#but also - for that reason - kinda even angstier?

[freuleinanna]

trials (and errors)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 AO3

Chapter 4: Liars

A perfect lie does not exist. Untether it from truth, and it's a mere fantasy. Weave truth into it, and it becomes a commemoration, for concealment is just an act of protection, and protection, well, is just an act of love.

Can you imagine? The chapter I started the whole thing for? Ugh. Welcome to the circus, aka the courtroom angst, aka Sturrock hardly dealing with those two and those two hardly dealing with each other

The hearing itself is a blur.

If they were to compare memories, both Marisa and Asriel would probably agree that what they remember most is endless bureaucratic gibberish and a whole lot of pretentious words flying about. Illicit affair this, conspiracy to murder that. Asriel powers through the whole thing silently agreeing to at least consider respecting the Authority should he miraculously manifest himself and strike down the bunch of dim-witted black-robed idiots blabbering about marriage institutions and the worth of a human life. Beside him, Stelmaria is unmoving, her eyes glide from one speaker to another, thoughts impenetrable behind the icy facade. Both of them exude the feeling of having much better and more important things to do with their time, which isn’t wrong. Both of them are fully focused on not looking at the opposite side of the hall where Marisa and her daemon are.

They climb their respective stands. They aren’t allowed to be seated. After all, it is a trial, and they are supposed to be defending themselves. Asriel has a feeling that neither him nor Marisa are interested in defense, simply wanting things to be over.

Stabbing each other in the process is just an extra perk.

‘State your name, please,’ Cardinal Sturrock is slumping in his direction. Asriel opens his mouth and doesn’t shut up out of spite listing his name, status, estates, and full heritage up to the seventh generation even when he’s interrupted – twice. His voice thunders through the room. People wince.

‘You did ask, Your Eminence,’ he shrugs coldly.

‘Thank you, Lord Belacqua,’ comes the most thankless tone possible.

Marisa’s answer, against his, is short and dry.

‘Marisa Coulter, née Delamare.’

With the precision of French vowels on née. Whether it’s pride or emotions that make her resort to the accent, or a simple habit of pronouncing it right, Asriel doesn’t really know. I love you, sea creature. He doesn’t look, but his teeth hurt from clenching.

And then it becomes very hard not to look because questions come one after another, and it’s their shared history that gets spilled on the floor.

‘Could you remind the honorable judges of the circumstances of your meeting?’

He stifles a groan. The only thing stopping him from suggesting the honorable judges to shove their honorable questions up their honorable asses is Stelmaria’s tail around his legs. She could have crushed the pathetic daemon-insects between her paws if she wanted, but she is playing impassive for his sake. Asriel burrows his fists deeper into his pockets and clears his throat.

‘It was a social event, I don’t remember which. Both Mrs. Coulter and I were present.’

Well, he made the whole board frown. Again. What, did they expect him to pour out every detail? Who cares, let’s cut right to the chase. They met, they slept together, they had a child, he killed her husband – that’s what everyone wants to discuss anyway. Dancing around the subject just takes the meaning out of it.

‘And how old were you?’

‘Twenty.’

‘And Mrs. Coulter?’

‘Why don’t you ask Mrs. Coulter herself?’ he snaps, patience is leaking out of him despite the decision to stick to his best behavior. Damn his non-existent tolerance for stupidity.

‘It is your account of the events, Lord Belacqua. We will address Mrs. Coulter when needed.’

Speaking of her like she isn’t in the room. The spot of blue color is very still in the corner of his vision as Asriel makes an effort to look straight in the Cardinal’s bloated face. He can’t lick Marisa’s taste off his lips. It’s distracting. Stelmaria moves her head in a warning: focus.

‘I believe, Mrs. Coulter was nineteen at a time.’

‘And is it correct that your affair started a year after that?’

To be fair, Asriel said so himself during one of the previous hearings because it was easier then, one on one with Sturrock and his henchmen. He said a lot of things. Now, however, with Marisa standing witness, the lies become palpable like rough stitches in the air. Seeing them, knowing them, how could anyone believe they lasted a whole year?

The truth is, the affair had started immediately. It’s just that the sex came well after, but she cheated on her husband the moment their hands met.

They would meet at the library. She would pretend to not notice Asriel’s presence until the last minute, but always made sure to wear the most flattering dresses. He would pretend he visited the dusty archives for any serious, adult reason except spending a day with Marisa.

She would smile politely as she saw him and say, ‘Lord Asriel. Here again?’ – in a voice that fit a genderless servant, not a woman of flesh and blood, but her eyes would spark with delight. Sometimes, he would approach to read over her shoulder, hardly seeing the lines from being struck on the head with the scent of perfume mixed into that of her skin.

She would turn her face half-round to ask, ‘I wonder, what do you make of the Bermundsen’s last paper on potential use of natural events, Aurora lights in particular, as a source of renewable anbaric energy?’

He would breathe ‘I think Bermundsen is flying pitifully low’ down her neck.

They would sit across from each other, shamelessly making love with their words and ideas, innocent to anyone who could see.

At times, she would make for the stepladder to take another book. He would take it for her, reaching over her head, almost pressing her into the shelf in the process. Their eyes would meet, and there would be that look in hers, all at once calculating and genuinely content, impossible to decipher all the way through. Not daring to allow their fingers touch over a book, they would pause. In the air, an instant collapse waiting to be released. They would both stand, undoubtedly imprinting one another in memory to imagine late at night for their own raw, secret pleasure. Adding a throbbing sensuality to that image on purpose.

At the end of the day, they both knew exactly what they were doing.

It’s a force Asriel, with his scientific mind, cannot comprehend or break down into a handful of co-applying laws physics has to offer. Something possesses him to take a look, something not entirely lost, that’s still trying to live and breathe despite his best efforts.

Marisa appears withdrawn. Empty, like she isn’t there at all. The harmony of deep blue with the gold of her daemon would be fitting to a saint, except that wearing a color besides black only paints her more of a sinner. Deep within, Asriel is admiring the defiance. His admiration is of dark, self-torturing quality.

Under a delicate hand, the golden monkey seems to have lost all life. Therein lies the Marisa effect.

‘Lord Belacqua?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Is it correct that your affair started a year after you and Mrs. Coulter had met?’

‘Yes. Yes, that is correct.’

***

Mrs. Coulter, he keeps saying.

I briefly collaborated with Mrs. Coulter on one of my branching research, she was providing theological base to…

When Mrs. Coulter and I had become involved…

… there was no paper correspondence, Mrs. Coulter insisted…

…Mrs. Coulter…

…Mrs. Coulter…

Some other woman she must be, that Mrs. Coulter, because Marisa doesn’t recognize herself in what Asriel is saying. The person he talks at such lengths about sounds rational and cold, plotting her way through the affair down to every breath she takes, and not at all in love. She remembers being in love. How does one pick memories clean off the carcass of that giant dead thing?

Bones are there, alright, but Asriel is lying. Tiny details get cloaked sometimes, and sometimes grand ones. Marisa isn’t fool enough to think it a protection, instead pulling herself together against what it really is. An erasure, utter and complete: of her, of what they were. Matter-of-factness, with which Asriel answers the questions, ultimately retelling the story in a way a dust-dry librarian would retell the plot of an exciting novel, is an act of killing. She is reduced to an outline, a character – someone unimportant, and only vaguely familiar.

A stranger, in a word. A stranger whose name he pretends to have never tasted on his tongue in moments of disarmed tenderness.

He said he wouldn’t spare her. Who knew it was to be like this.

Despite the indignation it pokes alive, his flow of immaculate half-truths has another effect, an unexpected one. They carve Mrs. Coulter into existence out of thin air, and the more Asriel speaks, the more real she becomes, allowing Marisa to dissolve in the image. Soothing her until she enters a state of tranquil trance, her tyranny buried into the golden fur. How easy it is to pretend uninvolved. It allows her some control – maimed, disfigured, but control still.

So she listens, and doesn’t object. Her hatred, now cool and steady as opposed to the fiery eruption before, listens too. Grasped by curiosity almost unhealthy, it wonders how much less emotional Asriel can make the whole thing sound.

And then, suddenly, it’s her turn.

And then, suddenly, it’s a full-blown interrogation.

Air grows thicker, as if molecules knit themselves closer together with every pair of disapproving eyes landing on Marisa. She tenses.

‘Mrs. Coulter, do you agree with Lord Belacqua’s account?’

Down to the detail, except where he left out that we actually had hearts, she says, yet the words transform in her mouth and leave it as a plain, ‘Yes.’

‘Very well,’ Sturrock locks his ring-laden fingers, leaning over them and resembling at that moment a fat hawk on the search for a prey. ‘Could you say for how long you had been married to Edward Coulter prior to meeting Lord Belacqua?’

‘Six or seven months.’

‘Are you not sure?’ the hawk frowns.

‘Seven,’ Marisa corrects, even though it’s not true, because the whispers start swishing and she needs some merit. Yes, she was still very freshly a wife when she broke all her vows, but at least she can track her own marriage. That must count for something, must it not?

It was, in fact, six months and eighteen days. She spent endless nights wishing she’d just waited for six months and eighteen days longer before allowing Edward to put a wedding band on her finger. Or that Asriel had come along that exact amount of time earlier. Either way, a fruitless endeavor, but it kept her up for hours.

‘And would you say you had amicable relationships with your husband?’

‘Quite.’

‘Mrs. Coulter, I’m afraid I need you to elaborate.’

They say, when vultures come, it’s already too late. Marisa stands surrounded by vultures, painting and repainting her cracking mask of humbleness to not let fury taint it. Even in death, Edward traps her. Say a few good words about him, and her sins become appalling in comparison. Say a few bad ones, and she’s obviously besmearing his memory with lies to save herself, a malign creature whose only hope is to pray for forgiveness. In a convent.

Very carefully, her voice treads across rows.

‘My husband was a man of politics, as you know. Often away. Amicable is the exact right word, Your Eminence, for we didn’t have much in common, nor did we spend much time together. There were always…other duties.’

‘Is that why you chose to betray your sacred union by infidelity?’

Damn you.

Is there any winning this at all? The Cardinal himself is pushing her onto the thinnest ice Marisa’s ever walked on. Everyone is waiting, everyone is angry. A bunch of men who’ve never known a woman’s touch behave like she’s been unfaithful to them personally, and that is a mighty dangerous sea to navigate. That collective ego can crush her like a wave.

Giving herself some time, Marisa strokes the gold. Her hand is hard despite the gesture, the monkey shivers under it. It might pass for embarrassment, his fear. Good. She tugs at the fur a little and greets the pain where, connected to her deamon, a part of her soul resides, stuck among arteries and veins in rivers of blood – the one thing she’s yet failed to dissect to understand the nature. Her insides yelp; it helps her think. She needs to think fast.

Truth, she decides, is the simplest thing to say. And the quickest way to try and thaw a few hearts that are so hung up on innocence.

She only makes one mistake. She looks at Asriel.

‘I was…’ in love, is what Marisa tries for, ready to play the cards, but that incomprehensible soul of hers… She would throw it to the wolves if she could. It makes the words cluster in her throat. It fights against every sound, clawing them down with a fierce proprietary desire to omit, to withhold, to never share a single meaningful piece.

‘Yes, Mrs. Coulter?’

Because it was theirs.

A young man bumps into her, rushing away from her husband like all dogs are on his tail, which is a bit funny since he’s being followed by a giant cat. A  leopard, alright. For the sake of precision, a snow leopard. The man’s face still carries echoes of an argument he’s very obviously continuing in his head even as he turns.

