To continue the woobified view of the Elites and my comparison of them to the Black Eagles :
Same for me regarding the BE, especially because they also literally fought Edelgard's troops in WC when you choose their house, and even if you don't, they definitely still would know that Edelgard dus nasty shits in WC.
The idea that media literacy is dead is quite fitting, because the idea that even rotten persons have loved ones/that having loved ones doesn't mean you're not rotten is a known thing, yet the Eagles and elites get a pass solely because "they genuinely believe in the cause" and "they love and care for each other"
Probably Fraldarius was as devoted to Nemesis as Ingrid to Dimitri, Lamine very well may have been as sassy as Dorothea, perhaps Goneril was as brave and endearing as Caspar, or Maurice was as loyal to his clan's interests as Petra to Brigid's happiness (through a strong bond to the Empire) but like the BE, they are butchers, who relished in the destruction of everything those against them hold dear, lap dogs and rabid curs of someone they definitely know have crushed innocents and scorn the very idea of peace except under their domination.
The only meaningful difference between Edelgard-following BE and the elites is that we can know more about the BE and we are forced to dislike cutting them down even as they refuse to let northern Fódlan alone.
Honestly I need a fanfiction where the BE are called out for that bullshit.
Yep!
That's the tone deaf feeling I got from Nopes, the Deers are hunting someone bcs their leader wants her dead for no reason, but Raph only comments on how hungry he is.
Uh, sure Raph, you're not the most thoughtful character in there, but come on? Some commentary or exposition on what you're doing? Hello KT? Can we have characters be challenged or even react to the events of screen instead of wondering what's for dinner/teatime?
No??
I wouldn't say it's an issue of media litteracy being dead, but more something in the lines of people being more and more "all or nothing" nowadays, without any nuance and conflating liking a character with the idea/image that might project on you : if I like ASOIAF's Cersei, I don't think everything she does is "justified", but modern fandom, I feel like some people would categorize you as a "good" or "bad" person based on the characters you like, and it's just... not what fandom is or was supposed to be imo, I'm here to nerd and gush about favourite characters, not write litteral essays about the Geneva Convention.
Corollary is what, imo, made the Fodlan fandom hell : some people really take "criticism" against a character personally - sure the way FE16 was written invites projection, but at the end of the day, making a Berning Fire Joke is, just, making a joke about a bunch of pixels, nothing more.
Back to the BEs, they can have a sense of camaraderie and genuinely support each other... as they tear apart "people because Supreme Leader told me to" and fight side by side with Bob the Carpented who was turned into Waldi the demonic beast.
Ferdie can skewer Flayn on her father's lance because she is "a creature that has plagued humanity for ages" even if they reached a C support before shit hit the fan - and still protect Mercedes and Bernie from their abusing Fathers. Does that make him a great guy? A nuanced guy?
I think the trope is called "even evil people have loved ones" or something like that?
I don't think so, but he is no random one note villain sycophant either - now, what is the more annoying with the Fodlan games is how this dichotomy is never called upon : everything is just a giant blob or Hresvelg Grey ("morally grey" but only applied to Supreme Leader) where no one really is angry at her, and all the "sacrifices" she's making are off-screen while the characters on-screen always moan about her "ReFoRmS" and "IdEaLs" without talking about the cost bar some milquetoast "but war bad". And no one, in the game, will ever throw this hypocrisy to their face - Gallant Ferdinand will dream about the Opera as he wipes off the blood of a young woman who just wanted to return to the only home she had.
Yay.
FWIW, some mutuals and I have nothing but pure lols about Doro's line in the non-CF routes being "we killed Ferdie professor :'(" because, hey, why should I care more about Ferdie than about random loldier 55 ? Rhea? Felix? Claude? Ignatz?
Maybe the Elites were really friends and became """"nice""" persons with time, to their families and loved ones ?
Does this magically erase what they did before? Will that "good" they did erase all the "wrongs" they have previously done? Will theyr forever escape the consequences of their actions?
In a game that depicts Flamey as a terrorist for 11 chapters only to drop that plot point by the window to moan, again, about her "IdEaLs", "consequences" are maybe something you can eat as a snack, or throw in a trashcan.
So following the rules of this verse, given how Supreme Leader never receives flak for her Flamey stunts, why should the Elites receive any for what they did? Look, Maurice calls Daphnel his friend, surely he is not that bad of a man? Well yeah, he might have seduced women and planted a lot of wild oats here'n'there, but he cares about his friends!
