start with the very basics. I apologize if it’s repetitive or I’m being unnecessarily detailed!

Do not lean on a person’s chair. Do not have other characters lean on a character’s chair. If they are close friends, maybe, but generally speaking, a wheelchair should be treated as an extension of someone’s body - because it is. So no leaning, sitting on, or pushing it without being explicitly asked.

Also, of course, people who use wheelchairs have fun just like everyone else. Some people do let others ride on the backs of their chairs, or try stupid things just to see what happens. A character’s willingness to do this should be consistent with their personality, and the fact that their chair is likely a very expensive and medically necessary piece of mobility equipment.

Do not use a wheelchair outside its intended purpose. See the above points - it’s an extension of someone’s body, it’s expensive, and it represents someone’s mobility and independence. Shouldn’t be used for moving things or other people. Again, there can be exceptions to this.

Do not refer to someone by their mobility aid. Some people are fine being referred to as wheelchair users. Others prefer “person who uses a wheelchair.” Do not ever call someone “wheelchair guy,” “wheelchair woman,” or “wheelchair person.” A wheelchair is something you use. It is not what you are.

People customize their wheelchairs in a lot of ways. Obvious ways are stickers, colors, ribbons, etc, but customization can also be a tote bag with necessities hanging off the back, a particular cushion, or blanket.

Do not move someone else’s wheelchair without their permission. Firstly, no one should even touch a wheelchair without permission. Secondly, moving a wheelchair means its owner may not be able to find it or transfer into it when the time comes. Last, many people don’t like to be separated from their chair, or to have it leave their sight. It’s an extension of their body. They don’t want it disappearing somewhere they can’t follow.

Treat wheelchairs with care. This underlies everything I’ve written, but it’s worth saying explicitly. In my opinion, it would be unrealistic to have a wheelchair user and/or their friends be careless or reckless with their mobility equipment. Once again - it is expensive, it is their mobility, and it can take a long time to replace or fix.

This ties into the above point, but not all wheelchairs are created equal. They are not interchangeable. Their functions are usually tailored as much as possible to the person that uses them, and that makes a big difference in someone’s comfort, mobility, and independence.

Do not talk down to wheelchair users. This has several meanings. The first is to not be condescending, ever. The second is that some wheelchair users prefer that able-bodied people crouch or sit to speak to them, so they’re at a more equivalent level. Others find this condescending, so proceed with caution and when in doubt, ask. Do not bend over to speak to someone, or tower over them, forcing them to crane their neck. Both of these are always considered poor form.

Wheelchair users do not need, and often do not want, to share their diagnoses. If this character is a major part of your story, their diagnosis and its particulars will affect much of what they do, so please have a specific diagnosis in mind. If they’re a smaller character, or speaking to another character, they may not discuss the particulars of their life or diagnosis, and that’s okay. No one needs to explain their disability, visible or invisible.

Do not use the word cr*pple. Some wheelchair users may use it to describe themselves, especially to other disabled people. As an abled person myself, I would not presume to use that word and I would recommend others do not either.

People are not “wheelchair bound” or “confined to a wheelchair.” People tend to really appreciate the freedom and increased mobility that their wheelchair provides.

Other Considerations

People who don’t have mobility in their extremities often don’t have great circulation in their extremities, either. This means people can get cold much faster than able-bodied counterparts.

People with poor circulation develop extremely sensitive feet. Feet being bumped or even just brushed can be painful.

A character may use a wheelchair and be able to walk, or may use a wheelchair and cannot walk. Either way, they can and almost certainly do still wear shoes.

People with low mobility, or anyone sitting in a wheelchair for hours at a time, need to be shifted and moved, or their weight redistributed, so they don’t develop pressure sores over places where bone is close to the skin (hips, wrists, ankles if lying down). This is non-negotiable. Your wheelchair user character will not be able to stay in the same position for six hours and be okay, no matter how padded their chair might be.

Your wheelchair user’s feet should not really be touching the ground, unless they’re in a hospital chair and it is a short-term situation. All wheelchairs come with footrests, and feet are kept elevated on a footplate. It is hard to hold your feet up continuously while moving, and there’s no real reason to do it that way.

Ableism is real, and it permeates every public, private, and internal space in the real world. If a space has stairs and no ramp, your wheelchair user character can’t enter. If the sidewalk is broken or steep, a wheelchair user may struggle to navigate. If a venue is accessible but the bathroom isn’t, a disabled character may not feel comfortable being there for long stretches of time. If your characters are going to a bar, likely it’s too high for your wheelchair using character to order. If your character uses a powerchair and is going somewhere overnight, there’d better be a place to charge their chair. Even if you’re writing in a fantasy setting, think about what it would mean for your imagined world to actually be fully accessible. If the world you’re writing in isn’t fully accessible, think about what that means for your characters, what impact it has on them, and what they have to navigate to be out in the world.

