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fallingdownhell · 4 months

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Could I request angst/comfort with Diluc, Ayato, Al-Haitham and Kaveh's s/o who is afraid of loud arguments, due to hearing her dad argue with her mom a lot (over dumb stuff that he gets mad about), hearing the boys angry at or arguing with someone and running to hide? And when the boys find her, she's shaking like a leaf and in tears even when they comfort her.

I really like scenarios like this. Hope I did this justice! Characters Included: Diluc; Kaveh; Ayato Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; hurt/comfort; mentions of past trauma/abuse (not from the boys); mentions of shouting/arguing; the boys are apologizing to you Word count: 2,3k words Enjoy<3

Diluc

It's quite often that he's having arguments with Kaeya. Well, not so much arguments, but rather pesky little fights and petty quarrels. You, and everyone else, were used to it at this point. That's just how it was between those two now. Doesn't mean that you like it, but there's just not really much you can do about it, either.

However, this time, it was different.

Usually, when Kaeya and Diluc fight, it's snarky remarks and sarcastic comments thrown at each others heads. It never included any shouting, loud arguing or even physical altercations.

But apparently, there really is a first for everything.

Kaeya came by at the Winery today, which in itself isn't a problem, he does that from time to time, because even if he doesn't say it out loud, you know that he probably just misses his home.

When Diluc came back later that evening as well, they started to throw comments at each other again. You had no idea, how or why it escalated to this point, but somewhere along the way, they each began raising their voices at each other and for the past few minutes, they had been standing in the middle of the foyer, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs.

When it started getting louder, you were already trying to make yourself as small as possible on your spot on the couch, being reminded of your youth, when similar things regularly happened in your childhood home.

You were coiling yourself in, hands pressed to your ears in an effort to drown out the voices, but it just didn't work. Although you couldn't hear what they were arguing talking about, it didn't help to reduce the volume of their voices at all.

And then suddenly, your eyes snapped open in shock as you heard something break, shatter, on the ground. Suddenly, memories and flashbacks came crashing back to you, and your instincts took over.

You needed to hide. Now!

With newfound fervor, you got up and ran upstairs, dashing into the bedroom you shared with Diluc. You didn't even stop to consider your options, you just rounded the bed and sat down on the floor next to it, hoping that it would sufice in keeping you hidden from prying eyes..

You had no idea how long you were sitting there on the ground, legs pressed against your chest, your hands again pressing against your ears. Your whole body was shaking like a leaf in a storm, tears were running down your face, but you just couldn't bring yourself to care about that right now.

You were sure that you were in the middle of a panic attack right now, breathing becoming more and more difficult. It felt like you just couldn't get enough air into your lungs anymore, no matter how much you tried. The memories were just too much to handle.

The sheer panic, that he would come into your room any second now, hurting you again..

Then suddenly, you feel a gentle touch at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you look up to see Diluc, sitting in front of you, a worried and apologetic expression on his face. He quickly retracts his hand again, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in case you didn't want to be touched right now.

He begins talking to you, calm and collected, his voice slowly breaking through the fog that has clouded your mind. The more he talked, the more you seemed to come back into reality, out of the memories of much darker times you have been trapped in.

Diluc talks calmly to you, apologizing for his behaviour, even though he knew that right now wasn't the best time to do so, but he wanted to say it anyways. He would apologize properly again, later.

Right now, he needed to calm you down again. He waited and sat with you, until you calmed down enough to the point were you allowed him to touch you again. Immediately, he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He continues to speak calming affirmations to you, gently brushing through your hair while you rest your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.

"I'm sorry, (Name). I'm so sorry. I have no idea why I let things get this out of hand. I should have known better. I promise, I won't ever let this happen again. You're safe here, you're safe with me. Nothings going to happen to you. Not anymore. I won't allow anything or anyone to harm you again. I will always protect you."

Kaveh

Kaveh was well aware of the things you and your mother had to go through in your childhood. Living with an abusive father and husband can do things to someone, and he always tries his best to be understanding and supportive of you.

When you first told him about the things you went through and what you struggle with now, as a result of that, he vowed to you, and himself, to never put you in any type of situation where you could feel unsafe around him.

He wanted to be a safe space for you. Where you didn't have to fear anything bad coming your way, especially from him.

And for the most part, things were going fine. Kaveh helped you overcome a lot of things, and even when still struggling with some, he's always right by your side, never pushing you into anything, always the ever supporting boyfriend.

However, mistakes still tend to happen.

One such mistake on his part, was taking a client of his back to the house with him, to talk over some points of a new project. Kaveh had thought nothing of it, having done that a few times already.

You were home as well, offering to brew some tea for the two men so that they could discuss their work over something to drink. They agreed and while you disappeared into the kitchen, they began talking about the project.

However, talking soon turned into annoyed comments, which in turn became an argument over different view points. None of the men realised how loud they had raised their voices until they suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering on the ground, followed by a door being slammed shut soon after.

Kaveh instantly realised what had happened, knowing that he fucked up big time.

Without further explanation, he told the client to get out of the house, not paying any further attention to him. His only focus now was to find you and comfort you.

Kaveh went into the bedroom first, hoping to find you in there, curled up in the bed or something. When you were not to be found in there at all, he began to feel uneasy. He didn't want you to be alone right now. He needed to be there for you.

Frantically, he searched the entire house, until he found you in the bathroom, sitting in the corner, eyes blown wide with fear and shaking like you were standing barefoot in the middle of a snowstorm.

Quickly, he rushed to get you a blanket, knowing that you don't want to be touched directly, yet he didn't want to just leave you like this. He returned and gently tucked the blanket around your shoulders and on top of your head, creating some sort of shield from the outside world. He kept his arm around your shoulders, putting only very light pressure in it.

When that didn't seem to help, he began talking to you. He knew that telling you things to do wouldn't help you right now, so instead, he began to ramble. Telling you things about his day, what he had seen and done today, making sure that his voice was soft and calm, while he spoke in a slow manner, trying to convey to you that everything was okay, no danger anywhere near.

After a few minutes, it seemed to help, you began to calm down a bit. When he had the impression that you could properly hear him again, he nudged you to do some slow breathing excercises with him.

Slowly, you followed his lead, breathing in through your nose, and out through the mouth. He asked you to focus on certain things and slowly but surely, the panic began to subside and you could think clearly again.

When you turned and saw Kaveh sitting there in front of you, a relieved smile on his lips, you fell right into his arms, holding onto him like he was your lifeline and you couldn't afford to ever let go of him.

He returned the embrace, holding you in his arms, but making sure that his hold wasn't too tight.

Whatever it is you need of him right now, he's willing to do it. Anything, if it only makes you feel better again. He can't live with the thought that it was his fault this happened to you in the first place.

"(Name)... I'm so sorry. I have no idea what happened back there, I wasn't really thinking about it. I know that's no apology for anything, but I want you to know that this was not my intention. I promised to never make you feel uneasy with me, and yet, I broke that promise like the idiot I am. I will do anything to make it up to you again, I promise. I love you so much."

Ayato

When you had first told him about the events that happened in your childhood, Ayato was appalled by the actions of your "father". He may not know everything there is to know, but what you had told him was enough.

Enough for him to understand, why you had issues with certain things and may not be able to easily handle certain situations like others would. He didn't mind that at all. It's one of the ways that made you special. Not in a bad way, of course.

He always offered you his support, wether you want to work on your "issues" or not. He would support your decision, since it's not his place to judge or interviene. So long as you are happy with the way life goes for you, he can't complain about it, either.

However, due to this, he does tend to keep you out of matters with his work, especially when it involves meetings with people. He knows first hand that some of them can get a bit out of hand and he'd never willingly put you through that if he has anything to say about it. Which he does, luckily.

However, this time, you had told him that you wanted to be present at the next meeting he had. It was about an upcoming festival, and the organizer has asked to meet the both of you, regarding finances and other regulations.

Ayato, having worked with the man before, knew that he tended to have a short temper. So, he asked you if you were really sure about this, telling you what might come your way if you decide to participate.

You insisted, telling him that you wanted to work on yourself, not wanting to hide away from confrontations forever. Reluctantly, he agreed.

And so the next day, you were sitting next to Ayato, the organizer of the event in front of you. In the middle sat a small table with feshly brewed tea provided by Thoma. You had beed taking sip after sip while Ayato and the man discussed the finances of the project at hand.

Everything seemed to be going just fine, until it wasn't. The man disagreed with the budget provided to him, demanding more funds from the Yashiro commission.

While Ayato remained calm and collected, his usual smile on his face, the man grew more and more agitated. He began raising his voice and with every passing second, Ayato could feel you growing more uncomfortable next to him.

He tried to deescalate the situation, continuing to talk calmly to the man. However, his efforts proved to be in vain and when the man then slammed his hand on the table, that was when things got to much for you.

You flinched at the sudden banging sound, hiding your body behind Ayato in fear of this man in front of you. He reminded you so much of your father right now... He had done so terrible things to you, for much less..

Immediately as this happens, Ayato calls for his guards standing outside the room, ordering them to escort the man off the estate. He was quickly taken away and removed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Quickly, Ayato turned around to you, pulling you into a soft embrace, wrapping his arms around your head and letting your head rest against his chest.

He ignored the shaking of your body, ignored the tears that were staining his clothes and just focused on calming you down again. He spoke softly to you, his voice nothing more than a soothing whisper in one of your ears, while the other listened to his slow, calming heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you try to focus on the present.

You kept telling yourself that you were safe, you're with Ayato now, not back then with your father...

Hearing Ayato talking to you through everything helped a lot, too. It grounded you and soon enough, the shaking and the tears stopped again

"Shh, it's alright, (Name). Everything's okay. You're safe here. He's gone. He's not gonna hurt you. I won't allow it. Here, take a deep breath with me, listen to my voice. It's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."

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burst-of-iridescent · 2 months

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i've written before about how fire lady katara isn't an inherently disempowering or racist trope, as have many others, but lately i've been thinking about how arguments against fire lady katara often tend to utilise a surface-level interpretation of colonial trauma.

[edit: this post will use the term "colonial trauma" because those who argue against fire lady katara usually use the same wording or are referring to that concept. but it's important to note that according to show canon, the fire nation did not colonize the southern water tribe and zuko and katara did not have a colonizer/colonized relationship.]

antis who present this argument usually posit that marrying zuko would be a form of re-traumatization for katara, while marrying aang would "protect" her. katara is supposedly more shielded from confronting the impact of colonization in the southern water tribe or on air temple island than she would be with zuko in the fire nation, which contextualizes colonial trauma purely through the lens of physical interaction with the colonial power (ie. living in the fire nation or looking after the people of the fire nation). whether intended or not, this argument inadvertently limits colonial trauma to the geographical boundaries of the colonizing country and implies that it can be reduced or averted solely by minimizing contact with said country.

even leaving aside that we have seen katara in the fire nation (and enjoying herself there), the implication here is that active engagement with a colonial power as a member of colonized peoples is an inherent form of re-traumatization... which i take issue with for multiple reasons.

firstly, katara lives in a world that has been permanently shaped and changed by imperialism, and that's going to affect her no matter where she goes. sequestering herself in the south pole her whole life and never seeing a glimpse of fire nation red again won't allow katara to escape the legacy of colonization or the trauma it has caused her, because its influence is rooted in everything from her family to her tribe to her own bending. believe me, i understand the appeal of a world where women of colour can avoid reckoning with the impact of colonization by simply never setting foot in the colonizing country again, and why people might be uncomfortable with zutara individually as a result - but i can't accept it as a valid argument against the ship, because that's just not how colonial trauma works.

secondly, the idea that this "protects" katara reeks of paternalism because katara is not a character who chooses her path simply based on how safe or comfortable it is. if that was the case, she would never have left the southern water tribe at all! she could've remained there her whole life and likely been safe, since the fire nation had no real interest in the south pole any longer. katara is fundamentally defined by how relentlessly revolutionary she is - over and over, she chooses to do what is right, what is hard, what is unexpected, even at cost to herself. she challenges injustice and discrimination and bigotry; she fights for the downtrodden and speaks for those who can't speak for themselves; she will never ever turn her back on the people who need her. does that truly sound like someone who needs to be hid away and protected from her own supposed re-traumatization?

thirdly - and i fully accept that there are those who might disagree with this - katara actively choosing to engage with her colonial trauma can be empowering just as it can be traumatizing. don't get me wrong: as a woc and a minority in my own country, i understand how tiring it is to do this. i understand the exhaustion of confronting what was done to you and your people, of facing down bigotry over and over. i understand the desire to run away from it all, and why it can be wish fulfilment for others to let katara do so. i really, really do.

but there is also wish fulfilment in letting katara fight, as a brown girl with power and resources that few brown girls in the real world hold. there is a power fantasy in seeing katara head into the belly of the beast and emerging triumphant. there is empowerment to be found in seeing katara struggle with racism and ignorance and mindless hate to enact change - and succeed. i love reading and writing about katara unpacking her trauma regarding the fire nation, about growing to love the place she once hated, about reconciling both her homes and healing from the wounds of her childhood.

and ultimately, i think that's what katara would want for herself. after throwing herself head first into the fight against the fire nation, after facing down her greatest trauma instead of letting it consume her, after helping and protecting the people of the fire nation, after refusing to let the fire nation take anything else from her - i firmly believe that the last thing katara would do is allow herself to be ruled by the fire nation instead of being the one ruling it.

personally, i find that a more hopeful and victorious narrative than one where she remains safe and sheltered away from the fire nation, but forever haunted and dictated by her trauma. would that be realistic? perhaps. but the entire point of foiling katara with characters like jet and hama is to show that she's not doomed to be mired in the pain of her past. that where their stories could only end in tragedy, hers can - and does - end in hope for something better, as she always believed it could.

#zutara #anti kataang #katara #katara meta #fire lady katara

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wosoamazing · 3 months

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Arguments

Summary: You and Leah get into a fight. Based on this request & thank you to the anon for giving me an idea about the fight.

Warnings: None?

A/N: I'm really sorry but the Barça x teen!reader fic, where Rs Dad died before the game might not be the next fic to come out, I will try and finish it however I am just really stuck on ideas for it, if you have any feel free to let me know.

You walk out into the living room, where the rest of the team is. It is team bonding night, which you were invited to even though you’re not part of the team anymore, as you're currently in London visiting Leah and your family, because you can’t play due to your ankle. However you weren’t going to team bonding night as it was one of your friend’s 18th birthday and as much as you missed the team you hadn’t spent time with your friends in ages, and it would be the first 18th you could attend, so of course you didn't pass up to opportunity to party with your friends. When you walked out into the room all eyes were on you, they all seemed honestly impressed, Katie even gave you a grin and a smirk, however your sister’s face showed her clear disapproval for your very not modest outfit. You had a loose black sequin v-neck halter top on, with a pair of denim shorts that were almost too small to be appropriate, and your hair was in a very slicked back high ponytail, with a pink feather scrunchie finishing it off.

“You can’t wear that.” Your sister scowled.

“Oh what, so you only care about how I look, how I’ll damage your reputation.” you sassed her back.

“What's that supposed to mean?” She asked in defence.

“Oh, stop pretending you don’t know what I mean. It’s not like you care about anything else I do…..so why do you care what I wear?”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me attitude right now,” you scoffed at her “honestly, I’m glad you’re at Barça now, at least now I don’t have to deal with you and your attitude.”

“See I knew you didn’t care that I was leaving, you weren’t sad, you were happy.”

“I just hope you don’t treat Alexia like this.” she said, almost waving you off.

“Sorry that we can’t all be as perfect as you, Leah ‘Captain of England’ Williamson. I’m honestly glad I’m at Barça too, it means I don’t have to deal with your judgement daily. And anyway, everyone knows you’re just jealous. Sorry but I can’t help it that I’m better than you.”

“That’s a fucking low blow.” She said as you started walking towards the front door, “Where do you think you’re going in that?”

“To the party, remember. The world doesn’t revolve around you like you think it does.” You snapped back at her before slamming the door behind you.

____

You were waiting out the front, Leah said she would pick you up at 12:00 and with the fight you had you did not want ehr to be there before you were, to reduce the chances of you getting yelled at.

“Y/N/N,” you heard a familiar voice call out, it wasn’t Leah though, it was Beth. You walked over to her car.

“Where’s Leah?”

“Oh, she asked us to pick you up, you can stay the night if you want.”

“Fucking perfect sister my arse, yes please”

____

You woke up to an elaborate breakfast spread on the table, but Beth and Viv weren’t in sight. Walking further out into the main room, you saw a very familiar figure sitting on the couch, it was your sister.

“What are you doing here? Where are Beth and Viv?”

“They’ve gone on a walk. Can we talk?”

