#he values his own ambitions before anything else

[nabaath-areng]

Laurens had for many years served the empire, both as a soldier and as an engineer. Although he cared not for it, his skills were valued and it distracted him from the feeling of lacking any life purpose. And he was acutely aware that it was only a matter of time before recent permanent injuries would cause him to be discharged from the imperial army for good. His engineering was always overshadowed by others, and he only really shone thanks to his impeccable skills with the sword. He knew that he had to secure his place if he were to stand a chance of enduring life itself.

He didn’t have many hopes for his first experiments to work, although he began closely studying the science surrounding aether manipulation for any source of inspiration. This gradually became an obsession of his as he sought more and more means to improve his ideas and inventions, and once he realized he was onto something with great potential he began gathering all manner of materials crystals, both by purchase and theft. All while hiding his activities from his comrades and superiors, conducting experiments on himself restlessly.

His efforts bore fruit, and Laurens invented a weapon from magitek machinery capable of replicating restorative magicks, similar to those of a conjurer or white mage. The final design had been finicky and incredibly tricky to build, but he had perfected the means of artificial aether manipulation. And now it was his to use as he pleased.

The invention did come with a price, through the constant and necessary resupplying of crystals, as well as needing to plant a multitude of contraptions within his own body, fundamentally conjoining himself to his weapon… but those were nothing for learning to circumvent the limitations defining pureblood garleans.

The project had changed something within Laurens however, and while he was already infamous for his nonchalant ruthlessness on and outside the battlefield, he no longer cared to entertain the authority of the higher-ups of the army. His sudden healing abilities were met with confusion and wariness, and it didn't help that his thefts and shady dealings over time had begun to surface. He laughed after the ordeal, for he knew he had been lucky that he had managed to escaped with only a further worsened limp and a ruined eye.

Now the empire is dead, and so he belongs to no one; he is free from the shackles of usefulness and purpose, having had a true taste of what power is. Nowhere is home, his playground is everywhere. 

And with all the freedom in the world, he is more than eager to test the limitations of his freshly reconstructed flesh. In between “field experiments” he rests his middle aged bones at various inns, charming pretty and naive men into his bed with him… only to vanish before the sun has risen, leaving them to deal with his painfully long tavern and inn bills.

#ffxiv #midlander #hyur #garlean empire #so i have a problem with that i have tons of concepts i really fucking adore but i dont share much since theyre on alts #he goes by the name laurens viator avenius and is in his early/mid 40s #he has (had?) wife and children who he felt nothing for whatsoever because hes horrible #and considered himself to be like a walking corpse up until his discovery and invention #he is charming though not very kind #he values his own ambitions before anything else #but if a dudes nice on the eyes and easy to tease and make fun of he gladly sits in their lap and lets them be above him in bed #also you cant tell from these screens i think but he has sideburns #+ his cane also serves as a walking cane #nifty double purpose thing right there #so thank you for coming to ''danny drops alt screens and lore and then never brings them up again'' #though this guy makes me miss rping #maybe one day ill dip my toes back in hmhmhm #laurens #laurens viator avenius #excuse potential writing errors btw i yolod while lazy eyed and cant proof read #final addition his middlen name is amadeus because i think its funny

[romanticaacore]

This fic was inspired by the song "My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra. I first thought of giving this to Jing Yuan because I can also see him in this theme but I couldn't resist Tartaglia. I'm just trapped under his spell. He is my whole world...!! ♥️

"You're not just going to leave me here like this, are you?"

The man would come and find you every single day and would always keep you company. You did everything in your power to keep him at bay, to throw some weak excuse that you were busy. Heavens, there were times when you would flat out tell him that you did not want to be with him.

Tartaglia was a man who appreciated honesty. He valued good and true communication, he did not have the time and patience when it came to mind games, especially when it came towards the things and people that mattered to him.

And against his better judgment, you had managed to carve yourself deep into his heart. He did not understand how or why it happened, it just did. It was cruel, how you avoided him. It felt as though you grabbed a sharp blade and stabbed him straight into his chest, the air being knocked out of lungs every single time you would reject his advances.

But what stung most of all was the fact that you were as a matter of fact, not honest with him.

He could tell that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. If you truly wished to do nothing with him, you would be much harsher towards him. He knew you were not a pushover, you could take care of yourself and yet he still wished to take care of you. The lingering touches, the longing gazes, the way in which your hand fit so perfectly in his own was otherworldly. You were made specifically for him and him only. He could not have crafted a person so perfect, someone who both satisfies and calms him.

Someone who makes him feel human.

Reaching out towards you Tartaglia took your wrist and held it close. He pressed the palm of your hand against his chest, straight against his heart and he kept you there, his blue eyes piercing your own.

You belonged to him. He belonged to you.

He cursed the fact that he was a Harbinger. If he was not in the Fatui, he was sure that the two of you would already be together. That was the only reason you avoided him, the fear of being associated with someone like him was too great.

And he could not fault you for that.

Salty tears clouded your vision as you stared at the handsome man, his back straight like the soldier that he was. Everything about him was prim and proper, but in a deadly way, like a weapon ready for the bloodiest battle.

"You are a killer." you said, voice quivering and yet still giving into his touch.

"I am." he confessed. There was no point in denying it, he could not hide anything from you.

He did not want to hide anything. Not anymore.

Standing before you was not Tartaglia, Childe, the 11th Fatui Harbinger. In this very sacred moment he laid himself for you, his soul and heart bared completely for you and no one else. He was being selfish, so horribly selfish. But damn it all, he wanted you. His ambitions were sky high but he could not give you up.

He did not want anyone else by his side. It was going to be either you or no one.

His lips hovered over your own, threatening to steal the many kisses he promised to claim a long time ago.

You were not sure if you could stop him.

"You are not a creature capable of such love."

"I can learn. For you."

There it was, that horrible confidence, dare you say arrogance even. Who did he think he is? How dare he do this to you - waltzing in your life and staking his claim to your heart? You wanted to slap him, to kick him, to show him just how angry you were. You wanted to cry and yell and to kiss him. You wanted to leave him breathless, to make him ache for you but was it worth it? To leave everything you knew, your whole life behind to go see the world with this man, this glorious, wonderful man?

Knowing him, he would take your beating without any complaints.

It was hard to be in love. But it was even harder to love a man like him.

#genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia #genshin #genshin harbingers #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #gi tartaglia

[pecanwriter]

Not Big Enough (WG story)

Themes: fantasy-setting, body worship, fat-centric society

Words: 3053

Part: 1/1

Dainon was freezing to death. He managed to survive another night, huddled behind a smithy, where the furnace's heat radiated through walls, making even the nasty winter in Grothol survivable. His exhaustion was bone-deep. Soul-deep, even. So when he managed to sneak up behind the smithy without anyone noticing, he let himself fall into a deep sleep like a fool. Had he gotten up early, before the smiths started their day, he could squeeze in another few nights in this new hiding spot. But he didn’t get up, he didn’t even try, huddled up next to the warm wall and feeling like a baby in his mother’s womb, he slept on soundly until the very moment strong, calloused hands grabbed him by the rags he called clothes and kicked him out into the main street, where mud was ice. 