Lastly, and very importantly, make your character’s disability consistent. If your character is entirely paralyzed below the waist, you’re going to have to think about how they use the bathroom. It may not come up explicitly in your story, but it will absolutely affect the way the character behaves, where they feel comfortable going, and who with. Do not give your character zero lower body mobility and then refuse to think about bathrooming and sexual function. It is really, really disappointing to see people write disabled characters and then avoid the aspects of disability that they may find distasteful, distressing, or too difficult to think about. Okay one more time:

Many wheelchair users have sex. All wheelchair users need to use the bathroom. You don’t have to write about it, but you should think about what it looks like for your character. You’re writing a full disabled person, not an otherwise abled person whose legs don’t work. You’re also not writing a person whose entire personality is their wheelchair and thus cannot be in any kind of sexual relationship. Figure it out.

More Mobility Aids

A person with partial ability to walk may have a wheelchair and a cane, or arm crutches for when they’re able to be more mobile.

A mobility scooter is a possible alternative to a wheelchair if your character has higher mobility and transfer ability but can’t travel long distances. This is a good choice for someone who can get in and out of a wheelchair with ease and has upper body mobility with limited lower body mobility, but can’t self-propel over long distances.

A Hoyer lift is a mechanical lift used to move people with low mobility in and out of their wheelchairs. It is often unrealistic to have a person transfer someone else alone. It is almost always a two person job, and that still puts a lot of strain on the caregiver’s body.

A transfer belt is a very low cost, specially designed belt that makes transferring safer. Its primary purpose is to give caregivers something to hold onto besides a person’s body, which is safer for both parties. A transfer belt is only used when the person being transferred can stand and take at least a few steps mostly on their own.

Service dogs can be trained to open doors, retrieve items, or assist with disabilities that may not relate to the inability to walk.

Hospital beds may be used for characters with limited mobility. The heads and feet of these beds can be lifted or lowered, along with the entire bed. This aids in transferring, as well as shifting weight and position so that bedsores do not develop.

Wheelchair accessible cars or vans are great tools for independence. They’re also incredibly expensive. A van that is equipped to transport wheelchairs will have ports to anchor the chair and straps. A more sophisticated van that would allow the wheelchair user themselves to drive is usually customized to the user’s ability and needs, and even more incredibly expensive.

Caregivers I am including as mobility aid(e)s. They are trained professionals, although family members and friends can also be caregivers. Often a caregiver will be a CNA (Certified Nurse Assistant) and will be trained to help with physical needs and ADLs (Activities of Daily Living). This ranges from transferring and bathing to feeding, brushing teeth, and massage. A CNA is not able to provide any care that breaks the skin (injections, IVs), treat injuries, or dispense any medication (this includes over the counter meds). A registered nurse would be needed to perform any of these things.

Media with Wheelchair Users

I will be honest, I have a lot of memoir recommendations, but movies and TV mostly escape me. I’ll do my best! As always, I am sticking to things I personally have read or watched.

Sitting Pretty by Rebekah Taussig is a memoir by a young wheelchair user. It discusses ableism, disability, and independence.

A Body, Undone by Christina Crosby is a memoir by a queer woman who acquired a disability partway through her life. It deals with her adaptation to her life and reflects on mobility, independence, and the body.

Being Heumann by Judith Heumann is a memoir by a prominent disabled woman and activist. She tells her life story and describes the crucial work she did in working for disability rights in America.

Care Work by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Sanarasinha is a collection of essays by a multiply disabled, queer femme-aligned person of color. They include reflections on disability justice, disabled futures, and many aspects of disabled lives.

Demystifying Disability by Emily Landau is an all-purpose primer on many different types of disability and how to talk about them. It’s an intro to ideas surrounding disability.

Disability Visibility by Alice Wong is a collection of essays by many different disabled people about their lives and views on disability. It covers many different types of disability, and among the authors are some wheelchair users, including prominent late activist Harriet McBryde Johnson.

Spoiler alert: In the later seasons of Bones, though I don’t know exactly when, a main character acquires a disability that means he uses a wheelchair. He struggles with internalized ableism and difficult emotions surrounding disability in a limited but thoughtful portrayal.

Me Before You is bad disability representation. Both the book and the movie are bad representation. Happy to talk about this in DMs if you do not understand why. Do not use it as positive rep or research.

[greenfinchwriter]

The same loud,toxic,ignorant show-only fandom minority fraction complaining about new fans coming to the fandom from Netflix,and doing their usual bully and gatekeep routine,is amusing to me.

It's not the Netflix folks that are the issue, it's them.

First they invaded TVC fandom spaces,and now they are once again the aggressors (against windmills).

Oh you're afraid some people won't be respectful, or interact with show and fandom correctly? I'm sorry but that part of the show-only fandom doesn't get to whine and fuss about other people's possible/imagined lack of media literacy and fandom etiquette when they are the epitome of both.