‘My apologies,’ he mutters, a hand on Marisa’s shoulder making sure she’s okay.

‘No need,’ she chuckles at how aggravated he looks, then nods to his suit. ‘You’ve spilled your drink.’

‘What? Oh–’

Something very inappropriate is about to leave his lips, but the stranger contains himself, albeit hardly. He does give an impression of someone who’s not used to doing it. A gentleman, then; sparing Marisa’s ears the horrors of hearing him curse. She smiles. It is a very expensive suit he’s wearing, of fine materials, clearly tailored. With a big wet whiskey spot on the left sleeve.

She lends him a handkerchief. Simple as that.

‘Seemed like you were having a hard time with Edward Coulter there.’

‘Politicians,’ the man scoffs, patting his sleeve dry. ‘A fine specimen too, pigheaded as they come.’

‘Hard to disagree.’

The man snorts.

‘Thank you.’ He looks up to return the handkerchief. For the first time, their eyes meet. Marisa feels blizzard skies touch her face.

Fathomless, untamed, impossibly blue.

Now she’s dizzy.

She has to blink and breathe before reinforcing a polite smile.

‘You’re welcome.’ There’s a little crack in her voice, through which something new seeds in, spilling gold all around. Everything is brighter. Warmer. And the stranger doesn’t help, the stranger is watching her with intensity so profound, as though taking his snowstorm eyes away would be death.

‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced.’

‘We haven’t,’ meaning to take the pitiful piece of cloth, she reaches forward, sly cruelty curling the corner of her mouth in anticipation. ‘Marisa Coulter.’

Now their hands meet. Now she shudders.

It’s against the rules, the anbaric charge running from her fingers and all the way down her spine.

The young man raises his eyebrows, glances over at Edward, then turns to Marisa again. She nods, enjoying the trick. Now he’ll say, ‘Forgive me’. He’ll say, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude’. They’ll laugh about it for as long as another minute will be merciful to last and by tomorrow, they’ll have already forgotten. Simple as that.

He sends her a grin with not a hint of apology in it and whispers, ‘My condolences.’

Their hands are still touching.

Now, Marisa falls.

How does one share… that?

‘I was weak,’ she says instead, hiding the truth so deep in the hardened soil that is her core now, it doesn’t have any chance of pushing back to the surface, ‘and easily seduced. A young woman, the high society. Getting plentiful attention from a handsome young man. It doesn’t excuse me, but the result is, I think, understandable.’

That should do it. That should be enough.

In years to come, she’ll bare her teeth at anyone suggesting that she was, indeed, seduced, for every time, this exact moment will come before her eyes. When she set the rumors free to cover her refusal, her actual inability to kill whatever love there was by laying it down before the judging eyes. When she stood lying her heart out to protect it. What a wild, unreasonable thing to do, lacking any logical backbone.

‘In your own words, Mrs. Coulter, could you describe the nature of your affair with Lord Belacqua?’

And she keeps doing it again, and then again. Before the board of the Consistorial Court, before the Authority himself. Before Asriel, to whom she has no means of explaining what she’s doing and why, and it’s too late for explanations anyway.

‘It was just that, an affair.’ The monkey’s frozen under the palm of her hand, but his heart is racing. He’s looking at Asriel, making her want to look. She can’t bring herself to, not with all the atrocities falling out of her mouth. ‘I never made any advances.’ A lie. ‘Our relationship was merely physical.’ A lie. ‘There were no high feelings involved on either of our ends,’ a preposterous lie, ‘and I certainly never planned for a child.’

‘Now, the child…’

And so it continues: a hook after hook, round after round of scrupulous investigation, escaping traps, spinning a detail or two into webs by myriads and morphing them to the point of striking unrecognizability, concealing what couldn’t be shared.

Marisa goes through humiliation of describing her pregnancy to a board of priests, each of whom, at some point, winces at the realness of their beloved sacred concept. She answers increasingly stupid questions, and grooms her voice to sound respectful and calm. She acknowledges her sins without ever raising eyes. She, for all means and purposes, survives.

There’s one moment where it almost goes downhill.

‘What were the circumstances of your conceiving of a child?’ Sturrock asks, cruelly overdoing the air of grave solemnity. Perhaps, Marisa is just too exhausted to be impressed anymore.

Are you stupid? she might have as well said it, with the way she turns to the man raising a brow, face completely unreadable otherwise. The fat hawk dives out of his papers. Without as much as a word, he gestures for her to talk, and Marisa, the perfect statue, feels the last crumbs of patience being incinerated within.

‘Physical intercourse,’ from her tongue, venom all but drips. ‘Am I supposed to explain to the honorable judges what that is?’

Well, now she’s done it. Caused a storm. Rows of black attires buzz in a unanimous disapproval. Marisa imagines Asriel chuckling. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t hear him behind the noise, but she’d like to imagine a smile. A half-hidden, proud smile he used to have as he looks at her stirring trouble.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! A gavel brings order by slamming the living demons out of the wood. The monkey’s tail curls around Marisa’s forearm. He scowls, and takes a step back. Closer to her. She doesn’t have shelter to offer, only her nails driven deep in the fur.

‘Let me rephrase the question, Mrs. Coulter, and from now on, please refrain from any irrelevant comments,’ the Cardinal grimaces. ‘Were the circumstances clear enough to presume Lord Belacqua to be the father?’

‘I am the father!’

Immediately – a roar, as if that man can’t speak in lower volumes. Always the roars with him.

Across the room, the whole magnitude that is Asriel comes alive, and suddenly Marisa knows – not even understands, it’s not a eureka, she just knows. Stelmaria paces, abandoning her sphinx-like grace; her hissing grows into snarls and back. Asriel is arguing with Sturrock who, without a doubt, is telling him to shut up, which Asriel, without a doubt, ignores. The voices echo. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that for all the lies they both told – the lies, she realizes, absolutely identical in their meaning and reasoning – this one he won’t allow. That single grain of truth must remain unmutilated, untouched by their game of erasure.

For Asriel loves that child. He loved it enough to name it, loved it enough to steal it away. He loves it enough now, to fight for it. And Marisa, while having the power to invent any obnoxious story and take his fatherhood away, won’t do it.

Because it’s theirs.

Because it’s the only thing they haven’t buried yet.

Because, as her love-stricken body never ceases to remind her, she didn’t want a child, but she also wanted his just a little.

So she bites her cool, steady hatred down and doesn’t ruin it all the way. For an act of killing, an act of mercy. Screaming: Here. Don’t you fucking dare say I didn’t have a heart.

‘My husband was frequently absent, sometimes for weeks on end.’ A sterile voice, devoid of anything but a drop of sarcasm. ‘As a scholar, I pride myself in knowing the basic mathematics to do the count.’

It’s hard to say if the Cardinal’s forehead is glistening with sweat of responsibility or mere frustration. He waves his hand, and doesn’t ask Marisa any more questions.

From the distance, Asriel is scrutinizing her. She can imagine gears turning in his head as he contemplates her actions. Imagining is the only thing she can do; to salvage something, something else must be sacrificed. Marisa fakes a cold smile. He frowns. Threads of Aurora colors are still hanging between them, uncut, piercing the space to weave the two together, but the ability to read them is lost.

***

Mercury. Lead. Cadmium. Aluminium. Any type of hazardous metals, Asriel is used to handling in his laboratory with according tools and protection, but when a tiny bundle nestles on the crook of his arm, he suddenly feels stupefied. What to do. How to hold it. How, for heaven’s sake, to not harm it?

Afraid of breathing the wrong way, he walks to the stairs. Thinks. Properly, carefully. Then sits on the lower steps, all the way making sure not to press the baby too hard, not to bump the head, not to… a billion other not-tos.

The tiniest face he’s ever seen wrinkles in sleep, and Asriel understands why it’s called ‘falling in love’. It is a fall. His heart plunges down toward something so entirely new, it’s torturing, yet rewarding at the same time. He felt it with Marisa but this, this is different. He stares at his daughter’s face with awe written all over his.

‘Won’t you introduce us?’ He’s oblivious to his own daemon approaching. Stelmaria rubs at his shoulder, her impressive might turned delicate, affectionate. Amber eyes find the baby. She gives the blanket a couple of sniffs and grumbles with content, tail slowly passing from side to side. Asriel feels holy.

‘Stelmaria, this is Lyra,’ he whispers proudly, stunned at the sheer strangeness of the words he never thought he’d use in a combination until he does. ‘My child.’

And then again, ‘My child.’ Like he’s perpetually amused by it. His chest shakes with a stifled laughter of joy.

The baby’s eyes aren’t fully closed, so he thinks he might need to ask Ma Costa if that’s alright. She’ll know. Still, the child appears happy in her slumber. His child, sleeping in his arms. Under her eyelids, a shard of blue. Gyptians say, everybody’s born with blue eyes, sky eyes, and only when spirits finish weaving the threads of one’s life here on earth, do they acquire their true color. What a bunch of nonsense. His child, Asriel knows, will have the bluest eyes forever, even when she’s all grown up. Because she’s theirs, Marisa’s and his.

A little mousy thing climbs from under the fold, yawning and squealing. Perhaps, it’s too hot there. The tiny daemon doesn’t even fully wake, slumping right back on his daughter’s chest and dreaming their little dreams.

‘Won’t you introduce us?’ Asriel turns to Stelmaria, echoing the question. The leopard comes to lick the mouse, her tongue as long as his whole body. A kiss of love, though she’s careful enough not to touch the baby. Small paws catch at the fur on her chin. She licks the daemon again, unmistakably pleased.

‘Feisty,’ she says with quiet fondness before resting a head on her human’s shoulder. ‘Asriel, this is Pantalaimon.’

‘Pantalaimon,’ the name settles over the little thing. Both little things. ‘Lyra and Pantalaimon.’

He sighs, content, amused. In love.

‘My child. My child.’

‘He was going there to murder my child, and I wasn’t supposed to intervene?’

‘Lord Belacqua, we’re not questioning…’

‘Where in your holy books does it say that a father should sit and let it happen?’

‘Your motifs are…’

‘Because I’ve read them, and there’s no such thing there! You know what else they don’t say? That a husband can kill the bastard his wife bore. And don’t give me the ‘violation’ speech, if he was going to avenge his wife, he’d have come straight to me. Edward Coulter chose to go and murder the child.’

‘Silence!’ Sturrock roars, banging the gavel in a deafening, psychotic rhythm for so long, the thing must have gone flat. The Cardinal drops it on the table before wiping his forehead for the umpteenth time. Another ink smudge appears. The man sighs. When he speaks again, his breath comes out heavy with wheezing. ‘As I was saying, Lord Belacqua, we are not questioning your motifs. But if the murder of Edward Coulter was indeed, as you claim, undesigned, the question remains: how did you know of his whereabouts?’

Asriel’s hands are itching to break something. The damn gavel, preferably. Preferably, against the Cardinal’s head. Conversations have been going in circles forever now, following the same patterns like figurines in a music box.

‘Once again, the gyptians sent for me,’ he grips at the sides of his stand until his knuckles show white. ‘I know you’ve spoken to Ma Costa and John Faa. I’m sure they told you the same.’

‘Did any of them know what Edward Coulter looked like?’

‘Why would they?’

‘So, a stranger shows up, and they immediately call for you? Certainly, you understand why I’m finding this peculiar.’

‘The man was ravaging their settlement, screaming my name and demanding to see the child. I doubt the dots were hard to connect.’

‘And you, luckily, showed up just in time?’

