#its just. very disheartening to me. makes me very sad. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tremendum · 6 months

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ok but Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex is so Joel and a younger reader coded.... ugh I just Love Him So Much

wow yes <33 i totally agree with u anon ugh i love that song esp this time of year.... you inspired me! thank u! def recommend listening to this song its so lovely

rating: mature. not nsfw but my blog is 18+ so mdni. word count: 1.9k warnings: not much tbh. mentions of alcohol, insecure Joel, soft!Joel <3, unestablished relationship, age gap (Joel is unspecified older), brief mention of Joel accidentally hitting reader in self defense, touch starved joel tbh, reader has a sister thats like it.

masterlist Joel fics: pretty little thing personal lies i've got headaches... Mr. Miller Series fever landmines

Joel hears his name echo as swinging arms plunge down below him, a splash following right after.

a strike of fear pangs through his chest, though he hides it with a glare when Ellie tugs excitedly on his sleeve. "did you see that?" she asks, brows raised. he scowls in response, squinting down to make sure your bobbing body still has all the pieces.

you smile up at him, waving and shouting something that he misses.

his shoes crush over the dust that riddles the crumbling bridge he stands on, the cerulean river calm below. your body is plastered with your wet clothes when, minutes later, you pant up to the two of them with a grin and a cut hand. "the rocks are slippery down there."

Joel stares at you now, jaw clenched slightly at the memory from weeks ago. he'd rolled his eyes then - hadn't spoken to you for the rest of the day, too angry with the recklessness of your leap off the drop, the once-tall cityscape behind you turned to dust by years of turmoil and failed humanity.

and noticing his irritation, for the rest of the day you'd stayed behind him, not trying to speak to him again. instead you whispered with Ellie, sharing secrets like you were high schoolers. when Ellie fell sleep with her head in your lap that night, you'd whispered to him, told him you were sorry. that you hadn't meant to upset him.

he'd pretended to be asleep.

but now, you're the one asleep - body curled slightly, his jacket pulled over you like a blanket as your fist curls around the necklace you'd never taken off. the same one that held a locket your sister had given you - the one you talk about all the time, the one you'd tried to get Joel to try on once.

when you'd tried that, he'd snapped for you to keep your hands away from him. so Ellie had tried it on instead, and you told her it looked very pretty.

guilt seems to find him a lot at night.

your face, illuminated by the moonlight through the grimy windows of the building you'd scouted, is too peaceful, too serene. he has to look away.

something about you settles a very deep melancholy that he cannot understand.

you shift slightly, brows furrowing in that look you get when you're upset or angry or scared - it looks disheartening when you're asleep. he stares with intent, hand on his gun.

he knew you'd wanted to leave before he'd even asked. he'd seen the agony, the confusion, the sadness in your eyes every time he packed up to leave the QZ without you by his side - such a strange reaction from a neighbor.

a neighbor who used to show up every day without fail to try and convince him and Tess to let you in on their jobs. a neighbor who would, instead, wait with a med kit for him to return the next day or the next week.

even in the QZ, he thought of you often.

he'd watch you with your friends, spinning in your own world. it would strike him with a deep longing; the beauty you exude is one that, until meeting you, he'd thought was gone from the world.

you've got music laced in you, in your eyes, your smile, your arms; though you have no reason to. you've lost everything, you keep losing everything, and yet, against all odds, you keep so much life within you that he thinks you may one day burst. something about it hurts his chest.

when he met you, he thought you were naive. a young girl on her own in the Boston QZ, hoping to make extra money smuggling but never being taken seriously.

you never even made it out of the zone until you snuck out after them. Tess had found you first - his heart pangs and he shakes his head, staring at the spot that had bruised on your cheek from when you'd snuck up on them silently and paid for it with the butt of his gun.

and you'd laughed it off, like it was funny. you'd joked about it, teasing him as the purple turned to yellow. all while he stayed awake for nights, staring at the bruise while you slept, his chest heavy and his throat tight.

you've got that piece of life that nobody else has, and he cannot understand it. he doesn't think he ever will.

despite his best efforts, he'd gotten to know you. Tess had liked you. Ellie likes you. he likes you, too. he loves you.

he could tell early on that, for whatever reason, you care about him. now, he wonders if you might even love him too.

he doesn't understand why.

you were well loved back in Boston. he'd seen it - in the hidden basements of bars, the shadows that walked you back to your apartment across from his at night, the same shadows that snuck from your apartments in the morning daybreak.

he'd tried not to stare out the peephole at the frames of lovers you'd taken as they kissed your forehead, hesitating in your doorway before leaving.

he'd seen handfuls of friends wrapped in your arms in the streets, wide smiles and bright cheeks.

there were nights where your friends didn't come around, and you were alone. those were his favorite nights, because you'd invite him over. even when he said no, it still gave him a warm feeling when you'd nod and mutter, next time, then.

you'd been making your own bottles of grain alcohol somehow - you'd invited him to a glass and once he finally took you up on it after months of asking, he'd seen how you'd been hiding them in the hollowed out piano that crumbled in the corner of your tiny apartment.

sitting on the piano bench, you'd told him that you had been in the QZ since you were around Ellie's age - when your sister had left for somewhere in the mountainous West; the two of you had been locked inside this crumbled city forever, she was ready to leave. but you had been scared - too young to travel - and you just couldn't find it in you to say goodbye.

she'd left without you the next day.

that was the night he learned that you played piano, too.

you've still got the music in you, and he doesn't understand why.

he's worried about you.

or maybe, he's worried about himself.

days after you'd jumped from that bridge, the scream of his name from your lips a song of its own, you'd snuck them all across a river.

there had been people tracking you; Joel had kept a tight grip on his shotgun the entire hour, eyes sharp as he'd stared at the woods behind you all, Ellie in the middle, you in front, with your own gun drawn and a stare so strong it'd made his head skip.

you wanted to erase your tracks - but the river current was strong, rising with the snowmelt as you took several steps in. you'd saved them both from the currents and built a strong fire once the threat was cleared and you were miles away.

he'd worried about the curve of your lips, the smile that graced you while he and Ellie were grim and cold. he'd worried about the warmth that your laugh had given his chest.

the fire that night was warm, but you still rolled closer to Joel when you slept. he'd let you. and when he woke up that next morning while you were on watch, he'd found that in his fitful rest, he'd stretched his hand out, towards where you sat. his hand splayed on your calf while your other leg was bent, housing your chin.

you'd just smiled gently down at him when he'd moved his hand quickly, his eyes sheepish. you'd let him.

"Joel?" your voice is very soft. even back in the QZ when he was in bed, your voice would come out and haunt him.

I know you want me.

it takes him a second to register that you've woken up from your sleep and slid up next to him. your thigh is warm where it touches him, but he doesn't dare look down. instead, he sets the gun down, turning to stare at your face.

your eyes are bleary from sleep, your hair tousled. you're so pretty it hurts.

his throat feels dry. "hey." he doesn't mean for his voice to come out that gentle. sometimes, when it's you and him, it just does.

guilt surrounds him as your hand slides over his thigh, burning warm, comfortable. how could something so beautiful exist in such a world? it makes him nervous.

you make him nervous.

"what are you thinking?" you ask. he knows you - knows that's your way of checking on him. you do that, just as he does to you. are you feeling alone?

he shakes his head, "lots of things I shouldn't be." he says honestly, his eyes searching the depths of yours. but you're good to me.. so good to me.

you're not scared of him like you ought to be.

you shrug, "tell me."

he doesn't see the reason to lie anymore; you've been haunting him for too long. and he's been hiding himself from you.

"just don't know why you're with me. with us. here." but he can't bring himself to finish his thoughts - because you, despite it all, loved your life before you left it. because you had lovers, you had friends your age, a life. you were so much safer without me. because you have that music in you, and it's still there despite it all. despite me.

you shift next to him, your cheek falling to his shoulder. he doesn't feel the urge to shake you off like he used to - that feeling melted away months ago, shortly after the desire to put his lips on yours burned in his soul.

"I just think you underestimate how much you mean to me." you say, eyes full of too much light.

he sees that music again; the unrelented spirit in your cheeks when you smile. the laughter that hasn't left you even when you left your old life behind for him and a girl you didn't know. tell me why, tell me why.

he doesn't know what to say, but his head turns gently to place a kiss to the crown of your head.

he nearly feels sick at the implications of such an action, but you just sidle up closer to him, your hand squeezing his thigh gently. he turns to look at you and you move off his shoulder, lifting your own eyes to meet his.

his breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, love and trust in your eyes. the locket glints in his peripheral as he stares down at your glowing, beautiful face.

your lips, my lips.

he intends to kiss your forehead - the way he'd seen all those lovers do months ago, back in Boston. the way he'd always ached to.

but you meet him halfway, and suddenly your warmth is on him.

it spreads from his lips and grows through his body - a beautiful, melancholic hum that sings along his veins. you are soft, you are pliant, strong, loving.

everything he doesn't deserve.

and yet you kiss him and you let your hand fall to his jaw, tilting yourself to feel more of him. he doesn't understand why, but maybe that's okay.

he kisses you back softly, then desperately.

your lips and his, something so kind, full of life. something that doesn't belong in such an apocalypse.

something he couldn't live without.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

(once again begging) send more requests! for Joel and Din! taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeiaaa @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @scarletthefierce @worhols @hearthrooob

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us (tv)#the last of us smut #the last of us #joel tlou smut #joel miller #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou #joel taglist 🏷️

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orpheuslament · 2 months

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I agree with you on the poetry thing. I have really terrible social anxiety and so for years never wrote bc of worrying about it being mocked. Finally worked through some of my fear and started to write as an adult in my late 20s but seeing the way people who share their poetry get eviscerated on here is just so disheartening. It is very hard to share one's earnest efforts with a community when it is in part comprised of people who like to make fun of others.

it just makes me so sad. sharing any kind of art with the world is an extreme act of bravery. & yeah obviously not all the poems on here are gonna be good, but as i said its mostly people who are just beginning to write poetry, people who are still trying to find their voice / style & hence cling to clichés & stuff theyve liked in other works. theres nothing wrong with that, on the contrary, thats how you learn to write.