“About what, oh let me guess, what I wore last night was inappropriate, my behaviour was inappropriate, I shouldn’t act like that. Blah, blah, blah. I get it whatever.”

“Y/N, sit, we need to talk, I need to talk to you, I need to say something to you” you rolled your eyes at her as you begrudgingly moved to the couch and sat down.

“I’m sorry about last night. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t slightly jealous of you being at Barça, or of Alexia for getting to spend everyday with you. I miss you and I’m sorry, and I was wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should’ve acted how you did, you shouldn’t have snapped.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever” you said with a slight huff, hoping to push her off.

“What?” She replied to you clearly frustrated as she leant back into the couch crossing her arms.

“No one has thought to consider how I actually feel about it, I constantly get asked something surrounding whether I’m having fun at Barça, not how I am finding it, whether I’m coping or not. No one has stopped to think that maybe this is more pressure than I needed, no one has bothered to check that the pressure isn't getting to me. Everyone now expects me to be some sort of goal machine, they expect me to be on a level most experienced players aren’t, they expect me to be some sort of God.” You took deep shaky breath, feeling your lower eyelids droop from the weight of your building tears, before you continued “You haven’t, my own sister hasn’t even, thought about whether I’m coping mentally let alone asking me. You know not once has any single one of you checked in on how I am going with my eating, something you all single handley promised me, Sam has though. And yeah sure I’m having fun but you know how much pressure there is? To improve. To show the world, to show you, to show the national team, to show Arsenal that this was the right choice, to show Barça I was worth the money. I feel like I need to score to get your validity, I constantly feel like I have to show you I am a good player, show you it’s not just because I’m your little sister, and can be moulded into the next generation you. I have yet to show you, to make you believe I am a good player, I deserve it, I deserve it all and I don’t have your name, your name isn’t what is getting me through, its my name, our name, our family name. I constantly am trying to get your approval, I constantly try to not disappoint you but no matter what I do it doesnt work. It just makes you more ashamed of me, and makes you more disappointed with me.” At this point tears were streaming down your face, Leah moved over to sit next to you, pulling you into her lap for a hug.

“I’m so sorry bug, I know I haven't been the best sister, I am really really sorry.” She said as a few tears escaped her eyes.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

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Little Backstabber

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader

Warning: Angst, angst just pure angst, some fluff, Max is a Toto apologist, the reader is just hurting, Max has no respect for that

Requested: Yes/No

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.3K

A/N: Hahahahaha I’m sorry (not really)

Part 1: Little Traitor

Pt.3 Little Heartbreaker

Breaking News: Max Verstappen and Y/N Wolff Announce Their Engagement

Toto stares out the window as Susie reads the newspaper out loud during breakfast. Laying the newspaper down, she gazes at her husband as he doesn't say a word, not even turning to acknowledge what she has read.

"Toto, maybe tell her how happy you are for her?" Susie mumbles over her coffee cup, which has his eyes cut to her.

"I called my daughter a slut; she doesn't want to hear from me. But, can you?" He asks, laying his glasses down as he rubs his eyes.

"No, I will not." Susie snips, sitting her cup down harshly.

He just nods, not preaching the topic anymore since it's been a strain between them.

"Y/n? Angel? Where are you?" Max yells, seeing your boxes piled up in his place, but it doesn't make him angry; pride and other cavemen's feelings cover his mind as he stops seeing you in the kitchen.

You danced in the kitchen wearing a Redbull shirt and dark blue panties, clearly, nothing else. Hair is thrown up, and you are just enjoying yourself.

"God, I love you." He whispers, still not letting you know he is home. Home. It was weird for you to call this place home, but it felt right.

You spin around but stop halfway to seeing the figure and scream.

Max laughs, which calms you down immediately, knowing it is your fiance and not some stranger. You hold your chest, trying to calm down as he just reduces to giggles walking up to you, pulling your hands gently. You let him pull your body into his, both bodies molding perfectly in the hug as he whispers comforting words.

"You scared me." You laugh, rubbing his back as his chest shakes yours with his laugh again.

"Oh het spijt me, zat gewoon naar mijn bloedmooie verloofde te staren." (Oh I'm sorry, was just staring at my gorgeous fiancee) He laughs making you slap his chest.

You've started to perfect your Dutch after Max proposed to you; you had always spoken Dutch, but not comfortably, and now you could converse with him.

"The press released our engagement announcement today. It's in the newspapers." He mumbles, leaning back slightly to kiss your forehead.

"Yes, I know. Susie sent her congratulations." Your tone sour.

After everything with your father, you refused to go anywhere near Mercedes, even keeping away from Lewis and Geroge, who sided with your father. Your stepmother tried her best, but you didn't want to talk to them, much less think about them. Max makes a noise but doesn't say anything. There have been multiple arguments about your family and what to do regarding the wedding. You didn't want them there, no invitations or anything. Why should people who constantly let you down throughout your life be welcomed to the day of embracing your new one?

"Don't, Max." You noted the noise and pulled away from him, returning to the counter and fixing lunch for the both of you.

"I just......he's your father. He should be there when we're married." He groans, pulling his hair slightly with annoyance.

"No." Is all you say, making Max drop the conversation and look over your shoulder at what you're preparing. He smiles, seeing the potatoes, onion, carrot, and cabbage beside the smoked sausages.

"You're making Stamppot?" He asks, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder, able to see the tension fade away.

"Yes, it's slightly chilly out, and I figured it'd be good and healthy since you can't eat certain foods." You mumble, trying to get around your irritation with Max.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, touching your wrist and stopping you from chopping the cabbage.

"Just, why can't you understand? You were able to work out your issues with your father, but mine? I can't. So stop." You pull your wrist away from his fingers and continue chopping the cabbage.

Max nods his head and walks away, heading to his Sim. Hearing his footsteps enter the den, you drop your head and stare at the gorgeous ring on your finger. It's a stunning natural blue sapphire with a daisy oval shape, little diamonds aline it, with a gold band holding it all together. Max had the ring specially crafted for you; he had the idea of the ring for a while now. He knew you weren't big on diamonds, so he set on a sapphire. Cliche, but he picked one closest to the RB color, a final stamp to show people that you were his and you weren't going anywhere.

You loved the ring, Max, and your little life together. It terrified you that if your father came back into your life, to your wedding. He'd ruin it all. Shaking off the evil thoughts, you get back to cooking the lunch. Time passes with you cooking and listening to Max curse the Sim, potting the Stamppot. You gently carry Max's bowel to him and sit it on the desk.

Max pauses it immediately and turns around in his chair, looking up at you; from the look on his face, he clearly has something to say.

"If it's about my father, keep it to yourself." You warn, Max automatically turning back around to the Sim and hitting play.

"I think you'll regret it." Max mumbles, but you ignore the comment and head to the bedroom sitting on the bed.

You reach under the bed, pull out this little black box, and open it, your father and your smiling face greeting you. You kept all your childhood pictures of your father or postcards from when he was traveling around the world. Each one had his familiar writing on the back, each word etched into your brain. Each praise, love, how much he loved you, missed you, couldn't wait to see you. Where did it all go wrong? Why did he leave you? Why weren't you worthy or made him proud enough? Why?

Swallowing the tears, you put the lid back on and slide it back under the bed. Max stands at the cracked door, watching you hide the box, the one you thought he knew nothing of. He knew your father should be at the wedding, he knew that's what you wanted, but you couldn't see past your anger and hurt. Max understood, but he knew the best for the both of you would be inviting Toto to the wedding.

Stepping away from the door, he grabs his phone and pulls up Toto's number. Don't ask why he has it. He just does.

You're invited to the wedding, don't fuck up this opportunity; see you on July 1st at 7 pm at Hotel de Paris.

Max hits sent and watches as the text is read automatically. The 3 bubbles pop up and then go away. This continues for about 15 minutes until the text returns, making Max scuff slightly, but glad to see Toto answered.

Thank you for the invite, we'll be there.

Clearly, Suise was helping the man answer the text, but in the end, Toto gave his curt answer, and that was that. Max wasn't going to tell you what he had done, but he knew that you'd come around in time for the wedding and invite Toto and Suise, but it was his secret for now. Of course, telling Toto you had no idea he was invited doesn't occur to him, but he'll worry about that later.

"Baby?" Max yells down the hall, and you emerge quickly, worried something is wrong.

"What?" You ask, looking around the apartment, ready for an issue, but all he sees is Max sitting on the couch.

"I apologize. I know the relationship with your father isn't like mine, and I should leave it be, and I will. No more talk about it. I'll let you go at your own pace. But just know, if we have kids, he needs a chance, and that's all I'm saying on the topic." Max sighs, catching his breath from his little rant.

"I love you." You whisper, walking over and kissing him. Max smiles and pulls you down, having you lay on top of him.

At this moment, everything was perfect, until 4 weeks later.

You're walking home when you see a present sitting at your door, you weren't expecting a package so you look at the address and see it was from Susie. Sighing, you lean down and pick it up. Shocked by the weight, you stumble into the place and set it on the coffee table. Opening the box, you pull out the brown paper and freeze, seeing what is in the box.

There was a transparent glass collage of you and Max lined with your favorite flowers, and on the bottom were gold words engraved.

If I were the moon, I would want you to be my night

You stare at the words, knowing those words deeply. Your father always wrote quotes on the back of your postcards. This was the last quote he wrote you before it all fell apart. You pick up one of the smaller boxes with shaky hands and open it. You can't help the tears that start to fall.

It was this small tiara, but not any tiara. It was a baroque crystal pearl tiara with very two rows of diamonds; on the top, pearls sat on top. It was gorgeous, but you felt your inner child's heartbreak. He remembered. When you were younger, you and your father walked past this old antique boutique in the front window and sat this same tiara; it was crazy expensive. You didn't even tell Toto that you wanted the tiara; you just stared at it and then kept walking down the street. But he did remember, after dropping you off at your mother's, he circled back and bought it. He kept it for the day you'd get married and thought he would hand it to you in person, telling you how much he loved you and was proud of the woman you've become, but instead.....he had to send it to you through a box.

Sitting down, you grab the last box, opening it as a watch for Max. On the back was the first date you two ever had. But, the inscription was in Toto's handwriting. How he knew it that date was beyond your knowledge. Something catches your eye, making you sit the watch down to pick it up. It was a card.

Opening the card, you scan the words, but one sentence catches your attention.

Thank you for the invitation, we can't wait to see you and Y/n tie the knot. Much love from Susie and Toto

You stare at the words before they dawn on you. Max. He invited them. After you told him you didn't want them there, he still asked them and did it without notifying you. Time passed by you, and nothing made you move until you heard Max's keys in the door.

"Hey love, I'm home!" Max called, having a great day. He couldn't wait to see you.

Walking into the living room, he smiles brightly seeing you but stops seeing the emotionless look on your face. He looks at the box and then back to you before you slam the card down, finally looking at him.

"You bastard." You whisper, shaking your head. You feel this hot rage boiling inside you, but your throat gets tighter and tighter with each passing of time.

"He's your father." He whispers, knowing what the box means. Toto must've sent a gift or something and probably told you on a card that he was invited.

"He LEFT ME!" You scream, moving away from the box to stand before Max.

"You both left each other! Why can't you see that he's been trying!" Max snaps, tired of this back-and-forth argument.

"I was 14. What do you want from me, Max? He was the adult; he should've tried. It's not my job!" You yell, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

"When he reached out to you, we were 16, we had just had our first date, and he called you. You didn't answer the phone and said you'd call him back. But you never did. That showed him you didn't care anymore. Why would he try with someone who didn't even try either." Max argues. This shocks you. How could someone who not even 6 months ago defend you against your father was now being his most prominent advocate.

"Be..because I was a kid." You retort, lost for words.

"See, you can't tell me why you're still angry at him. We're adults, Y/n, let the past be the past." Max sighs, running his fingers through his hair before reaching for you.

You pull away from his reach; hurt and rejection shatter Max's face as he slowly drops his arms. You take a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring. Max watches, panic overtaking any sense he has.

"Don't, don't do this." He whispers, staring at the ring on your finger.

"How can I marry someone who doesn't respect my wishes, someone who defends the man who called me a slut. The person who made me feel less of myself my entire life, and here the person who is supposed to protect, stand by me, and love me, defends them. How can I marry you after this?" You ask, pulling the ring off.

"No, please, Y/n, don't." Max breaks. He can't keep it together anymore as he watches you sit the ring before him. Tears slide down his face as he watches you grab your shoes and keys.

"Don't leave me, don't please. Not again." He whispers, grabbing you as you try to hide your own tears.

"You betrayed me." You whisper, pulling yourself out of his hold and walking out the door. As you close the door, all you hear is a scream and glass shattering as you walk away from the love of your life.

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itsmealaiah · 2 months

Text

"You're everything"

TW: arguing, angst into smut, p in v, unprotected sex, heidi doesn't exist in this au, reader is in her thirties, she/her pronouns, yelling, AFAB reader, soft sex/ make up sex

Request: sorry for requesting againnn but ur such a good writer can u do a oneshot of tom and y/n fighting over something (your choice) and they get into a really heated argument and they r screaming and being really mean and then he pushes her against the wall and they fuckkk <33 (and can the angst be long pleasee and ty)

Rating: 18+, mdni

WC: 1.5k

Got a good amount of reqs done so far 🤭

t's funny how the tiniest of moments can escalate into something so consuming, so all-encompassing that it feels like the entire world has been reduced to this single, tiny room. The air is thick with anger, with frustration and hurt, and it was like you were both drowning in it, struggling to keep your heads above water. Your voice cracks as you shout at him, your hands curling into fists at your sides, the tears streaming down your face unchecked as you feel your anger rising, bubbling up inside you until you can't contain it anymore.

You don't even realize what's happening when he pushes you back against the wall, your back hitting the cold, unforgiving surface with a painful thud. You gasp, feeling the air whoosh out of your lungs as your head spins from the impact. His body is pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged in your ear, his hands gripping your wrists so tightly it hurts. It's almost as if he's trying to control you, to make you stop fighting, to make you be quiet. But you can't. You won't. Not until you've said everything you need to say.

"You don't get it, do you?" you choke out, feeling a mixture of anger and hurt surge through you. "You never have. I'm not just some possession you can use and throw away when you're done. I'm a person, Tom. With feelings, with dreams, with a life."

He freezes, his body tensing against yours as if he's trying to decide what to do next. His grip on your wrists loosens just enough for you to wiggle your hands free, but you don't move them far, keeping them close to your sides. You're not done yet.

"You think you can just push me around and I'll just take it? That I'll just stay here and be your little toy?" you snap, anger coursing through you like wildfire. "Well, I won't. I deserve better than this."

The words seem to hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You can feel the tension building, see it mirrored in the set of his jaw, the way his breath comes quick and shallow. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the anger seems to drain out of you, leaving you feeling drained and exhausted. You close your eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"I just wanted you to see things from my perspective," you whisper. "I just wanted you to understand."

He takes a step back, his eyes searching your face as if trying to read something in your expression. Then, slowly, he reaches out and cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry I've been such an asshole."

The apology catches you off guard, and for a moment you're not sure how to respond. You feel a tiny flicker of hope inside you, but you're still hurt, still angry. You want to believe him, to trust that he means it, but it's hard. "It's not enough to just say you're sorry," you whisper, looking away from him. "You have to show me."

He lets out a shaky breath, his grip on your cheek tightening for a moment before he forces himself to relax. "I know," he says softly. "I know I have a lot of making up to do."

You turn your head back to look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of sincerity. And then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It's not passionate, not demanding, but rather a gentle, almost reverent touch that makes your heart ache. When he pulls back, he looks at you with a newfound determination that you've never seen before.

"I love you," he says simply. "And I'm not going to let anything or anyone come between us again. I'm going to prove it to you."

He pulls you closer, his body fitting against yours as if they were made to be together. His lips find yours again, this time with more passion, more need. You feel the heat of his skin against yours, the hardness of his chest pressed against your breasts. He kisses you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours, his hands roaming over your back, your hips, your bottom, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, and you feel yourself melting into him, giving in to the desire that's been building between you. He steps back, breaking the kiss, and looks down at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and filled with longing. "Come here" he whispers. "I want to show you how much I love you."

You nod, your heart pounding in anticipation, and he leads you over to the bed. The sheets are cool against your skin as you crawl underneath, and Tom follows, slipping in beside you. He trails his fingers down your arm, over your ribs, and across your stomach, his touch light and featherlike. He leans in to kiss your neck, his lips warm and soft against your skin.

His hand finds your breast, cupping it gently through your shirt, and you gasp, arching your back into his touch. He groans, his lips moving to your ear, and then his hand is taking off your shirt, revealing your breast to the cool air. He kisses and nibbles at your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, and you cry out, your hips bucking off the bed.