The VC fandom was never idyllic,no fandom is, but for the most part everyone was fairly tolerant, and mostly lived by the cardinal rules of fandom: Ship and let ship, don't like don't read, and so forth. It was nice, having a minimum amount of fandom purity culture, and a high media literacy rate. Again, to be clear there are severe anti,and negativity issues in the TVC fandom on its own without toxic show only elements coming in recently. But that is a different post for a different time. And those toxic TVC internal people certainly don't mind being validated by those equally toxic newcomers who agree with them. Imho they would usually be the people to gatekeep anyone from the source material but their takes being validated, and parrotted supersedes even that.

Internal antis have been around for a long time but they have never dominated fanspaces as they do now. Worse though, external antis posing as internal ones who are using popular media for their own agendas are given a stronger voice under the guise of "social justice", and people go along with it because it's en vogue,and they are afraid of being stamped as "not ideologically pure enough".

To be clear it's not the entire show only fandom by far but unfortunately a significant vocal part of it has been incredibly rude and toxic towards the original TVC fandom, and the books themselves.

And the ongoing disrespect for the source material is as infuriating as it is heartbreaking.

The source material is just fine when it can, somehow,be twisted,cherrypicked or esoterically "interpreted" to support or "give credence to" some sort of projecting,nonsense headcanon people decided is real canon especially when it pertains to Marius,Armand, and Lestat. Or to try to "predict" what will happen in the show in future seasons. But apart from that? Nope. Even when those show only "fans" deign to pick up the books, they are incapable of separating the version of the show they made up in their heads and read them the same way they read the classics - with 21st century Twitter approved faux social activism glasses,and disdain because, shocker, the genre and books isn't for them,and not exactly the sanitized fantasy they had in their heads.

Only reading the Devil's Minion chapter, cherrypicked passages on social media,and the game of telephone of "what some person's cousin's step-mutual on Twitter or on here claimed happens", isn't the same as having read,loved,and analyzed the novels for up to *decades*.

The Vampire Chronicles,and its fandom deserves better than that.

The TVC fandom aren't the ones who monopolize characters they don't (want to) understand. That part of the show fandom spams tags that aren't theirs - including but not limited to posting anti rhetoric in character tags.

There can't be any more even worse takes by the Netflix folks than there already are thanks to that part of the show only fandom. We've already hit rock bottom there,so deep breaths, it will be just fine. At worst a large chunk of them won't get the show and don't know or respect the books either - they are just alike! No need to be afraid of a mirror. At best some folks coming from there will genuinely love and engage with the show in fun, and intellectual ways. Maybe we'll even get some more "book lovers who don't despise the show and enjoy it for what it is", or people who enjoy and understand the show enough to seek out the books,and read them without prejudice, or for pure desire of fandom cred.

So frankly,their performative sulking is pretty damn funny.

I will take them seriously as soon as they start showing respect to,and understanding of the source material, or admit that they don't have a clue,and either are willing to learn,or leave because they can finally admit that the genre, and stories just aren't for them. Or as soon as they can learn the cardinal fandom rules,and be respectful of and to the old guard TVC fandom.

If someone wants to only enjoy the show,perfectly fine, but then don't talk about the books at all, and treat the characters as original characters that only happen to share names with the book characters but are entirely separate.

Have to keep insisting that:

- Marius is a one-note cartoon villain pedo and rapist,and every breath he takes is an affront to the G-ds,and he's solely to blame for aaaallll of Armand's trauma,and every ill in the world since before the dawn of man, and every time the wifi messes up and Armand can't play Minecraft

- Lestat is somehow are devious master of puppets and also a sadistic abuser with zero other qualities

- Armand is an pure,innocent,sad uwu babe in arms who has ever only been a poor,perfect victim seeking love and is so very swowwy for all of the bad things he did,and totally traumatized by them.

- Devil's Minion is a wholesome,quirky,pure love story,and all the "bad" parts are Marius's,Lestat's, Louis's,and Daniel's faults somehow.

And so forth.

Then,hell, give them their own names, here let me help you:

Fake Marius is now Maurizio

Fake Lestat is Jean-Paul

Fake Louis is Jerry

Fake Armand is Alain

Fake Daniel is Doug

You're welcome.

In short: Don't be afraid of the Netflix crowd. The worst takes are already alive and thriving, and no one has perished (except the sane parts of the tvc and show fandoms,of course). Only the show and that particular faction of its fans via their takes can make it worse, and it doesn't matter how or where they watch from.

Being a decades long,obsessive book fan,and someone who does love the show for what it is, I'm already disillusioned.

People have already come in and shit on some of my most beloved characters from the books - Marius,Lestat,and yes Armand,because those specific show only Armand apologists don't actually love or understand the real,canon,book Armand. Or, frankly,the one in the show either. They love a sanitized,infantilized simulacrum of him they created in their heads, and now furiously try to make that canon.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling an nd popular girl malicious and saying she should change her therapist in a group chat?