‘Luck, chance, divine intervention, I don’t care what you call it. Ma Costa sent a boy for me. As soon as I heard what was happening, I took his horse and rode. And yes, I killed a man, but need I remind you, I did so protecting my child.’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, Lord Belacqua,’ Sturrock mutters, clearly irked, dropping back in his chair.

A short silence follows. A short time to regroup for another attack. What ticks His wheezing Eminence the most, Asriel thinks as he’s watching the man shuffle papers on the table, is that he does not exhibit guilt. Every fool knows it’s the surest way to win the judging party over, yet he disregards even the most basic of rules. Deep within, he can’t miss the appeal: a man of science facing a board of clerics and winning, slowly but surely. He allows himself a smirk. Right away, comes a cautionary glow of golden eyes. Stelmaria bares her teeth, just slightly. Nothing is over yet.

They are all tired, agitated, and way, way less patient. Sturrock finally stops pretending to be the all-knowing bringer of justice and sulks in his high seat, clueless as to what comes next. That makes him pesky, stubborn. From here on in, dangerous paths wind ahead.

‘Where is the child now?’ the Cardinal finally asks.

Ah. So they know.

Asriel draws air to reply when he notices a tiny movement. It only makes him pause for a fraction of a second, but his mouth grows suddenly dry as he realizes what it was. Marisa turns her head. Marisa, who, for hours, stood as  indifferent as a statue and seemed to be oozing nothing but quintessential, undiluted boredom with the fate of their daughter, turns her head, and listens.

‘Lord…’

‘Yes, I heard.’

He can feel Sturrock frown.

‘And?’

It doesn’t matter. Her listening doesn’t matter. The woman is a labyrinth, each turn a dead-end. A sea creature that learned to mimic humanity. It’s just his heart he needs to persuade, because, well… She told the truth. Threw away the best weapons she had and told the truth where it mattered.

‘Lord Belacqua, I have to insist…’

‘The Jordan College,’ Asriel barks, pushing through the pounding in his chest. ‘She’s in the Jordan College, in care of its Master.’

Come what may, he’ll fight.

‘So,’ the sweaty, round face of the Cardinal proves to be a surprisingly good distraction. Who could’ve thought. ‘How does a child, placed in a nunnery, end up in the Jordan College?’

‘I took her there myself.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘On the grounds of my doing whatever the hell I want, because this is my child!’

He shouts. Stelmaria’s roaring, carried by the echo, rambles through the hall, and a whole lot of bugs, spiders, and mice daemons hurry to hide in their humans’ sleeves. They don’t have anything against him, Asriel realizes with grim satisfaction. Better yet, they are quite afraid. He stands prouder, arms folded. The taste of victory grazes his tongue already, nearing in anticipation to that first sip of tokay as the liquid gold pours into a glass.

‘And did you not think to consult with Mrs. Coulter?’ Sturrock gestures innocently to the side. ‘Its mother?’

He looks a cheap magician demonstrating a trick, although why, Asriel can’t seem to grasp. Marisa has been standing there this whole time. It’s not like he made her appear out of nowhere. A thought stumbles on its own irrelevance, at once fading.

There’s something in Marisa’s eyes.

Something, he could swear.

She stands wearing her guilt, and shame, and sin like she would one of her ravishing dresses, and he could swear she gives him the smallest, sharpest nod.

‘Mrs. Coulter…’ Asriel begins hoarsely, then stops. Honey-spiked wine turns into a nauseating unctuous slush in his throat. With an effort, he swallows it all the way down. He’d swallow his own pride to keep talking. ‘Mrs. Coulter does not have a grain of interest in being a mother, Cardinal. As soon as the child was born, she wished for it to be sent away. She even went as far as telling her husband that it died at birth. That child never knew a crumb of mother’s care, so I don’t think Mrs. Coulter has a say in the matter.’

He never takes his eyes off Marisa. Treading onto the ice, waiting for creatures to come from the depths and devour him.

Take her away, Asriel. I can’t… I’ll hurt her, or do something, or… She will ruin everything, she will. I hate that. I hate… Just hide her, Asriel, please. Hide her from me. I’d rather hate her from the beginning than love her, and hurt her still.

Creatures never come.

The lie settles.

Hanging over the room, an uneasy silence: the entire board of the honorable judges grows quiet, shifting their gazes from one stand to another. There’s not a cough, not a chirp from their daemons. No minds able to unriddle that enormous magnetic charge pulsating in the air, created and sustained, it seems, in half-accidental, neither scientific nor theological, conditions of two people looking at one another. Each a defendant, each a prosecutor. Making their own gravity.

Which can only exist for as long as it’s allowed.

‘Be it as it may, Lord Belacqua…’ the Cardinal sounds a tad less sure now, yet there are no more grounds to surrender. ‘She is still the child’s mother, and in terms of the rightful…’

‘Your Eminence, if I may?’

A clear voice, so perfect in its tone against the angry, tired grumbles that have been bouncing off the walls for hours, it’s like a breath of air.

All Asriel can do is watch. It all depends on her now.

Sturrock pinches the bridge of his nose – needless to say, dripping with sweat – before addressing Marisa. Whether he’s contemplating his career, or wondering if the two of them decided to team up specifically to wear him down, Asriel would understand.

‘Yes, Mrs. Coulter?’

‘Let him do with the child as he pleases.’

What are you doing.

‘Again, Mrs. Coulter, any elaborations?’

‘None,’ she shakes her head. ‘Except that I have no intention of being a mother to, as Lord Belacqua so eloquently put it before, a bastard born of sin.’

What are you doing, goddamn you.

She stands there. Just stands there, with whispers and looks touching her face, her clothes, getting under it and branding her a monster. An adultress, twice sinner, a mother who left her child. They would be more merciful if she just played her cards. Everyone loves a sad story with a mother and a child somewhere in it, and none more that the church folk. She doesn’t leave them a chance to be merciful.

In her eyes, shards of sea-blue, so familiar it sends a violent thrust through his heart. The ones forever mixed into the blue of their daughter’s. And suddenly, Asriel finds himself nodding to her in the same hidden gesture she did.

That’s right. Hit harder. I know you can.

The golden monkey stirs. Behind her stand, Marisa is a mask of cold elegance. Right next to her, her soul withers in a white-knuckled grip. Then she blinks, and her sea-blue goes completely blank, and she looks away.

‘Is that your official request, Mrs. Coulter?’

‘If need be, yes.’

The Cardinal gives out an exasperated sigh. Then bangs a gavel.

‘So be it.’

***

The very last thing they do is sign the orders.

Marisa sways when she takes the first step, but simply because she spent hours on her feet, hardly moving. Not because she’s afraid of walking toward the inevitable end.

She doesn’t look at Asriel. He doesn’t look at her.

They’ve said all they wanted, agreed on all they needed, and lied the living souls out of themselves in the process, painting each other all colors of monstrous. The tainted mess left on the courtroom floor has nothing to do with what they really were. And that, perhaps, is the most victory they can share. With nobody knowing the truth, they might forget it too. Forget there was ever love at all.

Ugly, grotesque versions of them that will leave the room shouldn’t make it too hard.

Asriel is the one to leave first. Stelmaria follows him quietly, a ghost of a man and ghost of a daemon.

His signature is right there on the paper. Marisa hardly even reads what is above. She’s not to approach Lyra or visit the Jordan College, that much she heard from Sturrock’s lengthy speech. The rest, she couldn’t be bothered with.

She signs a confident ‘M’.

A less confident name, not yet understanding why.

Then shivers.

For whatever reason, her hand is aching to write ‘Delamare’. I love you, sea creature. Taking a deep breath, Marisa has to spend a good minute closing her mind, sealing it up for good. Resorting, ironically, to the very thing she and Asriel created together.

Marisa Delamare drowns at sea. From its depths, a creature emerges, as enigmatic and obscure as the black waters that have turned its blood cold all the way through to the heart, and its beautiful embrace is deadly.

The creature’s name is Mrs. Coulter.

#i'm SAD #i'm feeling SAD #it is a long-ass chapter considering #probably overly so at times but ok a just couldn't edit it anymore #and it actually turned out WAY softer than i anticipated #(which makes me contemplate the necessity of the last chapter but we'll see) #but also - for that reason - kinda even angstier? #i have so many comments i'd better just shut up but i hope the idea is even comprehensible through the writing #there's a lot going on #ALSO #some flashbacks #including papa azzy one that made me go fUCKing ballistic #alright im done #hdm #hdm fic #his dark materials #trials and errors fic #masriel #young masriel #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #marisa x asriel #asriel x marisa

[l0n3ly-gh0st205]

Heyo Stranger, if you are like doing request rn can We get more white beard pirate's with child!reader crumbs pls 😌

A/n: Oh my days; ABSOLUTELY ANON!!!! Crumbs are my favorite hehe

Sorry, I responded so late; getting into the vibe of my second quarter at college and dealing with some personal stuff on the side, but! im here to feed the found family enjoyers! (also, I still love my college. It's super fun but stressful! I may post some of my assignments, but we are still in fundamentals rn)

Enjoy! :D

Child!Reader with the WBP!!

[■□□□□□□□□□] 10%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■□□□□] 60%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

☆꧁༒Complete༒꧂☆

So, in previous posts, I mentioned that Marco and Thatch found a baby in a storm… but don't get me wrong, they're stupid enough to adopt a kid off the streets accidentally.

Obviously, in the new world and on the grand line, there are some not-so-great families/ pirates, so I don't think it's out of the question if a female crew member gets pregnant on a ship for them to, perhaps, dump their unwanted child on a random island and expect them to die or smth

And if the island had a town, then they’d most likely be living on the streets since it’s just another mouth to feed, and no one wants to put a strain on their already delicately crafted lives

But moving on from the sad stuff

Imagine if a toddler reader, just hungry and wanting some clothes for the winter, notices a new ship in the port and tries to steal some food and clothes

And, of course, a lil bby can't really steal too well, either falling into a barrel or easily getting caught by the crew…

Lucky for you, the white beard pirates have a soft spot for kids :D

God, just imagining thatch holding up this scrappy little baby, probably crying big fat tears from getting in trouble, up to white beard being like, ‘So what are we doing with this?’

And white beards’ parental instincts immediately kick in.

So yeah new little sibling :D’

I headcanon Ace as being the previously youngest crew member… so when i tell you he was SO happy someone else was now the ‘baby’ of the family it's insane

Would absolutely pick on you for everything, your age? Lil bby. Your height? Short stack. Hell you could drop a fruit on the floor on accident and ace will make fun of it

But even if he’s a little mean at times he’ll absolutely adore a younger sibling.

Like i imagine that he’ll look at you as kind of away to make up for some of the mean things he did to Luffy when they were young, and to make up for Sabo’s absence, so he’ll be the most defensive on your behalf if someone other than him starts picking on you

but on a little angstier note, that doesn't mean that Ace warmed up to you in the beginning

you were found by the crew shortly after ace was forced joined, and he was still in his lil emo era of hating everything and everyone

So while you were blossoming with all the love and affection your new family was giving you, Ace refused to see you, or any other whitebeard pirates, as his family.

you were probably one of the only reasons why Ace warmed up to the whitebeard pirates, and became so fiercely loyal to them to begin with though

but it was a slow process, and you probably got hurt a bit trying to befriend ace (kinda like luffy in the beginning((i may make a fic of this)))

but once he did warm up to you, and accepted his role as white beard pirate, oh boy!!!!!

will absolutely take care of you and try to mend any damage he did while he was pushing you away, big warm cuddle pile with lots of soft apologize and pinky promises will always be the antidote

also, i dont really need to mention this but ace is warm!! so if reader is still a baby baby, then alot of times when ace was available he’d be incharge of calming you down, since his hold was basically like a big warm blanket that would put you right to sleep

A/n: sorry this is super short, my brain is running on fumes but im still trying to crank out my own artistic stuff inbetween college work, and also trying to get a business and help my room mates animation studio get off the ground

but if you enjoyed this feel free to reblog and comment! i love reading comments!

also my requests are open!