Jeritza likes ice creams and cats! Surely it's more important to paint him as a cat lover than to deal with all the consequences of his stunt as the Death Knight, kidnapping and implied rekting young woman while he was in GM, under Flamey's orders, right?
Calling it now, after eviscerating Seteth's older brother, Goneril might have melted in front of one of Rhea's kittens, and adopted the cat asap. Surely that makes Goneril a "good" character right? And forget the entire "genocided a bunch of hippies living isolated in their village" stuff?
I don't have fanfics recs where the BEs are called hypocrites, but I confess I don't read a lot of fanfics in the FE16 fandom because of all of the aforementioned issues.
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general hcs for aftg zombie apocalypse? me i think kevin would try to be leader but unfortunately no one would listen to him/take him seriously :(
now i think if we’re talking like a few years into the apocalypse then it gets interesting like how the characters would change physically like….and what weapons would they use!! they’d def run into people who use exy rackets as weapons and kevin would be disgusted with them i think.
i LOVE apocalypse aus but none center kevin or write him right i wanna know what you’d think he’d be like in one
SUCH A FUN ASK THANK YOUUUUUUU! first of all your idea for kevin is so funny i have to concede. its true no one would care for him at all even if he tries.... honestly though (thinking hard) i think what kevin lacks in leader charisma he makes up for in the department of giving the rest of the group a Reason To Live and creating schedule and purpose where there is neither, so maybe he ummm...... well he's not gonna be the leader of the pack but he can be like the mascot. the shiny thing to cling to. you know what i mean. kevin's indomitable human spirit!
not to be guy who is kandreil pilled but i do think kevin would be very important for andrew and neil to live beyond the survival! i will put a dollar in the kevin day bird motif jar for this but in a way hed be like their little canary in a coal mine... while the crew travels i think kevin would be the one to point out the scenery or the bits of history along or to go over peoples houses and find pieces of life that are useful and maybe even endearing. and yeah hed hate the racquets as weapons! the complaining and the grumbling about it is not as annoying as andreil thought it would be (they are pleasantly surprised kevin still has it in him to care about anything)
AHHH sorry u asked for fun hcs and i gave you a long poem about kevin day being everyones special little boy lets see hmmm... of course andrew has the knives but i think he would eventually pick up something more violent as the world falls deeper in despair. a mallet perhaps? a hammer? something heavy! neil would i think do well with a gun and not actual hand to hand combat, sniping behind them....... i think kevin would also have a weapon of sorts something like a switchblade or a baseball bat. non-lethal but definitely harmful
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If Joe Biden loses next year he'll have no one to blame but himself
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i will not accept changheng slander/compliments about how he'll sacrifice his love for his duty when halfway through the second act he raises both middle fingers to duty and walks backwards into hell-dimension jail, only to then break out of jail, take himself completely out of commission and leave his people with no real defense against the enemy, and then follow that up with trying to taunt his brother into killing him because without love he doesn't want to live. this man is insane. Both lanhua and dongfang qingcang struggle significantly more with duty vs. love! Even before Changheng rebels completely he's less prioritizing his duty and more aware that if his brother catches wind of his feelings he's going to start looking for excuses to permakill the object of his affections. He's planning on breaking up with his fiancée if he can ever find her! He lowkey thinks at least half of the people who rely on him wouldn't be much of a loss and is probably willing to let the rest of them burn if he really has to. He's not Ronghao so he's probably not going to be the one setting them on fire but Ronghao is 100% correct that they are in fact very similar people.
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Ed AND Stede both mask and I wanna talk about it
I know the fandom talks A LOT about Ed being a chameleon, flipping his entire personality on a dime to fit into the current situation and company, to the point that he can't even really recognize when it's happened and how far he's gone.
But I wanna look at it with Stede too. He literally asks his crew in the very first episode to give him constructive criticism so he can change what he is doing to better serve them, but he cannot fathom behaving different on a personality level.
They both mask so heavily, but in different ways. Edward masks with his personality, whereas Stede masks with his actions. And it is absolutely because of where they came from before they meet each other.
-Edward's Mask and His Struggles-
Edward learned to survive as a lower-class, mixed-raced, son of a physically abusive father and indentured mother. When he became a pirate, his survival on the water hinged on performing in a way that pirates approve. It isn't the mainland where you're protected by certain laws, if pirates don't like you, they can just kill you. It's important to be liked on the water. So, being hard, being cruel, being Blackbeard, when the company was right, it allowed him safe passage to climb the ladder and build his legend. He succeeded with that carefully crafted persona entirely devoted to this job.