I'm also nd and I do feel guilty, but I'm also mad about this. All participants are over the age of 25 and qpoc.

Popular girl, generic posts gets 100+ likes within hours, known for being really vocal social justice warrior and entertaining clapbacks at enemies (usually anons). I followed because some of my friends follow, all of us like the big array of interests (including fandom) we get on our dashes from her rather than the following type of posts.

This girl has a habit of telling "stories" about her internet life, particularly, every time she got into a fight with some other accounts. It's sometimes one sided, it's often times over small things that either she exaggerates or she herself made worse by "clapbacking" or accusing others of commiting heinous crimes over like a badly phrased sentence or saying something subjective she personally dislikes. For example calling someone mentally disturbed and underdeveloped for reminding her of a basic fandom etiquette she deems childish or ridiculing someone for liking a common unproblematic fiction trope then then making multiple provocative posts meant to take a piss at them. The anons often would come back to her annoyed or to tell her off. That way a normal conversation becomes a fight and she becomes the victim of harassment.

Back to her "stories", basically she makes long posts detailing all these fights she got into over the years, publicly names and shames them, tracks url changes or remade accounts too, makes little remarks like "they shouldn't have started a beef with Me" or "I could have doxed them if I wanted to" and always ending with "I'm sorry I can't be normal anymore after what I went thru" referring to one or two times she did get cyberstalked and harassed by an obsessive anon who made multiple accounts to do this. She has her group of people who validate her and they all think they're more mature than those anons, most of her followers find the stories damn entertaining.

This is a common type of popular mean girls that I have grown desensitized to, so I'm not a real great person either for still following people like her for non-confrontational posts I recognize that and I'm trying to do better. Some time ago, after months of following her, I realized (with help) it wasn't good for my mental health to keep seeing her posts and putting her name on my blog at all was support I didn't want to give her. I blocked her and her freinds.

This week, one of my GCs got newcomers and were asking for informative good blogs to follow, a couple members suggested her blog so I warned against her. Told them she was not a nice presence, she might find some small thing to hate about them and make a mountain of hate out of it, suggested other blogs etc. Those two fans of her got annoyed, told me to not influence others' actions, she was just a hurt woman who supported many causes she wasn't different from most twitter girlies etc. They're not friends with her but knowing her and her followers I might get featured on her storytime one day /s.

The text is all about her but the situation is between me and the gc newcomers so that's why I think I was an asshole for influencing their decision and badmouthing a random person who irritates me to some strangers?

I have my own therapist btw, plenty of trees to touch too, don't worry about that.

What are these acronyms?

[sarcophagid]

this was gonna go on the recent hc post but it was really off topic so:

i don't think ithaqua is blind to social etiquette, given he didn't like the assumption that he had no manners due to his background and lifestyle. like, he's educated 😭. which was probably pretty rare in a place like the plateau where the majority of their practices are archaic even for the 1900s. and he's not actually that culturally disconnected from society, even if he wants to be. if his mother was socialized a certain way, then he will at the very least be influenced by this. and i doubt his gripe is with every part of culture, considering he accepted everything from folk tale to her being religious. ithaqua just doesn't find her devotion 'effective' when it was ignored by the greater powers in leng. this corruption was what the "barbarism over civility" philosophy is about. his idea is "if a system cannot protect its inhabitants, then change occurs with force that is 'illegal' in the eyes of this system". although i don't think he's an agent of justice or intent on being a good person. he's motivated by love, not morality, or at least he was initially motivated by love.

as time passes these views may get more extreme due to the isolation and trauma, but there's also the fact that by then he was already playing the part of the nightwatch, who obviously isn't human and wouldn't abide by human rules, and a more extreme philosophy would ward people off. but there's a distinction between the act and 'himself'.

imo there's still a lot of holes in his logic and it's not really sustainable but my point is to not take that line at face value. anyways there's also the fact that he just hasn't seen much of the world. it's tricky to interpret an abandonment of 'humanity' when the biggest 'humanity' he's seen was isolated and small in itself. when your only perception of society is an incredibly insular bubble culture this leads to weird results

[st-just]

Identity politics, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò argues in his book Elite Capture, has been captured for the interests of the powerful—mostly rich, mostly white, mostly male. He gives irritatingly few specifics (one of the most severe weaknesses of the book in my opinion), but I’ve certainly noticed the pattern myself. LGBT rights is coopted to sell rainbow cookies and diversity trainings. Advocacy to help mentally ill people results in condescending reminders from your boss that you should prioritize self-care, even as you work long hours for not enough money. We wanted a revolution and we got wellness influencers and the Bank of America pride float. A lot of discourse around social justice doesn’t address anything of practical, material benefit to oppressed people. It is nothing more than an elaborate system of etiquette for educated middle-class people, signalling that the users have the free time and social connections to know that you’re supposed to say “trans” and not “transsexual.” This does not help trans people access medical care, but it does help cis people manage their psychodramas around gender.