His hand moves down, unbuttoning your pants, pushing them down over your hips. He kicks them off, and then he's back between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness. He presses two fingers inside you, stretching you, and you cry out, wrapping your legs around his hips. He begins to move his fingers, matching their rhythm to his thrusts, and you lose yourself in the sensation, feeling your body tighten around him.

You can feel him hard against your leg, and you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. You reach down, unbuckling his belt, and then undoing his pants, pushing them down his hips. He kicks them off, and his erection springs free, bobbing eagerly before you. You guide him to your entrance, and he pushes in slowly, groaning as he fills you. His skin is hot and smooth against yours, and he moves slowly at first, letting you adjust to his size.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire, and begins to move his hips, matching his rhythm to yours. You arch your back, meeting each thrust, your nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses you, his lips warm and demanding, and you can feel your body tightening around him, the sensation building inside you.

He moves faster now, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his skin flushed. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and he obeys, groaning as he pushes himself all the way inside. You feel so full, so connected to him, and the sensation is exquisite. Your hips move in time with his, your body meeting his in a perfect dance of desire.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, kissing your neck. "I never get tired of looking at you." His hands move up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently, and he rolls your nipples between his thumbs. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you arch your back, pressing yourself against his touch.

The rhythm between your bodies becomes even more intense, and you feel yourself starting to lose control. Your orgasm builds, coiling tightly in your core, and you know it's only a matter of time before you surrender to it. Tom's thrusts become harder, faster, and you can feel the tension building inside him as well.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. His free hand moves up to cup your cheek, stroking your skin with such tenderness that it sends shivers down your spine. You arch your back off the bed, feeling so close to the edge, and he follows your lead, thrusting deeper still.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "I've loved you since the first moment I saw you." The words send a wave of warmth through your body, and you cling to him, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. His hips move faster, his movements growing more urgent as he approaches his climax.

You can feel the heat building between your legs, the tension building in your core, and you know that you're about to lose control. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails in just enough to leave a mark, and with a cry that echoes through the room, you let go, letting your orgasm wash over you in a wave of pleasure.

Your body tenses and convulses around him, and he follows you over the edge, groaning her name as he comes, filling you completely. His thrusts slow, and he collapses on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together. He rolls off you, panting, and looks down at you with a mixture of love and exhaustion in his eyes.

"good night schatzi, i love you"

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers @il0vet0mk4ulitz

comment to be tagged 💙

also if u see ur user in here and it's not usually in my taglist, it's bc its ur req 💙

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz angst #tokiohotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x y/n #itsmealaiah

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thisismeracing · 8 months

Text

The phantom of miscommunication | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!plussize!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.8k ― Warnings: not proofread; suggestive content; angst with a happy ending; mentions of an argument. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. how will their love beat their insecurities? ― A/n: I took forever to finish this request, but I hope the waiting was worth it and I did the request justice 🤍.

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

You often hear about loving someone being easy and natural, a fall that you would pray the other catch you from. Turns out, as Yn discovered with Lewis, it feels natural, and she’s sure he’ll be there to catch her if she falls, but easy? Love wasn’t that easy. Or life was hard with it.

That’s at least how it feels for her while she finishes getting ready for the last performance of her Broadway play. Alone. She’s ditching her favorite dress because it reminds her of Lewis and how he would look smug whenever she wore it because she would need his help to zip her up. Lewis loved being needed. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that meant he loved to be helpful to those he cherished. Loved to hear their joyful tones while they thanked him, or the warm arms around his body, and in her case, the cold lips against his.

Lewis loved loudly.

Maybe that’s why they ended up fighting that last week. Because if he loved being helpful and seeing others happy, how could he not cancel a meeting to watch her finish the play she spent months traveling around overseas?

Yn loved silently.

It was as if she liked to feel him slide beside her in bed at night, rather than hear the noise of the door closing, and knowing he would be there. The silence that led to the moment was deeply appreciated by her. And her love somehow worked similarly. She wouldn’t ask more than twice for something she wanted, something important, something someone who loves her should know. To her, it was enough her dad showed up, he didn’t need to tell her she did a great job, no words of affirmation or bouquet of flowers and gifts whatsoever. Just their presence. And that was what Yn was expecting from Lewis: his presence.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she quickly wiped it before grabbing her bag and keys and leaving her house, making her way to one of her favorite cafes. There was something so unique, it mundane on finishing her tour home. Just minutes away from the house she shared with Lewis. A quick walk to her favorite café. The view of a grey, yet very beautiful London being her company.

Yn goes about her day doing most things on the automatic mode. Sometimes, she would think about how she always dreamt of this day when she was just younger. Starting on Broadway as a black girl was a hard task, that, in her case, was two times harder because she was also a plus-size actress. Some of the producers would reduce her to her weight, her skin tone, or just about anything, but her talent. She had to prove herself over and over until she finally became a phenomenon in the country and then, years ahead, she started to have a significant international impact. That’s when she met Lewis. She had traced most of her career, she had a name, and so did he, and maybe that was the first thing that brought them closer: the fact that it seemed as if everyone was attentively watching over them not because they wanted to appreciate the work they put on, but because they needed them to do something wrong, anything wrong, just so this wrongdoing could be talked about more than the rights.

It was hard.

And having Lewis there to share this burden made it a bit lighter.

Having him there to love her, and recognize her more than anyone ever would, was heartwarming. Being someone else’s first pick felt amazing. And though the ups and downs of their careers existed, they always faced it together. Just like they shared their victories together too. That’s why it felt so wrong not having him on her Musical ending show. He shared the struggles of her waking up early, and going late to bed just so she could grab each emotion needed, and memorize all the lines. She was the leading actress. The main start. Yet, she missed having him be illuminated by her light.

Truth is, Yn felt sad without Lewis, not that her happiness depended on him showing up, but they had created those small traditions. He would always be on the final stops of her shows. She would always make it to his most expected races.

As the saying goes, a dream you dream by yourself is just a dream, but a shared one is a reality. It’s hard to create a reality while in a long-distance, or mostly long-distance, relationship. You gotta be ten times more attentive and understanding. So when Lewis told her he had to make it to an interview before preparing for his race weekend without even waiting for her response, it did not feel like an understanding relationship, he, for the first time, did not seem attentive. And that hurt.

“But, love, why can’t you reschedule your interview for Friday after free practice? Or maybe even Saturday after qualy?” Yn asked, a pout on her lips, while Lewis was finishing packing his suitcase.

He sighed, “You know very well the rush after those two, Yn.”

Fair enough, “Well, then do it online! That way you could do it right before my play, and then come to the Teather after. It’s not that far from our house, you sure can make it.” She was full of solutions, to a problem that felt like Lewis himself created.

When his eyes found hers, determination written all over it, he didn’t even have to open his lips and tell her an audible “no”, she already knew, so she tried to practice healthy communication. “Look, Lew, it’s just that this is our last stop and they were okay with it being in London when most of the time it happens somewhere in the USA. You know how this city is important to me, and this play, it’s just- I can’t help but feel like you’ve been lacking in terms of support lately.”

The British finally stopped packing, dropping his shirt inside the suitcase, and leaving with a quick glance towards Yn, mumbling how he didn’t want to fight.

“But I want you to fight with me. Fight for me!” She trailed behind him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Yn!” he snapped, and before he could apologize or backtrack she nodded, leaving the room. Love should never feel forced. She shouldn’t have to ask for it.

The door slammed behind her as she made her way to the Teather to bury her head in work, sweat the hurt away, dance, and sing until the energy made her feel comfort.

“Yn?” one of her colleagues asked, snapping Yn out of her memories. “They’re calling us for one last rehearsal before the show.”

She nodded and glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message, either an apology or a good luck one, anything that showed that he remembered, but there was nothing. Her shoulders slumped lightly and she made her way to the stage, the audience still deserved the best ending show, she deserved the best ending show.

So that was exactly what happened: Yn shined along with the whole crew. They sang, danced, smiled, and even cried after the curtains opened to an outstanding ovation from the audience. That’s when Yn’s eyes found his, right on the front row, a bouquet of flowers on his seat, one of his shy grins, while he stood clapping the most beautiful performance he had ever seen Yn deliver.

Lewis was there.

Lewis wasn’t in an interview on the other side of the world.

He was standing there.

Smiling.

Clapping.

Proudly watching.

And when her lips quirked up slightly he nodded as if knowing they still had to talk, but for now, he took the right decision.

When the curtains closed again and Yn made the walk to her dressing room, she wasn’t surprised to find Lewis there, “hey,” she said, closing the door behind her and staying glued to the wooden.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lewis started. “Look, I’m-”

“Can we save all the headaches and solutions for when we get home?” She suggested, still a bit breathless from the play. “That is if you’re coming home tonight. Or are you flying to do the interview late?”

There was a sad smile on Lewis's plush lips, “I’m home, with you.”

A breath of fresh air got into Lewis’ lungs when he noticed her shoulders relax with the news. She was relieved he would be home. She was happy to have him around. It wasn’t too late.

“And I agree on saving the deep talk to when we get home, but I want to say I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t support you or love you enough to reschedule and work my way around my things. You’re my treasure, love. And I’ve been lacking lately, I’ve been stressed, and with my head all over the place, but I’ll get better. I promise,” and a Hamilton promise would always come true. You could count on that.

Yn bit her lips, trying to hold back the tears, but they fell around her face like waterfalls just the same, and Lewis was in front of her in the blink of an eye, fingers brushing the wet splotches, lips kissing her delicate skin.

“I’m sorry, I am so so sorry,” he whispered painly.

“I was so terrified we were about to get on a dead-end road. That you would stop showing up for my plays, and-”

“Sweetheart, breathe,” he held her face between his soft palms and Yn tried to even her breath with his. “I’m here, I’m always going to be here. You have my endless support and undying love, you can count on that.” He was a runner, one of the fastest drivers on the grid, but he could never run away from her and what she made him feel. What he could do was beat the phantom of miscommunication to the finishing line, get there first, say he’s sorry before it’s too late, and work so that this ghost won’t ever bother their relationship again.

Yn nodded, gulping a bit more of air, and finally crashing her body on his in a tight hug. Lewis kissed her hair and found her lips with his, tasting their own tears and love. Yn mumbled how sorry she was for not being patient enough, and Lewis shook his head, kissing her again.

“I’m the sorry one, and I’m gonna make it up to it,” he explained.

Yn arched her brows, looking into his honey eyes, “I know just the way you can express how sorry you are,” she smirked, undoing the bow for her white dress and making it cascade around her ankles.

And Lewis did exactly that.

He whispered apologies and love promises in her ear, the sound of a symphony with her body banging against the door. That was their private play. Their favorite one.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked it! I hope your Friday is amazing! Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment if you can, it means a lot and it usually inspires me to write more *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @iloveyou3000morgan @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @scorpiobleue @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @p8dris @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @soph1644 @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar

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jazzfordshire · 1 year

Note

Oooooh, that paladin/new god post... for a SuperCorp AU, which would be which? My first inclination is divine Lena and paladin Kara, but I think an argument can be made for the other way around.

I think either could totally argued, but Paladin Kara is too good for me not to kind of spiral and write Lena as the goddess of Death so!!!! This isn’t much like the original post prompt but it’s where my brain went 🤷‍♀️

As one cursed with eternal life, it was only a matter of time before Death tried to come for Kara.

She sees the goddess for the first time as she’s sitting on a fallen tree, trying to dig a knife out of her back. She’d intervened in a roadside robbery out of pure instinct more than anything else – she prefers to keep to herself, for the most part, and has done so for years beyond counting – and she hadn’t been expecting this band of brigands to have a fourth member hidden in the woods. He’d caught her by surprise. Leading to her current predicament. She hadn’t even noticed the blade sticking out from between her shoulders until after she’d sent the thieves running and the victims on their merry way, and now it’s stubbornly lodged in a place she can’t reach.

Death stands in the shadows. Her dress is (unsurprisingly) black, her long dark hair framing a face Kara can’t quite see. She reminds Kara of the night. A foreign concept, here - the sun of this world never moves from the centre of the sky. Always beaming straight down. It focuses on this half of the planet, leaving the other half dark and dead rather than simply deigning to set for half the day to share its light. It leaves the world’s denizens thinking the globe is flat. A ridiculous notion.

The god of the sun had been benevolent on Kara’s world. Not here.

“I’ve been watching you,” the goddess says. Her voice echoes, clouds around Kara’s senses like a flock of ravens. “You’ve walked this earth for 120 years and haven’t aged a day. You should be dead. Why is your name not on my list?”

“I’m not of this earth,” Kara says distractedly. The voice should send shivers down her spine, but as her spine is currently being scraped by sharp iron she has bigger fish to fry at the moment.

“That much I do know,” Death says coldly. “Your gods are dead.”

The reminder makes Kara’s chest ache. An echo of her dead planet, more dead even than the darkened half of this one. Reduced to rubble. But she smiles through it.

“They are.”

“That shouldn’t mean you can evade death. In any realm.”

“Evade is a funny word for being kept from something,” Kara says, gritting her teeth as her fingers brush the knife’s handle without grasping it. Every time she twists her arm to do it, it sends a shot of pure pain through her. “Could you maybe help me with this?”

“You want to die?” Death asks. Her voice is changed, now – the smoky effect drops, as if it was an affectation interrupted by her shock.

“Would love to, actually.”

“So, how -”

“Ask your brother,” Kara says cheerfully. She knows the pantheon of this world almost as well as her own, now. Learned that hard lesson when she arrived here alone, on this world where the sun never sets. She knows the familial ties that bind the gods. There were many once, one for every little thing one might need to pray for, but now there are but two. Lex, the sun god who provides life, and his unnamed sister the goddess of Death.

Death scoffs. “What does my brother have to do with this?”

“He cursed me,” Kara says, finally turning in her frustration to a nearby tree. Bracing for pain she rubs her back against it, strafing until bark hits blade and the pressure slides the knife free. The wave of pain eases into relief as soon as it’s gone, and in moments the wound has stitched itself up. “With eternal life. Cursed never to see my dead family in the afterlife. Clever, right?”

“That’s not possible,” Death says slowly. “He can’t supersede my domain.”

“Well, he has,” Kara says, nodding her head half-respectfully in Death’s direction before gathering up her things and heading back to the road. She has nowhere in particular to be, but walking gives her a sense of purpose even so. “So take it up with him.”

The goddess disappears in a dramatic wave of black smoke. And that, Kara thinks, is the end of that.

Kara meets the goddess of death again 3 years later. She’s busy putting out a house fire, one that might have overtaken the entire village if left to grow – she’s the only one braving the flames when everyone else has run to safety. The fire sears her palms, leaves shiny red welts that disappear the moment they see the rays of the sun, but it hardly registers as pain anymore. She’s grown used to it in the last few years.

Saving people in need means a lot of injury.

When the flames are dampened and she’s left pouring water on the cinders, she moves a crooked pile of rubble to find the dark goddess sitting with graceful poise on the charred remains of a wooden table. Even in the eternal sunshine, darkness sits around her like a heavy cloak.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kara says. She brushes the ash from her hands, gesturing at her soot-stained face. “Sorry about the mess.”

“He shouldn’t be able to do this,” Death says. Kara can detect none of the echoing dramatics her voice held during their last meeting – now her tone is clear and sharp. Low and a little raspy, maybe, but not in an unpleasant way. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Shouldn’t, but did,” Kara says, shrugging and moving to pass around the table. “If you’ll excuse me?”

The goddess holds out a hand, and Kara’s way is blocked by a dark cloud of energy. Kara sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do,” Kara says, with a little more steel to her voice. “I’d love to help you out and go into the great unknown or whatever it is that you do, but I can’t die. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Why did he curse you?” Death asks.

“Because he is the great Lord of the sun on this world, and honouring Rao dishonours him,” Kara replies heavily, leaning against a very unsteady beam. It’s hot against the skin of her arm. “He took offence to worship being given to another when I first arrived here. Even a dead god.”

The goddess is quiet. Embers crackle and settle around them - the orange glow lights the angles in her face through her cloak of shadow, though the details are still obscured.

“Did you know that the sun moves on most worlds?” Kara says. The goddess doesn’t move. “Rao didn’t control the sun. He was the sun. He moved through the day to cover the whole planet. There’s no night-time, here.”

“Yes,” Death says softly. “My brother likes to be the centre of everyone’s sky.”

“Except the dark side of the planet.”

Death doesn’t answer for a time. Shadows curl around her, licking at the surface of the table like dark flames.

“Most would covet eternal life, you know,” Death finally says. Her voice is curious. “Most hate death as a very concept. Hate me.”

Kara folds her arms. She looks directly at Death, focused on where her eyes should be.