In contrast, he is allowed mistakes. He may mess up a bit, but we all like Blackbeard. If a raid goes bad, if he gets too drunk, if he acts a bit erratic, if he loses sight of it all, if he faces critique? He's fine. His crew are loyal to the persona he displays and they allow him room to be imperfect because of it.
He is allowed to make mistakes as long as he is good company.
He can put on the right face and say the right things until he goes into crisis because he doesn't know what to do with himself. Because everything is boring to him that he can't force himself to keep doing it any longer. He's so tired.
-Stede's Mask and His Struggles-
Stede learned to survive as a upper-class, white, son of an emotionally abusive father and, as fas as we can tell, complete lack of mother-figure. His entire life has hinged on doing the right things. It's the aristocratic society, he has responsibilities he simply does not have any choice in abandoning. And, as long as he does as he's supposed to, he cannot be harmed. So, he'll be bullied, he'll get married, he'll inherit his family's fortune, he'll father children, he does all the things he has to do to just hold his position in high society and survive in that sort of world. And he does it well enough.
In contrast, he cannot figure out his personality. He cannot master what is it he's suppose to be to make people like him. It's no matter though, he does his job so there's nothing anyone else can do about it. If he's annoying, if he's too soft, if he's dandy, if he's an outcast, if he's not like the other boys? He's fine. He's safe under the veil of a rich man in mainland high society.
He is allowed to be disliked as long as he does what he's supposed to.
He can follow the rules and do all the right things until he can't be Mr. Bonnet because day in and day out he's alienated in his own home. Because he's been trying to find a way to make himself fit with his family and he can't keep trying any more. He's so tired.
-What Their Masks do to Each Other-
So - while Ed comfortably slips between "Blackbeard", "The Mad Devil", "Ed", "Jeff the Accountant", "Captain", "Beardie*", "Edward Teach", "Eddie", "The Kraken" - Stede cannot understand how one files down parts of themselves to fit in different places, to constantly act like someone they're not. He has always been completely himself, even when it doesn't work.
And - while Stede is able to navigate being a family man, starting a pirate crew, inventing people positive management, accepting critique and adjusting to it, smiling in the face of his abusers, learning to stun and kill, understanding and using passive aggression, throwing a fuckery, learning to duel, starting a treasure hunt for Ed, promising to do things he's not sure he can handle - Ed doesn't get how someone just makes themselves do all these different things, half of them things they didn't want to do at all. He has always done as he's wanted, even when it gets risky.
Which is why is it so fascinating that these two forms of masking, the gap between their communication, is what leads them to hurt each other in the last episodes.
Ed tries to be what he thinks Stede wants him to be, throwing away the Blackbeard title and trying to settle down into complete softness... and Stede tries to do what he thinks Ed wants him to do, promises to follow his plan and run away to China despite his anxiety about his family... But these things aren't authentic to themselves.
Edward Teach is a little bit of every persona he wears and a little bit done with the pieces he has grown from. They are all a part of him. And Stede would love them all if Ed shared it. If he trusted him enough to let down the curtain and shake off the performance.
Stede wants to do so many things that he's never spoken of and doesn't want to do so many things he thinks he has to. He just wants to get to chose. And Ed would support him in whatever he wanted if Stede would just tell him how he feels. If he would just be honest and stop forcing himself to do things for other people.
They have both been trying to please each other with the tools they've mastered to please the worlds they came from, but they were effectively lying to each other in a hundred tiny ways. Because they loved each other so much, but they didn't believe they were good enough as they really were.
They thought they needed the masks to keep their lover's affections - But they need to put them down so they can truly see one another.
More OFMD
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there's this girl on tiktok/youtube shorts who talks about being a 'diagnosed sociopath' (which afaik isn't a thing anymore and she's too young to have been alive when it was a diagnostic thing -- i assume she just means ASPD and is using buzzword language, but it doesn't really matter either way because...... psychiatric classifications are a farce) & she'll discuss what makes her angry, how she gets revenge and/or protects people, how she forms attachments, n how she prioritizes different aspects of her life, and i keep watching some of these shorts like "this.... isn't sociopathy??? everyone with sense does this???" and then i look in the comments and everyone's going "GOD this is such good advice i wish i could do this so easily but i feel sooo bad about it 🥺🥺🥺🥺" and i'm like. huh. girl you either gotta stop being so relatable or i'll have to acknowledge a very obvious thing that i've known about myself for ages,
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i don’t get how people can complain about the writing “doing Martha dirty” when that same writing gives her an ending that addresses her treatement over the course of the season, allows her to finally put her to foot down, to establish her self-worth as an individual and to air out her grievances, and gives her the most respectful and satisfying exit from the TARDIS we’d yet seen in the show . like it’s one thing to dislike the direction the writing team took with her arc and to criticise it (perfectly fine) and another to somehow miss it entirely lmao . the ‘martha feels out of place, second best, and like a rebound’ is an intentional piece of writing that gets resolved by the end of the season . like that wasn’t smth they threw in for shits and giggles, it had in-story repercussions
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I really miss Dragon Age 2.