#ask #anonymous

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hanluex · 7 months

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Something really really painful sad with dick Grayson but happy ending

♡ I’M SORRY — DICK GRAYSON

bf!dick x fem!reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, angst, established relationship, mentions of an accident, mentions of blood, crying | request : um i mayhaps have forgotten the happy ending part, so a part two soon hopefully 😭

“wow, this is all your fault. i can’t believe you, y/n.”

dick grayson mumbled under his breath playfully, enjoying the disgruntled expression on your face.

“babe, i said i’m sorry!” you whined, pouting as you grabbed your boyfriend’s arm. “honest mistake, my bad.”

the two of you were invited to a charity ball, and you hadn’t realized you left the invitation back home until you were at the venue.

fortunately, you were a couple of blocks away from your apartment, which was why you two were walking back, with dick grumbling the whole way.

“we should’ve taken the car. i told you we should, but no!” dick stifled his smile, looking away so you couldn’t see his façade. “you insisted we walk. who even walks to a charity event?!”

you frowned, disheartened. “i’m sorry, babe. i didn’t think taking the car was necessary,” you confessed sincerely.

dick smiled, unable to keep up with his charade any longer. “i was just joking, love. gosh, you are so fun to play around with,” he stated, chuckling at your look of betrayal.

“you are such an idiot. i hate you!”

“now, you better take that back because we both know that’s a lie.”

you fastened your pace, walking away from the brunet. "nope, i'm being very honest." you laughed, amused by his reaction.

"y/n, come here!" dick called, chuckling as he followed you. "babe!"

the traffic lights turned red, causing the cars to come to a stop. you continued teasing your boyfriend as you crossed the road, sticking your tongue out in a mocking manner.

dick laughed as you did a little dance in the middle of the road, amused at the extent you went to make him laugh.

a loud zoom made the brunet freeze in his place, watching as an oncoming bike increased its speed despite the red light.

just as he opened his mouth to warn you, his gaze was filled with the slow motion image of the bike hitting you, your body being thrown a few feet away at the impact.

fuck, fuck, fuck. no, please, no. fuck, no.

"y/n!" dick yelled, his heart beating harshly against his chest as he ran towards you.

his breath quickened as he saw the blood, shakily taking out his phone as he kneeled next to your half-conscious body.

"i called for help. they said they'll be here in ten minutes."

the phone fell out of his hands, immediately reaching out to hold you in his arms as tears filled his vision.

"oh, baby." he touched your face gently, hot tears falling from his face to yours. "no, please."

you blinked softly, in a dazed state. "dick?" you called out, causing the brunet to nod in reply, more tears falling down his face.

"you have t-to talk to m-me, babe. how e-else am i g-going to stay a-awake?"

"i c-can't." dick cried harder, feeling your hands on his face. "i'm so sorry."

"richard, t-take … take a deep breath, p-please. calm down, o-okay?"

"how can i stay calm? y-you are … you—"

you felt lightheaded. "i'm sorry," you apologized, wiping away his tears. "i got blood all over you," you added.

"is that what you are worried about?!"

"i know this is your favorite suit."

despite your attempt at a joke, dick cried harder, feeling worse as he was supposed to be the one to console you.

yet here you were, lying in a pool of your own blood, still having time to make lighthearted jokes about the situation.

dick grayson ignored your words as you assured him you were fine, rambling away about anything and everything under the sun.

he didn't even know what language he was speaking in, let alone what he spoke about. he just rambled, hoping you'd stay awake until the ambulance came.

"i l-like this view." you interrupted his chattering, smiling through the pain. "r-really good an-angle of y-you."

"not the time, y/n."

you heaved a breath as you reached out to hold your boyfriend's hands, groaning quietly as the pain became unbearable.

"does it hurt bad?" dick asked softly. "is there anything i can do for you?"

you took a deep breath, wincing. "i-if i don't m-make it, i h-hope you know how much … m-much i love you. and if p-possible, look out for jay b-because—"

"no! don't give me this 'last word' talk." dick shook his head. "you'll be fine, and you will be the one to look out for jay because he'll listen to no one except you, and only you can handle him."

"babe, please—"

"no, just no. i will not let you leave me. if you even think about dying, i'm going to kill you."

"i love you, richard grayson. so fucking much, i do."

taglist : @maverick-wingman (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

#[📝] works #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #titans dick #dick grayson imagines #titans imagines #titans nightwing #nightwing imagines #nightwing scenarios #nightwing x reader #nightwing drabbles #titans drabbles #nightwing fluff #nightwing angst #titans tv show #titans scenarios #nightwing #dick grayson

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ghostlydeanbailiffcloud · 3 months

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The live with Etoile really reminded me how much they know each other.

Pierre and etoiles have known each other for yearsss and that appears in all the conversation they had with each other in the server like when they would reminisce the past, talk about past friends and things they did together ( the fact that etoiles often asks pierre about things in private about minecraft or not) they have a relationship of trust, they know how the other will react because of everything they went through already.

All in all I feel like their friendship is often overlooked which pains me a little because in my own little headcannon world, I saw them as like older figure/prof and in some way student because pierre factually and in qsmp cannon continues to teach etoiles little things here and there about the mods or things like that even though etoiles is very independent and likes to make progress on his own and strives to get better he still always goes back to pierre to discuss or for help, for him to teach him new stuff ( like when etoiles asked pierre to teach him create), they also make each other's gifts like stuff or when pierre gifts farms to etoiles. Etoiles knows he can say anything to pierre, that he can ask him anything, that they are always available for each other and we saw it happens so many times already.

(I see people talking about etoiles link to philza in the way I see his link with pierre when I clearly feel that Etoiles and Phil are simply people that can connect over past experiences and trauma)

Their minds work alike and I know their two characters are very morally neutral and will accept a lot of stuff ( like they already did by the way) coming from the other, we could see their complicity in the prison and I was so excited for people to see them as a "them" but not at all I mostly see people talking about things they did together as if there was only etoiles... so obviously when Etoiles said he was pushing pierre to come on qsmp v2 and said he would give him stuff or when he said he would spend a day with him I foolishly thought that the new viewers will finally see their friendship for what it is.... let me tell you how disheartened I felt when I could not find a tweet or tumbler post talking about them, so yeah, I'm sad bros

( I know that it's probably because people dislike pierre so they just erase his existence when posting but I feel particularly bad when people give all the credit of some ideas to etoiles when it was pierre that gave them to him (it used to happen a while ago a lot not something that recent) don't be a hypocrite, just don't say anything if you're gonna overlook the one he had the idea with please its just disrespectful ( it's not etoiles fault, he always brings up pierre this is mostly addressed at the pierre haters))

#please #i beg on my knees #was there an account posting about it and i simply didnt see it or i am doomed #like did i somehow miss the posts or..#anyways #i want people to see them for what they are #that is mentally unstable cubitos that found a form of unstable stability in each other #im sad when i see people overlooking the bond that pierre and etoiles have in game and irl #qsmp #qsmp aypierre #aypierre #qsmp etoiles #i wrote that in one go so my ideas might be wonky sorry #might have to take this down and rewrite it once my braincells start working #the typos man theyre everywhere its crazy

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ganondoodle · 4 months

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i have seen alot about it on twitter but very littel here so im gonna mention it jsut because it makes me sad/angry how quickly people are okay with studios doing shitty things if they find a game funny enough- (take it with a grain of salt since i havent been able to do research on it on my own)

so recently a new game released called 'palworld', its a blatant pokémon rip off (or a weird mix of that with some shooter game idk) but with guns hooray, and i am not here to defend the giant that is pokémon (im well aware their games arent exactly the greatest lately) but plagiarism is plagiarism and not only does it steal from pokémon itself but also stole fakemon designs made by fans (the examples i saw were literally 1 to 1)

as other people have been finding out the owner of the studio is also really into AI, so its not out the question that its been used in there, and is also of the opinion that anything they see can just be taken, be it idea or design; the studio itself seems to be build around copying whatever is popular (the examples i saw were well .. pokémon, breath of the wild and hollow knight) kinda like those shitty copies of popular movies meant to trick parents into buying the wrong one

just now i also learned that apparently you can sell people into slavery in the game (people, not "just" the "pals"), cool.

its already made a big impact, half the streamers i follow are playing it to thousands of people and i heard it made millions in profit already, which, given how the whole hogwarts legacy bs went down, maybe shouldnt surprise me, but at a time of artist struggeling against being stolen from and shitty game studios releasing shitty games, betting on or already replacing artists with AI and still make billions, AND in dark times in general i find it especially disheartening

people are proudly yelling about not caring about anything off about the game or the studio bc they either find the premise funny enough or just hate pokémon so strongly they laugh and dance about the stealing, actively cheering it on and more

i guess i shouldnt be surprised by anything anymore after seeing people actively cheering on a genocide but here we are. (do not try to argue with me, i know what "inspiration" is, i know what "you cant copyright an idea" means, it either doesnt apply here or isnt the point, fuck off.)

#ganondoodles talks #random #literally anyone trying to talk about it on tiwtter is getting spammed with comments of gamer bros #going LOL I DONT CARE HAHAA #and FUCK POKEMON LOLOLO LWHY YOU DEFEDNING BIG CORPO #again- not the point #i even saw someone asking where to submit designs they want them to rip off #like man i KNOW i shouldnt be surprised anymore #but i still am #just how awful people can be over stuff like this #and really it shouldnt be a good sign either that i shouldnt be surprised anymore #bc i have seen so much shit #thats a bad thing

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gacha-incels · 2 months

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Been boycotting limbus but it's a bit disheartening seeing everyone continue around me with this passing intl women's day. I don't know how to convince my friends to stop without getting into an argument because they're all knee deep into these games. But my real question was.. why? These people are boycotting other products for other things, why are they so adamant with sticking on this when it's proven to have harmed so many people in the small team that made it?