He fell into a puddle, the water so unbelievably cold at first he thought it was boiling. Dainon scrambled back to his feet, already shivering. A gust of wind swept through the street, penetrating his rags completely. His trousers were more holes than they were trousers and the patchy shirt was missing one sleeve. Despite his meagre stature, the coat he was wearing was way too small for him, he suspected it might have been made for a youth. Stretching the too-small garment over himself was better than nothing in the dreadful cold, but he could feel the seams coming apart more and more every day, wind and chilled air seeping in and assaulting his malnourished body. 

Dainon was the youngest son of a relatively wealthy merchant from a port town in the south of Grothol. His father was a strict and unyielding man. To his customers, to his workers, and to his children. Dainon’s sister left the house young, got married and had children of her own. His brother joined the army and that was the last time anyone saw him. And so his father’s ambitions about keeping the business in the family came full force down on Dainon. It wasn’t that he necessarily hated commerce, he would just much rather do anything else. When he suggested to his father that maybe he could get an apprenticeship as a kitchen boy to become a cook for a wealthy lord, his father beat the idea of out his head so forcefully that Dainon never dared to voice his opinions again. 

When Dainon turned eighteen, his father decided he was ready to prove himself. He gave Dainon a horse and a cart of goods and sent him on his way to the Gothol’s lavish capital city. “Bring back three times the value of the goods, or don’t come back at all,” his father told him, and Dainon knew without a shadow of a doubt he meant it. 

He made it to the capital, he even managed to make a few transactions that would make his father’s scorn soften. But then, just as he was warming up to his role, Dainon was robbed. They took everything; the goods, the card, the horse, even his shoes. 

There was nothing left for him to sell to gain passage back home, but even if he did, he couldn’t go back. Through spring, summer and autumn he managed to scrape by somehow. There was a lot of commerce everywhere and labour workers who would slave away all day for a piece of bread and a tanker of piss-poor beer were always needed. 

But then came the winter. 

Dainon, dragging his feet, so cold he could barely walk, stumbled into one of the smaller streets where shameful business was conducted. There was a high chance one would get robbed, but he had nothing to be robbed of, and at least they wouldn’t shoo him away like the smiths. Unable to walk any further, so sick and cold he didn’t even know where the icy mud ended and he began, Dainon squeezed himself between two barrels and the side of a gambling house and waited. For death or for an opportunity to rob some drunk fool. Whichever came first.

Doors opened on the opposite side of the street and a group of people stumbled out in a cloud of perfume, smoke and ruckus laughter. 

Dainon’s exhausted, nearly delirious brain made it seem as if the warm light pouring out of the door was pure gold. He stared at the people coming out. 

It was a whore house and a good one from what he heard. The people that emerged appeared to be two whores sending their client on his way. The whores were barely wearing any clothes, seemingly unbothered by the cold. As if enchanted, Dainon stared at the whores. He stared at their plump bodies, round, blushy faces, their smiles and thick, lustrous hair. One was a woman, and one was a man, but he had tits almost as big as she did, resting on top of a big, fleshy belly swaying in front of him proudly. Their thighs jiggled and rubbed against each other as they walked, pushing the drunk client along the street to the stables where his horse presumably waited. 

Dainon’s stomach was so empty he didn’t even remember how food tasted or how it was not to be hungry all the time. Even when he was asleep, he was still completely aware of the fact he was starving. The whores were coming back and Dainon looked at their enormous backsides jiggling, at their side rolls, at their arms so plump and soft their elbows were only dimples. He couldn’t imagine how amazingly rich and filling their meals had to be for them to be so big. Another wave of nauseating hunger and paralyzing cold rattled him so hard he had to close his eyes. When he opened them again the golden light of the brothel was no longer spilling into the street and the whores were gone. Dainon wept, his tears scorching hot on his freezing face. 

The door opened again and the beautiful light spilt out. Another boy was escorting his client to the exit. He was even bigger than the first two; his tits spilling to the sides of his enormous belly and his thighs so thick and fleshy he waddled as he took the few steps to see the client out. 

Dainon stared as the whore waddled back inside and he knew that if he couldn’t see that beautiful overfed body again he would simply die. 

This really was a good brothel, he realised. To have so many well-fed whores? In Gothol fatness was the sign of good fortune and prosperity. The King was expected to go to war, so he was usually lean or muscular, but it was traditional for the King’s consort, be it a woman or a man, to be as fat as possible. The fatter the consort, the more prosperous Gorthol was. Two hundred years ago, there was a plague that nearly threatened to undo the whole country. At that time, the King’s consort was so thin he didn’t even have a belly. Nearly all portraits of him have been destroyed for fear of casting bad fortune over the land again. The upper classes followed this trend diligently, every Lord and Lady stuffed themselves to grow bigger and fatter than their rivals in court. Amongst the lower classes and peasants, it was very uncommon to see someone appropriately fleshy; they couldn’t afford it. The only truly fat, well-fed peasants were whores. The customers spent nearly as much on the services as they spent on the food they bought to keep their whore nice and plump. With a fat, well-fed whore every simple man could feel like a King for a day. 

Driven by a desperate need to survive and with the memory of that golden light filling his heart, Dainon stumbled to the brothel doors. 

A young, slim whore opened the door. His hair was long and orange like the sunset, he cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

“Go away!” He barked “There’s nothing here for the kinds of you!”

“No,  please!” Dainon rasped, his voice scratchy “I want to work. Please, I will do anything. Please.” 

“Go away…” The man started saying again, but a hand with multiple golden rings on each finger ceased his arm and pulled him inside. 

“Move away, Robin, don’t you have something to do?” A woman who was past being middle-aged, but diligently tried to keep up the appearance stood in the door. The rest of her was as richly adorned as her fingers, gold was hanging off her every body part and she seemed to float in a cloud of pipe smoke and perfume. She looked at Dainon with a shrewd, keen eye of a Madam. 

“I want to work, please.” He repeated. 

She looked him over, grabbed his chin, looked at his face from every angle, and then grabbed his arm, examining his skin, its deep umber colour stood out even more against her pinkish fingers. 

“We have enough skinny boys.” She said with finality. 

“I don’t have to be one of the skinny boys!” He blurted out, almost desperately. His merchant senses smelled an opportunity and he grabbed it immediately “You don’t have to pay me! I will work just for food until I’m big enough for you to start making good money on me.” 