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tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:
plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."
contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."
on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."
rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."
"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."
"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."
rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."
"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."
"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."
plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."
before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.
on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."
"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."
a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.
she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.
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the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,
your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*゚▽゚*)o)))♡
thank you!! here’s part 3 :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.
you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.
no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.
in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’
you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.
you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.
the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.
you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.
the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.
you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.
you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.
you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.
you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.
just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.
you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.
the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.
you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.
“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.
you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.
simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.
“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.
you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.
“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.
simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.
you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.
your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.
there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.
“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.
“did you follow me in here?”
“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.
“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”
your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.
simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.
he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.
no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.
“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.
you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?
these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.
“fuck off,” you tell him.
“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.
“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”
he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.
“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.
“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.
“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”
“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”
you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”
he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.
johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.
but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.
the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.
cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.
but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.
now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.
“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.
“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.
“you should’ve just killed me.”
author’s note:
not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.
and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!
anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)
taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina
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See, something I'll never understand about the Undertale fandom is the fact that some people say that what Sans did at the end of the Genocide route was terrible? Like- excuse me was he supposed to figure out that Frisk wasn't the one in control during that time? After Frisk, to his knowledge, murdered his brother (which he never acts on in the neutral routes btw) and nearly all the other monsters in the Underground and accumulated a crazy high level of LV?
Make it make sense.
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One of the biggest “I love you”s in Fullmetal Alchemist are all the ways people respect each other’s bodily autonomy. There are two scenes that carry this theme to its fullest potential, and I love them so, so much.
The first one is quite iconic: Riza’s throat was slit and Roy has a chance to save her - by dooming their country and committing human transmutation. And Roy would do it. He would throw it all away just to save her, even though he knows that human transmutation is an unforgivable sin. But she looks at him and signals him to Not Do It. And he doesn’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t do it. Because only minutes earlier, he hurt her again by dooming himself (and potentially the country) with his fury. And if there is one thing Roy Mustang doesn’t want to do, it’s hurt Riza Hawkeye any more than he already has. Even if that means watching her die. Even if that means letting her go.
He respects her and their goals enough to say no.
He loves her enough to let her die.
The second one is just as heart-wrenching: after Al sacrificed himself, basically dying in the process, Ed tries to think of a way to save him. Both Hohenheim and Ling offer him a Philosopher’s Stone to bring Al back - and Ed says No. Even though he wants nothing more in life than to save his little brother. Even though there is nothing he wants more desperately than the safety of Al. He says no for many reasons - Hohenheim is his father after all, Ling needs the stone to become Emperor - but mostly he says no because he and Al promised to never use a Stone for themselves. And he respects that. He puts Al’s wish above his own desire to see his little brother again. He respects Al’s decision (his own conviction) enough to break the rules of the world to find another way.
Because he loves Al - he loves him enough not to break the fundamentals of their principles. He loves him enough to respect the integrity of their believes.
And the narrative rewards both Roy and Edward for their choice to respect the agency and bodily autonomy of their loved ones - they survive, are saved, are brought back... and neither Ed nor Roy had to force their own desire for them to live on clearly stated last wishes.
So often we see media portray the disregard for bodily autonomy (especially in medical contexts) as a sign of love, the breaking of patient-doctor confidentiality as a sign of care, the violation of a living will as a sign of family - I like to think that Fullmetal Alchemist shows us that there’s strength in respecting it instead.
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WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2024!
I'm thrilled to bring this challenge to you all for the second year in a row! Hermit-a-Day May is a challenge inspired by Hermitober, but with a twist: instead of theme prompts, we focus on a specific Hermit every day!
THE RULES:
1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day.
2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while I recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.).
3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in a big queue in June.
4. I am not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves.
WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because, this year, there's an extra dimension to the event: a fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by @rendiggitydog and @belmarzi.