Had a discussion with one who is boycotting and I feel like that "political correctness" seeps into the themes of the game, actually, despite how people tout it as the ultimate anti capitalist game; The City is suffering, workers gruel and die at the whims of corporate overlords, people struggle to find housing, and whatever the fuck Carmen's doing in the light, while it could help people survive longer, is just giving everyone guns ignoring the power structures underneath. It's very strange to me now there's.. no suggestion of uprooting the system at all in the games. No true strikes or protests or even any mentions of unions as far as I know. There's no effort to change what is given

[outside of the seed of light project, which 1. famously Didn't Work and 2. having everyone manifest ego is still just giving everyone guns and going "now don't shoot each other!"],

which is very strange and kind of sad? Like sure maybe an arbiter or something would come and tear it down but surely people would come up with countermeasures? People are really good at adapting around things out of desperation, and surely at least an effort would be mentioned

And then my friend, she suggested something; without project moon's suffering, there would be no project moon. Without the city, project moon can't make games. To end the hell that the characters are in and truly resolve the city's hypercapitalist dystopia, they must stop making money off of them. But they don't want to. They definitely DO want to make more games, noted by the interviews which mention future game concepts such as the distortion detective visual novel. But in order to do so, they must keep the current games "clean" and consistent in their suffering to perpetuate conflict. There is some commentary about capitalism to be had; but it feels more like a "oh, look, people are dying, this is so sad" layer of paint on it at this point rather than something more in depth and meaningful. And I think in enforcing this sort of "we can't fix the system in any meaningful way, let's just live our lives instead and hope something better happens" mindset, it reflects into the players. Kind of ironic how the anti capitalism game must sustain its own horrible systems internally so the owners of the series can: make more money through a very predatory money making system, no less!

Limbus fans don't give a fuck about feminism in kr, they think its a system they cant help fixing so they just play the game as they please and any attempt to disuade them is met with a "stop ruining my fun!!" And "who cares?" The worst ones are the ones who KNOW their money is being funneled into stupid misogynistic shit but don't care! It's insane! I've never seen this level of apathy towards a serious issue before!

Sigh. I hope this ramble is coherent. If I missed talking about something or if you want me to talk more I'm game. Project moon's characters are some of my favorites but you have to admit the themes are surface level shit at some point, especially in later installments of their games. So tired but I'd figure I'd share my thoughts somehow. Take care account admin, youre doing gods work

yeah regarding your first point about fans that keep playing, back in August there was a discussion on this blog here regarding contemporary fandom “culture”- how it makes dropping a piece of media hard for some people and why they feel so quick to defend it. the nature of gacha is also that it gets you into the habit of doing “dailies” which makes them harder to drop, this is not even mentioning sunk cost fallacy. I’ve seen a recent post on the FGO subreddit asking why people still play the game and the top posts by a longshot were ones saying only because they spent so much time and money on it. For a lot of people (even people who think themselves progressives) misogyny is a non-issue as well so they will not take the situation in South Korea that seriously to begin with. This is in addition to it happening to “other” or “foreign” women in the eyes of the western fan. There is also an aggressive “fuck you, I’ve got mine” attitude some of the fans who want to keep playing have in regards to these women. It’s disturbing to watch happen but unfortunately not uncommon. I find some of the worst of it, in this situation specifically, is when westerners try to tell Korean women (who are boycotting and spreading information) that they are the ones spreading misinfo, or there’s no reason for them to boycott, how it’s not that bad for them, how PM actually didn’t do anything wrong, “both sides” are crazy and wrong, “let people enjoy things”, shit like that. like doesn’t it raise any flags for you that the people most affected by PM’s actions, Korean women, deleted entire accounts of fanart, took back fanmade items from PM’s cafe, started a boycott of LC and made posts in english to try and get the word out to international fans? you must think they’re idiots if you believe this is all some misunderstanding and vellmori quit of her own free will. Come on. imo it’s impossible to make any meaningful statement critiquing capitalism when you’re writing it in a game that uses one of the most exploitive types of gambling mechanics. I hope I don’t have to explain to anyone why this is absurd. You don’t need to expose young people to gambling addictions in order to fund new games. At the same time, things an author writes (or things that the reader infers from the writing) do not always reflect their ideologies or actions in real life and they can sometimes seemingly be at odds with one another. This is something fans have to reckon with, and not just by saying “actually hatsune miku made limbus company” or whatever. Personally, I can’t take PM’s “anti capitalist” or “feminist” or “revolutionary” work seriously when in reality they have mistreated employees, sued labor unions, acquiesced to incel demands and then later added a meme into the game from that incel community. On the other hand people struggle to believe Project Moon could do anything wrong like this because of the stories in their games so they vehemently defend PM, which at some point just feels naïve. well hopefully this is the type of answer/discussion you were looking for lol thanks for writing 👍

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saltpepperbeard · 7 months

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It's the entitlement that really frustrates me. David didn't create this show to fix all problems with representation, he didn't even know what queerbaiting was, bless his heart.

People keep saying "we were promised xyz, we were baited, he betrayed us" ( I wish I was joking about the last once.

He literally promised none of that. And he ows us nothing. Whether people want want to admit it or not, OFMD is his story. This happens a lot nowadays, someone makes something, the response is "well its not what I want ,therefore it's trash".

I dunno, I'm just angry at this point

HONESTLY. And I feel like that's becoming such a large issue that spans across numerous forms of media too. Like, from tv shows to youtube to fanfiction, the audience thinks they're "owed" something. "Owed" something simply for being there and consuming the thing. And it's like??? No??? You are just there on your own volition to consume the thing that's being provided to you???

*hands you a cupcake* "i don't like this cupcake >:(" THEN DON'T EAT IT???

And yeah, as you said, this is very much David's story. This has always been his story. He was passionate to tell it even before it got such a large following. He was surprised it got such a large following!

It seems like he's had a lot of things in mind since the very beginning, and a rather clear direction in which he's wanted to steer the story. And, based on his recent interviews and also very interesting meta pieces I've seen, the whole [redacted] was probably a long time coming too.

That's just the thing. I also feel like everyone just gets so caught up in their own interpretations and their own headcanons and their own versions of the story that it leads to almost inevitable disappointment and/or upset. Hell, even I'm a bit guilty of that; I looked too hard into that one article that described Stede's beach reunion dream, and thought we were going to get a makeout in the waves. And then when we didn't, I was like "oh lol 😀." Same with the little brief snippet of Stede pushing Ed against the wall that we got before episodes 6 and 7 dropped; I went in with preconceived notions which didn't end up getting met.

BUT LIKE, THE THING IS, THAT WAS ENTIRELY ON ME LMAO??? NOT THE FAULT OF ANYONE INVOLVED IN THE SHOW???? And it seems like people are disregarding that very fact! Like, oh I'm upset with how this went, so it's YOUR fault. I'm not responsible for how I'm reacting to this; it's YOU. YOU were supposed to bend exactly to MY wants.

And that's just,,,not! the case!

I'm over here piloting my safe spaceship, but what I've been seeing in my peripherals is making me sad too. Like, just the blatant disregard for everything else this show has given us, and the vitriol being slung towards the cast and crew, and all the negativity around what was supposed to be a hopeful sendoff...

People can be upset. People are absolutely allowed to be disappointed, or sad, or even angry. People can definitely dislike a narrative or character choice. Hell, I'd definitely feel some kind of way if Ed or Stede died, and I've gotten angry over narrative directions in other fandoms before. But just...the lines that have been crossed are just so so disheartening to see. You can be angry without being ugly about it, without pulling so many people down with you.

If people are that upset, I really encourage them to just step back, take a breath, and focus on other outlets. Because the entitlement and accusatory bits are certainly not it.

#Answered #Anons #OFMD S2 Spoilers #only tagging the necessary ones PFFFF #because yeah it's just...#whew #AND #I definitely extend open arms to you anon #Because this little circle is definitely trying to turn poison into positivity

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yanderecrazysie · 6 months

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I really love your writing especially the angsty one such as the most recent one. Related rant but I hated most movies where the FL(Female lead) would start as cliche “ugly girl” with glasses and Terrible fashion and in the middle of the movie she takes her glasses off and suddenly become the “pretty” girl and then have a whole scene where they do a make over to make her charm the whole school. It just felt superficial and very vain, like the FL was fine the way she was, glasses don’t make you ugly as if paired with right outfit, can make you look actually cute. After all glasses are there to help you see, the fl suddenly gets her vision fix when she has her make over? And its really rubs me the wrong way that you need to have a whole make over, with a pretty dress and everything just to get people to like you. And its also pretty disheartening to see that people won’t like you if you have acne, like it natural to have acne and you shouldn’t be shamed for it.

But unto the actual request itself: can I have yandere Oikawa (or atsumu miya) x reader with this related context in mind: The reader has a crush on oikawa and with the advice of a friend, she stops wearing her glasses and does a whole make up and hair routine just to catch Oikawa’s attention. It works and one thing leads to another and both reader and oikawa start dating. At first Reader is ecstatic to finally the man of her dreams but slowly she starts to become uncomfortable with the way she looks like she no longer recognize herself. The make up starts to feel itchy and unnatural to her skin and she starts bumps into thing due to her not wearing her glasses anymore. Despite reader being miserable she till persevere and try to keep up the facade of “Oilawa’s ideal girl” but as time goes on the need to please Oikawa and the stress of keeping up appearances finally gets to her and she just breaks up with him.