“I’m not most.”

After a beat the goddess disappears, leaving Kara alone in the ashes.

After that day, Kara can almost feel the goddess watching her every time she survives something that should kill a mortal. Every time she heals a fatal wound, or lets another birthday pass her by without a sign of age. But for years the goddess leaves her alone. It’s another 21 before Kara sees the goddess of death again.

This time, Kara is almost sure she’s finally managed it. She dove deep to pull someone from the remains of a shipwreck, and after sending them to the surface for rescue she stayed underwater. Letting her air run out slowly, feeling her lungs fill with seawater. Choking in the dark. Blackness creeping in, the world getting fuzzy, her family’s faces swimming before her eyes as she feels the first spark of hope she’s felt in over a century -

She wakes to hot sunlight, sand under her back, and the goddess of death looking down at her from a regal seat on a beached crate of supplies. Her dark hair is framed by midday sun, her pale skin luminescent and stubbornly resisting its rays. For the first time, Kara can see the details of her face. She’s as flawless as a goddess might be expected to be, each feature carved and tying together a picture worthy of worship. And her eyes. They waver back and forth in colour, once blue and now green, like shades of the ocean reflected by different skies.

She’s beautiful. And she’s looking at Kara like she’s a stubborn puzzle-box, refusing to give up its secrets.

“Damn,” Kara says, coughing up several mouthfuls of salty water and turning over to spit them into the sand. “I came close that time, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand you.”

Kara flops back. Her lungs are burning, and she can already tell it’s going to be hell to get all this sand out of her clothes. “Yeah, I don’t understand me either.”

“You could be living a life of selfish pleasure. Endless pleasure,” Death says. There’s a crease between her brows that, in her drowning-induced delirium, Kara wants to smooth with a finger. The first hint of imperfection in her limestone face. “You could accrue wealth and fame and followers. You could live the life of a god on earth if you wanted, and yet you spend your time throwing yourself into danger for others.”

“Why not?” Kara says, sitting up and feeling each vertebrae pop back into place. “I can’t die. I can do things others can’t.”

“So instead you aim to eliminate names from my list.” The goddess doesn’t look angry. Just confused. “Today three names disappeared before I could get here.”

“I would say sorry, but I don’t like to lie,” Kara says. She brushes sand from her arms, grimacing at the knots the seawater has made in her hair.

The goddess’ lips twitch. Almost a smile. Her mouth downturns naturally - fitting, for a goddess of the saddest domain - but Kara thinks suddenly that her smile might just be life-giving. She wants to see it. It lights a fire in her she didn’t expect.

“No need to apologize,” Death says quietly. “I take no pleasure in the reaping of souls.”

Kara pauses partway through untangling her hair.

“Huh.”

“Is that surprising?” Death says. One perfect brow arches, and Kara traces its curve with her eyes.

“Well, that’s not how people speak of you.”

“Ah, yes. Death, the cruel thief of joy,” the goddess says, a thread of bitterness weaving into her words. “Waiting in the dark to snatch mortals away at the slightest provocation. Bringing woe and grief wherever she goes.”

The dark smoke that’s been mostly absent from their conversation appears again. It sweeps around Death, blurring her features like a stormcloud, and Kara leans back on her hands.

“I mean. The aesthetic isn’t exactly doing you any favours,” Kara notes.

The smoke parts. And this time, the goddess does smile. It’s almost incredulous, like she’s shocked at Kara’s gall, but Kara finds she was correct - that smile is like the first beam of moonlight after an eclipse. Something not of this world.

“No,” the goddess says, rising to her feet. The sand doesn’t touch her dress. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Her form starts to waver again. Black smoke takes over her features, sweeping across the beach. Kara scrambles to her feet. Sand sticks wetly to her back, making her hyper-aware of just how bedraggled she must look in comparison to the literal goddess she’s speaking to, but she calls out anyways.

“Wait!”

The smoke stops.

“Do you have a name?” Kara asks, hardly daring to hope for an answer. She can feel Death looking at her even with her features obscured.

“I haven’t used it in a long time.”

“No time like the present,” Kara says. The smoke billows out, sweeping across Kara’s soggy boots. Almost like a laugh. After a long pause, she answers.

“It’s…it’s Lena.”

Kara smiles.

“I’m Kara. Since my name isn’t on your list.”

Lena disappears without an acknowledgement. But Kara clings to her name. She holds it in her mouth like a sweet, lets it melt over her tongue as the last hint of the goddess’ presence disappears in the bright sunshine.

“Until next time. Lena.”

Saving people in need becomes something of a pastime. With nothing much else to do with her endless days Kara keeps travelling, helping out where she can and learning how to fight to do so more effectively. And, she finds, she’s good at it. It comes as easily to her as anything.

But sometimes, even easy things go wrong.

It isn’t often that Kara fails. But her strength has limits, even with eternal life – when the man she’s caught mid-fall on a rocky cliff slips from her grasp, there’s little she can do but watch as he hits the ground. She even falls after him, pulling herself towards him on broken legs that snap themselves back into place within moments, but there’s nothing she can do to heal his broken body.

Lena appears in her periphery as she’s holding him. His wheezing breath is starting to leave him - he’s terrified, seizing at her clothes.

“Help,” he chokes. Lena moves just into Kara’s field of vision. Not circling, but making her presence known.

“I can’t,” Kara whispers. She lays him gently on the ground, prising his hands from her tunic and stepping away, and when she finally looks at Lena she sees not satisfaction but deep, unimaginable sadness.

The moment Lena takes Kara’s place, he knows.

“No,” he moans, trying to scramble away but failing as the strength leaves his body. “No, no, please, I – I have a family, you can’t – please don’t -”

“Be at peace,” Lena says softly. A pale hand comes to rest on his wound, a soft glow emanating from her palm. Her face is set in aching empathy. “Your suffering is over. No pain will follow you here.”

The man is not at peace. He’s still terrified, hardly hearing her comforting words, but Lena says them anyways; when his spirit fades and his body goes limp, Lena stands. She doesn’t look at Kara, not directly, but nor does she disappear as Kara takes a heavy seat on a flat rock.

After a moment, Kara calls out.

“Lena?”

Lena twitches. Her hand flexes, making a fist and then relaxing again. Kara wonders if she’s heard her name called a single time since their last meeting.

“Come talk to me,” Kara says softly. She pats the spot beside her, and Lena’s eyes flicker to the movement. “Please?”

Lena comes closer, but she doesn’t sit. Her eyes are downcast. Kara wishes she would look up, so that she could see the ever-changing colour of them. She’s been thinking about it for years, now. She’s just as starkly beautiful as she was the last time they saw each other.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says quietly. Kara shrugs, trying to put aside the guilt eating away at her insides.

“Can’t save everyone.”

“And yet you still try. Doesn’t it get tiresome?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Kara says. Lena finally looks up.

“My task is enforced on me,” Lena says, her hands coming together in something close to a fidget before she seems to remember herself and stop. Her eyes are grey, today. Like the choppy steel of a stormy sea. “You do this by choice. Have you made some kind of game out of erasing names from my list?”

“I guess you could say that,” Kara shrugs. She moves over, patting the open spot beside her again. “Or maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Lena scoffs. “That’s even more absurd than defying Death.”

“And yet, here I am. Doing both.”

Lena’s face is like stone as she assesses Kara’s words. But she sits.

“You don’t get to talk to people often, do you?” Kara says. Lena has left a great deal of space between them, perching on the very edge of the rock, and Kara takes in what she can of her side profile.

“Not unless I’m bringing them to the afterlife,” Lena says. Her hands twist together again. “And in those cases, as you saw, they tend to be…”

“Afraid.”

“Or angry. Or pleading. But yes. Mostly frightened,” Lena sighs. “Everyone fears the unknown. It doesn’t really matter what I say.”

“But you still try,” Kara says. It’s something she never would have expected from Death, this well of genuine empathy for the humans she reaps, but it seems to be a fundamental part of Lena just as much as her stormy eyes or her sharp tongue.

Lena nods. “Everyone deserves comfort in their final moments. Especially if they’re gripped by fear.”

Kara’s next words come in a whisper.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Lena looks at her sharply. Her brows are knitted with disbelief, and her hands stop their twisting and instead brace on the rock.

“My brother did this to you,” Lena says. Her voice is low, but urgent as she leans towards Kara as if to persuade her. “Keeps you from seeing your family. He is the source of your curse.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you don’t seem to be your brother.”

Kara’s hand moves closer to where Lena’s rests. A few inches between them, perhaps, easily closed. Closer and closer Kara moves, towards Lena’s pale fingers, reaching –

The swirling black cloud has hidden Lena’s features before Kara can come close to touching Death’s hand.

“Lena, wait!” Kara shouts. But it’s to empty air. The goddess of death is gone.

After that day, Kara puts herself in danger perhaps a shade more than she did before in the hopes of drawing Lena out again. Sometimes Kara can feel her presence when she saves a life, a gentle smoky warmth just over her shoulder; sometimes she can almost see her as someone’s soul is leaving their body, if Kara has failed to change their fate. A faint outline. A sense of calm, even when the dying person is frightened. But no matter what Kara does Lena doesn’t materialize.

She even tries praying, which feels as silly as it must look. Lena doesn’t answer. Her absence only intensifies Kara’s fascination.

As she walks the world Kara looks for worshippers of her newly-favoured goddess, and finds few and far between. Besides the occasional murderous cult who worship a version of Death that doesn’t resemble Lena in the slightest and a single, run-down temple on a remote island hidden from human access, there’s no trace of the kind of worship given to Lena’s brother the sun-god. No festivals, no sacrifices, hardly even an acknowledgement. Only fear, and resistance against the inevitable. As if pretending death doesn’t exist will stave it off indefinitely.

Even with only three meetings, Kara feels somehow as if she knows Lena. And her erasure feels deeply unfair.

It takes 12 years for Kara to see her again. 12 years of looking for danger, saving people whose names she knows must have been on Lena’s list, stealing souls back from Death in an endless back-and-forth, until finally Kara does something drastic.

She takes her vows, and becomes Death’s only Paladin.

Hearing Lena’s voice again is like hearing the first drops of rain after a long drought.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Kara opens her eyes. She’s only halfway through her 24 hours of silent prayer in this windowless room, the last step in this holy process, and now her patron goddess herself is perched on the altar surrounded by flickering candles. Her legs are folded one over the other in a graceful cross, and her face is set in incredulity.

“Lena!” Kara breathes, grinning wide and rising from her knees. “Long time no see!”

“Death doesn’t have Paladins, Kara,” Lena says fiercely, as if Kara hasn’t greeted her at all. “Nobody walks the earth saving people in Death’s name. My brother’s Paladins seek to defy me, they don’t…they don’t worship.”

“Why not?” Kara shrugs. Her armour, a dark leather set with Death’s symbol on the breast, squeaks with her movement in the way new leather always does. Lena’s nostrils flare.

“Because it doesn’t make sense!”

“It does, though. Think about it,” Kara says, as insistent in her decision as she’s been these last two years of training. She’s had to weather the disbelief of the other Paladins here too, all training to serve the sun-god. She’s gotten more than enough practice. “I can’t die. Ever. Who’s more fitting to carry out Death’s will?”

“What are you going to do, go out and kill people indiscriminately in my name?” Lena says, waving her hands wide. The strength of her reaction makes her somehow more real than she’s ever been, even when her draped sleeves pass over the candles without catching. “What could possibly be the function of a Paladin of Death?”

“You don’t take pleasure in the reaping of souls.”

Lena pauses. Her arms fall slowly back to her sides.

“You remembered that,” she whispers.

Kara knows then with a certainty she can’t describe that she’s done the right thing. She’s tried keeping Rao in her heart, she’s tried escaping from her past, she’s tried every method available on this earth of letting Death take her. But now that she knows Death, has seen her firsthand, she’ll kneel for Lena and nobody else.

“I can be your vassal,” Kara says, lowering her voice to match Lena’s. “I can sort those who can be spared from those whose time has come. Make your job easier. Save them, or ease their passage if I need to. Soothe some of that fear.”

Lena bites at her lower lip. Her teeth are brilliantly white, the edges sharp enough to leave a mark that fades slowly.

“It would defy my brother,” Lena admits. “He’s the one who gave me this task. I’m not meant to deviate.”

“Who better to do that, too?”

Lena is silent. Kara approaches her, trying to absorb her every perfect feature while she can – the curve of her brow, the shape of her sharp jaw framing her mouth. The slight underbite that shines through as she seems to chew on the inside of her cheek.

Kara reaches out a hand.

Lena slides off the altar, snatching her arm away before Kara can get close. “No - you can’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

Lena sidesteps, sliding past Kara and backing up until her back hits the wall. “Mortals can’t touch the gods. You’ll burn. It’ll -”

“Kill me?” Kara grins. She removes her gauntlet, dropping it to the flagstones. “I’d welcome it.”

Again, slowly, she reaches for Lena’s hand. And slowly Lena relaxes her arm until finally, Kara’s fingers wrap around her bare wrist.

Lena’s skin is like ice. It’s cold enough that it might burn, like Lena said, if Kara wasn’t cursed. But it doesn’t. Kara feels more alive than she’s felt in decades, just from a simple touch. Wonderfully alive. Joyously alive. Lena’s intake of breath is sharp enough to cut.

“See?” Kara says lowly. “My curse is good for something.”

“You’re…”

Kara’s free hand joins the first. She cups both of them around Lena’s, feeling their shape; Lena’s long, elegant fingers curl into themselves in the cradle of Kara’s palms, their cold receding. Kara keeps her voice low.

“What am I?”

Lena swallows. Kara watches her throat bob, her lips parting to show a flash of her pink tongue.

“Warm,” Lena murmurs. “Like the sun. I haven’t felt warmth in…a long time.”

Kara is close to her. So close that she can see the shifting sea colours in Lena’s eyes even in the dim candlelight. Carefully, Kara sinks to her knees with Lena’s hands still cradled in her own. She opens up her fingers so that she can press her forehead to Lena’s palms, and she finds that the coldness has left them. They’re almost hot, now.

“Let me serve you, Lena,” Kara whispers, like the endless prayers she’s been whispering since she was locked in this room. “Please.”

Lena’s fingers move. For a moment Kara thinks she might push her away. But instead they relax, and press against the top of Kara’s head.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” Lena says. But there’s wonder in her voice. Happiness, even. And when she disappears in her usual cloud of smoke, the smoke drifts over Kara. She breathes it in, feeling it full her lungs, and on the first breath she feels it changing her.

Lena smells of fresh earth. Of fallen leaves, crisp and decomposing in a fragrant autumn. The tangy smoke of a doused fire.

She smells like the cool air of night.

When she smoke leaves her, Kara feels different. Unimaginably different. Envigorated. The pew she uses to pull herself to her feet cracks and splits under her hand with hardly any effort, and when she flexes her shoulders – feeling a new strength in them, one she can’t wait to explore – she feels something else there.

Two black, feathered wings unfurl from her back, filling the room with fragrant shadow.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #goddess/paladin au #tw: death #tw: suicide mention #is it cliche? yes #has it been done before? probably #did i have fun writing it anyways? absolutely!#might get cheeky and write it out into a fic who knows

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i-heart-hxh · 5 months

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is Killua truly jealous of Palm?

Yes, I absolutely think he is!

It's never explicitly stated, but the subtext is so in your face in a few different ways that it's essentially not even subtext any more.

Togashi could have chosen so many different ways to portray the way Killua feels about the Gon/Palm date subplot, but making it clear over and over again how bothered Killua is by the whole situation absolutely reads as jealousy, especially within the larger context of the arc. Look at these especially!

Togashi puts so much emphasis on Killua's expressions and distress throughout the whole subplot. Of course it's partly intended to be comedic, but this situation with Gon and Palm does have serious emotional weight for Killua as well--pulling out the needle, his breakdown in front of Palm, what she ends up saying to him after that, etc. I do think the exaggerated and extreme ways Togashi expresses Killua's feelings are intended to make the audience go, "Oh, he's really jealous, isn't he?"

People can argue Killua's reactions are just because of who Gon is on a date with (someone unhinged/violent and much older than him), or that it's just "concern" about Gon because of his nen situation, and those are both definitely aspects of what's going on here--but to reduce it down to only that ignores those deeper emotional impacts it has on Killua. I think the protectiveness aspect is something Killua uses to veil some of the other things he's feeling about it even though of course he is legitimately protective of Gon in this situation (and he has good reasons to be so). I also think Togashi himself uses the ambiguity to his advantage here, because if he put in romantic jealousy that was any clearer, would Jump allow it?