GRAND TOTAL INCENTIVE: For every $150 we raise for Gamers Outreach, belmarzi will make 10 seconds' worth of animatic, featuring as many Hermits as she can fit into the time frame.
INDIVIDUAL DONATION INCENTIVE: For every $65 you personally donate to the fundraiser during the month of May, Rae rendiggitydog will draw you a shaded flats commission of a Hermit of your choice.
WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use she/her, he/him, ze/hir, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Yep, before you ask, it really is just me, but to be fair I've had a lot of help.
BONUS SUNDAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT
TFC - May 5th
While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.
FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 12th
There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them: just as a small number of examples, Season 9's Rift opened up to a whole server of Emperor friends, and there are always allies to be made in MCC and enemies to be made in the Life Series. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.
FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 19th
HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?
GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 26th
This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?
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₊⊹ "𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐨, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝…" | xiao, childe, alhaitham x gn!reader
「 "𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!"」
— in which you've gotten drunk... drunk enough to fail to recognize your own lover.
— silly fluff. soft xiao, had this one in the drafts for far too long and its about time i choke it out... happy white day !!
the moment your slurred words reached his ears, XIAO knew that he never should've let you get your hands on that cursed rice wine.
in a way, he supposed it could be his fault. the one time he had decided to indulge in trivial mortal matters like alcohol due to your constant insistence... well, just look at you.
red-faced, the tips of your ears and cheeks stuck in a helplessly drunken flush, you babbled incoherently with half of your face smushed against the table. xiao could only stare in contempt as you feebly reached towards the already-emptied bottle,
( xiao had taken one sip and refused any more indulgence, claiming it was bitter, when in fact, you had gone out of your way to find a sweeter drink ),
and sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose with a certain disillusionment.
"come on, you're getting to bed." the man was just about done with your hopeless actions. he grabbed your wrist and tugged, only to be met with resistance. you're pouting like a child, brows furrowed lazily as you stare upwards at him.
"nnno. m'not going with you."
"...excuse me?" what in the archons was the problem now? he tugged again, this time with a small margin of force, and was met with an even larger pull back, this time paired with a low whine. "hey, it's late, and all the wine is gone, so just comply with me won't you?"
"i already told you... i have a husband..."
your complaint met the cool night air and the adeptus' silence. his lips were slightly parted as his round eyes blinked once, then twice, in a sort of stunned stupor. "...love, i am that husband."
archons, how had he found himself such a foolish mortal to love?
"don't lie to me!" you shook your head profusely, wiggling around in his grasp relentlessly until the adeptus had no choice but to let go. "i know my husband when i see him... and he's way handsomer than you, stupid..." you stared him up and down with squinting eyes, eyeing the way his ears were beginning to turn pink, and sat heavily in thought as you pondered the man before you.
definitely not your husband.
idiot. with a huff, he easily hauled your body over his shoulder as if carrying something as trivial as a sack of potatoes. you hung loosely over, landing a couple weak punches on his back as you proceeded to prattle on, your defiance seemingly having little effect.
then, you were silent, and xiao had to look back to make sure you hadn't gotten hurt. sure, he had considered once or twice leaving you out there all passed out on the balcony, but not without reason, yet he'd decided against it. you seemed fine, mouth hung slightly ajar as you snoozed peacefully, your eyes shut and cheeks still warm from what you'd downed. the audacity to fall asleep... xiao couldn't deny that his sigh was one of fondness.
"night, this husband of yours loves you."
strange, wasn't the wine from liyue supposedly far less intense compared to the vodka CHILDE had tried back home?
that, or the people here simply were more susceptible when it came to the topic of intoxication. you were no exception — he'd taken you out drinking, his mistake, thinking it'd be an easy, splendid time.
and don't get him wrong, it was! not just, well... conversation was rather hard to make when the other person was practically unconscious. you're practically splayed across the mahogany table, eyes nearly drooped close and fire across your cheeks.
you giggled. it's a muddled sound, when you're mostly mumbling into the table. "hhhey, pour me another glass~"
childe scans your less-than-ideal state and procures an answer in a little under a second. "love, you've had too many."
you seem shocked at his words, leaning forwards a little with narrowed eyes. your figure sways as you shake your head lazily, from side to side. "wwhhhat? nnno, that can't be right..."
the man holds back an amused chuckle. it's entertaining. "and how many fingers am i holding up?" he holds up just one hand, displaying a reasonable amount of three.
there's a beat of silence. "...nineteen?" you blink a couple times, as if to shake you out of your stupor. "...nineteen," this time, with confidence.
childe claps his hands together, a sudden sound that makes you startled, and he moves to apologize immediately. "we're getting you to bed, love. clearly you've had more alcohol than you can handle."