Ozy Brennan, Against Deference Politics: Or, The Importance Of Building Shit

[luulapants]

Hey, I saw your post ex-con etiquette and the addition regarding rapists, and I really agree with what you have to say. I wanted to ask you since you seem knowledgeable - how does presumption of innocence figure into the system of restorative justice that you suggest? I think presumption of innocence was a really important and historically progressive advance in justice under liberal democracies (eg. France, the US, Spain, Brazil, etc, although it is not always fairly enforced of course). I'm curious what you think because although in a restorative system of course there are fewer retributive punishments for infractions, often times social ostracization/shunning happens anyway, so I think presumption of innocence would still be necessary

It's an interesting question! I don't know that I have a firm answer, and I think it would depend on what form this non-punitive justice system took and how long society had to deprogram from the punitive justice propaganda that plagues the US today. Even maintaining a presumption of innocence, though, I think it would be easier to reach guilty verdicts in a reparative justice society.

Removing punishment from the equation lowers the stakes, which would make it easier to find witnesses and evidence. Thinking about my own community, when someone gets shot, people usually know who did it but refuse to say so. The cops frame this as a failing of the community, that people are afraid to be retaliated against or covering for their delinquent sons. In reality, people just know that it won't solve anything. We lost one kid to this shooting. Reporting the one that shot him just takes another from us. He'll go in a box to suffer for a few years, and when he comes out, he'll be worse than when he went in. We can't save him if the state takes him. We probably can't save him without more resources, either, but we can at least try if he's here.

But what if our justice system realized that isolating people and giving them nothing to lose, is the opposite of what we need? What if reporting that boy meant therapy and safe, mediated meetings with the family of his victim so they could tell him about the person he killed and explain the enormous hurt he caused? What if his circumstances were examined to find out what drove him to so carelessly take a life? What if he was engaged in helping to prevent other young people from making the same mistake? In that world, giving up his name and evidence to the investigators is the absolute best thing his family could do for him.

Going beyond that, "guilty beyond a reasonable doubt" is an essential standard in the horrific stakes of a punitive justice society. In the much lower stakes of a reparative justice society, perhaps that standard can be relaxed. Or perhaps a jury could find that, no, we aren't sure this person robbed the liquor store but we do find that their material circumstances put them at risk for such an act and want them assigned to a social worker who will make sure they are receiving all necessary public assistance to prevent such a crime. Or perhaps there could be intermediary assignments - no, it wasn't proven that you date raped this person, but it wasn't disproved either, so we're assigning you a free class on consent, just to be safe.

There are just so, so many possibilities beyond the shit system we've been told is all we can have <3

[whatsthepointinstayinghere]

Ortega. The Yuma lookalike

First post test. Just because.

You guys ever noticed how Ortega in Pokémon Scarlet and violet looks exactly like Yuma from MDA: Raincode?

I've always wanted to point that out because I find it hilarious.

• BOTH are males

• BOTH have purple eyes

• BOTH have a short physical build

• BOTH have pink hair styled in a bowl cut

Yuma: "DON'T TALK TO ME OR MY SON EVER AGAIN!"

Either way I freaking adore them both! 🩷💜

Ortega is Fairy Type Yuma while Yuma is Ghost type Ortega.

Yuma is kindhearted with a strong sense of justice while Ortega is competitive, bratty and short tempered while hiding real feelings behind the insults he throws at people.

Just some things about me:

By the way this is my first ever Tumblr post. I'm a new guy so I'm the newbie dumbass. I'm a massive fan of MDA Raincode, Danganronpa, Monster Hunter alongside other video games. I actually research multiple video games and really look into any new characters that catch my interest.

Usually I've been in the dark because I don't use many forms of social media (I was raised strictly so I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone online until I was 19 in 2019) so yeah... I'm an internet hermit. I first had a taste of online socialising when I created a YouTube account to talk in the Super Smash Bros Ultimate streams I was taking part in. Then from there I joined Discord just so that I could remain in contact with my friends I made there. However after years of struggling with fitting into online communities I've had no choice but to back away from people due to my health. Having social anxiety really doesn't help, plus I'm autistic so I really struggle with a lot of basic things people can do easily. (For example instructions have to be simplified for me so that I can understand them step by step).

I'm a gamer who loves multiple video games but always struggles with talking about my passions wherever I go. People find me annoying, see me as a spammer (especially as I love posting memes I find on the internet just to spread joy and try to make people laugh) and ban me from community servers because I'm too emotional (when I feel low I have a bad habit of venting just so someone can show some kind of support, as I don't talk to anyone in reality. Unfortunately there's a lot of people who can't stand people like me, since my depression is triggering for them, so they throw me out, never speaking to me again.