#one piece #one piece x reader #familial x reader #ace x reader #whitebeard pirates x sibling!reader #ace x child!reader #child!reader #x reader

[minaturefics]

In My Place

Request: hey ! 🥰 i was wondering if as a fic, you could write about maybe the reader and aragorn being friends for a long time and when the fellowship forms, the reader starts to form a friendship w boromir too, except aragorn starts to get a little jealous, and he and the reader are at odds w each other? but then the group gets attacked and split up, and aragorn kinda reveals how he feels while they’re arguing and looking for the rest of the group? @sebstanshit

A/N: This came out angstier than I thought it would, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! Also 100% convinced Aragorn can be a little bitch when he wants to be ("and i will die as one of them" smh legolas was talking in elvish for a reason aragorn)

Aragorn x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

No content warnings

3k words

---

The cool evening air blew through the open window of Aragorn’s rooms, and with it came the faint sound of music from Elrond’s Halls. The scent of rosemary lingered in the air, the sprig still floating in the wash basin in the corner. You leaned back on the wall, your arms crossed over your chest, and watched Aragorn fiddle with his hair. His fingers carded through the damp strands, untangling and smoothing the locks so accustomed to neglect. 

Your fingers twitched. How easy it would be to cross the room, to offer to help him. A few paces and you would be by his side. A few paces, and the distance you tried so hard to maintain would vanish under your feet. You shifted and tore your eyes away from him. It could not be. Could never be. Aragorn was a friend, and that was enough.

“What is the matter, my friend?” Aragorn glanced over his shoulder. “If you are impatient to join the party, please go ahead. I will be there soon.”

How could you tell him? What words could possibly convey the maddening desire to be near him? The constant pull at your heart and tug at your limbs, the draw of your gaze to his hands, his eyes, his lips. 

You nodded and forced a smile onto your face. “I will leave you to your battles.”

You slipped out of his room and down the open corridor towards the farewell celebration. Owls hooted in the distance, and crickets chirped in the bushes nearby. You inhaled, sucking in the comforting smell of pine. When did the silent torture of his presence start? A few months? A year? 

All you knew was that a month ago you had reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm, and when his own hand came to rest on top of yours, you felt as if you wanted to stay there, enfolded in his touch. 

You had ripped your hand back, had turned from him and fled. 

You were no fool. You knew how others looked at him, how their eyes would linger on his form, how they spoke of him when he was not around. How could you compare to any of them? Aragorn was an heir, a king. You were just another orphan, common as the daisies in the fields. It was only by sheer chance and Elrond’s kindness that you found your way to his side. 

Ever the constant companion, ever the unwavering friend. No one else knew how he liked his pipe filled, how he favoured his left just ever so slightly when he fought, how he sometimes dreamed of his father’s voice. 

You shook your head and took another breath. It would be no good showing up to the party bitter and brooding. You rounded the corner into one of the empty halls and stumbled into someone. Warm arms came around you, steadying.

“Forgive me, I was not watching where I was going,��� Boromir said, a rueful smile on his face. 

“I am equally at fault, my lord.” You stepped back and straightened your robes. “Are you not attending the party?”

“I am on my way there, but I must admit that I am lost. Lord Elrond’s halls are maze-like, and I am unfamiliar with them.” He chuckled. “My companions left me to wrangle my hair so I had no one to guide me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You are not the only one who suffered such a fate. I have just abandoned my friend to his tangles.”

“It seems that we are well matched then! Seeing as you have deserted your companions and I have been deserted by mine. I trust you know the way?”

“We have just a few more rooms to pass through and we shall be there.” You started and he fell in step with you. 

“I am looking forward to a good celebration, even if it is one for our leaving. Valar knows we all could use some cheer.” He flashed another smile at you and you felt your lips curl up. “And those halflings, the hobbits, I expect they shall be good fun.”

You thought of the troublemaking hobbits unknowingly shocking the elves with some Shire custom. “I expect they will be dancing on the tables and making a fine mess of Elrond’s hall.”

“They are good additions to the Fellowship, I think.”

You arched a brow at him. “You do not think they will slow us down? Or are unnecessary burdens?”

Aragorn had expressed such a thought to you, worried that they may not be fit for such a journey.

“Perhaps, but swords and bows are not the only things that win battles. A little bit of hope and joy can be the difference between a person choosing to stay down, defeated, or to stand up, determined.”

You glanced at him, heart lifting at his words. Hope and joy. Perhaps you could afford some of that, some lightness, some cheer. Perhaps you shall never have Aragorn, perhaps the world will be engulfed in darkness. But there was still happiness to be had. 

The music grew louder and the both of you approached the open door. Merry and Pippin were dancing, arms linked, while the elves looked on with amused smiles. 

“I see we have not missed too much,” Boromir said, laughing. “Those little hobbits are yet to raise any hell.”

He looked at you, mirth in his eyes and you chuckled. “Perhaps we could be persuasive.”

--

The late evening sun streamed through the trees and casted the forest in a soft gold. Aragorn trudged through the shrubs and bushes, twigs snapping under his heavy steps. Behind him the hobbits chatted, comparing recipes, and further behind, you were speaking to Boromir. Your laugh rang out in the air, one of pure joy and happiness. 

He fought the urge to glance behind, to see your smiling face, and he ground down on his teeth. After a month of your shifting eyes and feeble smiles, all it took was Boromir’s arrival to change that. 

Aragorn had tried all he knew to cheer you but you had been determined to evade him with every attempt. His invitations to walk in the wilds went rebuffed more often than not, and his little dry comments about things had not elicited anything more than a forced smile from you. 

What had happened? For it seemed that one evening you were fine, and the next you were not. You had made your excuses to him, fatigue from the constant scouting, fear for what lay ahead. But it seemed that all that vanished when you were in the company of other people. That evening at the farewell party in Rivendell had only served to confirm his observations. 

You had been standing close to Boromir, clapping along to the music, and when he had slung his arm over your shoulder and drew you in, you did not recoil. All night long, you had laughed at Boromir’s words, had nudged him with your elbow when the hobbits beckoned him to join them, had shared his goblet of wine when you had misplaced your own. 

How strange it was, for Aragorn to see the both of you the way he expected others had seen you and him before. Was his place not there, where Boromir had been standing?

Ever the constant companion, ever the unwavering friend. No one else knew how you would raid the kitchens at night for food, how you would sing little made up songs when you thought you were alone, how you traced the scar on your arm when you were nervous. 

Was it possible that you had seen what was in his eyes, the adoration plain on his face, and were repulsed? He had tried his best to disguise it, to keep hidden the tenderness in his heart. But from the way Elrond would sometimes look at him, compassion mingled with amusement, he sensed perhaps he was not as successful as he thought. 

He had thought of speaking to you, but the words never came. His eyes would linger on your face, on the line of your nose or the curve of your lips, and when you looked up at him, head tilted in question, all he could do was shake his head and look away. How could he burden you with his love? Risk confining you to a throne when he knew you belonged out here in the wilds?

He could never have you, so what good would it do to have the words spoken?

“Aragorn,” you called and he blinked out of his thoughts, turning. 

The hobbits were leaning on each other, cheeks flushed and foreheads sweaty. Legolas and Gimli were circling the small clearing, and you and Boromir were frowning at him. 

“What is the matter?” His eyes darted between his companions. “Why have we stopped?”

“We have tried to call you twice,” you said. “We are all weary, it is best if we camp here for the night.”

Aragorn glanced at the woods, the darkness growing closer as night began to fall. “We should walk another hour or so. We can light torches if we must.”

“Aragorn, there is little point. It is better to rest well and start early tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Boromir said, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

Aragron’s heart twisted at the sight. He opened his mouth to protest, to mention the urgency of the quest, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Legolas slowly shake his head. He exhaled, willing the tension in his chest and shoulders to ease. “Very well, but we leave at dawn.”

The hobbits gave each other tired smiles and went about setting up camp. Aragorn sat down against a tree and rummaged through his pack. Footsteps approached and he looked up to see you walking towards him. 

“Are you alright, Aragorn? You seem ill at ease.”

What could he say? What words could convey the wretched ache in his chest when he saw you with Boromir? When he looked at you and saw the ghost of himself by your side where Boromir was. 

He shook his head. “I am simply weary.”

“Boromir mentioned teaching us some game he and his brother contrived to entertain themselves as children. It involves twigs and pebbles I believe. Would you care to join us?”

“No, I am alright as I am.”

You glanced back to where Boromir was teaching Legolas. The elf knocked two twigs together hesitantly, his brows furrowed in confusion. Merry flicked a rock at Sam who tossed it back. A smile crept onto your face. “Are you certain? It will be quite fun, I imagine.”

Fun. When was the last time he allowed himself such a thing? Years ago, perhaps, running wild and feral through the woods with you. Back when crowns and kings did not matter, where shadow and doom did not loom so close. He could not afford such a thing, but that was no reason to deprive you of it. 

He nodded towards Boromir and forced a smile. “You better go or you will miss out.”

He watched you kneel beside Legolas, watched Pippin lean against your shoulder, and tried not to stare as you looked up and smiled at Boromir. 

--

The clash of steel rang out in the air. You reached into your quiver and knocked your last arrow to your bow. Aragorn was behind you, fighting off one of the orcs. Another one made its way towards you, lumbering in its heavy armour as it stepped over the bloodied bodies of its company. You took a breath and let your arrow fly. 

It hit its mark true, the arrow protruding from its neck. The orc let out a spluttering cry as its eyes rolled back. It fell to its knees and you turned to look behind you. 

The orc lay dead at Aragorn’s feet and he cleaned his blade before sheathing it. How handsome he looked, windswept and flushed from battle, his eyes bright and his lips parted. A stray leaf was lodged in his hair and your fingers longed to pluck it out. 

He turned to you, a grim smile on his face. “It has been some time since we fought together, has it not?”

“Our luck has run out,” you grimaced, walking over to him. “The Enemy has found us.”

He looked around, eyes darting between the trees. “They have led us away from the rest. I suspect that was what they intended all along.”

“We should find them, head back to camp.”

He nodded. “I fear for the hobbits, especially Frodo. I worry what may happen if he and Boromir are alone.”

You frowned at him. “What do you imply?”

“You saw the way he looked at the ring on Caradhras. I fear he will not be able to resist the temptation.”

Your stomach lurched at the thought of Boromir trying to tear the ring from Frodo. Laughing, cheerful Boromir, driven to madness by the cursed thing. “What you fear may not come to pass. Let us go.”

You found your bearings and started towards the camp. Aragorn walked next to you, his shoulders tight and his face drawn. There was something on his mind, you knew. It was the slight puckering of his lips, the subtle sucking in of his cheeks. Something on his mind he was trying very hard not to speak. 

“What is it, my friend? I know that look.”

He glanced at you, face pained before he let out a long breath. “I wish you would not let your feelings for Boromir cloud your judgement.”

You blinked at him. Your feelings for Boromir? Was it such a terrible thing to have some faith in a friend? “Cloud my judgement? We are his companions, we should have more trust.”

“Your trust in him does not extend to mine.”

What did Aragorn mean by that? Was he aware of something you were not?

Ever since the fellowship left Rivendell he had been cold and distant to Boromir. Aragorn only ever spoke to him when he needed to, his tone short and clipped. Boromir had asked you about it once, but you could not offer any explanation for Aragorn’s behaviour. Perhaps the presence of the steward’s son was too strong of a reminder of the throne he was fated to take. 