She gave him a steady look and Dainon forced himself to not break the eye contact. Her poker face was good, but he could see the change taking place deep inside her mind. The ring-clad hand wrapped around his arm and he was dragged inside, into the golden light. 

“Robin, Cuckoo, wash him and help him get ready to work.” She pushed him towards a pair of whores, the red-haired one from before and another skinny one with ashen blonde hair and pale eyes. “From now on,” She said, giving him one last measuring look “Your name is Starling.” 

And Starling let the young whores lead him deep inside the golden light and warmth of the warehouse. The smell and heat filled him so completely that he felt born anew. 

*

General Forthros jumped off his horse and let out a juicy curse as his boot landed perfectly in a pool of mud.

“Hello, good sir, may I welcome you…” He tossed the reigns to the stable master along with a purse of silver coins. He was in no mood for talk. It’s been way too long and he was prickly with need. It crawled under his skin like slow-acting poison. 

This brothel was way outside of the upper district, but Forthros heard stories. He heard they had whores here like nobody dreamed of; so soft and overfed, with their enormous rumps jiggling, their soft tits resting on top of round bellies, their faces with double chins and round rosy cheeks… 

Just thinking about it made his cock stir, but he had to keep himself in check. The last brothel he heard similar stories about turned out to be ludicrously expensive and the young man they gave him didn’t even waddle. 

None of them were big enough. Just not big enough. 

He dreamed of flesh so soft and filled with fat he could sleep on it as on a pillow after he’d fucked its owner into a whimpering, needy mess. He wanted a whore who would laugh at the feast he brought with him and demanded more food. He needed a whore so fat two others would have to be called to help him stand up. 

Forthros walked across the muddy street and opened the door, stepping out of the grey, dirty world and into a land of gold, potency and sweet smells. 

“Welcome!” A woman appeared as if out of nowhere, her hands and wrist so completely covered by gold jewellery that her skin was visible only from elbows up. “We haven’t seen you before in my fantastic establishment, Lord.” She said, not able to keep the glint of greed out of her eyes as she eyed his expensive clothes and the massive basket filled to the brim with lavish, expensive foods only made in the upper city. “How can I serve you? I have everything you could wish for, every girl and every boy the absolute best quality!”

He gave her an unimpressed look. She rubbed her hands, visibly slightly worried, but not dropping her selling pitch. She pressed on:

“Will it be a girl or a boy you’d be wanting, my Lord?” 

“I want a boy. The biggest one you have.” He said. “Money is no object.” 

Her eyes were ablaze with opportunity. 

“Of course, my Lord!” She bowed deeply. “Boy, fetch Swan.” She ordered the scrawny servant. He took off down the corridor. 

Swan was appropriately named; he was tall and pale, with a long neck and rosy lips. He had a soft chest and a flabby belly, he was smiling coquettishly. Forthros stopped him with a hand. 

“Not big enough.” He said. 

The Madam shooed Swan away and he retreated with a pout. 

“Bring me Blue Jay, boy!” She ordered the servant. 

Blue Jay was likewise appropriately named; he had some Djinn blood in him which was evident by his bright blue skin and navy blue hair woven into two thick braids. He sauntered over, shaking his big, round gut and plushy thighs. Forthros was intrigued but he was just…

“Not big enough.” He repeated and the Madam tsked but shooed the Djinn’s bastard away. 

“Bring Sparrow, be quick about it!” She snapped and the servant ran. 

Sparrow was brown-skinned and brown-eyed. His tits were big and soft, falling on top of a prominent, soft belly that swayed in front of him as he walked. His legs were thick and swollen, and Forthros' dick hardened as he saw him waddle up. This one was beautiful, but…

“Not. Big. Enough.” He said, looking the Madam right in the eyes. 

A sly, appreciative smile spread across her face. She slapped Sparrow’s jiggly ass, sending him away. 

“I see you are a connoisseur.” She said, bowing in acknowledgement. “Follow me.” 

He followed. They passed an open room full of whores killing time, waiting for clients. He spotted Sparrow sprawled on a mountain of pillows, idly popping sugar-coated grapes into his mouth. Forthros’ cock stirred again. If the Madam’s most priced possession didn’t prove to be satisfactory, he’d come back for Sparrow. 

The madam stopped in front of a door and opened it with a flourish. 

“This,” she said theatrically “is Starling. But he’s not cheap.” 

Forthros had to rest a hand against the door to keep himself upright, almost dropping the feast in the basket to the floor. He put it down with reverence at his feet and fished a purse out from his inside pocket, tossing it blindly at the Madam, still unable to look away from the sight before him. There was more coin in the purse that she probably made off all her whores in a day and they both knew it.

“Enjoy, Lord.” She bowed deeply and closed the door behind herself. 

The man on the bed, Starling, was a vision out of a dream. No, he was more beautiful than any dream Forthros ever had. 

He had dark umber skin that seemed covered with scented oils and perfumes that floated around the room. His dark hair was curled and adorned with gold, and two enormous emeralds hung on his ears. He was so big his hips spanned almost the entire width of the bed. Forthros took in the beautiful flesh, overstuffed to the brim with fat and folding on itself in fascinating, enchanting ways. Starling’s legs were shapeless as if formed of hefty sacks of jiggly fat folding in on themselves with the swollen feet at the end that Forthros doubted touched the floor often. The beautiful legs were spread wide to accommodate the gargantuan mass of Starling’s belly, that pooled in front of him like a see of soft flesh. Forthros couldn’t see a belly button but he guessed it was buried deep underneath fat where the upper and lower fat fold of Starling’s belly met. His breasts were blubbery and saggy, pushed to the sides by the improbable accumulation of soft flesh on Starling’s midriff. The nipples were dark and stretched and Forthros could feel his entire body tingling. Starling’s robust arms rested at almost acute angles to his body, unable to land any lower for the numerous chunky fat folds pushing outwards at his sides. His shoulders and chest were so thoroughly encased in fat he almost had no neck. His face was round, with incredible, fleshy cheeks and multiple chins. 

This was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man Forthros had ever seen, but what struck him most, was the man’s face. He was beautiful, of course, with a slightly hunched nose and wide-set dark eyes. But that wasn’t what it was, still. The striking thing was the expression on that angelic face. His plump lips were stretched into a smirk that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world in it and the dark eyes that stared at Forthros from underneath dark, heavy lashes were sharp like a fox’s. Quick wits and shrewdness were immediately apparent in that gaze. That, and immense satisfaction. Just his face alone seemed to be saying “I am everything you ever wanted and I know it.” 