On Oikawa perspective (being an entitled prick) is obviously dismayed as he wanted to have the perfect facade of a power couple. He wanted to shape the reader into his ideal pretty girl. So both reader and him have a mutual break up since both of them are now dissatisfied with the current predicament. But as oikawa sees the reader old self, he starts to fall in love (or obsessed) he finds the reader’s glasses cute and he finds that the reader is even more adorable when she comfortable and happy. Like he finds the reader more attractive when she was being her typical self without the glitz and glam. Like even if the reader has acne and wears dorky glasses, Oikawa finds that strangely attractive.

-Sorry for the mini rant, I just recently watch a movie similar to this and it left a bad taste in my mouth. Like as person with both acne and glasses, I’ve been told by some people that I stop wearing glasses due to it not “suiting me” like I wasn’t wearing it for fun, I wear it cause I need to see. Its even worse when I had acne and my friends told me to hide it with make up only to find out that make up worsens the acne problem. Thanks for listening to me

I totally get what you mean- I always found glasses attractive on guys and adorable on girls (to the point that I tried to pretend I had reading issues as a child to get myself glasses), so it was always sad to see it portrayed as “Now that she’s taken them off, she’s pretty!” I think everyone looks nice in their natural way, no makeup needed, so makeovers have always rubbed me the wrong way a little too! I personally don’t wear any makeup at all, too much of a hassle.

Title: Change

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: You don’t like your new look, but it’s gotten you so much attention. Do you really have to choose between your old look and your happiness?

Part 2: here

change

/verb/

make (someone or something) different; alter or modify:

You looked in the mirror, stunned by your reflection. Your glasses were gone, the contacts in your eyes being the only reason you could see that fact in the first place. But besides that, your hair had been swept back in a pretty bun with a braid on either side of your head and just a couple locks of hair fashionably left down. Your skin looked flawless, thanks to the makeup. You could thank the makeup too for the way your face looked so much more mature and alluring.

Your wardrobe had undergone a great change as well. Since your college didn’t have a uniform or strict dress code, you’d put on a short white dress with black stripes and a belt around the waist. A fake diamond necklace laid across your collarbone, perfectly matching the bracelet clasped around your wrist. Even your feet were squeezed into a pair of fashionable black slips.

You turned back to your friend in awe, “You’re a miracle worker!”

Your friend laughed, but it was nothing short of the truth. Before this, your hair was always left down, hanging over your glasses-adorned, lightly pimpled face. You never wore a dab of makeup and your clothes usually amounted to an oversized T-shirt, faded jeans, and ratty sneakers. You didn’t put any care into your appearance. Until now, that is.

“You’ll have to keep this up on your own, now that you know how,” your friend reminded you, wagging a warning finger at you, “But this will totally grab Oikawa’s attention! You’ll be his girlfriend by the end of the week!”

You were turning heads from the moment you walked through the school doors. How could you not? You were a gorgeous girl accentuated with the latest fashions and professionally done makeup. All you had to do was bat your long, fake eyelashes and guys would throw themselves at your feet.

Your friend was right. You’d caught Oikawa’s attention very quickly, and soon enough, he was blowing away the sudden competition by offering to carry your lunch tray and walk you home.

The attention flustered you and made you so happy, but a small part of you felt sad. He’d never noticed you before. But that was the point of this makeover, right? To get him to finally look your way?

When Oikawa had asked you to meet him by the fountain in the courtyard, you knew exactly what he was going to ask you. You pretended to be surprised anyway, completely shocked and honored by the question.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

From that moment on, you were the school’s power couple. Everyone regarded you with awe or jealousy. “Oikawa and (Y/n)” became synonymous with “popular” and all of his friends, the people you’d looked at with envy not long ago, welcomed you to their table and inner circles.

But as time went on, you felt yourself drifting away. Oikawa always talked about appearances and critiqued you whenever your hair or makeup wasn’t perfectly in place.

It felt fake.

Your makeup, your sense of style, your relationship, everything felt so unbearably fake.

Like you were no longer yourself.

Every time you looked in the mirror, your heart sank. You didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. Being perfect had somehow become something that you despised.

But whenever you brought up wearing your glasses again or dressing down, Oikawa wouldn’t hear of it. “What would everyone think of that?” “You have to look your best.” “We’re a power couple, sweetheart, we don’t wear things like glasses, okay?”

The stress began to tug at you until you could take it no longer. One look in the mirror on a fateful Monday morning that already hadn’t been going well and you were done.

You had to be true to yourself, even if that meant no longer being “perfect” or popular. Even if it meant losing Oikawa, who didn’t even feel like a boyfriend. More like a costar on a filming set.

That was a good way to put it- your life had become a movie and you were just an actress putting on a show. Caked in makeup and forcing a smile.

Dear Oikawa,

I can’t do this anymore. I want to go back to the way things were before we started dating. I know we already talked about how that won’t work for you, so I understand that means we’re breaking up. I’m sorry, but I think this is best for me.

Love,

(Y/n)

It felt good to undo the bun and braids. It felt even better to slide your glasses up your nose and slip on a simple, comfy T-shirt. Nostalgic might be the best word for what you were feeling, but either way, you were more comfortable than you had been in months. Why had you ever given this up?

You looked in the mirror and smiled. You’d washed off all of the makeup, revealing more than a few blemishes, but you didn’t care. You liked the way you looked and you’d be damned if you went back to drawing on your face every morning.

It was strange walking into school that morning. It was like you’d become invisible. No longer did people turn their heads to look at you, nor did you walk alongside Oikawa. But it didn’t feel lonely. What was the point of having a boyfriend when it was just for appearances? You’d always felt like there were miles between you both- as though you couldn’t reach him even with your fingers intertwined.

Your first class was with Oikawa and you weren’t looking forward to it. He might be mad, after all, that his “power couple girlfriend” dumped him and went back to looking nerdy. You chose your old seat, one near the front of the class, instead of the back row where all the “cool people” sat.

When Oikawa entered the classroom, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you as though he couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t blame him- you looked completely different than he was used to. You were actually surprised he even noticed you.

He walked closer and you shrank into your seat a little, not looking forward to a confrontation. But to your shock, he slid into the seat next to you, dropping his backpack on the floor and pulling his stuff out of it, settling into the desk as though he’d always sat there.

“What are you doing?” You blurted out.

When Oikawa turned to you, he studied you with great interest, as though you were an art piece in a museum. There was a tinge of pink on his cheeks, something he’d never had when the two of you were dating.

“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Oikawa crooned, reaching a hand out to your face.

You jerked away, startled and confused. What was with this sudden change in behavior?

“You know, you never really officially broke up with me,” Oikawa shrugged, a creepy, possessive grin curling across his lips, “And even if you did…”

He turned to you, eyes dark with something you couldn’t place. Something that chilled you to the bone.

“I wouldn’t accept it.”

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere x reader #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere oikawa #oikawa tooru

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fatuismooches · 5 months

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Hello smooches, its 🥝 anon. I'm sorry for not popping up on ur inbox for a very long time again (health issues, again.) i hope that you are doing well! I see so many Dotty's rambling when i scroll down a bit and honestly i can't wait to read all of it 🙏🛐 (and also hoping to see just a bit of Capitano content from u-)

So.. Remember when i said last time that i have a brainrot about Capitano's Childhood Crush with fragile!reader? In ur Capitano Childhood Crush fic, reader always sends a lot of letters to him but he never recieved them, right? (It was disheartening, just like what u said on the fic..) And, Well..

Imagine that all of the letters are about reader telling him about their conditions, their illness getting worse and worse, until the last one about reader wanting to see him again for last time..

When Capitano wanted to see them again, he sends some of his Fatui agents to search for reader whereabouts (since it would be too dangerous for reader's safety if he is the one who come to them, also he never see them among the crowds for a very long time whenever he and his troops came back, reader always come to see him..).

Now, imagine his reaction when his agents told him that reader is already dead a long time ago or when he finally found all of reader's letters 😔

I'm trying to make my ask not too long, æügh 😩😭 i'm sorry if its messy- 😭 anyways, sending virtual hugs for u smooches for still feeding us Harbinger content for more than a year now 🤗💞🛐 as always, bless u and ur big brain writings

-a rotten 🥝 anon

(Also recently, i saw an "early" story leak about the next region on twt that we will have Dottore boss fight in Natlan instead of Capitano. Idk if its true or not, but if its true.. then, i guess you guys Dottore lovers better prepare for him now 👀 i want to see some C6R5 Dotty mains here)

HI 🥝 ANON!! I MISSED YOU! And don't worry about popping in! I want you to take care of yourself first above all! I hope you enjoy the plentiful Dottore brainrots though :3 (and i promise to post some Capitano brainrots. Just for you.) BUT AHHH THIS BRAINROT... WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME SAD. (Yes, I remember when I put that in my fic! I can't believe it was so long ago though- you made me go back and reread it 😭)

Imagine if you live in a secluded part of Snezhnaya. It's quiet and pretty with only the servants in the house to keep you company. Capitano let you stay here instead of the mansion because staying in that big house without him would probably make you sadder. Though you are already sad without him, it's a bit better. But you spend a lot of time writing him letters. It was a habit of yours, telling him what you've done all this time even though he's not here. Some letters get sent, some don't. But you always put the happier stuff in the letters that get sent to him. He's out doing a lot of hard work, you don't want to bother him with your illness! Though anyone could see the lingering sadness in your letters. However, the battlefield is a tough place and the long distance doesn't help your case. Things are bound to get lost and go missing. So you're left waiting, and waiting, and waiting for your husband's replies that never come... Eventually, you stop sending them, instead keeping them in a box.