But that did little to explain his disposition towards you. Since the journey began it felt as though an undercurrent of disharmony ran between you and him. Insisting on walking more instead of resting, arguing over which clearing would be better for camp, declining the buttered mushrooms you knew he loved. 

Even your attempts to coax it out of him by the fireside yielded little more than a few dismissive words. Why, after so many years, did he decide to shut you out? At a time where trust and faith were needed the most? You shook your head and sighed. 

“Aragorn, you have been in a foul mood since we left Rivendell. What has been on your mind?” His jaw tensed and he glanced away. 

“It is nothing.”

You let out a mirthless laugh. “Have you also lost your trust in me?”

Aragorn stopped and turned to face you. His grey eyes were stormy and his lips were twisted. “Have you lost your trust in me?”

“What do you mean?” You crossed your arms, frown growing on your face.

“For weeks, you have been sullen. You refuse to confide in me, you reject my attempts at cheering you.” He glanced away and let out a sharp exhale. “And yet when Boromir arrived, it took little more than a few days for the both of you to become fast friends.”

You blinked at him. He was bothered by your closeness with Boromir? 

“If I have betrayed your trust in some way, you should have told me,” he said, voice a little lower. “I do not have your love, I know, but it is far too difficult to also lose your friendship.”

What was he saying? Why did he sound so resigned, so bitter? “Aragorn—”

He sighed. “It is out at last. My words, my feelings.”

Your heart raced in your chest. His feelings? Aragorn felt for you what you did for him? All this while he had shared in your feelings of longing. Had you missed his glances, so wrapped up in your own pain? So determined not to love him that whatever tenderness he might have shown was lost to you.

You took a steadying breath. “You have never lost my friendship, and you have always had my love.”

His eyes snapped to yours, the irritation melting away into confusion. His frown softened and his jaw grew slack. His lips parted and closed, and he shook his head. “How can this be?”

You reached up, hand trembling, and cupped his cheek. His skin was warm, his beard rough. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. You stroked his cheek with your thumb, relishing the feel of him under your hand. You tugged gently and he brought his forehead to yours. You inhaled his scent, musk and moss, pipeweed and woodsmoke. 

“I fear I have been foolish,” he whispered. “I had thought you and Boromir… You have been so distant of late.”

“I have been foolish as well. I thought if I was not so close to you, it would ease my aching heart.”

He drew back and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Did it work, meleth nin?”

You chuckled. “It only served to make it worse.”

He beamed at you but his expression sobered. “The throne—”

“Aragorn, my place is here with you. No matter where you may go. I am more worried about what people may say. I am not…”

“I do not care,” he muttered and brought his lips to your forehead. “I would not be parted from you.”

“Then do not be parted from me.” You reached for his hand and squeezed. His eyes were bright and a smile lingered on his lips. His arms came around you, strong and safe, and you tucked your nose into his neck. He leaned against you, the tension melting away from his shoulders. 

 “Come,” he said, pulling back. “We have tarried too long. I do fear for the hobbits. They are ill-equipped to defend themselves.”

You reached for the leaf in his hair, a smile growing on your face. He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Then let us hurry. We will have our time later.”

“Yes,” he muttered, his eyes meeting yours, soft and full of promise. “We will have our time.”

#aragorn #aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn x y/n #lotr #lotr fic #lotr fanfic #request

[wolfsbanesparks]

Bouncing in here like a madman again

Do you think Captain Marvel (seperate from Billy) considers the Wizard SHAZAM as their father as a sort of creator and creation relationship? Giving room for Billy and grandpa wizard relationship kinda?

I've had a lot of sugar today, so I'm not sure how that sounds, but I kept thinking about your fic, "Split", and how if things took a different turn and Captain Marvel revealed he existed because of the Wizard, would the JL come to the assumption that the wizard was his father/Billy's grandfather?

Or if things took an angstier turn, if Captain Marvel let slip accidentally that he didn't believe that the death of Billy's mother (and actual father) was a genuine accident/had suspicions about it, how would they react? Would they suspect the wizard bc of all the suspicions they're having? Also, I'm not sure if I remember, but did the JL get to have a conversation with the wizard?

Kinda factors into that one ask I sent before, where the gods killed the parents of the champions of magic to challenge and prepare them without them knowing, which might include the wizard, too. (Sorry, I re watched the Guardians of the Galaxy 2 recently and it's been doing numbers on my little mind)

In all seriousness you could write an AU for your fics and we'd eat it all up and ask for seconds because your writing creates a universe of wonder for us.

That was a lot, wow :0

Okay first of all you are so sweet! It's driving me crazy (in a good way) that I can discuss AUs of my fics!

I think that the Wizard already plays a sort of wise grandfather figure to Billy (in my preferred version of him) regardless of Captain Marvel's feelings towards the Wizard.

But I think it's totally logical for Captain Marvel to think of the Wizard as a creator figure, especially in his current incarnation since it was just Shazam who made him instead of a full Wizard's Council. There's respect between them, but Marvel also wants to make Shazam proud, wants to prove he's a good Champion. And I think that can translate to a father-son type dynamic even if it's a lot more complicated than that.

If we're talking Split in particular, the JL "met" the Wizard but Shazam didn't bother talking to any of them so their many confusions and suspicions didn't get brought up to him directly.

But if they had reason to believe Shazam was Marvel’s father, Flash in particular would have been having a freak out because the Wizard would have gone from possibly sketchy mentor to controlling and possibly abusive father/grandfather. He might have even had more people on his side if that was the case (especially if we add in the idea that the Batsons were killed as some kind of test of Billy’s pure heart).

There would still be those who insist that they shouldn't get in the middle of their complicated and potentially messy family situation. But there would also be those who wonder if Marvel had a choice in becoming a hero if his father was the one who imbued him with his powers because it was his "destiny". I can definitely picture Marvel bluescreening if someone asked him if he'd had a choice in being a hero (he didn't, and Billy didn't either) or if he'd ever wanted something else for himself (it had never occurred to him that he could be anything else because he was created to fight evil). His answer would definitely send up some red flags to whoever he's talking to.

There are so many cool ways having people think Shazam is Marvel’s father could play out and it would be so fun to explore that.

And since you mentioned it, while I don’t currently have plans to write an AU of my fics, I AM completely open to other people writing AUs of my fics if they are inspired enough to do it! So long as you credit me as the original author/check the Inspired By box when you post, I encourage you to go for it!

#ask me whatever you want y'all #shazam #billy batson #dc captain marvel #fanfic asks #this could have been a really cool extra layer to the mess that was the misunderstandings in that fic #the JL would have had a whole new set of rumors to sort through #and Zatanna would have completely freaked out at thinking there was some sort of strange family legacy thing going on with the Champion #this is so fun to think about

[nostrildamus]

I normally try to space these out more so as not to spam your inbox, but since I know you like whatever crazy shit I’m on rn let me elaborate:

I feel like the whole SCP thing kinda plays into a this like reverse Dr x Patient thing I have (Obviously not irl) where self insert can explore a medical scenario where they have the power, (Or maybe it’s just my deep urge to be a caretaker idk) combined with a shame/reverse comfort kink.

Anyways, all this to say, I’m just thinking about this poor soul who’s just been contained due to their uncontrollable sneezes. Maybe they’ve just developed, or maybe they’ve always had them and have done good at hiding it up until now. Either way, there shameful secret got out and now combined with the understandable stress of figuring their going to be a lab rat kept in a containment cell for the foreseeable future they also have scientists trying to aggrevate the very issue that brought them in here.

Some dialogue snippets to illustrate:

“Listen Doc, I know you hafta “for science” or whatever, but trust me; you don’t wanna be in the line of fire when I let loose.”

“Oh no, no, no! You don’t have to test that one! I know what it does to me and it’s….really not pretty.”

“Puh-Please! *snf* D-Don’t make me! I don’t wanna heh!-hurt anything! Not again-!”

“I-im sorry! *snf* I didn’t mean to break your equipment….again.”

I could go on, (even angstier if you’re a goblin like me 😈) but ye. Science snz for the win.

okay we were already eating with first ask but you really went OFF with this one!!!

You're absolutely right, whatever horny shit your brain is on I am alwayyyyys here for it.

Goddd, the power dynamic, the shame/reverse comfort, them trying as much as they can to avoid letting loose their sneezes, despite that being the entire reason they're there.....as a self insert I would want to take pity on them at first!! Almost go like "I'm really sorry I know being forced to let out these enormous, dangerous sneezes like this must be really scary for you.....but we gotta!! For science 😌"

Maybe reward them after a long testing session somehow, even though it's against protocol...

also I am getting inspired to draw a scene out of this or something now...

#the double whammy ask good lord you're on fire #big brained anon #asked an answered #snz scenarios #giant! sneeze

[pinkandpurple360]

(wtf where are moms who kill* husbands why there are litterally so many characters who have dead moms...)

My friends don't give me enough reply on my HB rants so now you're my friend for hour lol

Btw i wanted to rant about it more lmao sorry. forgive me mother for not sending you ask about Striker™.

Actually this is a terrible writing right here. Honestly im not so much into shaming authors for writings things i don't like (like i don't like seeing bad writers getting bullied. No matter popular of not. I hate seeing shaming and harassment even for someone such popular as viv, since for me rethoric overlaps very much with how female, kids, and queer writers get treated.)

but this trope is so overpopular i just need to rant to someone.

I only liked it in ducktales 2017 because she is apparently alive and very akward mother, but interesting character still. :D

I also like. Hate it. Like... If you need mother-related-drama, why just get them killed off-screen and never write (and design) them at all, and show them, what they actually meant, like they're non-existen hallucinations in a dream.

If you just need to throw out mother from family, THERE ARE TONS of funnier/angstier/happy for her ways to do it. Like. Idk she can just divorce man and get happier life/family, with someone else. It would be more painful for character that their lovely, kind, supportive mom is alive, but is unreachable, and maybe even choosed not to be near kid (for any reason. Probably dad was at fault not letting her get her child back or whatever you want to write). She can become brutal assasin and gangster :D Or anything, really. Maybe she have a criminal job and it's better to left kid behind, or is a political activist who don't want their kid be threatened by violent tyrants. Heck maybe she is even IN family but pretends to be aunt or anything else. Maybe she just reverse-dad-runned-to-get-milk-uno-card and ran first :'D we like. Have all kinds of mothers.

BUT. i also don't see why you need to kill specifically mother and left her as unwritten character to fan's imagination and writing. Idk why not unalive father and give us conflicting gangster couple of lesbians for Moxxie parents.

If it's a queer show, why not have queer parents? Why go with nuclear monogamous family? Esp in hell where all queers "go to" lol. What about poly family. Just sinner orphans, who died due to illness, while their parents still alive? Idk what about single parents. What if cool aunt™ was soo cool kid decided to live with them for sharing their interests and just rejected parents lol. Artificial Birth can exist too in hell i think, since "playing in god" with science is also a sin. Also if it's a hell, why not write some species just intersex or nonhuman? They can have any other stupid form of reproduction (and even magical and horrorish, surreal, relating to sin maybe. Imagine people in gluttony have to vomit kid formed from overeating idk.), or family system model, that doesn't involve two parents as the most important in kid's life. Like lions. Idk. They can just form communities and then all care about kids, and dont treat them as "theirs", or have special professionals to care, like ants do.

characters relationships with moms can be not even a bit less interesting with mothers than with fathers (i kinda have all my characters have very messy and interesting relationships with them, and i left fathers completely unwritten lol like viv treats moms) and seeing mothers overpowering husbands or them being non-mattering in characters life at all (like, that the kid doesn't even mourn or sad about it, and care more about other people.) is funnier.