The biggest whore he had before this, many years ago, was somewhere between Sparrow’s and Starling’s size, he was beautiful but the food had dulled his mind. His eyes were always glazed over, sleepy, almost unresponsive; he saw this happen to some people when the food was too much for their bodies to handle and they seemed almost dim-witted. Although that man was beautiful, Forthros couldn’t bring himself to fuck him, he didn’t want to fuck someone who barely knew what was happening. 

But Starling… Starling was perfect. 

Forthros swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, his cock almost painfully hard.

“I’ve brought you a feast, beautiful.” He said, hauling the enormous basket overflowing with the greatest delicacies Grothol had to offer to the bed. “I hope such a feast is to your liking?” 

Starling looked at the basket and then, looking straight into Forthros’ eyes with an almost devilish grin he said: 

“Not big enough.” 

#wg story #gainer fiction #gainer writing #wg writing #gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer story #chubby boy #fantasy weight gain #wg txt #wg text #bbm #bhm #bhm weight gain #fat bhm #male feedism #Weight gain story #Weight gain txt #Weight gain writing

[thebluemoonjune]

Home (Richonne One-shot)

Even with Rick's difficulties and trauma, the Grimes family is still going strong after two weeks since Richonne made it back home.

Her life had long been defined by womanhood and motherhood, long before this. Her first was not long for this world, and she had lost her second, but she still had a daughter and son whom she would give and do anything for. She had murdered for them. She battled on their behalf. She could even leave them with a promise to bring their father home. Many things happened and she was on the verge of giving up as well, but heaven had eyes. They were finally back together. As one family. She opened her eyes to discover her hubby still sleeping. He's normally awake before anybody else owing to many bad nights, but he slept better than he has in recent days, forcing a gentle smile on her plump lips. He was so gorgeous while he slept; his steady heart and breaths were enough to make her fall in love with him all over again. After two weeks at home, she had to constantly reassure him that they were safe, that he was doing fine and that they were truly home. They would never recover any of that lost time. Not her year of struggling to recuperate and survive, nor the eight years it utilised to break him. She slid out of bed and put on her bedroom slippers to prepare breakfast before everyone awoke.

In his nightmares, he heard his children's footsteps, laughter, and impromptu singing. He would feel both asleep and awake in his spirit while he experienced the joys of parenting. Then it would be blankness, when he couldn't remember his oldest's face or how he came to terms with the fact that he'd never see his wife or daughter again in this life, let alone see his youngest, but he'd wake. He'd be greeted by his beloved's face, and his children would sometimes be wrapped up in the blankets with them. "Father" is an attribute of a man that comes to life when he is with his kid, and it does so because he adores them, enjoys being with them, and values the connection they share. He was still a father. It was a lengthy dream. One in which his son was dubbed a sacrifice. His son is not a sacrifice. He was his son. He had certain ambitions and goals, but they were cut short. If he were here, he'd see that everything worked out in the end. He would recognise and adore his little brother, and he would realise how much his litter sister had matured. He was his son, and he missed him. He loved his son unconditionally, and there was no price to it. His wife had awakened before him. An unusual occurrence. She must have been preparing breakfast for him and the children. His children. He was still a father. He was still a husband.

...

Placing the plates, knowing it was about time, her family got down. She continued to reflect. Feeling a new person develop within you and raising them to be self-sufficient was both the greatest joy and the greatest challenge. It combined with her previous successes to shape who she is now. Being a parent should be like that—not an extra or an "add-on," but a fundamental topic around which other interests revolve. Now she was pregnant for the third time. Her child, whether a boy or girl, is her child, as are their elder siblings. Her kid had her soul in their heart, and her heart will be theirs forever. Her child is free to live, grow, and love whoever they want, since no regulation can include such a blessed thing. If her child ever needs her help or advice, she will be there for them. She would go through the gates of hell to keep them safe, feeling honoured and grateful for the opportunity. Each child is a precious gift. She was lonely and without any comfort the last time. After all, what comfort could a three-year-old provide a pregnant widow? Her husband missed their son's first step: his initial words. They had lost out on those experiences together, but now they had another chance. Were they both afraid? Yes, but she had everyone she needed with her this time. They'd be okay.

Walking down the stairs, he heard her steady steps. She’ been placing the plates, knowing it was about time, for the family to go down, lost in her thoughts. Her placing her hand on her tummy drew his attention. They were once against expecting. Their child would be born in a few months, ready to seek and receive love, to be part of that lovely protective web of emotions that gives, nurtures, and protects, just like his or her siblings. Once Again. They would once again encourage them to be the greatest versions of themselves, to rewind, to abandon the poisonous cynicism and instead weave the love web that their kid would want. She was the finest mother he'd ever known, the greatest wife, and he aimed to be the ideal husband and father.

“Hey…”

Placing the final plate, she gazed upon her husband’s face. “Hey, baby… Want some eggs?”

“Yeah…” He planted a kiss on her lips, deepening it the first chance he got. The kiss went on for two whole minutes before she managed to break it.

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.” A chuckle escaped his lips before his face grew pensive.

“Rick?”

“I had a dream.”

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping better.”

“I am, darlin’. I am… It was about Carl.”

“Carl?”

Put all unpleasant memories in your left hand and all happy memories in your right. Memories danced on the edge of his thoughts, alternating between cherished times and terrible recollections, walking a fine line between consolation and misery. The world went on, indifferent to the sorrow that enveloped him, like a dark cloud that followed him everywhere, casting a shade on even the okay days. Those were the sentiments he held in the CRM. Then he couldn't recall the faces, which was worse than everything else he'd experienced in that godforsaken place. The weight of loss hung on his shoulders like an unbreakable load. Things were different, however. He was home with his wife and children. He could see his son's face again and had a photo of him his daughter, a little younger than he remembered her when he was taken. The fact that he could see his son's face was incredible. He was at home with his family. It wasn't an awful dream after all.

“He came to say hi.”

“I’m happy for you. Maybe he’ll visit me sometime?”

“Mhmm. Maybe Andre will.”

Her eyes welled and a weary smile came to her lips. “Maybe.” Next thing, Rick wrapped his arms around her and the swayed from side to side, resting his chin atop her head.

“I thought I told you sit, Grimes.”

“I will. For now, I just wanna love on my wife… Our boys, they’re in a better place, watchin’ us, wantin’ us to live life.”

He was, by no means, religious. He grew up a Baptist, and he would go to church every once in a while with Lori and Carl before the new world but his faith had left him long ago, but when it came to their children, he had faith. Faith that they weren't hurting and they were happy. Faith that they would all be together again. Was he hypocritical in his thinking? Yes, he was; regardless, it was how he viewed things.

A pair of heavy footsteps came running. Their children had arrived, ready to start the day. Breakfast consisted of fluffy pancakes, eggs, and berries, all as warm as they would be in the sun, with maple syrup threaded on top. It provided a tranquil sense of comfort, which helped to start the day off well.