This of course made me feel worse about myself and I've been isolating myself. Due to my lack of socialising (I've always had problems with making friends) I find peace with the characters I fall in love with in video game. Mostly because I can relate to them. I believe that everyone has their mains. Their number one character(s) they love the most. That's the main reason why I love the games I play.

I'm going to give Tumblr a go. I know that people often use this place for fanart however, I'm a really terrible artist so I won't post any of mine. Also I'm extremely reluctant in showing off any random fanart I find online because I learnt the hard way that it's extremely rude to just post other people's art without crediting them. I'm deeply sorry.... I didn't get a manual of online art posting etiquette so I was completely clueless and I'm permanently ashamed of it. It was because I was so used to copying and pasting any nice pictures I saw online onto my private discord server. So I wasn't used to big communities (an example of my dumb brain however it's wired differently and I take things literally so I'm just not going to post any fanart whatsoever in public) yes.. I am terrified of being told off, and it's got only worse after getting banned from four discord video game communities. I'm also an ex mod so I can tell whenever a server mod is more into status than actually caring for the community.

I'm sick of explaining everything about myself as a human being who just happened to be born a little bit different than most people who spend their whole lives on social media. I'm sensitive, outspoken and I just want a place in the gaming community who will just accept people like me. I'm the kind of person who speaks their mind and when upset or angry I tend to say nasty things at people but I immediately regret it.

At least here i can just post random crap that's on my mind. About my favourite video games and characters while people can choose whether they want to hang out or not.

I'm a kind hearted person who looks out for everyone. I allow people to vent if ever they feel sad or alone. I hate to see people get hurt and I'd love to see them get well ❤️‍🩹. I will never push anyone away just because they are being too "triggering" while I understand that these things can upset other people it still doesn't make it right to criminalise the person who is in need of support from other humans. Treat others how you'd want to be treated. Yes I do talk about deep topics if I must, I am into horror game lore after all so I've heard it all. However hopefully I'll warn everyone if something I'm about to talk about is too dark.

I'm going to say this as well. I apologise if I type too much. Because of the way I am I go into as much detail about pretty much everything as possible. Yes, I've had nasty comments about it.

I DO make videos on YouTube but at the moment I've shut myself down from it. Hopefully if I feel better I'll open it up again.

Anyway I'm glad to get most of that personal shit out of the way just so that you have an understanding of what to expect from me, I'm certainly not mainstreamer. For the most part I'm just a geek for multiple video games.

P.S I suck with hashtags by the way.

[adventists-in-michigan]

What is Bible characters had resumes?

Esther (Hadassah)

Location: Shushan (Susa), Persian Empire

Email: queenesther@persianempire.com

Education

Royal Training and Etiquette Program, Shushan Palace, Persian Empire

Specialized training in royal etiquette, diplomacy, and governance.

Self-Educated in Jewish Law and Tradition

Experience

Queen of the Persian Empire

Shushan Palace, Persian Empire

Demonstrated exceptional leadership and diplomatic skills by averting a genocide, saving thousands of lives across the empire.

Orchestrated a strategic plan to reveal a high-level government plot without direct confrontation, utilizing wisdom and patience.

Advocated for the Jewish community, securing a decree that allowed them to defend themselves against their enemies, which led to their survival and prosperity.

Maintained strong communication channels between the royal court and minority communities, fostering an environment of mutual respect and understanding.

Advisor to King Ahasuerus

Shushan Palace, Persian Empire

Provided counsel to the king on matters affecting the welfare of the empire’s diverse populations.

Played a key role in the governance of the empire, influencing policies that promoted equity and justice.

Community Leadership and Philanthropy

Founded a relief organization focused on providing support to minority communities within the empire.

Organized and led community-building initiatives aimed at promoting understanding and harmony among diverse cultural groups.

Skills

Leadership & Diplomacy: Proven ability to lead in high-stakes situations, with a strong emphasis on diplomacy and strategic negotiation.

Communication: Excellent communicator, capable of delivering powerful messages to varied audiences.

Strategic Planning: Skilled in developing and implementing comprehensive plans to address complex challenges.

Advocacy & Social Justice: Passionate advocate for the rights and welfare of minority communities.

Languages

Fluent in Hebrew and Persian

References

God

King Ahasuerus

Mordecai

[aeons-domain]

Madison's Character Inspiration

where I pick 6 characters to yoink their storyline and personality with and glue it onto my OC 🤓 (half-joking there, but, they did serve as my core inspiration for Madison in a number of aspects)

Tagging the friends who also did theirs in the Discord server, as well as some other folks to do this with their beloved OC(s) and S/I(s) as well! No pressure by the way, do it if you want to! 💖 @emproleon (the OG!! Thank you for sharing this in the server ❤️) @amberswords @anikasenkujo @funnyvalentineswife @hand-domain @jellyluchi @papersirens @shaylistic @sweetsparklerain @trashbabyart @uminozerol @werewuffgoth @white-cherries @whitespirit91 @zizalovesyou

Empty template + Character inspo blurbs under the cut

Ruby Rose (RWBY) - In the very early days of RWBY coming out I fell in love with the young female lead who had a strong sense of moral justice. We've all had our fair share of young protagonists who aim to do a lot for the world they live in and that especially rubbed onto Madison especially in her younger teenage years.