OKAY SO the fuck. Like EVEN SECONDARY characters apparently have their moms dead?? (yes agent one im looking at you).

I just noticed how it plain weird when i noticed it more. Like... We had moxxie, blitz, fizz (who is a complete orphan as i rember), barbie, and agent one in anonymous "momless" club. Add if i missed someone. Wtf? Andddd we didn't even saw their faces, we Didn't even saw them speaking... Idk, even if you want to give moxx dead mom, why not let her live, and then boom. And then moxxie gets so mad, and audience get so mad and cancels viv again.

It's just so... Damn unsatisfying. And then we have stella who is just depicted as pure evil. Dammit.

Also, im mad at choice to make agent one's mom dead for literally only very cliche joke. (i hope she will get back on earth to see him, but as demon. that'll be interesting since he works as demon-hunter lol)

why at all blitz should make MOM joke? It would be more unexpected in show that always throws mysoginystic slurs swears and jokes if it. Was about NOT females. Idk what about dog. Or father. Maybe even grandpa lmao. EVEN BARBER (or how men who do haircuts for other men called i dont rember) WOULD BE HILARIOUS OPTION. Imagine him going "MY BARBER IS DEAD!!" i would die from laugh.

Maybe even some religious symbol. There are SO many possible relatives and important things for character, but ppl always go with boring mom-jokes and boring mom-is-dead-counter-joke. Would be funny too if blitz saw him having some demon husbando/waifu pin somewhere and then going "lmao i sitted on a face of your fictional crush sorry" and THEN agent would have a whole cry about it.

I swear i don't like how viv treats female characters in her shows... And jokes with them. She just constantly throws very boring, mysoginystic, and generic swears at them without any punchline, instead of showing something interesting or funny about them. :( if i wanted to see slut-shaming i would just go straight to reddit. Idk if you want to show how your character insults sex-positive female char, why not make it idk more personal or unrelated? We, like, saw it thousands times. And lived with it even... Would be more fresh to see how characters are like "ok i cannot say a bad thing about woman doing what she wants." and they insult them for other reasons and hobbies. Tho it's so hard to not depict succubus/sexual character not only as 1-dimensional person who have other interests, isn't it... Idk... Sorry for rant lmao my brain fog is shit sorry if it's barely coherent and ty for reading it to end lmao

There’s some kind of inane Madonna whore complex in this show, the writers have the most backwards outdated misogynistic beliefs I’ve seen in years. For cryin out loud Viv thinks the biggest problem in society right now is that women are too mean to men.

Yeah what’s with Stolas insisting that they keep the monogamous heterosexual marriage going?? It’s so obvious that he was the one fighting against the idea of a divorce. Not Stella. She wanted out. He refused because he wanted Octavia to have a “normal” life. Even though he himself has traumatised her countless times. Then he cheats and decides he wants out. He decides when it’s time. What a control freak. Women become enraged when they don’t have control of their own lives, when men control their lives. And that’s exactly what we see with Stella.

It’s stupid that Crimson drowned “his wife” who doesn’t even have a fucking name but the random shark bodyguard does because that’s a perfect yaoi ship opportunity. None of the men are heterosexual and yknow what? That’s actually really stupid and not good representation at all. It’s just an AU where everyone is bisexual or gay. But nobody is lesbian.

All the moms are dead or just mean. Fucking lame.

#helluva boss critical #misogyny

[couldtransitionsaveher]

HARLEY BERG from VIOLET GOES TO THE BEACH

JUSTIFICATION:

"Okayokayokay. Harley. HARLEY. So. He got ISSUES, man. He's got a tiny woman friendo named Violet who lives with him in his apartment and basically, he's in love with her but he struggles with that because he had a fiancee who DIED and also he has struggled with self-esteem issues all his life. The amount of fucking self-loathing in this man, damn. He could power fifteen goddamn windmills with his sadboy energy. So far in the comic he has NOT admitted his problems to any of his friends and prefers to bottle up every single one of his problems until he starts fuckin' crying. LIKE BRO HE JUST KEEPS ON CRYING. You would not BELIEVE the amount of TEARS that come out from this FUCKER'S eyes. The amount of lacrimation from the eyes of Mr. Harley Berg could turn the entire Sahara Desert into a goddamned ocean! AND HE'D HATE HIMSELF OVER THAT TOO. Anyway he's a grown man who is shy, sad, immature, and and really needs therapy I think. The most he's got was in a dream where he realizes he needs to work on his self-loathing problems and I mean I'm happy for him for making SOME progress but bro. You also gotta fucking talk to someone. It's not like he's alone anyway, he has friends and people who support him, he just DOESN'T WANNA OPEN UP TO FRIGGIN' ANYONE. I think most of his problems have been revealed in internal monologue or smth. At the very least get THERAPY, bro. He's not even the angstiest most traumatized character in all of fiction, there's others who have suffered through a lot more worse than him and VGTTB isn't necessarily THAT fucked up and dark, it def doesn't hold a candle to some other works of fiction in terms of that, and heck even some of Pacthesis' earlier characters might have more fucked up/darker backstories (like probs Xolga and Mr. Toko and the Star Days Sim Date cast), but still, the vibe of this comic feels much...heavier than Pacthesis' other works? Even if the others are technically angstier VGTTB feels angstier and heavier (to me at least) because I think it goes deeper into the characters' problems/emotional turmoil bc like Harley's issues are like. Damn. He really needs a hug (and therapy). Anyway the only reason I'm submitting Harley here was bc Pacthesis (the creator) drew him as a goth gf and I thought she was kinda cute. She'd still probs cry a lot even if she were a woman but ahwell. Anyway read Violet Goes to The Beach everyone it's kinda cute but also surprisingly angsty, personally the creator's other works are more of my favs I feel more connected to bc of childhood stuff and they just make my heart feel more happy (and personally I like the characters more) ig, but VGTTB I think it still has a lot of nuance to it and interesting dynamic. IMO transition might not NECESSARILY fix unless we drag Harley by the ear to therapy, but I still think goth gf Harley deserves a shot." - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

#could transition have saved her #harley berg #violet goes to the beach #vgttb #transgender #trans hc #anonymous submission

[heartpascal]

Hello! I absolutely adored if the door wasn't shut series- I think I've read it the entire thing four times since I first came across it (which was just yesterday). Your writing is so beautiful, and honestly the FEELS!! I can relate to the reader character so well, and they are so well written. Some of my fave parts are the angstier parts (especially after the Jesse incident and they were hiding in their shop). I know too well the feeling of not being good enough, and the fear of being left behind by everyone I love.

I'm just wondering (and this might be me projecting too), but does Joel know the extent of what he did to the reader? Like I totally get he did it to keep them safe, but he left them after they showed a bit of vulnerability (telling them they want to go home/being scared). I know he's apologized, and I know he knows it was wrong to take away their choice, but does he know that it's really messed up for him to have done that after the reader was so vulnerable with them? It sounds like they weren't super touchy-feely from the beginning, so the fact that they told them were scared. It was exactly like how they said to Tommy, about how they look in the mirror and see all the parts of themselves that was not good enough (or not enough to be loved and kept in people's lives). By abandoning the reader, Joel basically said the reader was too 'much' for them, and that their fear was a burden. My heart literally aches when I read the conversation with Tommy bc that feeling of rejection- especially after such a vulnerable moment would kill me.

Anyways sorry for the ramble! I just love this series so much, and I wanted to hear your perspective on it. And I love that the ending wasn't super wrapped in a neat bow- there was still animosity and how it doesn't feel like complete forgiveness but just a moving forward. I think it'd be interesting to see Joel's POV in all of this, especially at the end when he probs has to come to terms that he'll never 'get back to before' per se, and Tommy/Maria has most likely replaced him in being their safe space. Apologies if that was presumptive, and not what you had in mind with the ending, but I really don't see the reader going back to having that level of trust with him- not like they have with Tommy/Maria now.

okay i think this is like one of my favourite asks concerning this series ever. first of all, THANK YOU!!! omg. you’re so kind :’)

now let’s get into it >:)

i’m going to have to say no, joel doesn’t know the extent to how badly his actions effected reader! or at least he doesn’t quite understand the full extent of it. i mean we’ve gotta think like … this man was a fully grown adult when the world fell apart, you know? he became guarded, sure, but that wasn’t the way he grew up!!! whereas that would’ve been the way reader grew up, never knowing who to trust, never knowing where danger was gonna come from, never having a safe place to admit how r felt.

i’d say that when joel sorta saw that vulnerability it scared him because he was so used to reader being closed off, yk? which kinda only proves reader’s fears to be right, which is just so :( but we do know that joel consistently doesn’t think he’s good enough to protect ellie (and therefore reader too) so that definitely feeds into his reaction too. joel had his reasons for doing what he did, but at the time of them leaving reader behind he didn’t even think about how it could effect them!! he was concerned for their physical safety rather than any emotional or personal things.

i do love a bit of angst but even i’m a bit like :( when i remember what i put reader through in that series LMAOOO. they’re gonna have to go on a long journey to ever get even remotely close to joel like they had been before. but you’re absolutely right, it’s never gonna be like it was before, and that’s something that both joel AND r will have to come to terms with :(

and also NO PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS!!! never apologise this is my favourite thing. i love talking about this with you guys!!!

i think on some levels reader will never have that same level of trust or safety with anybody after joel. like i think it’ll have left a permanent mark, and they won’t be able to fully have faith or trust in someone again.

r’s relationship with tommy and maria is probably the closest it’ll ever get to what they had with joel, but it’ll never be quite the same. or maybe it will, but i imagine it’d take a very long time to get there. tommy and maria already know that all they can ever do is just be there for reader as much as they can, even when r thinks they won’t be. i’m sure they’ll have spoken to each other about how they’re gonna be all up in r’s life for as long as they possibly can, until their dying breath, honestly.

thinking about joel in this series is so sad, because when we think about what happens with ellie a bit later on as well it’s just so … sad. bc *tlou 2 spoilers kinda* when he and ellie fall out, that’s gonna effect his relationship with reader, too. it’s gonna feel like another betrayal, another reason that it feels impossible to trust him, even though r would be glad he did what he did. but yeah, joel would be lonely for sure, but he’s just glad that they’re both alive and safe, even if it’s not with him anymore.

i was originally going to do a part 6 to that series, but the ending of part 5 was just so … satisfying to me? like it’s realistic in my eyes!!! they’re never gonna be the same, that’s true, but there’s something. and joel would take whatever something r would give him.

#heartpascal says #captaincvans <3 #i went off on a tangent there ong im sorry #i don’t even know if i responded to what you were asking me to HELAODJWJD #but i just enjoy talking about them :’) #my bad my bad #been away from tumblr for a while and all sense of what i’m doing has fallen apart apparently #anyway #THANK YOU SM FOR THIS I LOVE LOVE LOVE HESRING WHAT YOU RHINK #pls always send me asks like this i adore reading them #and responding clearly HAHAHA

[lisannastraussisanangel]

Actually screeching like a goddamn pterodactyl about your Aquarius & Lucy headcanons, their friendship is way too underrated in this fandom! You have no idea how happy that post made me like— 🥲🥲

I apologise in advance if it seems like I’m coming on a little strong but I have many feelings about these two, like I gobble up every tidbit of Aquarius & Lucy I can get, I’m not even kidding I’ve read every single fic on ff.net AND AO3 about them.