The way Killua goes immediately from the topic of going on dates/being freaked out about the prospect of Gon having been on dates before to feeling heartbroken because he wants to be with Gon forever the next panel is telling, in my opinion... (The English translation is a little vague, seems like it was intentionally toned down. In the original Japanese version he says he wanted to be with Gon forever.)

Here's a post where @tjlnn22 and I discuss this weightlifting scene in more detail.

I firmly believe that a big part of Palm's role as a character is to get the audience to question the nature of Killua's feelings for Gon. Without considering this context, the way her character is set up from the beginning and what role she's intended to play in Chimera Ant Arc is confusing. But when if you look at her character as having been built for that role, suddenly her entire character and subplot makes sense. Here's an older post where OP talks about some of the framing of Palm's character, and then I talk in more depth about why Palm is written the way she is.

It especially makes sense when you consider that the date with Palm is one of the factors that destabilizes Killua's faith in his relationship with Gon, leading to him wondering if they're acting together as friends or just as teammates. Here's an awesome post @tjlnn22 put together and submitted to me on this topic, with specific details supporting this argument. I think this is an important part of the arc that gets overlooked, and I love how clearly it's laid out in the linked post.

Killua also acts dismissive of Gon worrying about Palm to the point where other characters comment on his behavior, which to me seems like another sign of jealousy and bitterness on Killua's part. Then when he encounters Palm again after her transformation, this is how he behaves towards her:

Hands on his hips, full sass mode here. Again with the jealousy...

...And then shortly after this he proceeds to have a total emotional breakdown when he admits to himself that he thinks maybe Gon cares more about Palm than him, and that Palm might be the only one who can help Gon, rather than Killua. Of course there are more factors than this behind his breakdown, including him getting pushed away by Gon prior, but this is DIRECTLY the thought that leads him to start crying and then sobbing on the ground.

The Palm subplot is one of the biggest things in the series that makes me confident that the romantic subtext around Killua's feelings is completely and utterly intentional. The way the whole subplot is constructed, the decisions Togashi makes around Palm and how she's presented as a character, the way Killua's reactions and emotions are emphasized with regards to it, and the significance of this subplot in the greater arc of Killua's character all show a great deal of thought and care, and it's hard to come to any other conclusion when looking at it carefully.

Thank you for asking!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #gon #killua #palm #killugon #gonkillu #asks #psy-onic #my posts #meta #long post

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booksandabeer · 5 months

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Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply scroll on by.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As to the “standing in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can stand in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.

--------

¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

#*drops post & runs away* i may regret this but it's my blog and i rant if i want to #i know some people will roll their eyes & i debated posting this at all but i simply had to get it off my chest once and for all.#so there. now i can be free. or something.#also i have no idea what to tag this & i personally find 'anti' tags silly bc why is critical discussion automatically labeled as 'anti'?#but whatever i'll play nice. so i guess:#anti peggy carter #anti steggy #anti endgame #hope that covers it #wading into the dIsCoUrsE

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kittyslvs · 6 months

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NOTHING NEW ; SATORU GOJO

pairing: satoru gojo x fem reader word count: 1k (1029) summary: she always gave him everything, and never received anything. mari´s note: i wrote this about two weeks ago, but i got stuck. maybe if i upload it, inspiration will come back to me and there will be a second part lmao

After Suguru's incident, Satoru was never the same, it was logical. He felt alone and with no one to listen to his lament; a lie.

Lie, because y/n was always there for him; as his friend, as his lover for a few nights, as a classmate; but Satoru always took every sign of affection from the girl, and threw it away; because what she gives to him, means nothing. Nothing new to the young girl, but it ached in every nerve in her body just the same.

Y/N knew about this, but she always hoped that Gojo's attitude would change, and apparently after that, it did, apparently.

The white-haired man always called her at the end of the night, and she, hopeful that he would finally see what she had to give him, she always went, again and again; but she always came back with the thought of "tomorrow will be the day". It wasn't.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months; the hope and affection for him was waning. It seemed that y/n was the white-haired man's plaything of personal satisfaction and relief; y/n felt like shit, she felt that her personal worth was reduced to whatever a man wanted to give her, crumbs.

She had tried to talk to him about the situation, but the brave Satoru Gojo always evaded her, getting angry or ignoring her for days, only to call her back and go back to his routine.

At this point, she felt like a living dead, nothing new.

the clock on her wrist read 1:50, she had no reason to be awake at that hour; if not for the "recent" argument with the boy. Her face was full of tears, her eyes swollen and her cheeks red; she blamed satoru, but more she blamed herself for allowing him to have that effect on her.

And the stupidest thing was that they had been there before, in that fight, in that moment. Honestly, y/n felt she no longer had dignity; she had lost it when she accepted his haughty attitude countless times.

Y/n grabbed her phone, wiped her tears and left her room on her way to the kitchen, her steps were slow and listless; she felt that if she stayed in her room a moment longer, she would die. For Satoru was so audacious to go to her house three nights ago, take her with fake "I love you's" and more to her room; but, he was drunk, she wouldn't do that with him being almost unconscious, that's when Satoru pushed her, throwing her to the bed and started to take out everything he had inside of him.

"Please 'toru, you're drunk" the girl spoke while holding his face, so that he would stare at her. "You can barely stand on your own."

Apparently the latter was the worst insult for Satoru, who stared at her with rage in his eyes, took a few steps back and pushed the girl, who fell on her bed, surprised by the man's reaction.

"Don't you dare say that, I can hold my own, I can do everything by myself" as he spoke he staggered softly and pointed at her with anger and repudiation. "I am not like you… Of course not, I'm not a person who can't stand on his own, who needs someone to give him false declarations of love to feel enough. I will never be you." As his words went on, so did the woman's tears run down her cheeks. Although Satoru's voice was slightly stuttering, he could not hide his hatred for the young woman.

Seconds passed in silence, Y/n staring painfully at Satoru, as he stood in front of her face; the man sketched a smile and grabbed her cheeks, being drunk and angry he did not mediate his strength.

"Look at you, youre weak, I am your weakness and I always will be. No matter how many times I use you and discard you at dawn; you will always return to my call, isn't that sweet?" He ended with a chuckle as he roughly wiped away the young girl's tears.

Y/n felt humiliated by her great love. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and with the little strength she had, she removed her dirty hands from his face, took her own hands to that area, backed as far as she could on her bed and began to whisper.

"Get out of here..." she could barely understand herself, but she knew that he was listening to her, who only approached her with slow steps and a smile on his face.

"I didn't hear you, can you repeat that?" he spoke with sarcasm in his voice, thanks to the liquor in his system.

The young woman gritted her teeth and smeared her nails on the palm of her hand, to look at him with the same hatred he was directing at her.

"I said go away!" she shouted as she threw a pillow at the man's face. "You're not strong, you're nobody to come and say all that to me and in my own house! Or don't you remember who was there for you after what happened with Suguru? Who was feeding you? Because you were so depressed you could hardly speak. Or that you don't remember" finally y/n was able to respond to his attack. "You and I are the same, Satoru" She finished by unburdening herself a little with him, who had a face of stupefaction and regret. They spent a few minutes in that position, both standing there staring at each other, with many things to say but not wanting to fight anymore.

Y/n broke the silence, with a whisper-like murmur, his voice trembling from the crying produced by the albino.

"I think you'd better leave, Gojo" he in response turned on his heels and walked out of her room, then out of her house. And that was when she was finally able to let out her pent-up emotions, crying for a long time.

She still couldn't believe Gojo's cynicism, and it pained her to know that everything he said was true, "drunks and children don't lie".

uploaded 28/11/2023 ; 3:41 pm like and repost if you like it !!!

#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk anime #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #suguru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo #satoru smut #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satoru x you #jujutsu satoru

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greyyson-but-no · 1 month

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hey guys heres a couple reasons I don't like taylor swift and maybe yous should consider your own opinions on her, no enforcement, just a suggestion

Being a billionaire will never not be bad for the economy (The Eras Tour is expected to make around $2 billion by the end of it so there is no denying her being a billionaire now).

She brands herself as someone that completely build her own fame from nothing - this is not true both her parents were extremely wealthy which meant that she had the ability to fly weekly to NYC to get singing and acting lessons and was working with a talent manager at the age of fourteen. She could not be at the level of fame she is at today if it were not for that but she brands herself as if that is the case. The issue is not with her actually coming from money but that she brands herself as someone that isn't — it creates a fake sense of security for her young fans that believe they can do the same.

She takes the worship she recieves from her fans and (for lake of hetter word) uses it against other artists and communities to attack them through the way she advertises her new music and speaks about them in other songs. This is not me saying that those other artists are perfect either (eg the kanye situation), but instead that this sentiment creates further uneccessary drama which she uses to boost her fame and popularity.

Taylor Swift only speaks up about certainly world issues when it benefits her. She hasn't spoken up about the genocide in Palestine at the moment, it took her 21 years into her career to collaberate with a woman of colour and she is clearly the poster girl for White Feminism. Not only this, but dating Matty Healy of 1975 is proof of that. He is an extremely racist, xenophobic and generally controversial person, and since Taylor once stated "i want to be know by what i love", those same attributes can automatically be associated with her.

The Eras Tour that has been completed so far is only a small amount of her carbon emissions (the first leg of the tour ended with 139 tons of CO2) and that isn't including the equipment being transported and her individual trips to run errands and see her boyfriend three times a week. Her buying carbon credits does nothing, carbon credits will not rid the world of the CO2 she has emitted and in fact only pay governments to 'support the reduce, reuse, recycle' project which we all know is not where that money actually goes. Recently, she flew 30 miles and don't give me the 'its easier and quicker' argument, thats equivalent to a 20 minute drive.

Calling her a lesbian/queer icon is just completely wrong and doesn't work in any circumstance with her. She is openly straight and has never even been open to questioning her sexuality or gender at all. Just because she released 'you need to calm down' during a time of queer peril, doesn't make her a queer icon. In fact, there are many other lesbian artists that are either growing in popularity or have the potential to, and giving that title to her brings down actual queer artists and their opportunities.

"Tortured Poets Department"? Are we even serious at this point? Who exactly here is tortured because its certainly not the white straight billionaire, that's for sure. Having a song that basically says it was okay you dated a racist because you were 'heartbroken' is not okay. To have little digs at Joe and him being depressed using the excuse that he broke your heart is not okay. Using metaphors that link to you being in an insane asylum is not okay. Insane asylums were extremely torturous places to be and there is no moral decision in comparing the music industry to a place with that much terror and injustice.

here I have only spoken about two of her partners in a passing mention, there is much more that I could add to on these subjects but I've decided not to because I don't think they hold the same weight the points I've already made have. this will probably be edited and added to in the future.

I'd like to emphasise this is not me forcing swifties to completely turn on her and hate her and everything she does. all I am doing by posting this information is allowing people to make their own educated decisions on how they go about interacting with taylor swift and her community however they deem fit. personally I have her removed on spotify because that is a decision I have made. my decision.

it wasn't easy for my either. a lot of songs of hers I associated with my grandad who recently passed, which meant having stop listening to her music lead to a big part of mine and his bond was erased, but that is again, a decision that I have made. her negative impact on the world, the music industry at the media is just too much for me to defend. again, I will reiterate that is my opinion and my decision, what you guys decides to do effects me just as little as what I decide effects you.

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift

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oneshotnewbie · 10 months

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hellooo! how are you? could you write angst carina x maya x reader where they have a fight over something stupid and r drives off in anger, which leads to them crashing. Eventually r is brought to the hospital and carina is paged to the er and she sees the condition r is in. After that a scene with maya at your hospital bed pls?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of suicide and the plot is presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

I have to post this request in two parts again because I wrote too much. Also I let out a small detail because I didn´t know how to write it. I'm sorry! ♥

The caustic stabbing feeling in your stomach, which had been creeping up all afternoon, became more intense the louder the discussion between the three of you got. "I am not overworking, I am fine!" you screamed at Carina and Maya as they watched you start throwing the dirty dishes into the sink in a rage.

The blonde, who was sitting on the couch and nervously fumbling with the thread of her jeans, was protecting herself by silently enduring the consequences of the dispute that had arisen. The brunette on the other hand, tried to address the issue by placing a hand gently on your forearm, trying to calm you down while you unfolded wildly about the latest suspicion that the two had thrown into the room.

You knew exactly, what they were getting at.

For a few weeks, you were hardly at home. Working late into the night and studying hard at the library for your graduation simultaneously, you oscillated between stressful things and barely had any time in between to provide your body and mind with the care it needed.

Of course you knew what you were doing was not healthy, noticing it clearly from the lack of sleep and the resulting dark circles that adorned your tired, lackluster eyes. Throbbing headaches stretching from your temples to your neck, mixed with accompanying dizziness and reduced performance, became commonplace.

"Maybe you should think about quitting your job at the station," suggested Maya, who had spoken up for the first time in this argument. She did not want to see you leave the team, you were an important link that held it together and enabled good cooperation. But she knew from your behavior and your manner how close you were to a breakdown.

Dismayed by the statement thrown in, you tossed the sponge into the sink and braced your lower back against the metal tub. Arms crossed strictly under your chest, you furrowed a brow and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"If you would spend a little less time on the treadmill and instead help get the vehicles back in shape for the next call, I probably would have time to relax between those since you are so worried about my health" you complained immediately.

You were getting tired of having these conversations that always ended up with a discussion. The topic was always present and got on your last nerve. Of course you understood that they only wanted to protect you and keep you safe, but that was absolutely not necessary.

Before the blonde could begin to protest your argumentation, a loud whistle cut through the commotion and ripped through your eardrums. "HEY!" the brunette yelled, making you wince next to her. With a wave of her hand, she indicated that you both should remain quiet before taking up her word once again.

"Stop that crap, arguing does nothing but upset us further and make the situation even worse by one of you both being angry and saying something that you can not undo!" At the end of her announcement, Carina raised her voice a bit while examining you both. You glared at Maya and had to control yourself not to go ballistic.

"Mhmm.." you mumbled and left the room of action to disappear in the direction of the door. You quickly pulled your keys and jacket from their places before you turned back and addressed your last words to the blonde. "Maybe you should consider that your support would also be helpful instead of telling me through the flower that you want me out of your territory"

With these words, the front door slammed shut. Hastily, you ran down the stairs of the apartment complex to your parked car around the corner, which you got into and drove away with no real plan of where to go.

Loud music blared around your ears as you drove through the streets of Seattle, your mind hanging deep into the clouds. The traffic lights were on your sides, allowing you to drive through without hitting the brakes or using the clutch.

It was liberating to experience a moment without any real task, but this feeling did not last. As soon as you crossed the middle of the intersection, you could only see a black jeep from the corner of your eye, which was heading straight for you and had no chance to dodge.

All you could hear was the screeching of the rubber-coated tires on dry asphalt, subsequently, the crushing of heavy metal when your car flew over the intersection and came to rest in a nearby garage. Dust swirled through the air. A frighteningly shrill sound in your ear and throbbing in your right temple were the first things you consciously perceived.

With great effort, you managed to keep your eyes open, though your lids were heavy as lead. You carefully felt the back of your throbbing head with your right hand, while the other managed to support yourself on the console between the two front seats.

You flinched as your fingers slid over the wound. Distraught, you brought it back in front of your blurry vision as you raised your forehead from the steering wheel and looked at your fingertips, dark blood dripping down them.

What had happened?

Your gaze wandered away from them, following the blurred figures rushing wildly around what was still recognizable as a car. A hot wave of panic made its way through your body and made the sweat of fear break out of your pores.

Frantically twitching eyes, scanned the entire environment while your brain tried to process the unfamiliar images. You desperately tried to focus and organize your thoughts, but your awareness has been miserably limited by the darkness looming ahead of you.

It only took seconds for your eyes to close and the world around you to fade away with voices echoing in your ears.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Carina hurried down the hall. The imagine that presented itself was terrifying when she took the first step into a trauma room. "What happened?" she cried through the frantic attempts of desperate help as she disappeared into the crowd that had gathered around you in the small room and reappeared next to Miranda. "Car crash, somebody hit Y/n"

Her light brown eyes scanned the battered body of the woman she truly cared about, which lay still like a statue. Most of your clothes appeared to be covered with clotted blood while your face had bruises and scratches all over. Fleetingly, she perceived the information given by the attending physicians. "Extensive superficial injuries, broken ribs, possible craniocerebral trauma. Internal abdominal injuries,"

She nodded understandingly and leaned towards your face, whose otherwise glassy eyes were closed. Your pink, plump lips were dull and sallow, and matched the pale color of your graying skin. Carina´s breath caught in her throat, she could not breathe. She bit back a cry of horror, only to cover her mouth with her trembling hand.

"Is she..?"