“Morning, sleepyheads.”

“Mornin’ Mom! Morning Dad!”

“Morning, Mama! Dad!” Unlike his sister, her son hurried through the morning hug he owed her and rushed to his father’s side. “Oh.”

“Hey, junior.” He beamed, ruffling his son's curly brown hair. How’d you sleep, hmm?”

“I slept great!” Rj proclaimed, pulling the seat next to his father.

“What ‘bout you, Judy? Sleep alright?”

“Kinda.”

“She was doing homework till 10:30.” Michonne poured the three orange juices. “I think they are giving her too much work. I don’t like that they skipped RJ either.”

“I argue about Judith, but skipping grades just means our boy takes after you.”

“Two whole grades? He’s eight, Rick.”

“And he’s brilliant and I’m proud of him.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “I’m just happy they’re living normal lives.”

“I’ll talk to Judith’s teacher.”

“I go with you.” Rick gave her a deep grin, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Four eggs for breakfast, fried in a brushing of olive oil, lightly salted... so perfect. Just the way I like ‘em.”

“So perfect, Mama,” RJ said, obviously following his dad, earning a warm smile from both his parents.

“I’m glad you and your daddy like it, baby…” Michonne placed a bowl of freshly cut tomatoes at the centre of the table and her two special men reached for some. “Judy? Since school is finishing early, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I promised Gracey I’d help her with her assignment.” Reading the disappointment on her parents' faces, she added, “I can’t tell her I can’t.”

"No, sweety, we’ll manage. But you keep your weekend free, okay?”

“Deal!”

“RJ?”

“Mhm?”

“Daddy is taking you out after school. Just the two of you. Behave.”

“I always behave.”

“Yeah, right.” Judith rolled her eyes

“I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Alright, alright… Eat up or you two will be late.” He simply stared at his his then his wife. The joy was apparent.

...

“Once upon a time, there were two children, one boy and one girl. Their parents loved them like a thousand suns, and they grew up to be clever and carin’. The father joined ‘em in the kitchen and danced to insane music; the sillier, the better. He followed ‘em with fingers that could transform them into monsters with a single twitch. The mother encircled ‘em with affection and defended ‘em like no other lioness…”

He smiled softly as he saw his junior yawn. Trying to persuade RJ to sleep in it is like separating an octopus from its prey. There might have been some anger rising in him—frustration—but he had missed too much of his son's life to harbour such feelings. They were both overly obsessed with one another. Even after three bedtime stories, he wasn't ready to leave his kid. His namesake, who was about to be dethroned as the youngest, was all he could have wished for. RJ begrudgingly closed his wide brown eyes and allowed the realm of dreams to take him. He kissed him good night on his forehead, dragging his feet out the door after taking one last look for the night. The couple opted to announce their new addition to their children later, preferring to focus on connecting and reconnecting right now.

…

Entering the bedroom, he smiled. Rick and Michonne gave each other their full attention as they celebrated Rick's good day of connecting with the children, specifically RJ. The temperature outside had dropped to practically freezing, but inside, they had a raging fire, also known as each other, and were soon pretty cosy. Michonne lay in bed across from Rick, her feet resting in his lap.

"I guess RJ is knocked out?"

"Yep." His shoulders slouched. "He put up a good fight, though."

"Don't feel too sad... You have tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that one. We have time."

Rick let out an anguished sigh and was stimulated by her toes moving over his leg. "We do," he explained, his voice gruff yet calm. "I wish he could stop ageing, if even for a few years."

"Okay, don't get carried away over there," she said, smirking.

Chuckling at her words, he tugged on her feet. "Get over here," he stated, suggestively.

And with an amused smile, she sat on his lap, and as she adjusted, she could feel Rick hard beneath her.

"Hard, huh?"

"I am," He threw one arm around her waist and pulled down the strap of her silk pink nightgown. He squeezed her right breast and kissed the back of her neck.

Michonne felt his desire and rolled her hips, tingling from the sensation of his dick against her pussy. She should have become used to him by now, given their frequent screwing, but they had more than eight years to make up for. Her bodily response was still strong, which seemed strange. But every time he touched her, it was distinctive. Addictive even. She let out a small sigh as his left hand moved south, pushing beyond her panties to touch her slit. He didn't waste any time, which made her happy. She adored how much he loved her. How much he longed for her. She relaxed her body against his and extended her legs, granting his wish to explore. His fingers began to work. He pulled her off and stroked her clit as she vibrated softly on him. 

"Rick," she forced out softly, his fingers much overpowering her thoughts till she came.

He inhaled sharply as her breasts crushed against him, and his lips brushed against hers. Rick felt his dick buzzing. He really wanted her. She drew him in for a deeper kiss, holding his hair and inviting him to join her on the bed.

On top of her. He was both kind and passionate towards her. He landed another kiss on her lips before moving down her body, delivering several on her stomach, his dick only becoming harder as he returned to her chest. He enjoyed how well the breasts fit in his palms. Her pregnancy with RJ filled them out considerably more than they were eight years ago. It was the first thing he noticed. He sucked and nibbled her hardened nipples.

He licked and lapped at her erect nipples, smiling as she groaned in return. He admired her figure and enjoyed touring it. He'd missed her silky, creamy, dark brown skin and all of her lovely muscles. "Shit," he muttered into her ear, making both of them snicker. But the lightness immediately faded as he resumed their kiss and the top of his dick got cosy with her entrance. They both murmured silently, anticipating the moment to follow as her clit touched his tip. Their lips got chaotic while he sought to find his way inside, and their moans grew louder as he pressed into her.

"Right, ahhh!" Michonne muttered as he pressed on and began thrusting.

"Ahhh!" She gasped with a gentle moan. Filling her to the brim, pressing along her walls. He was great. It was greater once he started pounding. He rolled his hips methodically and sensually, hitting numerous places simultaneously, kissing her neck and grasping her breasts, captivating her entire body. She experienced an upheaval and was unsure if she ever wanted to get off. If she wasn’t already pregnant, he’d surely knock her up tonight.She could feel the impending climax as his dick worked against her clit with each stroke.

"Darlin', I'm gonna come," he declared, breathing against his wife's throat. He could feel the rhythm in his chest and his vision was a swirl of loveliness before him.

He enjoyed how thick and clinging it was actually. They had become soaked during sex. Michonne seemed aware of her actions, despite her suggestions indicating otherwise. The fashion in which her hips met his.

The couple shared unrivalled chemistry, which resulted in an incredible time between the two like all those years ago. The sort of sex that came with wet, sloppy kisses, strong grunts, nicks and scratches, bites, and chaotic, incoherent curses in moments of deep lust.