Although Capitano is busy with his mission, he wonders why you haven't reached out to him. Amidst the war and battle, he does look forward to your sweet letters, perhaps your handwriting may not be the best, but he loves to see how his darling is doing. He of course focuses on his duties, but he always thinks of you. So it wouldn't hurt to send an agent to report on you, since clearly communication isn't the best right now. When the soldier arrives and hears of your demise, he isn't sure how to break the news to his Harbinger. All he can do is hope that the letter makes it to him after the battle is over, so morale isn't too down. And it does. The Fatui win this battle, and the letter comes just in time. Ah, finally he can see how you're doing, Capitano thinks. But when he reads the first sentence, he's... well, I can't explain his emotions very well. Empty would be a good word. Why? Why didn't he know? Couldn't something have been done? You were find before he left, how did your condition worsen that quickly?

He won't know, because he won't ever hear your voice again.

AND YEAHHH i saw that leak too but. To be honest i don't really believe it, a bunch of story leaks have turned out to be trolls so tbh i don't really pay attention to them anymore, especially when they're so far into the future 😅 But my c6r1 Arlie savings are going strong right now! (400 wishes >:)

#smooches talks #🥝 anon #fragile reader <3 #capitano love notes <3 #ughhh i want dottore so bad :(( I LOVE HIM SM #I NEED HIM ON MY TEAMMM #but i hope you are doing well too anon! im sending even more hugs! 🫂#and thank YOU for sticking around for so long! i greatly appreciate that 🥺❤️❤️

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thatdogmagic · 1 month

Text

So, there's some posting going around, and after being alerted to what exactly is being made public, it's pretty clear I can't go with my initial inclination which is 'leave this alone.'

First things first:

a) I'm not going to fight any accusations of having done something potentially racist. I'm a white person raised very white; when I was made aware that the default ways I was responding to things were reading very poorly in the context of a white person and a black person, I apologized. No matter how I feel about what's happening *currently*, I still am sorry about it. I really hadn't thought of how it would come off until I saw it in hindsight.

I can't say for sure what all is being referenced aside from that instance. I'm not going to be the best judge, for the reasons mentioned above. The best I can do is absorb, apologize, keep learning to be better, and continue to chip away at the boneheaded 40yo white person shit.

b) re: ableism, the sad irony of the screengrab posted is that I was having an autistic meltdown at the time (which, no, is not an excuse). Use of the r-slur, in reference to myself, is a very sure sign I'm in the middle of one, reaching for an impact word and choosing a really terrible one. Like the verbal equivalent of hitting yourself, giving voice to what are, yes, at root, ableist thoughts that live in my head about my own diagnosis. I can and do get very frustrated with my autism sometimes, especially when I 'fail' to learn fast enough to manage it (read: fail to prevent a meltdown).

I'm also genuinely sorry people had to see that, both people in the chat and now, everywhere. I did, yes, delete it because I hated it being there, and I didn't want especially that to be the footprint I left on the server, if it was ever repurposed/the channels weren't recycled (brief note on that later).

Anyway yeah it's something I really need to work on. And it's disheartening to see it cherrypicked when everyone there was aware of the context, but yea; if you see some really wild shit from screencaps, please keep in mind that a lot of it has already been extremely cherrypicked/context is going to be missing. If the whole conversation isn't present, ask to see it.

That's the heaviest stuff that needed addressing.

The accusations of character theft are another thing, because that involves Ependa, and a conversation I had personally with Jackal that was settled amicably a year ago. Or so I thought.

It's the one conversation I did think to save in its entirety, because I just-- had a feeling it might end up being in the cherrypicked pile, or removed from the record entirely. I didn't expect to have to need it this soon, but here we are.

So here it is, in its entirety:

All of that is true, on my end. I was the one who told Ependa to go with a darker complexion on Lacey, and it really didn't quite occur to me at the time that it'd be much of an issue. It should have. The characters are distinct to me in a variety of ways, but as said in the screengrabs, it's a small pond. Past that, if there was more we could do to differentiate then it wasn't discussed with either of us, and we were both open to making further alterations as-needed.

This is not the first time this conversation has been had among werewolf creators, fwiw, or the first time we've had to chat amongst ourselves about potential crossover. I've had to have a similar talk with another artist I know and respect because there were a few too many similarities going on with a set of pieces I was already working on.

Ependa had to recently have that conversation with Trashasaurus (which I'm paraphrasing a Ependa's request), re: commissions that had requested a character that had taken a lot of visual inspiration from both Lin and Toska. She'd noticed Toska's traits and vibe and wasn't entirely comfortable with it, and upon learning they had been requested asked Trashasaurus not to take on those commissions anymore. Trashasaurus agreed and that seemed to be the end of it, save to drop some warning about the 'Lacey talk' which-- well. See above. That's it, in its entirety.

If Ependa wants to post the logs of her conversation, she can, but I'll leave that up to her.

So, that's the heart of the matter at the moment.

It's yet another fallout of yet another failed project by yet another group of artists. It's a tale as old as time, and I would've really loved to have not given it fuel, but the r-slur thing backed me into a corner and needed to be addressed. And if that was being addressed, then others things needed to be addressed, too.

The thing about character theft, though-- yeah, IDK. If there was a problem, there was a year to solve it, and the offer made to post publicly about the oops/acknowledge it right there in that moment was genuine. So far as anyone knew, this had all been settled, and any time it was brought up after there were a million assurances that it wasn't an issue.

Last: I deleted my presence on the server because I a) wasn't sure if it was going to be repurposed and wanted a lot of very personal conversations/old images removed if that happened, b) was frankly concerned about something like this happening; cherrypicked conversations getting tossed up online if things got any worse. I used undiscord, which deletes chronologically, because deleting everything is easier than finding specific conversations/image files.

Because the worst of the fights happened last, well. Yeah it's gonna look like I'm deleting the worst parts first.

I also wouldn't have willingly agreed to be on a server using third party logging software/deleted message retrieval plugins, either, had I known that was in play, but that's a 'live and learn' moment for me, unfortunately.

Anyway that's it, that's all. I can't tell anyone how to think or feel about any of this. I'll be here and will continue to post art, though, for those who still feel like sticking around.

#admin #reblogs off

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devilfic · 2 years

Text

❝where two are joined, relentlessly❞

VIII. happy birthday, mr. wayne.

parts: previously / next plot: celebrating the birthday boy is hard when he doesn’t want to be celebrated. baby steps. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: romance, humor, tooth-rotting fluff, domesticity, bruce wayne is a taurus agenda. words: 4.7k.

a/n: I’ve proofread this once and I think I caught everything. lord help me if I haven’t

May, last year.

The lack of ornamentation should have been your first and biggest clue as to where Bruce Wayne might be today, though you still ask, “Where’s the birthday boy?”

You’d expected the penthouse to be wrought with decorations the minute you arrived, baubles and flowers and desserts being set up around the house for the occasion. Alfred, of course, hadn’t warned you of any such plans before you left work yesterday. You’d just... assumed.

Dressed in his usual attire (not even donning a chocolate covered apron!), Alfred laughs for barely a second, “Hiding away from people who call him ‘the birthday boy’. And what in the world have you got in your hands?”

You roll the piece of ceramic in between your hands with concern, more aware of the lopsided handle than before. You’d worked the thing into the best mug shape your novice hands could manage, carved a “W” on both sides, painted it black and gold, and hoped for the best, “It’s... a mug. Bruce’s present.”

When Alfred comes closer to give it a look, you nearly shy away with it. You’d hoped that if there was going to be a party, no matter how small, your gift wouldn’t draw too much attention to itself, but seeing as there would be no party, every mistake in the cup felt painfully obvious. Alfred takes it from you anyway, examining it with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. You wait with bated breath for the verdict.

Holding up your mug to the light, Alfred nods once, approving, “I’m sure Master Bruce will love it. I’ll make sure to relay his gratitude tomorrow morning.”

You watch Alfred make off with your mug for all of five seconds before you start skittering after him, looking around for any sign of the billionaire in question. The house is just as quiet as it always is when you arrive bright and early, and while it had been made clear to you that you’d rarely ever see Bruce while the sun still shined, you’d been lucky every once in a while. A dark figure hurrying from the kitchen to the stairs here, the noise of someone coming up the elevator on the second floor there. You’d been told that particular elevator was off limits before, its destination meant to stay a secret between the inhabitants of the tower, and you wondered if he was down there this very moment.

“Wait, tomorrow? Will he not be here today?”

“No, I’m afraid not. He’ll be busy with work elsewhere.”

“He didn’t take the day off? It’s his birthday.”

“He hasn’t for a while,” you think the butler sounds disheartened about that, “it’s just another day of the year. Same with holidays. It’s really nothing to fret about. Master Bruce finds more enjoyment in his work than he would throwing a big, unnecessary fuss. Trust me.”

You suppose you have no right to be sad about that. Everyone was different, after all. It was like any other holiday. It wasn’t unusual for some not to celebrate Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or the Fourth of July. “For a while” just left you wondering when he’d finally decided to stop. You could come up with a million reasons why if left to your own devices.

Instead, you roll with it in spite of your disappointment, “Well, I would’ve really liked to give it to him in person, but I understand. Not a total loss.”

Alfred hesitates setting your mug down on the breakfast table then. The butler casts a scheming side-glance at you, “...If your heart is that set on it, he will be here tomorrow.” When you perk up, Alfred pivots away from the table, placing your mug back into your hands. “Stay late enough and you’ll catch him. Might even be in a better mood.”

The idea is genius. You thank Alfred and put the mug into your bag, careful not to crush it. Maybe you’d get him a card on the way home too. Something to make up for the mortification of your mug being perceived.

Your drive to the convenience store around the corner is a short one, and you quickly head inside to grab a few of the only warm, “fresh” foods they offer and a birthday card from the funny section (something silly, something that won’t end with your prompt termination). You spend such an unnecessary amount of time next to the greeting cards that an employee eventually flags you down to figure out if you need any help.

It isn’t long after that you find you’re not quite ready to go home yet.