Nobody answered her right away, finding it tough to offer her a promising answer while they fought for your life. Pressing her palms together in a praying gesture, she hoped some higher entity, that she did not necessarily believed in, could hear her and keep you alive.

"Got a weak pulse, she needs to go in. Now!" As soon as those words left the Chief Surgeon´s mouth, Carina scurried to the side with considerable effort to let go of you, letting out a stiffed moan.

She watched as your limp body was rolled out of the room with hurry, blood dripping from your hand onto the floor. The brunette looked after you and frowned, concern and worry washing over her face.

Carina knew that you were a fighter, but she also knew that she could do nothing but hope.

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lovemyromance · 3 months

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Let's talk about the dreaded pliant bones argument in ACOTAR

First of all, I don't ever want to see this stupid argument anywhere, especially after HOFAS. Second of all, none of the Archeron sisters are Illyrian so they do not have Illyrian anatomy suitable for childbirth. And yet, we see Feysand and Nessian as mates. So it's not like SJM even cared about that herself.

Then ACOSF happens, and oh no, c-sections don't apparently seem to exist and it becomes a BIG DEAL™ that Nesta changed only her own body and Feyre's body to have Illyrian anatomy.

People have been latching onto this argument like Rose on the goddamn Titanic, anything to cling to their sinking ship.

Let's not forget that Elain & Nesta had their bodies changed already once before, against their will. Why the hell would Nesta change Elain's body without obtaining consent after that traumatic experience? That would be a gross violation of bodily autonomy.

And Nesta was shown how to change the bodies. Which could hint that she still knows how, should a similar situation arise again.

But none of that even matters! What matter is that it's 2024 and we are still saying a woman can't be with the man she loves because she can't give him biological children. That is the crux of the argument Gw*nriels always try to skip around and say without saying. Like "oh no!! She can't have his babies!! Ship sank. It's over. The End."

As if a woman should be reduced down to her ability to procreate. This is not the middle ages people! Wake up!

Also, not to mention, even if we use that disgusting logic - The only other female in this series that is mentioned to have Illyrian anatomy is Emerie. Are we shipping Azriel with Emerie now? Because she can FOR SURE have his babies, if that's all that matters. Who cares about her own desires and personality and sexual preferences if she can have illyrian kids??

Now let's consider what people have been latching onto:

Gwyn...is flexible and adapts to training moves quickly. That's why Nesta commented she had "pliant bones", that's IT. She is part nymph and "has different anatomy than high fae", sure, but is that anatomy in any way, Illyrian? Water nymphs don't have Illyrian leathery wings either so I don't understand why insisting Gwyn has "pliant bones" is in any way endgame ship material. Why would her half-water nymph heritage give her the anatomy to birth a full grown illyrian-winged baby??

And then there's the cowards that use this argument by hiding behind SJM herself by saying "Well, I hate it too, but SJM is *kinda* known for writing like this and her characters are all male-dominated, fae-territorial blah blah, she is *kinda* hinting at endgame because the womb thing–" NO. No.

Don't hide. Tell the room exactly what you are saying. Which is the exact same misogynistic spiel as above, where you try to use gross medieval logic to justify your mf fictional ship, but you hide your faces when you say it. Because you know it's wrong, but you're still not above using that as "evidence" in your ship's favor.

I've even said before, I don't care what SJM says. If I don't like a misogynistic take, I am not using that as evidence in any capacity for any reason.

I'm not even being biased by my preferred ship. I genuinely just want people to stop using this argument because it's hurtful to women as a whole. Ship wars are fine, but ffs, when did we get to the point where we are pitting two women against each other based on whose uterus is more suitable??

And before you even say "I just have a problem because I ship Elriel" No. No.

It's about these kinds of cheap arguments in general. I have also never been one to go off saying how Gwyn can't be a valid love interest because her past SA trauma - That argument is also archaic and hurtful. I've never once used it. I don't like seeing it.

Can we just - Not do it? The only reason such arguments have gained traction is because they're constantly echoed by the toxic sides of the fandom online. It's gross and I don't want to be a part of a group that condones that.

Ship who you want, but let's just be respectful about it. We should not have to resort to cheap arguments like the above.

#elain #pro elain #elriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwyn #azriel

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dalekofchaos · 1 month

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Choices I would've added to Life Is Strange

I posted this on the LIS subreddit and thought I'd post it on here.

I wanted to keep to the same story without altering anything major, otherwise I would've stuck to the original plotline with Sean as the big bad, Nathan knowing about the storm, have Max, Chloe, Warren and Victoria team up to give Warren, Kate and Victoria more screen time and give them romance paths and add a ending where Max goes back to save Rachel, Chloe and the Bay.

I might be breaking a rule by adding more Warren, but cut content suggests we were meant to see Max, Chloe and Warren together as a team. Concept art sketch for a cut scene by Edouard Caplain, depicting Max Caulfield, Chloe Price and Warren Graham

Episode 1

Take photo of David harassing Kate. Rewind. Comfort Kate. Keep photo. To this day it baffles me that this is the only time - the only time - where the game breaks its own rules of "Max keeps things on her when she rewinds." Even small things like helping Joyce make breakfast respects this rule. If you tell Joyce you want one thing, grab all the ingredients, and then rewind to tell her you want the other thing, all the ingredients you grabbed are still in your inventory! You can have the items for both breakfasts in your inventory. Though the game does remove them all once you talk to Joyce and commit to making breakfast. You could make an argument that the photo didn't exist to the point she rewinds to, which breaks the semantics of how the time-rewind works (notably how if you pick up an object off say a table, then rewind to before you picked it up, it's still no longer on the table), but it still annoys me endlessly. Because that was my natural thought on that sequence, and the game just slaps your wrist and says "No. In this game all about rewinding and undoing your decisions and not having to commit to them, you have to commit to one." It becomes more relevant and thematic in later chapters, but it just felt oddly out of place so early in Chapter 2.

The choice between Help Warren before jumping into Chloe's truck or not. If you help Warren, Max kicks Nathan in the balls and Warren doesn't get a black eye. If you don't help, Warren gets a black eye as was in canon

Warren romance playthrough. A series of choices to help flesh out Warren as a character and a potential partner for Max. Continuing on the Help Warren choice. Helping Warren also leads to Warren hopping in the truck with Max and Chloe. Warren has a black eye from the headbutt and Chloe offers to use the first aid kit in the bathroom. Cute scene where Max helps Warren reduces the swelling of his black eye and you have the option to hold Warren’s hand or not. Warren takes off when his eye is healed up enough and wishes Max well in reconnecting with Chloe

If you choose to comfort Victoria, this leads to an actual friendship with Victoria. When she sends the thnx but we're not friends" text, you can reply insisting on it. This will prompt you to go back to the dormitories and when you go back to Vic’s dorm, Max and Victoria get to talk, become close, show Victoria the pictures Max has taken, have a laugh over the email situation and get Victoria to see the way she was treating Kate was wrong. Victoria will tell Max that she was jealous over her not caring what anyone thinks of her and thanks Max for coming and invites her to join the Vortex Club as it needs real cool people like her and not snobs and suck ups. Max asks advice on what to do with Chloe and tells her how guilty she feels for not keeping in touch and asks what she should do. Victoria tells Max to suck it up and get back in touch and make it up to Chloe and Max thanks Victoria for the advice and they leave as friends.

If you took Victoria's photo after Chloe proclaims "booyah skank, karma's a bitch" Chloe will ask to keep it because it gives her joy to seeing Victoria brought down to a peg and that Rachel would've loved it.(will add onto this for the other episodes)

Episode 1 ends with Max, Chloe and Warren together as the snow falls(evidenced by the concept art)

Episode 2

Romance Warren path. After Warren's offer to Go Ape, Max gets to explain her powers and the situation with Kate and Nathan. We get to prove it to Warren, we also get to learn more about Warren as a character. We find out Warren is basically the boy version of Matilda. Was neglected as a child, so he chose books and science as his passion and sci-fi and it made him feel whole.(idk this was the best I could come up with, but it’s more than what DONTNOD has given us) then Warren will promise that he will look around and help out with Kate.

Max will take photographic evidence of Nathan vandalizing Max's room and leaving the threatening messages. When Max accuses Nathan at the end of the episode, she presents it to Wells, Wells recognizes the message as Nathan's handwriting and Jefferson recognizes the photo as Nathan's style and this leads to Nathan spending the night in jail as well as being suspended.

Continuing on from Chloe and Victoria's paint photo. We are given the chance to tell Chloe about Kate's situation and let’s say in addition to showing off our powers to Chloe, Max tells Chloe about Kate’s ordeal and Chloe’s just as pissed as Max. Maybe in the Junkyard or on the way back to Blackwell, Chloe will offer Max to mass produce the pictures, post them everywhere at Blackwell and email the picture so she can post it online. She says “let’s call this Kate’s revenge” if you accept this will happen throughout episodes 3-4. -Victoria feels what it’s like to be humiliated and bullied and feels some humility -Everyone in the Vortex Club except Nathan turns on Victoria -Everyone in Blackwell calls her “paintgirl” and some things worse. -Victoria absolutely hates us and when she sends her texts, Max can either apologize or stand her ground and call her out like the bitch she is “karma’s a bitch ain’t it? this is what you made Kate feel. You deserved every bit of it.” -At the party, you can try to make nice and Victoria will learn a lesson that there are consequences for her actions. You can either forgive or condemn Victoria. Whichever you choose, you then choose to warn her or not about Nathan.

Continuing on the Victoria friendship. Victoria is genuinely nice to Kate and apologizes and says she deleted the video. This will prompt a hopeful Kate and a Taylor asking “wtf was that and Victoria laying down the law yelling “be nice to Kate and Caulfield, that’s an order” Continuing on after Max convinces Courtney to let her in the guest list and into Jefferson’s room, Nathan will be his mean self but Victoria will say “be nice to Max, she’s my best friend” Victoria will start calling Max Maxine, while Max doesn’t like it, Max will allow her to call her that if she gets to call Victoria “Tori” Victoria and Max will have a moment to talk before class starts. Catches up, Max shows the photos she’s taken in episode 2, asks how Kate’s doing and finally Victoria personally invites Max to the End Of The World Party and you are given the choice yes or no, obviously you choose yes. Which prompts Victoria to say “congratulations Max Caulfield, you’re officially a VIP member of the Vortex Club”

Episode 3

Warren romance path. Max, Chloe and Warren will be investigating Blackwell together. Warren will use his hacking skills to help them break into school. They each search for clues. In the Principals office of course, but also searching where the last Vortex Club was in search of anything that might help. Warren keeps a lookout while Max and Chloe skinny dips in the pool and Warren is the one to warn them to hide. You get the choice of choosing between going to Chloe’s place or going to Warren’s dorm. In Warren’s dorm, it will open with Max and Warren holding each other, Max at first blushes, but embraces the moment and the two taking a selfie together. We see Warren's dorm looking like this. Max talks to Warren, about how much she appreciates Warren for always being by her side, and Kate's. Warren tells Max that he loves her And a choice prompts to Kiss Warren or Hug. In place of Max wearing Rachel's clothes, Max wears one of Warren's nerdy shirts. They will talk and say they should go on a date to the End Of The World Party as a date and a means to spy on Nathan and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone again. Chloe texts Max to come over and Max kisses Warren goodbye and says “see you later my white knight.”

Victoria friendship path. In the beginning of episode 3, Victoria sends a text congratulating Max and saying she’s proud she did something, while Max says she did more by the end and saying she’s proud of Tori

When we kiss Chloe, Chloe doesn’t push back, she embraces Max in a kiss

When we choose the “Side with Chloe” option in episode 3, we print out David’s evidence and take pictures of the surveillance footage as proof for Joyce. We talk about it but we don’t show it to Joyce and Joyce automatically sides with Max. I’d also have David snap and attempt to hit Chloe and Joyce stops him and finally puts her foot down with David and shows him the door. Always bothered me that Joyce only begins to side against David by Max's word. She might as well have screamed that Max was the golden child. Joyce spent literal years watching David treating Chloe like crap right in front of her, and even now that he’s raising his hand at her she’s not reacting, but the second he talks a little too harshly to Max, she jumps to take her side and honestly. Chloe cannot not have noticed that. Obviously she wasn’t going to start a scene about this since they were already all fighting with David, but I’m pretty sure she would’ve under different circumstances because. The audacity. I would’ve gone mad.

Max will get to stand up to Chloe. Basically she puts her foot down on Chloe. After Chloe snaps after finding out about Rachel and mocking Kate's suicide attempt/suicide, Max can then lose her shit and stand up to Chloe. Basically says the way she treats her is not okay and if she wants to help her find Rachel and seek justice for Kate, then things are gonna have to change or they are finished. Then Max leaves Chloe behind with Chloe realizing that she needs to change. I just REALLY wanted Max to stand up to Chloe at the end of this episode instead of just letting Max act like a doormat and take her shit.

Not really a choice. But I'd alter one thing about Alternate's Max's look. Give her long hair, and tied up in a ponytail like she was a kid.

Episode 4

Not really a choice, but after the returning from her time jump, Max returns to her dorm and goes to Chloe. Chloe properly apologizes for how she’s been acting since they got back together and agree to put everything in the past so they can work together to find Rachel and give Kate justice. Would've been better than just seeing the apology over text.

Before we begin our investigation in episode 4. Max calls Joyce and David so everyone could let it all out. It’s basically the therapy that Joyce wanted David and Chloe to go to but didn’t. Chloe calls out David for his abuse for the last 3 years of her life and the fact that he made her feel like a prisoner in her own home and how much the cameras made it worse. Then Chloe calls him out on Rachel. “Rachel was my angel. She was the only good thing that ever happened to me since my dad died and you and the spoiled rich kid took her away from me. Worse. You stalked her like you stalked Kate. And now Rachel is missing. Congrats, David I hope it was fucking worth it.” Then Chloe unloads on Joyce. For all the times she covered for David’s abuse, choosing to either ignore or condone the abuse and for the fact that she’d rather pretend everything was fine. Maybe end it with “I didn’t need a fucking step-father, I needed my mother when I needed her most and your first instinct was to chose the worst fucking man to bring into my life. Fuck both of you.” Maybe after David and Joyce say their piece.(hopefully both of them being remorseful) Max can either choose to tell Chloe to forgive them or “fuck them” basically Max calls out David for his bullying and abusive behavior, Max can call out David. “You saw Frank, who was an adult, perving on Rachel, a high school student, you even had the evidence and you did nothing? Kate needed help and instead of being that help, you treated her like shit” David admits he fucked up with Rachel and wishes he could’ve sent his evidence to the police. then Max calls out Joyce for being a shitty mother. “I used to think you ruled Joyce, but you are a terrible mother. Chloe needed a mother and you failed her. She needed you, she didn't need you to bring some man she's never met before, she needed her mother who was traumatized and hurt by her father's death. And you let David hit your daughter and don't even see anything wrong with it? You talk about Chloe like she's a problem, like a burden. She's your daughter Joyce and she deserved better. ” David and Joyce would apologize to Chloe for the past three years and do better for Chloe. I don’t know how forgiving them would play out, maybe it would be therapeutic and would result in closure for the Price-Madsen family and they have a chance to start over after Max helps them in that direction. After choosing condemn them. I think Chloe would tell Max. “Max, thank you. I needed to finally let all that shit out.” “You deserved so much better Chloe.” “I got better Max, I got you.” And if you chose forgiveness. “I will still hate them both for how life went for the last 3 years, but I think we can start fresh. Thank you Max.”

Chloe would enter Kate’s hospital room with Max. We’d see Kate talking with Chloe and we find out that Kate was there for Chloe when Rachel went missing and made Chloe feel a little better, that’s why Chloe said “she’s cool”

Max can warn Kate about the storm and tell her to leave Arcadia Bay immediately.

Reject Warren path. After the Warren/Nathan situation. If you're pursuing Chloe and only choose platonic actions with Warren. Max gets the opportunity to turn Warren down. Max will tell him she's sorry, she just doesn't feel that way about Warren and just sees him as a cool geeky older brother and points out to Warren that Brooke likes him and that he should totally hook up with her, Warren appreciates for gently letting him down and is glad they can still be friends and says that he's glad Max has Chloe. You will see Warren and Brooke together at the party.

Max calls out Frank on his bullshit. Instead of choosing to befriend Frank, Max gets to call him out. Calls him out for turning Pompidou into a violent attack dog, the fact he sells drugs to kids and his predatory obsession with Rachel. “You didn’t love Rachel, you were obsessed with her and whatever you did drove her away and honestly? You’re not just a creepy drug dealer, you’re a pedophile, Frank.” Frank of course would get violent and you have two choices. Rewind and call the police or let Chloe shoot Frank and afterwords Max calls to animal services to protect Pompidou and give him a new home. Either you get the client book off of Frank’s dead body or you get it after the cops arrest Frank. Either way you get rid of a predator. Sorry, not sorry. I have no sympathy for people who prey on children.