Rick felt Michonne's limbs weaken and the feeling of her bathing his dick, similar to how his fingers felt before. The taste of his name on her lips motivated him to finish quickly. The smell of sex filled the air as he grunted and halted his grinding. He rested, his forehead brushing hers, and caressed her belly with tenderness. Their thick lungs were filled with love and lust—even before they came.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rick's smile was so vast that you could scarcely see his eyes, and her flush was like flowering blossoms, conveying the love of her heart. They were so fortunate to be able to look directly into each other's eyes at that silent moment when the rest of the world was placed on hold. She put her palm on his chest and felt the tempo of his heartbeat. They had a wordless feeling of joy. Joy was a vital part of the recipe for life, and when they were happy, their lips curled into matching smiles.

“It’s good to be home.” A soft smile played on his lips.

“It is.”

#michonne grimes #the ones who live #twd towl #rj grimes #judith grimes #carl grimes #richonne fandom #richonne #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne

[inamindfarfaraway]

It's so cool that the Viren-Claudia-Callum foil triangle each have a different approach to the "I would do anything for you" sentiment that they all define themselves by.

Pre-coma Viren doesn't fully mean it even when he believes he does. He says that his loyalty is to the best interests of his family and humanity, but as K'ppar points out in his dream, he keeps putting his own ambition and self-importance before anything else. He doesn't consider sacrificing his life for Harrow until Harrow brings it up. Even after that, he never once thinks of giving up the dragon prince's egg; the belief that the prince was killed is part of the reason the assassins are here and returning him to them might appease them, might at least make them spare Harrow's son, which the man Viren loves as a brother would obviously want. He orders Soren to kill the princes to guarantee Viren the throne. He orders Claudia to save the egg instead of Soren if she had to choose. Harrow, Ezran, Callum and his own child are not worth losing the power of Zym to his enemies for. He isn't willing to sacrifice his power or vision, his selfish interests, but is instead willing to sacrifice the people he loves, which is why he's evil. The promise is conditional. But what lets him redeem himself is that the love at the base of it really is unconditional. He still loves Harrow and genuinely expresses this in his dream, overwhelmed with relief when he appears to be alive. He still loves his children, even after all the horrible things he does to them and the lack of remorse he shows for those actions until his death. The coma reminds him of that enduring love, and makes him reevaluate how he dismissed it.

Claudia is the opposite. When she says she'll do anything for someone, she means it with everything she has. Herself, her moral integrity, other people's lives, the fate of the world - nothing is more important to her than her perceived responsibility to her loved ones. Including what her loved ones themselves want. But she can also change her mind about who she loves, at least enough to see them as against her rather than with her. Callum is her friend, until he isn't. Soren is her family, until he isn't and only Viren is worth protecting. Like her father’s did before her, her value of Soren’s wellbeing has been slipping from “That’s all that matters” to “That doesn’t matter!” People can be disqualified by opposing her desires and ideology. The promise is unconditional, but the love isn't.

And then you have Callum, who seems to have the best approach of the three. He means his promise when he says it and will never rescind it later on. His devotion is both absolute and everlasting. He will do anything for Ezran and Rayla, putting them before his own interests; and he would never consider them expendable. That's great! After all, having conditions of worth in relationships they don't belong in is bad. It leads to Viren and Claudia hurting, manipulating and betraying their family and friends, and such behaviour feels viscerally wrong. They're traitors. They're abusers. Those are serious crimes. Those labels are grievous insults meaning ‘Bad Person’. But unlike both Viren and Claudia, Callum doesn't have the arrogant belief that he always know best to warp his love into something self-serving. His genuine selflessness prevents him from ever becoming that kind of person. He does cut ties with Claudia, but only after she proves to be untrustworthy and have enduring harmful intent toward him, his brother and Rayla, so it's a perfectly reasonable boundary to set. His version of "I would do anything for you" just makes him caring and heroic. Right?

Until you realize that technically, if he had to kill everyone else on the continent in order to save Ezran and Rayla, all evidence from canon suggests that he would.

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp analysis #tdp meta #tdp callum #tdp viren #prince callum

[viridiesa]

🏖️ ▬ 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑

holiday scenario with Anakin Skywalker for my emoji prompt event! you can find the event guidelines here, and my complete masterlist here! // no warnings !!!

A holiday with the up-and-coming Jedi Knight is a lowkey affair and more a secret getaway than anything else. With Anakin telling Obi-Wan a half-cooked lie about running an errand for Yoda and you feigning ill, you secure yourselves a couple of days away from everyone else without question. You could easily stay tucked inside your house for a ‘staycation’, but instead Anakin sends you some coordinates to a less popular planet that he visited recently for Jedi business. 

Landing your ship at the edge of a field beside his, you’re quick to notice the crude wooden arrows that point into the lush forest. Following the trail, you pick up the native flowers he’d left along it for you. When you emerge into a clearing you have a bouquet in hand. In the centre of the space is a hut, smoke seeping from its chimney. The door opened and there was your Anakin with a vase ready for your flowers. “Hi,” he whispered once you were before him, although there’s no need. 

“Hello,” you whisper back, taking his hand.

Spending time together, existing in your own world was the break you’d needed. While you couldn’t deny there was a thrilling element to sneaking kisses in dark alleys or longing eye contact across a crowded room, you yearned for more ease in your relationship. Here there was peace, sanctuary within each other without fear of being discovered. He was softer away from it all too, his shoulders dropped and he seemed to breathe easier. You were much the same. The nicest part was being able to hold him. You could have his hand in yours and not drop it a second later at the sound of footsteps. Cooking together, walking together, reading together, sleeping together. It was everything you’d ever wanted. Here he was all yours and you his. And while the threat of your imminent return hung in the air, he shushed your sadness with the promise of ‘we’ll do this again soon’. The first night you’d had to convince him to return at all. He’d seemed so ready to abandon The Order and spend every waking moment with you but you couldn’t watch him give up his ambition. Besides, you had hope that one day he would be yours for all to see. 

When you did return to your lives and back to your forbidden romance, the knowledge of what could be made you value every second you had with him that much more.

if you want to see more check out my event! thanks for reading and any and all reblogs and comments + feedback are appreciated x

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #🧸💍🍒; emoji event #anakin skywalker

[princessmadafu]

Palace Syndrome

I haven't read Valentine Low's newly-published book yet (no spare money at the moment) so I'm just scooping up reviews in the Press. Mr Low said in an interview,

'There is a way in which the courtiers are to blame. So the people around them were doing their best, these were people who believed in Harry and Meghan and they wanted to help. But there were signs early on, in the first year or so of their marriage, of how unhappy Harry and Meghan were. And no one really did anything about that. No one picked it up, no one flagged it up and there were no big discussions with the most senior courtiers in the institution.' However, he concluded that he did not think it 'would have made any difference' [...] (Because) what Harry and Meghan wanted and what the Royal family, what the Queen felt able to to give, I don't think there was ever a meeting point.'