There isn’t much waiting for you there, anyway. Due to constant complications, your mother was back to an extended stay at Gotham General, leaving you alone in the apartment. You never enjoyed being alone there while she worked late, but you enjoyed it even less when she couldn’t return at all. Everything was louder in that tiny apartment without her presence to fill it up. You can’t return to the tower, though, no matter how badly you’d like to be sharing stories with Alfred over tea right now.

You consider Robinson Park, though the later hour warns of danger you could do with avoiding. Next, you consider the public library, but it wouldn’t be open much longer. You didn’t often yearn for the simple safety of other cities, but if you could post up on a street corner and be unbothered, you’d jump at the chance.

While in the midst of your contemplation, you follow the road, succumbing to muscle memory. You hadn’t gone this way in years, yet the twists and turns of the city come back to you like second nature, a guiding light in the gritty darkness until you’re pulling up to a building you hadn’t visited since college graduation.

Once upon a time, when you were still a teenager looking for places to get away from it all, your friend would invite you to the rooftop of her apartment building to watch cars pass by. She’d officially moved from Gotham after college for the west coast, but you’d never forgotten that the door to the rooftop had a funky hinge. The landlord thought as long as people gave up on the first tug, they’d think the thing was locked and wouldn’t budge it further. You, on the other hand, knew better.

It doesn’t take much. One of the tenants buzzes you in and up the seven flights of stairs you hike. The door comes open as easily as it did the last time you tried years ago.

You’re not very high above the city like this, though the drop from the ledge is no less terrifying to behold and the view no less stunning. Most people in Gotham had grown desensitized to the little things like this. With the rampant crime, finding beauty despite it all was like finding a needle in a haystack. Even for you, with your well of positivity that struggled to run dry, you found it hard to see the beauty in it sometimes.

But there’s beauty even in the ugly parts of the city. For as much violence that bled through the streets, there was just as much humanity that walked them. Families, lovers, people just like you. You couldn’t hate Gotham when you could see that humanity, not really.

You take in lungfuls of air, sweeping your gaze from the graffitied bridge a few blocks down to the inner city skyline, and from the inner city to-

It’s a bit like making eye contact with a stray cat.

You’d seen him on TV, sometimes in copies of the Gotham Gazette at newsstands, but never in person. He was a bit like a child’s tale, a playground legend: your friend’s cousin’s girlfriend would see him, perhaps saved by him if the storyteller was really bold, and you’d go around telling everyone who’d listen that you’d seen the Batman too.

No one could keep the story straight when asked too many questions, but that was the excitement of Gotham’s very own, living boogeyman. One would simply hope to never see him for the wrong reasons. You hoped you weren’t seeing him for the wrong reason.

He’s perched on the ledge only a feet away from you, hard to make out against the dark night sky if you aren’t paying attention. When you put together that you are looking at a face and not some vague, black shape, you freeze up and wait to see if he’ll make the first move. If he thought you were a threat, you’d be taken care of by now... right?

You both hold each other’s gaze for a few minutes, both perhaps waiting for the other to run first. Neither of you ever do.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that comes to mind, though you aren’t sure why. It was as much his rooftop as it was yours, “I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

The Batman is too far away for you to make out what he’s thinking by his eyes alone, though you get the feeling that he’s not sure how to respond. He wasn’t alone in that.

What were you even supposed to say? Or do? All those stories were action-packed with nary a dull moment to breathe. None of them could have prepared you for his eerie stillness. When meeting the Batman in a friend’s cousin’s girlfriend’s fantasy, he’s usually a lot more animated.

Leaving him alone and going home sounds like the next best course of action for you. Of course, you do the opposite, “Are you busy?”

“No.”

You shift back at the sound of his voice, feeling more out of place by the second. You knew this rooftop by every square inch, and yet you might as well have never stepped foot in this city at all when standing in his presence.

You clutch your bag to your side tighter. “Do you... need me to leave?”

The Batman pauses then, never looking away from you, “No.”

Was he... giving you permission? Perhaps he was the one who’d leave, leaping away into the night to find another perch to do whatever it was vigilantes did in this city. The thought that he’d leave so soon left you oddly disappointed.

But he doesn’t move. Save for turning to watch the city, the Batman pays you very little mind. You fail at the same task even as you fish out Bruce’s birthday card, hoping to distract yourself with writing your appropriately heartfelt message, body rigid and fingers struggling to loosen enough to hold your pen. No words come out of you when your heart beats out of tune. You don’t know how to be normal when he’s so close by.

You’d come up here to be alone, but had he?

Your pen hovers over the blank inside of the card, ink tip drying in the wind, but no words are coming to you with your mind a stone’s throw away from you.

It’s not clear that he’s side-eyeing you, but you feel like he’s side-eyeing you. Surprisingly, it’s him who breaks the unsteady silence, “Special occasion?”

You have to reel your brain back to your body to answer him. He continues to survey the landscape even though his question is very clearly directed at you, and you wonder at what point during your attempt at appearing unbothered had he looked over at the card in your hands. You’re grateful you’re not under his scrutiny for the time being, “Oh, yeah. It’s a card for my boss. It’s his birthday today.” And then, as if his totally normal silence deemed your explanation unsatisfactory, you continue, “He was working all day today, so I thought I’d give it to him later.”

This time, the Batman turns his head fully toward you. Had you given too much information? Annoyed him, maybe? You make out the small shift of his eyes from your own down to the card in your hand, and you hold it facing him to give him a better look, scooting closer. “And you came up here to write it?”

“Rooftops are peaceful. One of the perks of living in a city like Gotham.” You don’t want to say outright that you don’t belong up here. While you were sure the vigilante had far more pressing matters to handle than harmless breaking and entering, you really don’t want to fuck around and find out. “Is this a usual surveillance point of yours?”

You’re surprised he lets you ask, and even more surprised when he provides an honest answer, “One of them.”

You’d always imagined that the Batman was a shadow, slinking about in the night from empty doorways to streets less travelled by, an all-seeing eye for Gotham. There was a magical aspect to it all, but seeing him here now, tangible, made him appear more man than shadow. He was still shrouded in mystery, but that distance probably kept petty criminals home some nights. Even you had wondered if there’d come a day that all-seeing eye of Gotham would turn to you.

That’s why talking to him now, you could hardly stand to be looked at for too long. Had it not been for the cut of his cowl leaving his very human jaw exposed to you, he might’ve appeared to you more like an omniscient phantom. What did he think when he looked at you? What did he know?

Of course, you know better than to keep going down that road. You were talking to the Batman for Pete’s sake. You could do better than waste an opportunity. “Batman? You said you weren’t busy, right? Can I ask for your opinion on something?”

He stares at you, practically unblinking. You take that as a sign (perhaps not a good one, but a sign nonetheless) to keep going. Putting away your card, you remove Bruce’s present from your bag and present it to the Batman, hands trembling a bit as he inspects it in the city light. His eyes glide up from the mug to you, inquiring.

“I-It’s a mug. I made it. I just... I just wanted a second opinion on it. My... superior said that my boss would love it, but I think he was just trying not to hurt my feelings... but you’re a neutral party. You know?” The more you explain, the more stupid you feel. Who were you, asking the Batman of all people to evaluate your rookie pottery skills? So much for not wasting an opportunity.

But you hope that you’re earnest enough to warrant an answer anyway. If he was truly annoyed with you, he could jump away at a moment’s notice and find another rooftop to survey from. It was his fault he didn’t turn you away earlier when you gave him the chance.

You nearly drop the thing when he reaches for it, cautiously taking the cup into one gloved hand and bringing it closer to his eye. He turns it this way and that, genuine as he looks over every detail. You’re hyperaware of all the blemishes, awaiting a scathing review that would send you back to that pottery class on tomorrow’s lunch break to fix your mess.

Instead of that, the Batman hands it back to you. You hold the mug between both palms awaiting his judgment. “Why make it?”

You blink, “I’m sorry?”

“You could have bought something like this. They sell them a dime a dozen at every gift shop in town.”

Well, you knew that. You’d seen them while perusing the shelves for something he might like. With every option, you’d come back to the same depressing conclusion: “There’s nothing I can buy him that he couldn’t buy better, so I thought I’d make him something he couldn’t find anywhere else. I mean, where else is he gonna find a mug with a lopsided handle and his family’s insignia carved on the side-”

“Not a lot of families in Gotham with insignias these days.”

Shoot. Was that bad? You couldn’t recall hearing if the Batman had something against the Waynes. You surely hoped not. “...I don’t work for Bruce Wayne if that’s what you’re thinking.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the Batman was... amused by that. “Of course not.” You hug the mug to your chest, worrying the inside of your cheek between your teeth. “He’ll like it. And I can promise you that I don’t care about your feelings.”

You breathe a laugh, and while the Batman doesn’t return it, you can tell he’s pleased you got the joke.

His head snaps up to the sky a moment later. Following his line of sight, you spot a familiar circle of light piercing through the clouds from further into the city. It wasn’t uncommon to see it light up every once in a while, though its unwavering position in the sky was peculiar; it never swiveled or flashed. Most searchlights were beacons of the nightlife drawing Gotham citizens to every club in the city. This one... well, who knew?

Your companion shifts and leans toward the light. “You should head home. Keep off the streets tonight.”

“Oh, do you have to go?” You start, twisting around to put the mug back in your bag, “Thank you for the...”

When you turn back, all that’s left of the Bat is the rush of air from his departure. You lean over the ledge to see if he’d jumped straight down, but you can’t make out anything besides the usual pedestrians. You shiver.

Despite never accomplishing your intended task, you follow orders to a T. You push the rooftop door back into place to ward off any ne’er-do-wells and lock your car doors when you get back inside. On the drive back home, your hands jitter around the steering wheel, and at every stoplight, you think about his eyes. Had the light been any better up on that rooftop, you might’ve even found out what color they were. You wouldn’t rat him out. You’d just like to know.