Warren romance path. Instead of Warren appearing drunk, Warren waits for Max and awaits her on the dance floor. Max takes Warren to dance with and it's like a moment of peace or like the scene of Alex dancing with Duckie. It ends with Max and Warren kissing and Max taking a picture to capture the moment forever.

Continuing the Victoria friendship path. At the party, Victoria says, she's late, but she's happy Max is there. Max fills her in on what her day was like. Victoria is proud she and Chloe stood up to David and Joyce and that Kate is doing well. Max warns Victoria about Nathan. and as they part ways, Victoria hugs Max and tells her to be safe and call her if she or Chloe needs anything. But instead of going to Jefferson, Victoria goes to the hospital to visit Kate. As part of a culmination of your choices in the relationship with Victoria, you can encourage her to go and visit Kate to apologize in person. It wouldn't even have to be an extra scene, just part of the ending montage to an episode showing Victoria knocking on Kate's door and Kate opening it and inviting her inside. Maybe this could have been what happens to Victoria instead of ending up in the Dark Room. So if you do well enough to befriend her and she accepts your warning, she goes to see Kate and is spared being kidnapped by Jeffershit. if she doesn't accept your warning, she ends up in the DR. Would have been nice and felt more rewarding than what we got! Also? Kate would tell Victoria about Max's warning, meaning both Kate and Victoria would survive the storm!

We are given the opportunity to enter a photo for the Everyday Hero Contest. We enter at the last minute as Jefferson would give Max the opportunity. So Max with Kate’s permission, Kate would let Max take a photo of her in the hospital. Which wins the Everyday Hero Contest. Max gives an inspiring speech about how everyone can be a hero and that Kate has always inspired her, how much she loves Kate and that she hopes that Kate knows that she is loved by everyone in Blackwell and everyone would cheer Max on. This would also give Jefferson the means and opportunity to drug Max. It honestly works better than Jefferson magically appearing at the Junkyard with no explanation(and it never being brought up).

Episode 5

We are given the choice to save Nathan or let Jefferson kill him. Cut dialogue indicates there was something more meant for Nathan in the final episode. Jefferson says this to Max “Like you Max, I… am a camera. And like some cultures believe I’m going to use my camera. To capture… your… soul. Now take a break. I need to deal with Nathan first. Don’t worry, our session is just… getting started." I think Max could’ve helped Nathan in the dark room, to owe her the favor, Nathan would help Max.

Since I didn't have Chloe killed in Episode 4, Chloe and David would've worked together to save Max. Max and Chloe rush to diner to save Joyce, while also to use Warren's picture to go back in time. While at the diner we get a chance for Max to confess her feelings for Chloe and to tell Joyce while she approves.

While on the journey to the Lighthouse before the Nightmare world kicks in, we are given the choice to save everyone in the diner or leave everyone behind. After you save everyone at the diner, Chloe asks if they should double back to the hospital to save Kate and Victoria, but Max insists the hospital is so far from the storm and they'd be safer there anyway

Third ending. Sacrifice Max. Max screams no, Nathan freaks out and shoots Max. David subdues Nathan and Max is rushed to the hospital. Inspired by this comic and video

An addition to the endings. I wish we could have seen the last entry in Max's journal after she saved Chloe or Arcadia Bay. It would give one last glimpse into her thoughts, as well as clarify the endings a bit more. Also not really a choice, but an addition to the Bae ending. I'd make this ending twice as long, and the extra 5 minutes would be scenes following each other over the next few years. Show how Max and Chloe head to Seattle to visit Max's parents. Show how they help each other cope with trauma (like Chloe comforting Max when she wakes up from nightmares, or Max supporting Chloe at Joyce's funeral, or how they grieve every October 11). Show how Max doesn't give up on becoming a photographer, and Chloe is there to encourage her to follow her dreams. Show how they begin a romantic relationship (including the kiss this ending deserves) if you romanced Chloe. End it on a positive note as Max and Chloe buy the RV and go traveling like they always wanted to, and the last shot is Max and Chloe smiling at each other before hitting the road (as in the original Bae ending). Also among a few shots we might see Max and Chloe hanging out with Kate and Victoria - the former would be if you saved Kate, and the latter would be if you were nice to Victoria. and Nathan appearing if you saved him. What we'd see with Nathan is Nathan in a blue jacket like he has in the alternate timeline to reflect his new change in behavior and redemption. Hugging Victoria, apologizing to Kate, Max and Chloe. Hugging Victoria, Max and Kate and shaking Chloe's hand. I'm tempted to say he could've been in the Brody role in LIS 2, since he kind of fits Brody, cause Brody's line about his family having money but no soul would fit a Nathan after surviving the storm. It would have made this ending more complete, it wouldn't have required their cameos in the sequel, and already in 2015 it would have disproved the theories that death would continue to haunt Chloe/another storm would happen. Addition to the Bay Ending. I like to think it would be a collection of the montages we already got and Chloe’s funeral. But more. We’d see Max dealing with Chloe’s loss, her grief, but ultimately showing Max living her life and moving on. Show that Max still misses Chloe, but show her living her life. And just show Max living her best life with Warren, Kate, Brooke, Dana, Daniel, Stella and Alyssa. Even show montage of a friendship with Victoria. Show Max having a tea date with Kate. Show Max Goin Ape with Warren. Max doing photoshoots with Victoria and shopping dates with Victoria, Courtney and Taylor. Max doing group projects and games with Warren, Kate, Brooke, Stella, Alyssa, and Daniel. Max being Dana’s official photographer. And show Max and her friends graduating Blackwell and living their lives in Arcadia Bay. We just needed to see that despite losing Chloe, Max is okay and that while she will hold onto the memories of Chloe, she can live. The final scene is Max and Warren visiting the Lighthouse. The Blue Butterfly appears and it touches Max and as the Butterfly flies away, Max says "Goodbye Chloe as Warren holds onto Max and shares a kiss at the Lighthouse."

#Life Is Strange #Pricefield #Grahamfield #Chasemarsh #Chasefield #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Warren Graham #Kate Marsh #Victoria Chase #Nathan Prescott #David Madsen #Joyce Price #Mark Jefferson #Frank Bowers

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horizon-verizon · 2 months

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Cersei vs Rhaenyra's Children: The Political & Personal Implications of Their Appearances & Existences

[REDO bc previous wasn't written well enough]

Aside from THIS and THIS showing how negligible & changeable the effects and meaning of "bastardry" was in the real world and Westeros (very important posts)...

Despite the argument that Rhaenyra's cheating doesn't equal modern-day cheating, the flavor of feudal monarchist misogyny against female agency, and how Rhaenyra actually didn't have that many options of a safe father for her necessary heirs (scroll down to section D, parts 3-5), there are still some who argue that she should have chosen someone who looks like Laenor or like her, sometimes using Cercei' 's situation with her own kids and Robert to say "At ThE eNd Of ThE dAy", Rhaenyra's kids are bastards.

No, neither set are bastards.

Neither set were ever declared or "acknowledged" as bastards. Robert probably would have had he bene informed, but bc he died before then, Cersei's kids are not officially bastards…which is what is required to have them "legally" known as bastards. Because bastardry has always been more of a legal question in its nature than a biological fact of nature. Of course, we know that Rhaenyra's kids aren't Laenor's biologically; Ned deuced that Cersei's weren't Robert's biologically. And medieval customs put the social-legal identification of "bastard" based on the institution of marriage and its compulsions on women and their reproductive labor claimed by the men "licensed" to own them. Which is why when we say that neither Cersei's nor Rhaenyra's kids are "bastards", it is true because the role of bastardry is to attempt to reclaim the product of reproductive labor…and Viserys/Corlys/Laenor/Robert have already done that. To protest about how Robert didn't know about his kids not being his kids is really to protest how he didn't not get the products of Cersei's reproductive labor the in the objectifying business of labor intrinsic in this feudal society. Whereas Viserys/Laenor/Corlys accepted the products of Rhaenyra's reproductive labor.

They both "get away" with something, with being revealed & exposed as having had extramarital sex (not "affairs", bc Rhaenyra didn't have an affair, she and Laenor had and agreement!)...but because they do not share the same positions nor have the same sort of people around them, their kids therefore are not in the same boats nor do not share similar sociopolitical positions. And yes, if the parentage of their kids get exposed, there are possible, terrible consequences. But they will not be treated the same.

Sometimes people argue that Cersei had even more success in passing off her kids than Rhaenyra bc "at least" they look like her...even this is negliable and reductive.

A) Really, the Prime Reason, but whatever, this is a Master Post

Rhaenyra is the heir. All her kids have DIRECT claim to the Iron throne through her. Not Laenor, not Daemon, not Harwin...RHAENYRA!

Cersei's children "should" have had claim to the throne from their father Robert because Cersei has no claim AT ALL to the Iron throne bc she's not a Baratheon. Indirect nor Direct.

["direct" refers to a vertical lineage (mom and grandparent were heirs or the monarchs); "indirect" would be like your cousin or uncle being the heir or monarch]

And adding onto this, Viserys, the MONARCH, ABSOLUTELY knows those children are biologically Laenor's Laenor knows. Corlys knows. Yet all three accept those kids as their heirs/relations and thus also place them as their respective heirs for their respective seats. (This is an example of how lords are far more interested in making sure that their singular, sovereign privilege to decide things for their house and reducing the chances of dissenters than they are in seeing a possible claimaint question them or challenge them/their heirs for power, whether they have claim or not. that the oaths that any perosn makes to them are honored and in that way they can also be assured to have the loyalties of those making those oaths. Rhaenyra's claim had other implications and stakes for the lords than her being a woman! Hence why most of Westeros pledged and fought for Rhaenyra!!!--thought from rhaenin-time here on Tumblr)

As for "but they were never publicly recognized or acknowledged as bastards for them to be openly legitimized", only the monarch can declare any legitimizations -> there has never been a time when a noble/royal woman--who did not rule a house or the realm in her own right nor was declared as an heir--birthing a bastard has had that bastard legitimized except for Daemon Blackfyre. Daena was not a Queen regnant nor ever the heir. She was slotted to be the Queen Consort, like Cersei became. Rhaenyra does not share this position, she was the heir and if you are wondering why this matters, you have not read my previous paragraphs correctly or at all.

In acknowledgements--when "the biological father of a bastard may...bring him formally into his house"--it is always been the father doing the customary acknowledgement! Why? Because women who have extramarital sex, unlike men, usually don't given keep the right to marry bc she's "ruined", "unchaste", or-and "disobedient" and "unfaithful", much less be considered an autonomous claimant to anything. A person who is forever considered more a dependent than an agent in their own society cannot have the same abilities as an agent unless they are like Rhaenyra...and even then the gender roles are so strong as to make exceptions for someone like Rhaenyra. Since to be a woman = "obedience" to a male/male adjacent force/entity.

Daemon Blackfyre's father, Aegon IV, was not only royal-noble himself, he was the King (Aegon IV). If Daena had Daemon by a noble nonroyal, or a peasant man, her son would never have been legitimized even with her acknowledging him bc she had already been politically subordinated by Baelor, the Dance, etc. so as to not have political allies at court/beyond and be even less considered as the "safe" enough". Even if she had been older than Aegon IV. Any child she had/Daemon's claim to the throne would be considered weaker than any child by Aegon IV, bastard or not. Which is a huge reason why she went for Aegon IV of all people when she escaped!!!! Besides the fact that it would have been beyond obvious that Naerys was not at all his type and he would have not tried to hide that, she not only wanted to express her defiance and autonomy for her being locked up, she wanted her own blood claim (the political power she had left) to really mean something after Baelor's naked attempts to diminish it. By being the mother to a child who could reasonably compete with any of Aegon's even just in theory, she in turn "restores" the value and meaning of her own blood/power. Again, what mattered is that her kid(s) is also another Targ's, bastard or not.

There is no agnatic primogeniture in Westeros except maybe in the North (girls are not heirs or monarch no matter what). Except Dorne, where there is absolute primogeniture--any firstborn, male or female--can become the heir/ruler--Westeros has always done male-preferred primogeniture. Men have chosen female heirs or rulers, have been lead by women. Look them up in A World of Ice and Fire.

Men have been the final authority or privileged decider of the two genders precisely because they were the ones who usually had the power to do so. There is no written and consistent "law", only traditions and customs. So yes they have had the only practical authority to "acknowledge".

Therefore on the issue of Rhaenyra's kids having strong claim...yes they do, because Rhaenyra is in a similar[not same] position of every lord, male noble, and male heir: she is the "decider" of her house. Daemon was not the one to make final decisions of Dragonstone when they married, that was all Rhaenyra!

Whereas Cersei's kids do not in the purest technical sense because she has no claim at all to the throne by blood and Westeros is not 17th-18thth centuries Russia where a empress consort could become empress regnant through her marriage alone.

And obviously, since Rhaenyra is the next head and her firstborn is Jace and we don't see her choose any heirs apart from him...Jace is her legitimate heir.

B) Cersei's reason for choosing Jaime or not the same for why Rhaenyra chose Harwin to be the father of hers.

We could argue all day that genetics gives us children who could inherit "50-50" of their parents' features or something like that, but:

ASoIaF genetics is weirder than real genetics.

The Baratheons (even when marrying Lannisters & other houses) tend to yield dark-haired kids, & yet Cersei's 3 kids are all blonde with no Baratheon gray eyes...it's like people forgot the information Ned used to prove that she was fucking Jaime and was passing her kids off as Robert's in the first place, but maybe some people who argue this simply hadn't read the books while they make arguments about the series simultaneously

Both women relied on their aristocratic privileges to maintain and accrue power (Rhaenyra, blood claim and king-chosen; Cersei, born an aristocrat, a Lannister, and married to a King, mother to another). Cersei actually should be risking herself similar to how some say Rhaenyra was. She's not protected by a royal father, but by an "ordinary" aristocratic man, right?

Wrong!

Tywin Lannister is not that much smarter than Tyrion or her; it's that he's built a very intimidating reputation from his ruthlessness towards the Reynes, amassed great wealth, sided with Robert at the last minute, and made/maintained important connections (Steffon Baratheon and Aerys II) since he was in his early twenties. Nevertheless, in the world they live in, he has made his house more materially powerful and socially prestigious than it has ever been. But his greatest oversight was to abuse his own kids into their own versions of incompetencies so that his house wouldn't be able to continue its stature beyond himself and his brother Kevan. But for the sake of the climate Cersei grew up and developed her Lannister Exceptionalism, what I say still matters. With her father's influence and silent rejection, she has learned that to be powerful is to abuse and use up others. To cause enough fear to intimidate others that they couldn't dare to attack her or anyone she loved.

(For writings about Cersei, click HERE, HERE, and HERE).

She has less faith put into her than Rhaenyra had & she has been raised-left to block out what could diminish the soundness of her ideas through trying to emulate Tywin while not having his man-exclusive privileges. We have seen Cersei's mind and how she thinks for many chapters. While she has a good knowledge of history, she is also not patient or self-aware/accepting enough of her own limits to be good at critical thinking & be a good enough strategist. She's too prideful and full of deluded self-grandeur--her way of self-affirming against the misogyny she received since she was below 10 butting against her need to practice "real", substantive power. The same kind & level of power and compunction men are allowed.

But with this AND the fact they are different types of Queens...

While both women were severely limited in what partner they could have while still expect to have the security and positions that they had:

Rhaenyra, as the first true female heir apparent of the realm, had to have more planning and preparations for her to be able to ascend with as little issue as possible than if she were male. Rhaenyra's husband was gay and couldn't bring himself to "properly" impregnate her. She had to have heirs to secure her own claim and Viserys' wishes that she take the throne. It was her "duty" as a woman AND heir. It was thus also the only way she'd be even more assured she'd have a smoother time ascending. So her husband not impregnating her is a huge problem. And she was not a rapist, so forcing Laenor to do would be rape. If you are okay with Rhaenyra or any person raping their spouse to get heirs, you are not the type of person who should be reading ASoIaF nor have any sort of relationship, frankly. You are a menace to society, and a hypocritical because how is rape better than having "bastards"?!!! And she had to choose a father that would not try to risk her one her kids' lives by trying to say he was the dad or otherwise try to gain benefits by being said father. A man who would be with her for her alone and not try to overrule or overbear her authority/position for his own gain. ...So, for duty + love + intimacy = different types of "safety", Rhaenyra chose Harwin.