"what, was i wrong??" there's tears forming in your eyes, and your lips tug downwards in a frown. "u-uhm, fifteen? nno, four...?"
"still incorrect, love. i'm afraid it's time for you to go to sleep. you'll wake up with a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning, but..." he sighed, thinking back to his time in shneznaya, then made a mental note to prepare you a hangover drink in the morning. his hand found its familiar place in your hand, unnaturally warm with your skin rosy from the alcohol. he smiled, turning to glance at you, but ceased when he saw you on the ground, tears now falling from your eyes, quietly sobbing as you shook your head back and forth.
panic immediately sets in. what has he done wrong?? "love, what-"
"nnnno, don't call me that..." you squinted upwards at him, looking quite displeased. "no 'love', 'kaaay? i'm not your love, mister."
he paused. wait, you didn't possibly think that... "love-" oh, old habits died hard, and the word had already left his lips before he could process what you'd said.
"i have a husband, you!!" in some sort of fit, or perhaps better worded as a tantrum, you stood, wrenching yourself from his grip and then hitting him repeatedly in the shoulders, chest, anywhere your fists could reach, really. the alcohol had surely affected your capabilities of combat — you missed half the time, and what punches did land caused no pain at all.
as your anger subsided, your step faltered, body swaying in the open air before childe reached over to catch you in his arms. he was concerned, naturally. "lov- are you alright?" his worry only grew when he heard no response, but it ebbed with a chuckle when he saw you were already fast asleep in his arms, snoozing without a care in the world.
"a husband, hm? whoever it is, he must quite be the gentleman..."
ALHAITHAM knew his night was fated to end in idiocy the moment you knocked on his door.
it didn't even strike him that you were holding wine, of all things, when you waltzed into his house like it was your own. sure, it wasn't as if these occasions weren't frequent, but really anyone would be surprised to glance up from a quiet reading session only to see their (annoying) lover pressed against the door, repeatedly calling out his name in a sing-song, satire-like voice.
like... calling a cat. it was a realization he made with not too much contentment. silently, he thanked the archons that kaveh was not home — they knew that he could not handle the both of you.
it was only when you sat down at his table, where he'd been reading up to the point when you barged in, that he noticed. green-tinted glass, a little wind motif on the front... dandelion wine from mondstadt. now, just how did you get your hands on that?
"connections," you had stated. with a note of pride, he might add. what, was he supposed to congratulate you on being able to talk to other people? even he, a person who generally hated people, could do that.
ah, but he didn't hate it. your voice, that is, when you rambled on for hours on end. he didn't have the heart to interrupt you, especially when you were so heated on a topic — be it work troubles, an especially annoying sailor, or you accidentally dropping your pita pocket into the water when walking along the port, he didn't mind.
"...mmbottle. haaithammm, the bottle..." your drunk complaints reach his ears, and he his irritation is more so disrupted with inward amusement as he watches you in the predicament you've landed yourself in.
"the bottle?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. his hands are crossed over his chest; he's clearly getting a ruse out of this. "just what would you need the bottle for, love?"
your eyebrows scrunch together. he can tell your brain is working at its max capacity. "...im. thirsty?"
"you've already drunk two thirds of this bottle." he holds said bottle high above your head, hopelessly far from your reach. "if you're so thirsty, drink water."
"i don wanna."
"..."
"just... one drop?"
"hah..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, and places a hand on your shoulder. you barely react, and don't even glance at the sudden weight. "love, you're staying over. you're going to bed."
"bed...?" horror crosses your face, paired with evident irritation. "y...you, who do you think you are, to suggest such things!?" your face is bright red, and you're hugging yourself with one arm and pointing an accusing finger towards the male with the other. "i have a husband!!"
ah. "...what's his name?"
"and why do youuuu want to know?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but seem to come up with an answer to your own question, for you answer him anyhow. "haitham."
"do you love this 'haitham'?" alhaitham's enjoying himself. when he teases the sober you, all you do is retort back, but now... he can see your flustered expression on full display as you stammer out an answer.
"o-of course! a-and, if you wanted to know, he's waaaaay handsomer.. than ... you..."
just like that, you topple over and sink into the couch, knocked unconscious. a trace of a smile crosses alhaitham's lips as he looks at your sleeping form.