It’s evening when he begins to show. You’re busying yourself with extra paperwork to justify your business being there past work hours and Alfred entertains you, assuring you that you wouldn’t have to wait much longer. With each second that ticks past six o’clock, your jaw clenches that much tighter.

“Ah, there he is,” Alfred stands to his full height beside you, drawing your attention to the second floor where the mysterious, forbidden elevator rattles up the shaft, “knew he’d make an appearance eventually.”

The first conversation you’d had with Bruce Wayne was the day you were hired. He’d sat across from you at a conference table six stories below the penthouse with Alfred at the head of the table and your former boss sat beside you. While you all discussed when you’d start, what to expect, and getting your access upgraded, Bruce Wayne had kept his eyes low and nodded along, never uttering more than a few words at a time.

He’d been terrifying back then, the scariest man you’d ever met, and when he did look at you, you might as well have been strapped to your seat. At the end of the meeting, you’d all shaken hands to part ways. When you’d reached for Bruce’s hand, he’d given you a long, hard look that you’d mistaken then as threatening (you could laugh now, thinking about it), and told you that he’d “be looking forward to working with you”.

You felt the same way only five months later, waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Alfred, I’ll be out late-”

“Master Bruce, we have a visitor.”

Bruce comes to a stop at the top of the stairs. There’s a towel thrown over his shoulder and if it weren’t for the sweat staining the neck of his shirt, you’d think he’d just come fresh from the shower with his hair wet at the ends.

You stand at the very foot of the stairs, trying not to let the clamminess of your palms ruin your gifts prematurely. When Bruce continues to look on, clearly looking for an answer as to why you were here so late, you take the initiative. “I don’t want to hold you for long, Mr. Wayne,” you say, climbing the stairs slowly, “I just wanted to... give you something. For your birthday. I know it was yesterday, a-and I know you don’t usually make a big thing out of birthdays, but... uh. I wanted to say thank you. For everything.” You’re two steps below Bruce when you finally come to a stop, worried that coming any closer might cease your ability to function. “I promise that was a lot less sappier than the card.”

For a few seconds, Bruce doesn’t move, and your palms start to sweat more profusely. When you look down at the mug and card extended toward him, your arms shake the longer he makes you wait. You were almost too embarrassed to look back up at him again.

Then, Bruce reaches for the mug, holding it up to inspect it. One of his fingers traces the engraved, golden “W”, not nearly as fancy as the emblem you’d traced online. “W. For Wayne.” He states rather than asks. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about the handle, it was my first time handling pottery. The instructor said it’d hold up fine, though! Perfect for Dory’s tea. Or you could put pens in it. Or a... lucky bamboo. For wealth and prosperity.” You worry the joke might be too silly, an unnecessary buffer in case he hated the mug after all.

Bruce shocks you with the tiniest of smiles, “Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.”

You return the smile, giddier than you let on. “Happy birthday, Mr. Wayne.”

May, the present.

“Took you long enough, birthday boy! The ice cream’s gonna melt. Get in here!”

“Just be glad I didn’t escape through the terminus when I had the chance,” Bruce tacks on a smile before you can protest, knowing full well it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him, “No one else is coming, right?”

The table is made up with minimal decoration: there’s a simple tablecloth stretched from end to end, struggling to cover the octagonal shape in full, and a pair of black and red star-shaped balloons tied to Bruce’s chair. The cake was easier to splurge on, a labor of love between both you and Alfred, baking and decoration included. It gave you both the freedom to draw a bat across the face of the cake in buttercream icing. It’s the first thing Bruce destroys by swiping his finger through it. You smack him on the shoulder as he smiles around his finger.

“Of course not. Miss Kyle didn’t return my call.” Alfred smirks.

You usher Bruce into his seat before retrieving the lighter. How you’d managed to fit so many candles on the cake without ruining the design was largely a stroke of luck, but it takes comically long for you to light them all. By the time the last candle is lit, the others are dripping wax onto the cake. “Okay, okay. Are we gonna sing?” You ask.

Dory cheers at the same time Bruce begs you not to. Naturally, you all sing.

It’s nothing pretty-sounding, though you think Dory really tries, and even though Bruce looks like he can’t wait for it to be over, he does brace it all with a smile.

“Gonna make a wish?” You ask, bending at the waist until your face is beside his.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He seems to really consider it, and after a moment or two passes, he leans forward and blows out the candles in one fell swoop.

The cake is passed out in even slices around the table courtesy of Alfred, followed by gifts. Alfred presents Bruce with a new watch, Dory gifts him a guitar pick, and you hand him off a new sketchbook. “To draw me more” You joke, watching him go rosy.

By the time the small party has come to an end, Bruce is following you out to the balcony, spooning ice cream out of his mug with soap suds still dripping down his arms from clean up. “I can’t believe you still have that thing.” You remark, the garish, gold “W” glaring back at you in his hand.

“Did you think I was going to throw it out of the window or something?”

“Well, no, but... it was kind of embarrassing giving you that. I thought you were just being polite when you took it from me.”

Bruce leans his elbows on the fence and you do the same, “I know I said I didn’t care about your feelings, but I didn’t really mean it.”

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I still can’t believe I showed that stupid thing to Batman.”

“It’s not stupid,” You peek between your fingers at him, mortification no doubt seeping through, “I’ll have you know this mug is on weekly dishwasher rotation.”

That explained a bit of the paint fading. Your heart quietly swells at the thought that your little piece of misshapen pottery was so well-loved. It’s enough to shut up your self-deprecation. “Did you enjoy your party, birthday boy?”

“I did. I enjoyed it even more because it wasn’t a surprise.”

“’Course not! Baby steps, Wayne, baby steps.” You giggle, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Bruce gets a silly smile on his face peeking down at your lips. Setting his now empty mug on the patio table, Bruce brings you close by the waist and lays a kiss on your mouth, lips still turned up at the corners. It was new, this featherlight repose that Bruce carried around the tower these days. He wasn’t without his dark days, and those days got particularly dark, but you weren’t the only one who’d noticed that there was a change in him. It was a gradual difference; no flip was switched, but things that lasted usually took time.

Bruce wasn’t healed of it all, but his shoulders seemed a little lighter.

You drag Bruce’s bottom lip between both of your own before speaking again, “You taste like ice cream.”

“Sorry.” He whispers, not at all apologetic as he chases your mouth. He’s able to get in one more kiss before something shines in your peripheral.

You’re the first to break away, a little disappointed as you recognize light carving a bat into the clouds: the Batman’s insignia. Bruce seems just as disappointed, though you know he won’t be for long. This is where he thrived, after all.

You release your grip on Bruce, nodding to the balcony doors, “Don’t keep Gordon waiting, handsome.”

“Will you help me get ready?”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Taking his hand, Bruce leads you to the terminus elevator, letting it lead you both down and into the cave. It had become routine enough for you to know where to go and what to do first. The paint is your most important task, though you help Bruce slip on his utility belt and gloves.

With one foot propped on his desk chair, Bruce laces up his boots while you gently apply the paint around his eyes, always careful not to poke him between his lashes. A gentle tap on his cheek has him turning for better access.

The second you give him the OK, Bruce bends forward and allows you to slip his cowl on after you’ve brushed his hair back (he hated it getting stuck to his forehead when he was in need of a haircut). Fitting it snugly on, you lean up for him to give you one more kiss for good luck. “All set. Stay safe.”

Bruce grunts as the last dredges of his happy-go-lucky mood melts somber. He doesn’t miss out on the opportunity though, passing off the last bit of sweetness on his lips. “Don’t wait up this time.”

You smile and Bruce knows immediately that you aren’t listening to him, “Sure. Don’t be gone long.”

Neither of you expect the other to keep up their side of the bargain, but it’s the thought that counts. After all, it only made sense that you’d be there to wash off the same paint you put on, right? That was your excuse, anyway.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #the batman #battinson x reader #mjwrites

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confessionsofa-roleplayer · 3 months

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I get tons of engagement on my blogs. Memes sent, starter calls liked, people talking to me and so on. But when I write people starters and answer memes its very hard to get interactions past 1 reply. Most of the starters I make go unanswered. Even though the people I've wrote them for claim to love them. Sometimes I'll get someone who claims to be intimidated or something silly. In general…. I just feel like my time is constantly being wasted. Its ruining rp for me and I'm really considering giving up on the site. My motivation to write PLUMETS when I put out a bunch of owned starters and answer memes and maybe 1 out of 10 gets a reply. I'm not one of those fast responders either, I have a busy, hectic life. I can take from 5 days up to a week or two or more to reply to things depending on my schedule. But really does just feel like a vast majority of the RPC these days exists only to GET interaction and not GIVE interaction. And thats incredibly disheartening. The good news is I've been having better luck in discord rp groups where activity is mandatory so I can understand why so many people are moving to discord. It seems like tumblr rp is genuinely just a sad, disappointing husk nowadays and I'm struggling to find the point of staying in the RPC. I think its just habit for me now because I've been here so long. (Since 2010)

#general #confessions

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monstersinthecosmos · 8 months

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As a fellow Marius lover, I always find it kind of disheartening how most of the content/fandom talk about him (meta, fic, fanart, etc.) revolves around m/m ships (Marius/Armand in particular but I’d even go as far to include Marius/Daniel here) when, in my opinion, Marius is like the one male character in the VC universe whose relationships with women are far more interesting than his relationships with other men (the only other character might be Lestat but even then it’s pretty 50/50). They’re so monumental and so full of complexities and pain and so much love and they define him and inform his character in ways that I think, his relationships with men simply do not. Interesting/hot under the right circumstances? Sure but like ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS MAN??? AND HOW HE RELATES TO WOMEN??? It’s one of the best things Anne ever wrote and I can never get enough of it and it makes me sad how little content there is of it and I feel I can never say this out loud because I would never want to make people feel bad about what they ship (truly not my intention here) but ugh SO MUCH potential there for life changing discourse and meta about Marius and the women he’s loved and lost and have shaped who he is and there’s like… nothing.