Steven Universe - Steven is described to be optimistic, outgoing, and soft-hearted but also naive and socially oblivious. His journey of maturing throughout the series was something that I got a huge chunk of inspiration from when I was writing down Madison's backstory from birth to the various stages of her life. Madison does go through a similar matter like Steven where she carries heavy burdens at a young age and struggles to keep up with the demands made of her due to her inexperience with life and lack of emotional control.

Nana (Elfen Lied) - If you see art of Madi with horns on her head similar to Nana then I'm sure you can piece two and two together to see that they're of the same species (and personality too ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)). Madison is exactly like Nana in the sense that her empathy for other people's pains is what keeps her from conceding to the part of her genetics that desires to be homicidal. You've also got that bit of lore where Madison has gone through a part of her childhood where she was raised as a test subject in a research institute which I'll share more in the future.

Nancy Drew - The inspiration I got from Nancy and put into Madison's character is her ability to stay determined and help others when she can provide such assistance. I adore how resourceful and independent Nancy is and so I try to emulate that onto Madison especially in her older years. A fun fact is that Madison has a love for books in the mystery genre and reading the Nancy Drew series lead her to be more curious and critical of the world, mentally solving puzzles in her head that she can apply when situations call for a solution.

Akane Tsunemori (Psychopass) - Fun fact here is that Akane's VA Kana Hanazawa is my voiceclaim for Madison and I just love love looovveee Akane so much that I had to put her here as one of Madison's main inspirations! You've got that naïve to callous pipeline characters go through when they soon face the horrific realities of the world which definitely happens to Madison in her late teen and young adult years. Generally polite and respectful thanks to several etiquette classes she took up in high school, Madison earns the respect of fellow peers when they find that she is also intelligent, insightful, and compassionate. Despite having the means to enforce violence with her Stand or her vectors from being a Diclonius, Madison does what she can to deescalate a situation and employ less destructive actions, just like Akane in her former years as an Inspector.

Misaka Mikoto (A Certain Scientific Railgun) - Along with Mikoto and most of these characters, I think I really like the trope of "Friendly and easygoing character with great powers has keen sense of justice and wishes to keep the world safe, but wants to do so with peaceful/harmless means as much as possible….But then gets cold and unfeeling in the process 🙃" way too much that you can see the similarities in all of these characters' backstories and how I'll be incorporating that with Madison too sdkjbsjkd but! the same can be said for Mikoto too with how she does her best to help others to the point where she sacrifices her own wellbeeing for their safety.

[drbased]

JKR's racism/racial insensitivity/cultural ignorance isn't particularly special, unique or evil - it's literally just the product of an average white person of her generation. That's not to say that her racism is good, but rather this attempt to frame her as especially problematic is really tiring. White people will criticise 'Cho Chang', safely in the knowledge that their short stories where the main character's spirit animal is a kitsune and the villain has yellow eyes will never be made public.

In my lifetime, I have witnessed a cultural shift. Historically, there was this understanding in mainstream circles that your morals and your politics were kinda separate. But as the internet shifted the conversation, sympathies were extended to oppressed peoples, and it gradually became understood that in order to be a good person, you have to do things like 'not be racist' and 'not be homophobic' etc. Suddenly, everything that was considered a harmless joke was now 'under attack'. Consequently, there was a near-immediate backlash from conservative groups who wanted to preserve the social norms that meant they never had to consider politics in their actions. The conservative understanding is that 'good morals' means a good character - hard working, not complaining, good social etiquette, well-dressed, well-groomed, amenable, patriotic, 'stiff upper lip', not making a fuss, respecting your elders etc. etc. Now, they can't enjoy a good bit of bum-pinching, or laughing at a fake chinese accent anymore. Those things have now been included in a cultural understanding of what compassion is, and they don't like it. They find another way to distance it from 'real morals and good character', by using 'political correctness' as a way to make these new considerations sound cold and heartless, and 'social justice warrior' became a way to make the proponents of these social changes into over-zealous loonies, in the same vein as 'feminazis'.

I strongly believe the social changes towards anti-racism etc. are for the better, and since I joined the 'SJW' circles on tumblr years ago, I have found it heartening to see how much more consideration and compassion can be found in even the most basic of mainstream media.