"fortunately for you, this 'haitham' you speak of loves you too."
(a/n) bye i was gonna add kaveh to this one too but i realized oh fuck its white day i said id post a month ago what the fuck am i doing so i just like regurgitated this out and spat it onto your dashboard. ahodfjlds
tags (id paste the aesthetic thing but i cant find it so we're just gonna roll w this):
@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @
@falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima
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Hiii!! I can ask for jjk men (your choice!) with a girlfriend who doesn't look like it but is like super strong! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ I have a love for those types of characters<3 thanks in advance!
I hope you are getting better ❤️🩹
jjk men & their "looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill" you gf
featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento x fem! reader
warnings. cursing
note. anonnn <33 i absolutely love this one, i have so many speculations for different characters about this request omg, thank you for requesting love, i hope this one is up to par, much love xoxo (and i am feeling so much better now, thank you for checking up on me). OH AND GUESS WHAT? u don't understand how thankful i am to reach 300+ followers in the first week??? u guys rock, ilysm
GOJO SATORU. i feel like he'd feel so betrayed after finding out how you're very strong?? one second he's looking away and then the next second, he looks back and a curse is ready to pounce on you. he grits his teeth when he realizes that — but before he could even do anything, there you were, sending out a strong punch that leaves a gust of wind as a cherry on top.
gojo could only stare at you, jaw dropped. all he could think of was how on earth did you do that and how could someone so...cute and adorable like you send out that kind of punch. honestly, on one side he felt so betrayed to only know of your power now — but on the other side, he's so damn proud of you.
after all of that, you still managed to send him your most innocent smile as if you didn't just almost possibly created a hurricane with that punch of yours. skipping happily and then throwing yourself onto the male, "satoru!"
"you never cease to surprise me, baby." he chuckles.
and you blinked at him innocently, a little confused at what he's talking about. at first gojo thought you were just pretending not to know, but when he realized that you actually didn't know, it dawned upon him that maybe you didn't even realize how strong you actually are.
"y/n, you just obliterated a curse."
"oh. oh. yeah! i did."
yeah, you definitely weren't aware of your own strength. which surprised gojo even more.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. he's always thought that protecting you was one of his main duty, and believe me when i say that toji is always on guard for anything that could possibly send harm your way. feral animals, harmful plants, annoying babies, curses, anything he finds annoying — he just assumes you don't like them either.
despite not having a cursed energy, toji is strong. anyone would agree with that. so when he settled in with you, someone who radiates such loving and gentle aura, toji made it his job to keep you out of harm's way.
but apparently, you've got that under covered.
being in a relationship meant going out on dates occasionally, right? however, some people do not understand the meaning of "i have a boyfriend" and it annoys you. so when toji was away to fetch a few things and you were left alone, a stranger felt like it was the best time to hit on you.
"saw ya' from a couple of minutes ago, thought you're cute. we should hang out."
obviously the word "no" didn't work as he kept on bothering you, and you do know how people react when they don't get what they want sometimes? they just plain out throw words to boost up their ego and deny their own embarrassment. it's funny.
"whatever. ya' aren't that cute anyways." everything began out as an exchange of words — until anger consumes the best out of them. the male got ready to swung his hand on you.
and believe me when i say that toji was having the time of his life watching you exchange angry words with the guy, until he saw the male raise his hand. toji was about to drop everything and come to your rescue, but stopped when you smacked the stranger across his face harshly it sent him stumbling over his own feet.
toji chuckled lightly, although surprised. that day, i swore he promised himself not to get on your bad side (also, he thought it was pretty hot of you). he told you he'd been watching from afar, and was so ready to be your knight in shining armor.
apparently, you are your own knight in shining armor.
NANAMI KENTO. for the longest time, nanami has stood his ground in defending you from malices and curses. some of the people do not like the idea of you and him together, especially girls who failed to obtain his attention (obviously). and he'd always be the one to tell them to piss off and not to butt in his relationship.
you were just a normal businesswoman working normal office hours, and nanami — well, he's a pretty busy man. but he has made himself visible to your work environment a couple of times, mostly because you were clumsy enough to forget your bento box that you made for yourself before going to work.
and apparently that few times was enough to make girls swoon over your boyfriend. honestly, you could care less. you trust nanami. but things went rock bottom when this one particular girl, a co-worker who was obviously jealous of you. and she doesn't hesitate in showing that to you.