Cersei chose Jaime because she was suffering from both spousal abuse and the destroyed expectations in her role for being Queen Consort. All her life, Tywin had been hyping & telling her she would be the Consort of Rhaegar specifically. Like Alicent, Cersei and every girl knew that to be the Consort of the King was usually the highest rank and means to the most wealth/prestige a woman could have. Women are human, so they also have the propensity for ambition, or they want the most "safety" and "glory". Because Robert didn't hide or even try to engage with Cersei in a really human way because of his "missed chance" with Lyanna AND Cersei had grown up with the foundation that it was her Lannister exceptionalism that made her worthy (since being a woman wasn't enough), Cersei was forever offended by Robert. Again, there was a chance for Robert to be patient and engage when he perceived her reluctance...instead her tried to foist his displeasure on her own "coldness". Saying that she "owed" him her body no matter how she felt about him. Even with that being the custom, custom shouldn't trump human dignity. Like slavery...so it's okay to own a human being because by law or by tradition, they aren't human?! Because of custom, a woman's children aren't really hers but her husband, even though she could have nearly died birthing all/any of them...let's bfr. And we know that Robert physically abuses her. It really doesn't matter when or how it got there, once you decided to lay hands on people, you have debased them and are not owed neither respect nor should be owed protection. In fact, it is this entrapment of "duty" that propels Cersei into her being even more prideful...because without that pride, what else does she have?! Unfortunately, unlike Dany, Cersei's pride relies on her nobility and viciousness to "get the job done", on her being as "masculine" as possible. She has always admired the Targs exactly for their domination & the exclusive right to practice Westerosi-considered-incest (siblings), so, through Jaime/twin incest--the person she feels she would have been if she were male--she's affirming both her autonomy AND making a claim on her worthiness AND kinda making claim on him.

Robert, by abusing her and not recognizing her as worthy enough, she has decided, doesn't get to have further domination to her through reproduction. He does not get to totally "own" her through her children. If Cersei had any kids by Robert, it's very likely she would have hated them or at least really neglected them. If she hadn't tried to abort them even late into the pregnancy and risk her own life (I'm talking purposefully falling down the stairs or getting her hands on "cheap" moontea that could have wracked her body and/or killed her). It's her last line, her means of establishing control over herself...like Daena defying Baelor.

But bc unlike Rhaenyra, Cersei was Queen Consort, was never blood related to any royal, is and always will be just the Queen Mother AND if Robert had known any of her kids weren't his...GRRM has said that Robert would likely kill them. Cersei can "get away" with her kids looking more like her when they should at least have one have dark hair (again, all 3 have her & Lannister eyes and hair..ironic how like Rhaenyra, there are 3 kids) because:

neither Robert nor Tywin know about her kids; Robert definitely would have at least gone off the handle and tried to kill her and the kids, and I'm not sure about Tywin except that he'd never let go of his hold of the throne after years of his perceived and real humiliations to get close to it

Robert Baratheon owes his final victory of the rebellion to Tywin and the strongest support for his reign to Tywin Lannister, who has worked towards getting his blood on the throne for years and unlike to let a little blonde hair stop him.

On the other hand, while Viserys I's status is definitely protecting Rhaenyra and her children, Viserys, like Tywin, is the one who got his daughter into the mess she is in in the first place through his poor planning and wanting the "easiest" solution. Cersei doesn't have any other great support other than Tywin and Robert, while Rhaenyra at least had the Velaryons and multiple lords to fight for her in the name of chosen-heir-first. If Robert were to even try to harm her kids, he'd think of Tywin first before doing anything drastic, but there's still the possibility he'd be so angry as to actually blindly attack her or her kids and Tywin can't be everywhere. That and there was no universe where Cersei could have married Jaime as Rhaenyra should have been able to with Daemon (Targs have that overall, cultural ability--even with Starks marrying their uncles to nieces twice!); but Cersei pursues a relationship with Jaime anyway...because she wants to, makes her feel more like the "perfect" being, it brings her a sense of bodily autonomy and control after her marital abuse, and it's the most convenient thing.

As I already stated, Cersei isn't actually thinking of the real politics as motivation to be with Jaime so much as the self-soothing fantasies made from her own yearning desire for power and perfection. It's not truthful to make it as if she were this mastermind or even cares to know real strategy or at least far-thinking when she has never done that except for the wildfyre...which was a disastrous and stupid plan by its execution (ahem, Aerys II). Tywin may hide that her kids aren't Robert for the sake of reputation and keep them safe like Viserys, but his feelings in doing so are not in the same realm of loving even though, kinda like how it is Viserys' fault that Rhaenyra was in the position that she was in, Tywin is at fault for Cersei's. Her being married to Robert. Cersei is a pure pawn piece to Tywin, more than her brothers, because she is a woman and he will never allow her to be his heir. At the same time, it is by Tywin's support that Robert was able to cinch his butt on the throne.

You can read more HERE, as this analysis comes from blankwhiteshield. Cersei didn't have that much access to anyone else her entire life, even as a Consort, because, once more women do not have the same mobility as men (scroll down to "Medieval/Westerosi Noble Male vs. Female Mobility") and she is neither a Tyrell nor a Martell.

C) The Velaryons, if people really want to use their race to "prove" anything

1. If you cannot read throughly, you will miss the argument.

Some people have opted to use the "why aren't Rhaenyra's sons not darker?! It's so obvious that she had bastards!" thing. This assumes that these same people want to use real-life genetics as their main crutch.

With more people showing their kids online, we ourselves are getting to witness that interracial couples often have children in various colorations, from very thin, pale-blond-light-eyed to darker-skinned, darker eyes, coilier hair.

Ryan Condal and other producers/writers of HotD made the Velaryons historically black with no hint of blue, gray, or green eyes like Milly Alcock, Emma D'arcy, and Paddy Considine. Or vice versa. (Putting purple eyes in either post or contacts for some actors who are willing could have helped here, but the point is that the Velaryons who don't have Targs for direct relatives [Rhaenys being Laenor & Laena's mother] and Targs only share the pale hair part of Valyrian appearance).

Valaena Velaryon (the 3 conquerors' mother) would then be also black/darker skinned. Alyssa Velaryon (Rhaena--rider of Dreamfyre--, Jaehaerys I, & Alysanne's mom) would also be black/mixed/have darker skin.

Therefore every Targ after the Conquerors & before Aegon V are visibly black/mixed/darker-skinned (including Daemon, Viserys, and Rhaenyra)

After Aegon V marries the white Betha Blackwood, the Targs continue to marry lighter women, and thus the Targs get lighter and lighter until we get Dany & her siblings being white-white.

If we were to actually introduce black/mixed Rhaenyra, her kids with Laenor should also have inherited the eyes/hair/etc. of Valyrians. But even if she, this should-be-mixed-Rhaenyra had just white-Harwin as her lover and father to her kids....her kids could very well turn out very similar as they do now. Ironically, despite his own intentions and words, Condal set us up with a reason to believe that Rhaenyra should be even less suspected of having bastards even with the boys' dark hair and eyes.

Again, Because she would be visibly mixed, they also should be visibly mixed. Even though they aren't Laenor's biologically.

Not only does Rhaenys canonically have dark hair in the actual book, but her cousin Borros has the Baratheon dark hair that canon!Rhaenys supposedly (if we follow true genetics) and likely could have given Laenor to pass onto his own kids. Thereby he also really missed an opportunity to show how "obvious" the greens' slander was not working outside of us looking at Alicent's frenetic movements. See how this change could have actually given a more nuanced revelation and element to the story the writers created?!

In HotD, they should have all display variances of hair texture & eye color, including Jaehaerys, Daemon, and Rhaenyra themselves. However, this change and the inconsistency it brings up are not things that I "hate" in of themselves because we do need more than just white people in our mainstream fantasy until we force people to produce actual black/African fantasies....and there are a lot of them.

What I criticize is that Ryan Condal made it very clear that he sees the race play as a means to make it that much more "obvious" that Rhaenyra's kids aren't Laenor's, which both cheapens the value of how much misogyny plays a role against Rhaenyra as well as cheapens and emphasizes the inconsistency of how the writers use the Velaryons' blackness/darkness into it just being a political tool to audiences. (Entertainment Weekly)

"Once we had that idea, it just felt like everything fell into place," Condal recalls.

And this is what this Cosmopolitan Black critic had to say, but more eloquently than me:

Nowhere in the first season does HotD mention the Blackness of its few Black characters. All we’re told is that House Velaryon has blood from Old Valyria, which means they are really close to the Targaryens and often marry each other to keep the bloodline “pure.” Nothing wrong with that, but since the Velaryons are Black, shouldn’t all Velaryons have Afrocentric features? The casting department didn’t think so, apparently. One of the main storylines in the first season is the denial that Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children are bastards even though they have white skin and loose curly black hair while their “father” is Laenor Velaryon, a white-haired Black man with dreads. The book Fire & Blood (which the show is adapted from) also follows this plot point. But the Velaryons aren’t Black in the book, meaning it’s somewhat believable or at the very least plausible that Rhaenyra’s children are Leanor’s. I know this is a fantasy show, but there’s something really cringe about (1) trying to pass three obviously white children off as Black and (2) making the one Black family on the show the center of a *checks notes* paternity scandal. Even if House of the Dragon were only following the book’s plot point—the question of the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children—the decision to cast House Velaryon and thus Laenor as Black means that race and racial connotations needed to be introduced as well. You shouldn’t cast a white character as a person of color and then ignore their racial identity.

There were African Christians in the medieval-e/modern pd. worlds; however, this sort of paternity check-thru-race is a post-slavery, modern element.

And while race and genetics in the ASoIaF books are strange, it is not strange enough to eschew skin coloring OR the implications of being the only house that is only/mainly black-skinned altogether and what we readers would expect from that. House Velaryon would have intermarried, for example...have they been marrying each other? siblings, first cousins, and/or second cousins--or more often with other houses? How often for each type of marriage? If the last, why do they all still retain their West Afro-leaning features 90% of the time, even by ASoIaF standards of genetics? Are the other Valyrian houses exclusively black (Celtigar)? Will Rhaenyra's master-of-coin Bartimos Celtigar also be black (from episode 10, no it doesn't look like it)? If not, then that just further shows how the Velaryon-being-black change hasn't been enough to make HotD a model standout in creating meaningful diversity in mainstream fantasy media.

Neglecting the story, the implications of introducing race even with the argument of there being African Christians in the medieval era being accepted (though when you go back, it's more of complicated than that), and thus making race more of a downplayed object instead of an identity.

2. What does this mean, then?

With HotD's changes and by the argument of "Rhaenyra's kids are obviously not black!", if they had authentically used race and skin color when they said it mattered within the show (Condal already said this!), then show!Rhaenyra, by THEIR logice, should be visibly mixed, not white

AND:

show!Rhaenyra's actually should able to pick any lover of any coloring (as long as they have a trustworthy character) bc her kids will always logically/visually "pass" as Laenor's, no matter their actual father; her boys, no matter what would likely have darker skin or be mixed with their array of coloring, because SHE would have that

Laenor, being their official dad, is already black and further showing how their paternity wouldn't be as suspect if it weren't for social manipulation

their appearance wouldn't be as controversial WITHOUT the greens sowing doubt

again, she'd have more ability to choose than Cersei, but bc Rhaenyra in HotD and F&B is still the heir to the throne instead of a regular noblewoman and goes to Dragonstone to rule it independently. Thereby meeting with more people face to face without being as restricted as she would have been as a Queen Consort.

Why have have the comment abt race and skin color at all? if it's not not actually going to matter in-world?! And if it doesn't matter, it was a tasteless, sexist and racist "joke" on Condal's part.

Without the greens, the only reason why anyone would suspect Rhaenyra's kids was bc Laenor was open-secret-gay & chose of his own volition to not be around her as often as people expect married couples to be.

Like I implied in section B), neither are in either Rhaenyra's control nor her fault. If people argue she should have forced Laenor to stay by order, I don't doubt that some of those people are the ones who would say/have said she should have forced him to have sex with her despite his lack of desire, lack of enthusiastic consent, and inability OR that she should have had a slave from any of the Valyrian Free Cities to impregnate her. All of which is rape and/or exploitation of lower-classed persons' bodies.

To the HotD writers...Give us more! Develop a stonger sense of the court's attitude of Rhaenyra and Alicent's and their respective families!!! Give us a pan or something of the courtiers having silent "fun" but doing it so as to not get either Otto's eye or move themselves apart from Alicent's favor. Something that shows the audience that Alicent is trying really hard to smear Rhaenyra out of spite, and therefore puts her in the narrative position of being wrong/villainous for her internalized misogyny through slight implied mocking. If we go through with just the *shrug* of making ASoIaF genetics "that way", still, Condal's still neglected the real implications of making the entire Velaryon house black and all other houses white/predominantly white.

Again, IF he wants to encourage the audience to rely so much on genetics to castigate Rhaenyra!!! If the audience does so without his input, then this still applies to those who would do so to make their arguments against Rhaenyra!!!.

Finally....

HotD tried to make as if they were doing something more meaningful with HotD and a project that image and for some it worked bc racist/sexist consumerism, but it still failed to recreate the meaningful drama and convey the subtle & unsubtle criticisms of many ideologies, historical actions, and social structures that the original story was going for by not thinking of the implications of having mixed/black Velaryon people. And it was probably because they focused more on diluting the sides, in what ozymalek says was made by their own misunderstanding F&B:

The Dance era in "Fire and Blood" is something that will fundamentally cause the feelings of cognitive dissonance. I think this is why people initially disliked this book when it first came out. It did not provide easy answers, it was written as a historical account, the in-universe historians were clearly biased. People, however, had trouble realizing who the historians are biased for and against. Team Green would have you think that "F&B" is biased against the Greens, because their allegiance as maesters clearly being to Hightowers notwithstanding, they could not evade simple historical facts: that most of the kingdom supported Rhaenyra, that Greens were horrendously misogynistic and that her usurpation was clearly wrong. That's why, approaching it from the "choose your favorite war criminal" point of view, it was difficult for Greens to accept that their preferred side is so cartoonishly evil - obviously bias must have been involved, even though the only pro-Black narrator of F&B is Mushroom, the rest are Greens. The maester's anti-Targaryen bias, however, manages to sneak in and mess with the reader's balance, causing said cognitive dissonance. It's hard to deal with it as a reader, let alone as a showrunner who's trying to adapt a story in which not everything is set in stone. They incorrectly assumed that, because they are constantly forced to question what is happening in the story, the bias is with the underlying idea that there was a correct side. As such, they assumed that all the inconsistencies result from maesters not choosing to view it that way. Ryan Condal repeatedly stated that he does not want watchers to pick sides, while George RR Martin embraces it and even encourages it (and I think that he himself has picked the Blacks). Such is our nature as human beings. So they decided that they have to balance the scales.

They really refused to consider & imagine how the difference in race would change the narrative of the Dance and consequently think of ways to make it still work for the story's purpose of showing how people can manipulate self-images and others' images, especially when it concerns women and women in the pursuit of access to higher powers. It refused to actually work to integrate the Blackness, fine. but then it OR the audience--who praised said move--also tried to use said Blackness to make meaning but make meaning against Rhaenyra.

So now there are critical plotholes and missed opportunities in the narrative that just make the story more boring, flatter, and deceptively simpler while still converting misogynist and racist sentiments into stereotypical narratives--thereby discouraging its audience from engaging in proper insight/observing patterns of social manipulation in the misogyny against Rhaenyra, as well as the show's own different flavors of misogyny in Alicent, Laena, Rhaenys' etc.'s re-writings.

They really want Rhaenyra's actions of sexual autonomy to be either criticized, seen as a flaw of hers, or make her agency thematically subordinate to the misogynist expectations that some may feel should guide Rhaenyra's rule/self-conduct. Therefore, it's encouraging the audience to look at Rhaenyra as a/the negative agent, to comply with the misogynist forces and their logic against her. The agent of society-destruction instead of someone trying to move through a society set up more against her than for her. To judge a female leader differently than a male one, judge her "worthiness" to rule more by her willingness to be as traditional and misogynist against herself. To be more complicit with the status quo.

When really no one should genuinely internalize the need to impress or "prove" one's worthiness to people who already believe your gender, skin, etc. justifies your exclusion from certain positions of power, rights, and privileges. That is like asking nicely or behaving like a "good girl" to heart (not just using it as covers) & expecting the same treatment men have/the same rights. This is how show!Alicent thinks and what gets her into that frantic state that makes her think less clearly than she could, adding to the anxiety and abuse she already receives from her father and Larys Strong. Unfortunately, Alicent's belief in "duty" and the absolute "sacrifice" that mainly women must make for a "orderly" aristocratic society just serves to imprison her.

#cersei lannister #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd characterization #agot characterization #fire and blood characters #character comparison #westerosi succession #westerosi queens #cersei's characterization #rhaenyra's characterization

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