More to the point, when you are a working Royal your job is to represent and deputise for HMTQ (and now for HMTK), not to do what you want. You may have interests in certain areas (mental health, children's well-being, domestic violence, etc) but you take on charity rolls and events on HMTQ's behalf, not your own. You shine the spotlight on the charities and hosts, not on yourself. You shake endless rows of hands to make the hand-owners feel valued and appreciated, not for adulation. You are, in effect, a personal ambassador for the head of state, not a celebrity.

I get the impression that Before Meghan, Harry was increasingly unhappy as The Spare, but when he met her it was clear that her ego, ambition and desire for stardom became the driving force in the relationship. Markle didn't understand that HMTQ was always the star. When she, Markle, realised she'd never even make "Best Supporting Actress", she encouraged his unhappiness for her own ends.

The courtiers were not to blame - their job was to work within the royal hierarchy and help the Sussexes support HMTQ. When Harry complains about 'the Palace Syndrome' and courtiers 'not fighting for him', what were they supposed to be fighting about? It's not a battle, not a war. It's not the World Cup; it's not the Sussexes vs the Cambridges, or the Sussexes vs the Rest of Them. You're all on Team Queen.

And as we all now know, unfortunately Markle didn't want to be a team player. So she ran off home with the spare ball and locked it in her closet so nobody else could play with it.

And yet Harry still looks unhappy.

He escaped his life as The Spare to William, only to find himself The Spare to Meghan - swapped his gilded cage within the Royal Family for one in Montecito, and he can't blame courtiers for that.

Like new lamps for old, he's swapped Palace Syndrome for Netflix Syndrome.

[readsalot1]

ATLA Main Characters Hogwarts Sorting

For the main Gaang:

Aang - I think he could go into either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Aang is brave, and sometimes reckless, which fit for Gryffindors, but he's also very hardworking (mastered 35 pre-existing forms of airbending and invented another), and he expresses a lot of loyalty/steadfastness to his philosophy.

Katara - Again, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. She's brave, but more cautious than Aang (most of the time--looking at you Painted Lady incident), and has a strong sense of personal loyalty.

Sokka - Ravenclaw. Sokka expresses traits that could put him in any of the houses, but despite his claims of being the meat and sarcasm guy, he ends up making the more complex battle plans of Team Avatar (also he gets incredibly happy pouring over maps), this puts him in the category of valuing intelligence more highly than a lot of his other traits. (he's also the most obviously nerdy *cough*sherlock holmes*cough*)

Toph - Gryffindor. She rebels against her parents to leave and travel the world in an obviously risky expedition that could lead to death. She's also the only person in the Gaang to jump in with two feet, rather than being obligated to do it (Aang), or getting caught up in the flow (Sokka, Katara), or possibly being in less danger joining the Gaang (Zuko).

Zuko - This is going to get me a lot of flack, but I feel as though he really fits the stereotypic Slytherin ambition (hear me out, I promise this is well-reasoned). He states that even since he was a child he knew the throne was his destiny. It is important to note that at the time he is referencing, he was second TO LAST in the line of succession. Azulon, Iroh, Lu Ten and Ozai would all have to die for him to be Fire Lord. Zuko doesn't really have the cunning down as much as some other Slytherins, but he does not lack for ambition.

For the antagonists:

Azula - Again, another controversial decision, but I'm more likely to put her in Hufflepuff than Ravenclaw despite her obvious above-average intelligence. Hermione demonstrated that if you value other traits more highly, even if you're one of the smartest kids to be sorted in your year, you get put elsewhere. Azula values her loyalty to her father (and country's goals) above anything else, including her well-being. I'm putting her in Hufflepuff for the same reasons Mara Jade (from Star Wars; loyal to a fault to Emperor Palps--you should totally check her out) is a Hufflepuff: she'll die for someone else's cause even after they're gone.

Mai - Slytherin. She leans more towards finding someone more powerful to do the protecting, until she finds something she values more highly than protection. This fits cunning more than ambitious (unless you count ambition for Zuko's hand?), but still lands her solidly in Slytherin.

Ty Lee - Despite her bubbly external appearance, Ty Lee is friends with Azula and Mai and still holds her own. She's a lot more clever than people give her credit for and the optimistic airhead persona is partially a mask--she uses it to disarm her opponent before going in to take victory. She'd either be a Luna Lovegood-reminiscent Ravenclaw, or in Slytherin for cunning.

#atla #aang #katara #sokka #toph beifong #zuko #azula #mai atla #ty lee #harry potter #hogwarts houses

[stephpuppet]

binge read your norrington/elizabeth fics and im OBSESSED. you briefly mentioned having an au in your head where james and jack are brothers — do you have any more thoughts about that? i’d never considered it before and now you’ve put the idea into my head i can’t escape it!!

Hi Anon! Thank you for the ask!

I really love the James & Jack dynamic in the film series because it's quite an unusual protagonist/antagonist dynamic (which one's which is up for discussion!). There is actually a fic on fanfiction.net where James and Jack are brothers, though I can't remember the title for the life of me, so it has been done before.

I'm going to spend too much time gushing about what I would do with the concept, so I'll put it below the cut to avoid clogging anyone's feed.

I haven't managed to put it in a fic yet but I really like the idea of James having a really poor relationship with his father. Because then you can play with the idea that James's career ambitions are either 1. a way to prove himself to a father who will never think he's good enough, 2. him trying to succeed to spite a father. If Jack is his older brother this adds in another interesting dynamic of there being a black sheep in the family that James is trying to escape the shadow of but is also somewhat envious of, because Jack has the freedom of not caring what other people think of him and also being very successful in his own right.

Focusing on Jack for a moment. I think that Jack is a character primarily defined by his selfishness and in the films we rarely see him do something that isn't at least a little self-serving and the moments where he does do something unselfish are really nice. I like the idea of Jack having someone that he does actually value above himself, because (as far as I'm aware), we don't ever see that in the films. Jack debates becoming Captain of the Flying Dutchman himself before ultimately giving it to Will, but it wasn't like he had his heart set on the idea. He votes for Elizabeth to be Pirate King, but doing so didn't do anything to his own chances - he wasn't going to get voted in. I want to see him truly sacrifice for someone else.

If I had ever been able to write this idea I think it would have gone something like this.

Curse of the Black Pearl happens as normal just with a touch more "I'm going to arrest my law-breaking brother because I am the GoodSon(TM) and he keeps flirting with my girlfriend" and "hey bro, long-time no-see, whoa what's with the hostility? anywho I have things to do, let's catch up later".