"accidentally" spilling coffee on you, "accidentally" stepping on your foot with her heels, "accidentally" bumping into you, "accidentally" elbowing your head when she walks by. just everything in an attempt to get a reaction out of you so she could possibly play the victim card.
you brushed her every attempt off, although it bothered you quite a bit. but your last straw was when she "accidentally" ruined the report you've been working on for the past week, sacrificing your rest and sweat for it — only for her to dump down a cup of iced macchiato on it the day you were supposed to hand it in to your boss.
you've just had enough of her, and this was not something you can brush off like her other "accidents" because this report would affect your position in the company (and possibly get you fired). but at this point, do you even care? no, no you don't.
"so, is this the part where i hit her?" you ask another co-worker who was there in the room when everything happened, and they nervously shook their head, "really? i feel like this is the part where i do."
so when you did send a punch to her jaw, your other co-workers were quick to run find help (your boss). and all it took was one punch to make the girl wobble weakly, her knees buckling.
oh, and your boss wasn't too happy about your resort in violence, especially in the work area.
"i don't care, i'm fired anyways." you took off the company's id card that was hanging from around your neck and tossed it onto the table before packing your bag to leave.
your boss wasn't the only unhappy one, you were too. and nanami as well.
"it isn't my fault, kento."
"i know, darling. i'm not saying it's your fault, i'm just surprised...that's all."
well, that was the first time you've ever threw a punch to someone. and the first time you've ever been fired, so yes. it is a surprise to nanami, but to you? you were expecting it sooner or later with the pace of how that co-worker was going in with her shenanigans.
"she was pushing it."
nanami was silently proud of you for being able to defend yourself though, "well, at the end of the day, you won the fight. right?"
© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
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Check part one if u wanna enjoy it full 😚
Virgin!Suna wasn't afraid to stick his dick in a real pussy. Unfortunately, a teammate gave his a fake one for his 23rd birthday, so he had time to practice and learn how to care and touch it.
"How can you turn 23 and still be a virgin?" Komori added. "You should stick it in at least once before kick the bucket, Rintaro. Trust me, it'll be worth it" Washio advised.
Virgin!Suna wouldn't stop showing you how hard he was thinking about you at home, in the shower, or even in the gym locker room surrounded by people. It couldn't just be him showing how needy he was, because you needed him too, badly enough. You would go straight to hell if anyone saw the images you and Suna shared with each other. It was worth doing.
Virgin!Suna would pray to every god in existence that he could take more than 2 minutes inside you, and he would curse to believe that that fucking silicone pussy would help his control it. He had no choice but to spend time beforehand flattering, kissing and caressing it before filling it.
"God… *kiss* it smells so good *kiss* *kiss* and it's sooo soft… *kiss* I can't wait to take it bunny. Can I call ya that? ´cause that's what you're going to be, right? My little bunny."
Virgin!Suna with his heart about to burst out of his mouth, would contemplate how your pussy opens up perfectly for him, sucking him off without grumbling.
"Oh shit, no no no, I can't, I can't baby. You're so wet that- I don't think I can hold it in. I don't know if I can do it, I-I don't think I can even get back in."
He wasn´t wrong.
Virgin!Suna would take a breath and with courage, prepare to enter a second time. But oh, the thought of getting it into a pussy was so easy but, what was there in seeing you half-naked lying on his bed, arching your back in a desperate search for his thick cock, wearing his team t-shirt, (which he cursed with all his being to have lent you for not imagining he could see your hard fucking nipples under it), suffocating, whining and almost whimpering surrendering under his grip, and with your fucking pussy dripping endlessly onto the sheets and throbbing with every approach to your entrance?
A mistake. A fucking mistake.
“Shit!”
As uncontrollable were his thoughts as the leakage of semen.
“Oh sssshit babe! Aaah s-sorry babe, i can’- fuck, I can’t stop, hah… hah honey, just- shit, fuck me, and don’t fucking s-sstop”.
Virgin!Suna it would take not once, not twice, but three times to get his emotions back in order to act properly. But the best was yet to come.
Virgin!Suna had a pretty lucky first time. He took all the time in the world to take you as many times as he wanted so he could surrender to you and let you take control at least once. A control that would completely end with him every time he got lost in the movements of your ass riding his cock, or in your sweet mouth, which ended up being his favorite body part to cum in.
"Bunny... if you're going to take me like this every time we fuck, you're going to drive me completely crazy."
And even though he had taken you completely, the bastard was already missing seeing you again.
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enjoy :P @animeloverzx @passionateuchiha @hayatslife @tojicvmslut @pinkscolouredcrayons 💖
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