On a side, and very much angstier, note… do you think the spirits could’ve felt Future Lucy dying during the GMG arc? Or if they could like sorta see into the human world via some kind of mirror-lake thing? Cos if so that would be hella angsty (I’m actually still kinda pissed Loke had an almost zero reaction to Lucy dying right in front of him when he’d pledged his life to her like ?? I have so. many. pent up rants about this anime you will not believe) and I’d be so eager to hear your thoughts on it!

Side side note: Loke’s cat ears are fucking adorable and I screech every time I see them 🐱

Oh and I know you’ve touched on it a little bit already, but if you have any headcanons about Aquarius during significant moments like post-Eclipse Celestial Spirits arc or perhaps a little immediately after her key was broken, since we almost never get to see the spirits’ POV, I’d be so excited to hear them! Pretty much anything Aquarius and Lucy haha (I’m sorry if I’m coming on a little strong). I’m actually so addicted to angst lol (but that’s not to say I don’t love a good ol’ heaping tablespoon of fluff!)

I love all your headcanons very much and re-read them whenever I need a smile! Keep up the good work!

I'm really glad you enjoy my posts! You are totally fine btw! I love hearing y 'all's thoughts on ft!

Don't get me started on Loke lol, I feel like he has so much potential and is just thrown to the side. Especially cause it seems like he only has one personality trait nowadays :(

As for the spirit world, it's pretty confusing in the canon how it works cause of the weird time thing. But my idea of how it works is that the spirits can sense certain things about their masters. Like they can feel when she's in danger and know when to jump out and save her. I also assume that only works if they have a strong bond. Like Loke couldn't sense Karen dying but can feel everything with Lucy. (kinda like that comment he makes the first time he fights with Lucy about how it's weird that he can pass through so easily.) But I also think that means Aquarius can no longer feel Lucy and is constantly stressed about if she's okay or not. (I also imagine the king has like a weird mirror lake thing he can look through. King perks, you know?)

I wonder if the bond would be different between Future!Lucy and the spirits. Loke seemed just as surprised as the rest of them by the Lucy reveal but that doesn't mean he didn't feel something weird when Future!Lucy showed up. I bet they could feel like a faint trace of a second Lucy but probably ignored it cause that doesn't make sense. (I really have no idea. What a head scratcher...)

I have another couple Lucy and Aquarius posts coming soon so I'm gonna hold off on throwing any on here (for space reasons) but imagine the angst of Aquarius desperately wanting to help Lucy because she keeps seeing her spirits leave and come back wounded, but there's nothing she can do and the spirits wont give her any info because they know she'll just freak out worse. Imagine Aquarius begging the Spirit King to let her watch what's happening and praying that Lucy doesn't get seriously hurt or die. (this isn't exactly inspired by any fight in particular.) I love angst so much... Maybe I should write a fic lmao

#Sorry i didn't add any headcanons #im just worried about the length of the post being a nightmare to read #btw this is me feeling bad about how much i wrote not about how much you wrote #i really loved hearing your thoughts :) #anon #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail aquarius

[kaija-rayne-author]

When I finally manage to get BG3, I think Astarion is probably going to be the big one for me, broken sex neg chaotic elf vampire? He could be custom crafted for my likes. Angst and snark? 😍 I really do love elves. And vampires, which if you've read my books you probably already know that about me. Oh and the angstier the romance the better as long as I eventually get my HEA/HFN.

More blathering 😅 below the cut.

I'm looking forward to playing it for more than the characters. I played and adored the first two, though I honestly preferred Champions of Norath for mechanics. I've been role playing in video games and ttrpg for most of my life. Role playing as a 'normal' person ever since I figured out that I was definitely not the same as neurotypical people. Reasonably sure many autistic/ADHD folks share the experience. I'm looking forward to seeing what they did with the city and story.

Buuuut, I also thought I'd love Fenris from DA2 and I really ended up almost loathing him.

I've got ptsd, it's some of the most ridiculous stereotypical rep I've seen, I don't even drink! Many people with ptsd don't! And of course they haaaad to go with the alcoholic shut in when he's not murdering people thing. Ugh! Fenris is also so freaking mean. I didn't romance him at all because of it, but if you can't see a character's growth without romancing them, it's not very good characterization. He's especially vicious to Merrill, who is just so sweet and doesn't deserve to be talked to like that. Honestly, no one does. Wonderful growly voice which would do things to me if the character weren't so objectively awful, but a voice, even to a voice slut like me, isn't enough.) Yes, stereotypes do exist for a reason, but it's also why stereotypical rep is bad!

So I dunno, maybe I'll be right and Astarion will work for me. I also love the meaning of his name. 'Little star' from the Greek. It's been on my list as a future character name for years.

But Karlach might work depending on her personality. Gale is just pathetic enough from what I've seen to make me like him.

I dunno who it'll be tbh. I'm polyam too, so being able to be polyam in that game is a huge attraction for me. (Unfortunately, apparently you can't do that with Astarion and Karlach.)

Honestly, I don't get why everyone is so excited about having sex with Halsin in bear form. Have you seen bear penis? Thin, not very short for most species, and they have a bone in them. A bacula is what penis bones are called and humanoids notably do not have them anymore. The largest bear we know of currently is the badly endangered polar bear, and their baculas are roughly 7 inches long. That doesn't exactly scream it's gonna feel great, y'know? At least, 😅, not to me. All y'all do you. I'm not trying to kink shame.

It's just not a factor of attraction for me. TBH, I haven't seen much about Halsin at all. Which is kinda surprising given the fuss about 'sex in bear form' thing.

And yes, I'm very well aware how odd it may be for an aro/ace person to enjoy romance novels and games so much. It makes sense to me (sometimes) in a game or on page. It doesn't make sense in real life for me. I'm a sex positive ace, I can enjoy it with the right emotional or intellectual (ideally both) connections.

I'm also autochorisexual, so it makes sense that way too. I'm far more likely to fall for a fictional character than a living person.

Ugh. I wish I didn't have to wait for this game. But my birthday is coming up and I'm hopeful someone will get it for me. If not, I'll have to keep wishing. I'm still looking for a job, but it’s really not going well very quickly at all.

Shrugs. Everyone seems to act like aro/aces all hate romance and sex but that's definitely not been my experience. Some of us are sex neg, I have good friends who are, but I've talked to far more sex neutral or sex positive aces.

I really wish people valued creativity enough to pay for it more frequently. Just a living wage. That's legit all most creatives want. Enough money to pay the bills every month.

#dragon age series #dragon age #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #aromantic #asexual #aroace #da2 fenris #astarion #halsin

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

For something silly and sweet how about a candybats thing where kevin and streber’s friends talk about the reasons why he’s not allowed to cook

Such as setting water in fire

With streber sulking the whole time

Here you go. It's really short but I hope it's okay. I kinda went a little angstier than maybe was necessary but ye. Also I did indeed include Robin, Radford's sister as a new addition to the friend group because she looks like she's their age and I thought it'd be cool.

Streber frowns at the back of Kevin's floofy head, his arms crossed but going unnoticed as Kevin continues to talk.

"Yeah, so he's not allowed in the kitchen to cook. Too much of a hazard. Which is surprising considering how skilled of a baker he is." Is it a compliment? A backhanded one? Streber isn't sure.

"What? Did he set something on fire or something?" Robin asks, resting her chin in her hand on the island counter, a bemused smirk always present on her laid back face.

"Yeah, kinda." Kevin chuckles, no doubt remembering one of the more lasting incidents with rose-coloured amusement. "He actually managed to set a pot of water on fire. Not sure how."

"Pfft!—sorry—ahem, did he really?" Radford snorts and it's obnoxious and Streber turns his frown onto him now.

Kevin laughs with Radford, nodding his head. "Yeah. Wasn't funny at the time. Thought our kitchen was done for." He keeps laughing, the others all joining in, none seeming to notice Streber's lack of participation.

"That's not all, right?" Rick urges with a sip of his beer, starting a trend that both Radford and Robin follow through on.

Kevin shakes his head. "No, no. That's not all. There was also the time he almost chopped his fingers off with our sharpest knife." It doesn't sound funny and Kevin doesn't even tell it in a funny voice yet he's elicited chuckles and quiet laughs from all three of his listeners.

Streber inches himself further and further into the couch corner, his arms tightening around himself with no aid provided.

"But he can bake?" Radford asks incredulously. Of course it's a little hard to believe that Streber has any competence in the kitchen after Kevin's just expertly tarnished his reputation.

"Oh yeah, brilliantly. You guy's have had his stuff. It's amazing." Oh look, he's trying to salvage the situation. It's not going to work, Kevin, it's too late, you're on the couch tonight.

There's a pondering moment around the family room, both Rick and Robin taking a sip of their beers, Radford reaching for a chip on the coffee table.

"That's true. He does make a mean cake. That's so surprising, that he can bake, but is abysmal at cooking." Radford says it like Streber isn't right fucking there listening to everything they're saying. Did they all forget he's still in the room?

One more dig at his cooking skills and he's going home.

~

He did indeed go home. With Kevin trailing at his heels, apologising like he's not already exiled to the couch for the night.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started a roast fest like that, it just sorta happened—hey—Streb?" He's not deterred by Streber's silent treatment. "I'm sorry, I swear. I won't bring it up ever again. I promise."

Streber just lifts his hand and flips Kevin off while he walks up the driveway.

He unlocks the door and part of him is tempted to close it right in Kevin's face, but that feels too mean, so he doesn't. Instead, he takes off his shoes and jacket and marches right upstairs to the bedroom.

Kevin follows him, his jacket still half on and tries to get into the room but Streber stops him, holding the door. "Couch," he says and it's not a request, it's not a suggestion, it's an order. Kevin's not getting into that bed tonight no matter what he tries.

#candybats #kevin spooky month #streber spooky month #fanfic #radford spooky month #rick spooky month #angst #robin spooky month

[hunter-sylvester]

Fic Writing Questions Tag

Thank you so much to @if-not-now-tell-me-when for tagging me 🤘

1. How many fics do you have on AO3? If we're excluding notfic/character analysis: 7 (otherwise 13)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 49,925 (52,689 if we're including notfic/character analysis)

3. What fandoms do you write for? -Metal Lords (primarily) -Stranger Things

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (1) Infinitesimally small and unforgivably burdensome (Metal Lords) T (2) Does it get better? (Metal Lords/Stranger Things) M (3) Metal Things (Metal Lords/Stranger Things) M (4) Freak Doesn't Cut It (Stranger Things) M (5) Left Behind (Metal Lords) T

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to! I'm just really fucking bad at responding to compliments/kind words. I just freeze up & don't know what to say a lot of the time so it can take a lot of energy to write out a very mid response to a lovely comment 😔 but I do try.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Err...that's between Left Behind and Candy Apples & Razor Blades. The former is a ficlet/minific and it's just sorta sad. The latter has an angstier ending depending on how you interpret it, it's a little ambiguous in my mind but I don't think everybody even reads it as ambiguous so idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (unless we're counting the unpublished alternate ending I have written for Freak Doesn't Cut It because THEN IT'S THAT- but I'd only maybe publish that after the actual ending & I'm really fucking stuck with that fic so that's ages away if it ever gets posted)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Infinitesimally small and unforgivably burdensome. It's just pretty light overall. Altho I want to at least mention that I think Does it get better? ultimately ending on hope and healing is also a very happy ending in my book 🖤

8. Do you get hate on fics? Haven't so far, but maybe someday lol (hopefully not soon tho)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? No, not really. Vaguely heated make-out is as far as I tend to go.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I do, I've only really written Metal Lords/Stranger Things so I guess the "craziest" one would be Metal Things purely because of the crossover pairing nobody asked for (Hunter Sylvester x Steve Harrington.) But none of it's very crazy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of and I kinda doubt anyone would want to lol (If someone ever did it's on sight tho 🔪)

12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No, and I honestly don't think that would work for me.