Tl;dr the reason I’m sending this ask is because I’m a firm believer that you must be the change you want to see in this world and because YOU get it! And every time you post or write about Marius/Pandora (or Marius/Akasha! Or talk about Marius/Bianca) an angel gets its (black) wings. You are seen, you are loved and appreciated tysm <3

OKAY FIRST OF ALL THIS WAS SUCH A DELIGHT TO GET IN MY INBOX, SECOND IM GOING TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST AND ADMIT I FEEL TOO INCOHERENT TO TACKLE THIS TOPIC HAHA. I don’t feel articulate enough to do it justice. And I don’t say that to be obnoxious and self deprecating but like in all honesty idk how to synthesize it neatly but I think you’re sharing some GREAT IDEAS.

I have to say this in bullet points because I don’t feel equipped to string this into a cohesive post:

Marius was based on Anne’s husband, and Marius/Pandora was based on their marriage!!!!! And I think it explains a lot about why their relationship feels so fuckin POTENT to me, like it’s so genuine!!!!!!! And like knowing that I think it makes sense why she wrote him so HOT lol. Like she’s just writing thirsty stuff about her husband right? LOL

Also like insofar as there’s a lot of genderfluidity in VC there’s also something vaguely misogynist about it at times. And Anne Rice was a mega feminist and her work had so much womens lib in it!!!!! So I don’t think it’s intended as misogyny at all vs. Anne having conversations about gender and maybe her own relationship to gender. I think enough characters have said vaguely misogynist stuff that it makes me think it’s an Anne Problem vs being Watsonian. (This is also a historical/time period issue and we can discuss another time if and when vampires are supposed to break out of that when they transcend humanity and social constructs even when they’re still saying weird sexist shit at their big ages.) But I say that to say all VC characters are a tad sexist, even if perhaps she was writing with the intention of her own male power fantasy/male superiority/penis envy. AND THAT MAKES MARIUS VERY INTERESTING.

Cause like really the three main ladies in his life (Akasha, Pandora, Bianca) DO define him so much! And we don’t see him pine for Armand the way he did for any of them! Why!!!

Like there’s that aspect of sexism where women can be infantilized by men who don’t think they’re being unkind and it makes me wonder, especially when the author is a boomer, like where is that line between condescension and respect? I don’t have an answer here, this is too big-brained for me LOL but like he is SO devoted to the women in his life and I just wonder like if he sees them as creatures unlike himself, you know?

This is headcanon territory but I bet he’s such a fucking sub to Pandora lol and it just thrills me that he spent 2000 years begging Akasha for affection and she ignored him the whole damn time wow. And he continued to simp!

AND ALSO LIKE, I think people DO NOT DISCUSS THIS OFTEN ENOUGH, but did we forget that he chose Armand because he needed a Bianca rebound? He was absolutely TORTURED by his love for Bianca and picked Armand because he didn’t want to kill her oh my god. Oh my god!!! HE KEPT HER LETTER IN HIS POCKET OVER HIS HEART OKAY??? HE DIDN’T WANT TO DRAG HER INTO HIS COLD AND FATAL DOMAIN????? Fuck lol

It’s so fucked up that he didn’t go after Armand but spent like actual fucking millennia trying to find Pandora. HE KNEW EXACTLY WHERE ARMAND WAS AND LEFT HIM THERE LOL BUT PANDORA HAUNTED HIM EVERY NIGHT OF HIS LIFE FOR CENTURIES.

After everything he wound up spending like 200 years with Bianca or something and ?????? CORRECT because Bianca was the fledgling he actually wanted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But it’s odd, I know I’ve said this 337589235 times, but Marius like. Has an idea of the person he wants to be and he tries SO HARD to live by logic & reason and he just can’t reconcile with the fact that he has EMOTIONS. And so like part of the person he wants to be like, open/empathetic/wise and he begs his lovers/students/fledglings to CHALLENGE HIM when he’s not actually healed enough to be challenged? And to me there’s something kinda like, extra spicy about it when you’re in Rice World and you’re a lil sexist; how much that burns EXTRA when it’s Pandora or Bianca sticking up to you or AKASHA FUCKIN IGNORING YOU.

Just really incredible that this person who is like the epitome of a patriarch has such fucked up relationships with all the women in his life. And like he underestimates these women, like the way he tries to manipulate Bianca and she leaves him! PANDORA AND AKASHA ARE UNAVAILABLE TO HIM AND BIANCA FUCKIN LEAVES.

akasSHA JUST IGNROING HIM!! JUST STRAIGHT UP FUCKIN IGNORING HIM FOR 2,000 YEARS!!!! HE'S OBSESSED WITH HER!

Anyway Enkil is ignoring him too but he doesn’t give a shit about that guy tbh lol

Also the amount of space he gives Eudoxia and Zenobia in his book like there’s more here too but tbh it’s midnight and I can’t start unpacking. I just think like, in 2000 years it’s interesting how Eudoxia wound up having such a lasting impact on his life.

I did just peek at the Eudoxia part and I’m dying, he goes “Her face was small, oval, and as close to perfection as anything I've ever beheld, even though she bore no resemblance to Pandora who was for me perfection itself.” CERTIFIED WIFE GUY.

What kinda mommy issues are we dealing with here? HIS MOTHER WAS A SLAVE THAT DIED IN CHILDBIRTH AND HE INHERITED HER GENES AND LOOKED LIKE HER AND DIDN’T LOOK LIKE HIS FATHER & BROTHERS? AND HE’S SORT OF AN OUTCAST AS A HUMAN LIKE ? THE STIGMA HERE? AND THEN HE SPENDS 2000 YEARS WORSHIPPING HIS NEW MOTHER??? PERHAPS YOU COULD SAY ENSLAVED TO HER? IDK MAN.

IS THIS ALSO WHY HE WAS SO OBSESSED WITH LOSING PANDORA?

The irony too, and something I think a lot of people miss, is that he DIDN’T WANT TO MARRY PANDORA LOL. He wanted to be betrothed to a child so that he could FUCK OFF and NOT get married because she wasn’t old enough to get married! He fucked off! He went exploring! He said this is not for me!

AND TO GO OUT INTO THE WORLD AND BE MURDERED BY HIS MOTHERS PEOPLE???? IDK.

I’m not sure how these last two points tie into anything but I just wanted to mention his complicated relationship with Pandora and his own heritage lol. And then Akasha like DELIVERS Pandora to him because she’s like “wow this guy needs somebody lol and I am not emotionally available” — Akasha who was famously a violent genocidal radfem and who would not approve of his relationship with Armand but explicitly allowed him to have Pandora and Bianca. IDK WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!

Did Akasha approve of these women because she knew Marius was completely pussywhipped and would worship them and she wanted to see someone mommydom the fuck out of him and she knew that Armand would never be that person? 🫢

And again I want to say like, taking the author into consideration!! Anne Rice had a HORRIFIC relationship with her mom so you see these themes pop up occasionally in her work. DESPITE ALL OF THAT SHE IS STILL A FEMINIST AND WRITES ABOUT MATRILINEAR FAMILIES like The Great Family or the Mayfairs. But thinking about Mothers in Anne Rice Works makes me think a lot about this like, the damage they can do and the voids they can leave even when you’re a feminist and love women! You see a TON of this with Gabrielle and I always think that Lestat & Marius are such similar characters that you can do a lot of extrapolating or backwards engineering to ask questions about them and how they work, since we get SO MUCH Lestat POV in this series to work with and how we can zoom out sometimes and ask like, what is common across her entire body of work and what is more specifically common between Lestat & Marius and WHAT EVEN MORE INTERESTINGLY is a result that they were both based on her husband in their inceptions.

Like how much of this has to do with Marius’s actual feelings towards men vs women on purpose, or how much was subconscious author bias, how much was simply that Anne Rice based him on her husband and she was THIRSTY, idk. It’s always hard to say in VC because Anne was such an intuitive and self-indulgent author and the stories are so weird!!! So your mileage may vary!

But I agree with you that these are FASCINATING relationships!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I like Marius/Armand too (I recently made a post about how I didn’t “””””ship”””” them but then I spent 2 months working on a M/A fic every day and now I think I’ve corrupted and converted myself LMAO) but yeah like. There’s such a lack of substance between them in the end. He treats Armand like he’s temporary, fucks up and moves on, and it’s such a departure from how DEVOTED he was with all his other partners.

Wow I didn’t think I had a lot to say, sorry about that. !!! EVERY TIME I BROUGHT A POINT UP I THOUGHT OF 5 MORE POINTS GOSH I COULD TALK ABOUT MARIUS ALL DAY.

#tldr he has mommy issues #marius de romanus #vampire chronicles #thank you hekateinhell for discussing this with me in DM so that i could scream and yell and make sense of it!#hekate is mommy issues expert she helped unlock some bonus points!#deep ass thoughts about vampires #also i wanted to keep fandom discourse out of this bc i dont got time but this is like #such a timeless topic in fandom spaces about the popularity of mlm ships vs het or wlw ships #and like what that all means #it's been discussed to death and i don't think it's a condemnation of fandom at all #it just is what it is #so this is always going to be the case when it comes to fandoms & female characters #but i think people need to stop complaining about shit like that HAHA #fandom is a potluck yknow #like you gotta participate and make your own contributions too #marius is already such a divisive character i'm not gonna split hairs about who we're shipping him with LMAO THE POOL IS ALRAEDY TOO SHALLO #but i would love to put more bianca & pandora content into the world!!!#and like you i do not want this to sound like i'm being salty abotu what anyone ships! it's all good my dudes!#akasha #akasha/marius #bianca solderini #marius/bianca #pandora #marius/pandora

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