These cultural changes were spearheaded by people who were already activists, and the conversations were taking place by well-meaning people, the majority of whom were already adults. There was a bit of jostling for where we should draw the line of acceptability (for example, terms such as 'stupid' and 'crazy' ended up being considered acceptable, since they were considered sufficiently separate from their origins as ableist slurs, and too widespread to reasonably remove from the average person's vocabiulary - a conversation that has fizzled out even though I would argue it still needs to be had), and these arguments were not always the most mature, but ultimately a consensus seemed to be reached on who gets to say what, and why.

Over time, however, I have watched the degradation of the initial concepts and I believe it's because of 1. a growing nihilism developed by over-exposure to world issues via the internet, compounded by the collective response to the 2016 electon result and 2. that movements are always influenced by the loudest voices - and often the ones who are willing to speak the loudest are the young people. When I first joined the internet, I was 12, and there were plenty of spaces for young people back then, but none of these spaces were particularly political. The increase in popularity of all-ages, all-demographic social media spaces meant that young people were being introduced to political concepts way beyond their understanding. I was only just 19 when I joined tumblr, and I was ready to clumsily absorb a lot of new ideas - but these days, most people are joining tumblr, twitter, tiktok and beyond as teenagers, some of them perhaps literal children. Unfortunately that means that this delicate balance of rightly criticising people for holding and perpetuating racist, misogynistic, homophobic, ableist etc. beliefs has rapidly degraded into a hyper-individualistic hellscape where what a person says/does is only used against them if they're already a public scapegoat. The overly zealous mentality of the fandom shipping war, where some ships are Evil and some are Pure has spilled out into real-world political discussions. Of course, that's not to say that this wasn't happening at the time - you had to sift through a lot of garbage - but ultimately the people at the core of The Discourse, who were leading the charge of cultural change, were adults with real political chops.

All of this is to say that there's a real irony in how The Discourse has shifted since I first came across it in 2011. The original 'SJW' understanding was that everyone in an oppressor class will say and do and think things that lie on a spectrum of 'problematic' to 'evil' - nobody is safe, everything we do is worth criticism, and it is not the oppressed person's job to coddle you and tell you that you're *actually* a good person when you continue to perpetuate real-world harm. If punching someone in the face means you're an asshole, then so does saying that women belong in the kitchen. The harm in the latter example may be less immediate than the harm in the former, but we're not children anymore, and we should be able to recognise that harm is still caused. Now, however, that aspect of 'check your privilege' is becoming increasingly muddied. There seems to be a collective cultural understanding that now, since we don't see yellowface or 'objectified women' in media anymore, the conversation is Closed, we've Solved Racism and Sexism and Homophobia and Ableism and so on. The treatment of JKR's writing and behaviour as a unique kind of evil akin to nazi dogwhistles is proof positive that people have latched onto this idea that they can 'cancel' women using all the well-meaning ideological rhetoric introduced by the previously hated 'SJWs' (often to protect women as an oppressed group!). The party line of the neo-SJW is that white women are the people that may not technically be the least oppressed, but they're the group that think they're way more oppressed than they are, and therefore deserve to be held to militantly high standards and mocked brutally when they get too out of line. In doing so they have accidentally outed themselves as not subscribing to their own beliefs; it is patently obvious that JKR's racism is nothing special or deliberate or insidious. That doesn't mean anyone has to like her, but the fact that she is clearly being singled out when no other white person (*cough* man *cough*) is.

It's been said before that white people have latched onto gender identity as a way to 'opt out' of being recognised as part of an oppressor class. Now, when we look at statistics about trans people, it's all 'trans man' and 'black trans woman'. Whiteness goes back to be omitted, invisible and assumed, with the 'trans' label being the primary descriptor of what 'type' this person is, obfuscating their relationship with white supremacy and allowing them to present themselves as Oppressed - the Most Oppressed, even. The cultural discourse has pivoted hard and fast to transgenderism, precisely because it diverts the conversation away from real-world oppression and towards easy things like language and indentity. The former makes oppressor classes uncomfortable and implies if not outright demands actionable structural change; the latter means people get to signal 'support' by putting their pronouns in bio and chanting some easy phrases. You get to put yourself on the right side of history by being trans positive, which means you never have to think too much about the other axes of oppression you may lie on. I have seen in my personal life people with centrist views, apolitical people and incels alike will all be supportive of trans people whilst not knowing or caring about any other leftist cause. The cultural discourse needed a conclusion - if 'being a good person means having good politics' is now the cultural expectation, then your average, apolitical normie needed something to signal that they're a good person without any meaninful change in their actual politics. Transgenderism was the easy pick. Mansplaining still gets to be a cultural joke whilst attack helicopter jokes are seen as a cringe product of the ignorant past. People who don't know what gender is (including trans people themselves!) loudly proclaim the support for transgender people's bravery. And people (women) who dissent are the easy scapegoat - bonus points if they're white, because then you get to pay lipservice to the discourse you are deliberately bastardising and cherry-picking from, thus the collective anxieties over actual societal change can be soothed.