13. What’s your all time favourite ship? I'm not 100% sure, it's either Steddie or Spuffy. (I don't think I would ever write about the latter tho)

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I'm far too stubborn to accept defeat like that. I have a lot of WIPs that feel like behemoths to me but I'm going to finish them.

15. What are your writing strengths? UHM...I'm really not good at being positive about myself but I guesss I think in my opinion I'm decent at capturing the character's voices????????? maybe

16. What are your writing weaknesses? I think I sometimes over-assume that people will understand my intention behind a scene. Also if there's too many characters I can't keep track of them anymore. And the fact that I dropped out of school at 14/15 occasionally becomes an issue. Having learned English almost entirely on feeling/by osmosis and thus not always knowing the actual rules. Of...yaknow...grammar.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'd shy away from it if I didn't speak the language fluently and I can't think of a reason I would ever want to involve my native language in a fic. Besides that I only speak English so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

18. First fandom you wrote for? Publicly it's Metal Lords/Stranger Things. Privately it's actually the infamous [REDACTED]

19. Favourite fic you’ve written? It HAS to be Does it get better? DIGB was my baby for the better part of this past year and it contains a lot of my favorite headcanons about the featured characters. Some examples: - FtM Hunter Sylvester - Eddie Munson gives the BEST hugs - Hunter is a walking ball of anxiety (altho that is practically canon)

As well as a lot of moments/scenes that I hold very very dear. Some examples: - Kev & Hunter laying on Hunter's bed and just talking in ch5 - Eddie helping Drunk!Hunter take his jewelry & shoes off and just talking to him in ch8 (altho I could just list ch8 as a whole tbh) - The entirety of ch3 basically lmao

There's stuff I can and do criticize about DIGB in retrospect but ultimately it's still very precious to me.

No pressure tag: @itsfreakingbats, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @ghostcaterwaul, @allmoshnobrain, @nemobeatrice + anyone who wants to. Just do it. Be free.

#my post #tagged #writeblr

[nothinggathers]

Fic tag game!

Tagged by @sweeteatercat

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

110

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

783,677

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I do one fandom at a time and it's D:BH right now

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My Heart Knows You (Miraculous Ladybug)

The Rest Of Our Lives Will Do (FFXV)

Supernatural (FFXV)

Candyfloss (FFXV)

Beginnings (FFXV)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to. Sometimes things are going on, but so long as I'm in a good place and I have time and the ADHD doesn't get me, I will respond.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angstiest is kinda hard to quantify. I write a lot of angst. Would you consider the break up to try and keep each other safe (Sacrifice, FFXV) angstier than major character death (Five Times Gladio Carried Ignies, FFXV) (Close To Me Always, D:BH), or is rape by deception (A Night To Remember, FFXV) (Night of the Soul, D:BH) worse?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have multiple examples of this too but I'm gonna say Pendulum (D:BH) because it's the hardest won for the characters.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Aahahahahaha, I have one particularly persistent troll that targets anyone that doesn't do Hankcon 'right' (Connor has to be a virgin) and dares to mention Reed900. I included a Reed1700 chapter in one fic just for them.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Hoooo boy. Yes. Usually M/M, although I have more recently written some M/F. It's usually very graphic, occasionally kinky.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

My dude. Bro. I am the Multifandom Crossover AU queen. Both Getting Home and Pendulum feature characters from D:BH, Bleach, Kingdom Hearts, and some OCs and is set in the same universe as Booty Call, and the universe in which One Night and Yours is set is the same universe as I Promise You One Day and also features characters from Kingdom Hearts and Bleach.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had someone request to translate Getting Home into Russian, which I agreed to on the proviso that I would be the one posting the translation with credit to the translator, because I'm not comfortable having my work posted by others even if it's in another language. I have yet to receive any translation to post, however. I don't like the idea that for whatever reason I may have for wanting or needing to take my fics down (something I am generally against), I would not have the ability to actually do that.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes, but we never completed it and my writing partner got cold feet and we agreed to pull it.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Currently Hankcon, previously Gladnis.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have one unfinished Miraculous Ladybug fic that I'm definitely never going back to.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Apparently scene transitions? A lot of people struggle with them and I don't. My biggest strength used to be dialogue, but I think other areas have caught up these days. I'm also told I write kisses really well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Passive voice and punctuation. My hand kinda inserts commas anywhere my brain pauses for breath, which results in weird comma splices, and I go through my work and rip all the passive voice I can out before I post.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

More than a few words is getting fucking checked by a native speaker.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The very first? I don't remember the fandom but I remember the fic name. It was on FFN and called As The World Falls Down, and it got yanked in the songfic purge waaaay back when. The first fandom I was active in is The Fandom That Shall Not Be Named (except to say it is not Harry Potter, it is, in fact, much more embarrassing than that).

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I'm gonna say Ghosts in the Machines (D:BH) right now, because I had a blast reworking the canon and trying to make it less dumb. And clowning on Elijah Kamski. That bit's important too.

I'm not gonna tag people because I don't know who has and hasn't been tagged at this point, but if you are following me, I would love to know your answers to this.

#my fic #meme

[1d1195]

Zipper check in where she self-sabotages is very intriguing. I bet it’s gonna be even angstier than when Harry did it…😏😏😏 can’t wait!!

Oh I sure hope so tbh. She’s probably my most confident MC. She needs to be knocked down a peg lol (jk I am strong female lead kinda gal—also Protection y/n would probs fight Harry if she knew how to throw a punch and wasn’t in love with him)

Gonna have to google reasons couples argue/fight 😭 hehehe

Thank you for your message and for reading. I’m glad you’re excited!

Xoxo

#zipper

[primlydialanguish]

So I got this reply to my ship ask game and I'd love to do it! @extremelycray

I actually have done Jarlos before.

https://primlydialanguish.tumblr.com/post/671278074267156480/ship-ask-game-carlos-x-jane

But for Hil, I haven't yet, but it's an interesting one for me!

1. When I think the ship is at its best

Tough one, actually. I feel like I've put more work into the Sea3 than Canon ever has, but I might say D2? Maybe D3 though.

2. Reasons I'd ship it

Gil and Harry know each other really well, and I think they'd both find that reassuring in Auradon. Gil is an element of safety and comfort for Gil, and Harry is one of the people that is there and supportive of him in return. And their personalities are well suited for each other. I really feel like Harry would need someone who's nicer than him, both because he deserves someone who's nice to him, and also because he needs someone to encourage him to be better. Another reason is because Gil and Harry both adore Uma, and would never be jealous of that relationship that is equally or even more important than the one they have to each other.

3. Favorite ship moments

The deleted kiss, as one. (If anyone's not aware, there's a deleted scene in D2 during coronation where Harry and Gil kiss in celebration of Uma's success in possessing Ben.) Also, Harry waits for Gil to go through his spiel about 'tell your mom that Gaston says hi, and tell your dad that my dad wishes he finished off your dad when he had the chance' or however it goes. Like Harry just waits. It's kinda cute.

4. Favorite AU for the pair

Pirate AU. Yes I know they're pirates, I mean like a non Disney, historical time period pirate AU. Uma is obviously still the captain.

5. How I think they'd get together

They don't really have a 'get together moment,' for me. It's really slow going, and they don't label it, they just start to get more familiar and comfortable with each other and one day they just realize they've spent their lives together, loving each other.

6. Random headcanons

Gil for some reason loves playing thumb wars, but Harry's the only one who will play with him. (Even though he's a sore loser, and loses more than he wins.) But if he's having a bad day, Gil let's him win. On an angstier note, Harry sometimes goes through stages where he can't sleep, and only manages it around Gil.

7. Do I ship

Yes, this is in my repertoire of my numerous Descendants ships.

#disney descendants #descendants gil #descendants harry #harry hook #harry hook x gil #harry x gil #descendants #hil #descendants hil

[wwwdotinternet]

Undertale

Undertale has, as most people know, a gigantic fandom. However, most people, unless they have participated in the fandom, may not know the absolute depths of which Undertale fan works have gone to. While there are some very strange and uncomfortable things that have happened in this fandom, it has settled down significantly since Undertale was released in 2015.

Undertale is a game about your choices and how they influence the game's world and progression. For every monster you fight, you have the choice between sparing or killing them. If you spare every monster you fight, you will reach the pacifist ending. If you kill a monster at any point, the best ending you can get is the neutral ending. If you actively seek out and kill every monster you can find, you will get the genocide ending. The game does an extremely good job of using dialogue and interaction to make you care about the characters in a pacifist route, and of using sound and environmental design to make you feel like a monster in a genocide route. If you have never played Undertale, I would highly recommend it. Now, lets get into the fandom.

Worst

Many, many people on the internet during Undertale's reign called the community the most toxic fanbase to exist. While I think this is a bit extreme, and I would say that there isn't really a way to assign a "worst" fanbase, the critics did have a point. As with many fandoms, the fans took the game extremely seriously, to the point of comparing playing the genocide route to actual murder (Spencer 2017). People were harassed for "not playing the game the right way," which in my opinion is absurd. Games are not meant to be played in a particular way, but fans insisted that the pacifist run was the correct way. If I had to guess, I would say that people became extremely emotionally attached to characters which resulted in extreme reactions to the characters being harmed.

Weird (tw: incest)

As for the stranger side of the fandom, I kinda have to talk about the porn. There is a lot, but that is kind of par for the course in fandom. I'd like to be clear that it isn't weird, at least to me, that there is porn of Undertale characters. Rule 34 exists for a reason, right? No, the weird part is people shipping Sans and Papyrus together. And drawing porn. Of the skeleton brothers. Together. Not great.

I also want to touch on Sans-cest, which is a concept that is somewhat unique to the Undertale fandom. One of the main phenomena in the Undertale fandom online is the existence of alternate universes, or AUs. AUs are parallel universes with small or large things changed about the characters, world, or aesthetic (think Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse). At some point, the AUs started to interact with each other, with crossover comics galore. With that interaction came different versions of Sans talking to each other, and as fans do, people started shipping Sanses with other Sanses. You are free to make of that what you will.

Wonderful

So far, I have had mostly negative things to say about the Undertale fandom, but I actually really like the fandom. Like I said before, if you haven't played it, I highly recommend it. Or you could watch a let's play. Idk, whatever you want. Once you're done though, there is so much fan content to consume. Undertale fans are extremely creative, as is reflected in the insane amounts of AUs that exist. The Undertale AU Wiki (there's an entire wiki) lists 516 items, and that list is most likely incomplete. Of course, there are some that are more popular than others, such as Underswap, where characters switch personalities with their foils, and Underfell, basically an angstier Undertale with more death, but the amount of creative concepts is staggering. There are meta AUs, like Aftertale, in which Sans remains half alive in the game's save screen, and even AUs of AUs, like Flowerfell, in which a pacifist Frisk must escape the Underfell underground before her body is overtaken by flowers. This all culminates in Ink Sans, the creator and protector of AUs, and Error Sans, who sees any AU as a glitch that must be destroyed. And then people shipped them. And they had a child named PaperJam. And then people created an AU where a grown up PaperJam takes care of children versions of the various Sanses.

Anyway, the Undertale fandom, just like most fandoms, has done some horrible, strange, and great things. Until next time!

#undertale #fandom #sans #i have all of this in my head #constantly #why do i know this #but also i love it