James still goes after Jack in Dead Man's Chest, still on the "I must prove myself to Parental Figure That Sincerely Does Not Give a Fuck" bandwagon. Hurricane happens, only this time Jack and the Pearl go back to fish him out of the water. Cue lots of James being "I hate you, you're the worst brother ever, please leave me to die" and Jack being "Idgaf, I love you and you're going to stay on my ship and I'm going to take care of you while you have your existential crisis/breakdown."

Will and Elizabeth individually turn up for their respective plotlines and Jack deals with them with James just in the background still in his emo-teenager "life is meaningless, woe is me" phase.

From here it gets a bit fuzzy. In this verse, James doesn't steal the heart and betray everyone because, despite all his very dramatic angst, he does actually appreciate that someone gives a shit about him. I think this is one of the tragic aspects of his character in the films - he doesn't have anyone that cares for him. Governor Swann kind of does but I imagine that relationship dissipates when James is no longer a prospective son-in-law. His men respect him but I imagine a lot of that again goes when first he loses the Interceptor and a load of men in the attack on the Isla de Muerta and then again when the Dauntless is sunk in the hurricane. Elizabeth ditches him for Will. He just doesn't have anyone.

That's why I really like the idea of Jack and James being brothers, because it can give James someone that will love him unconditionally and it can give Jack someone he values as more than just a means to an end and also (crucially) something that he can lose. If you think about it, all the consequences Jack faces in the films are temporary - he dies and comes back, he loses the Pearl and gains it again.

I'm not sure when or how it would happen, but I like the idea that James still dies (possibly at the end of Dead Man's Chest) and Jack just loses it. His motivations during At World's End change from the rather impersonal 'Save Piracy and Stop Davy Jones', to 'Find Someway to Get James Back and Fuck Everyone and Everything Else'. There's now a solid motivation for him to try to become Captain of the Flying Dutchman and I feel it would be really interesting to see him sacrifice his principles and screw over people he cares about to achieve his goal. Like all bets are off, the ends will justify the means. And not just his innocent "Yes I betrayed you but it all worked out in the end", but legit life-ruining, "we will never forget or forgive this" betrayals.

I like to think in the end Jack succeeds, potentially without having to become Captain of the Dutchman. Like maybe he's able to make some deal with Davy Jones (and/or the EITC??, prob not though). He gets James back but at some huge cost. Would be super interesting if Elizabeth ends up dying because of Jack's actions and he has to lie about it to James because he knows James wouldn't forgive him if he knew what he had done.

Anyway those are my extensive thoughts on the subject. I like the ideas but I'm not motivated enough to commit them to paper and write the fic.

#pirates of the carribean #james norrington #jack sparrow #potc au #potc fanfiction

[emeraldspiral]

Thinking about how much the Zimvoid arc and Loki season 1 had in common.

Like, both of them star a villain protagonist who ends up trapped in an apocalyptic wasteland populated almost entirely by alternate versions of themselves, most of whom all suffer from the same vice of needing to scramble for power to prove their superiority while a handful of more enlightened versions of themselves reject competition in favor of cooperation. They even both have a kid version of themselves as the leader of the cooperative faction along with an older, wiser version, an aquatic version, and a huge beefcake version.

Of course because Loki is a drama and Invader Zim is a tragedy, the stories take different directions with their character arcs. In in a drama, the story is driven by characters having a flaw that they overcome or a false belief that is corrected, or possessing virtues that allow them to triumph, which all goes toward supporting whatever the story's thesis is. In a tragedy, the story is driven by characters who fail to overcome their flaws, who either never learn their lessons and change or just keep getting worse and worse, or who either abandon their virtues or let their vices win out over them, or whose virtues aren't enough for them to succeed without the support of the world around them backing them up.

Because Loki is a drama, Loki's story is about having his ego broken down so he can be built back up into a better man. He's humbled upon finding himself powerless in the TVA, forced to confront the ugly truth about himself and understand the neediness and insecurity at the root of his obsession with power and superiority. He meets other versions of himself who reflect his worst qualities back at him but also show him that he has the capacity to be better. He learns to be empathetic and care for other people besides himself and causes greater than his own ambitions, but also learns to love himself from falling for another version of him and recognizing that that all the qualities he admires her for are qualities that they share.

By contrast, Zim goes through his experience with the Zimvoid unchanged. Meeting other versions of himself and seeing them all compete for power doesn't make him self reflect on his own pettiness and meeting better versions of himself doesn't inspire him to do better. He doesn't learn to empathize with other versions of himself and doesn't learn to value himself for his own intrinsic qualities. If anything, the experience makes him worse because defeating all the Zims only reaffirms his false belief that his worth comes from his superiority over others.

Loki and the Zimvoid are essentially telling the same story, but the genre makes all the difference to the outcome.

One thing the Zimvoid does though that I really wish Loki had done is support its themes by making the villain another version of the protagonist.

Like, I remember when Loki season 1 first aired everyone was expecting Kang to be behind everything just because it would tie-in with the greater Marvel universe and I was saying I really hoped it would be Loki himself instead. Because Kang wasn't a character in the show until the very end. He had no personal relationship with Loki, he was just some guy we'd never met before. And literally everything else in the show was about Loki being in conflict with himself. It would've made so much more thematic sense if his line early on in the series about his plans to take over the TVA and become the most powerful being in existence was foreshadowing a reveal that one version of him had already done it and the reason he was pruning all other Loki variants who strayed from the path that would lead them to death was because he didn't want any other Lokis to overthrow him or mess up his timeline and throw him off the path that got him to where he was. Kang did end up still tempting Loki with the opportunity to have everything he ever wanted as a final test of his character growth, but it just didn't feel as impactful coming from a stranger as it would've from another Loki.

With the Zimvoid though, we got Zib as the absolute perfect villain for the story. A dark reflection of both our protagonists who are themselves mirrors of one another, reflecting all their worst qualities back at them and showing them the folly of basing their self-worth around proving their superiority over others.

#invader zim #loki #zimvoid #loki series #marvel #marvel comics #mcu #also #thematically speaking #dib is functionally the same as sylvie #therefore #zadr #and #sylki #are the same ship

[ofdarklands]

unsurprised to report german livia is not any more chill than english livia

Livia sas Junius: Legatus Gaius van Baelsar considers your gift of transcending to be so remarkable that I have already imagined quite a hero for myself.* Livia sas Junius: That's what you are to the simpletons in your homeland, isn't it? Hmph! And now a simple adventurer stands before me. Livia sas Junius: What people find in you... What kind of “magical glow” is that supposed to be that emanates from you? I see nothing but panic flickering in your eyes. Livia sas Junius: And yet you've put us in a lot of trouble... Because of you, we've also lost one of our best men. It's you who killed Rhitahtyn, or am I wrong? Livia sas Junius: Whatever you are and where your strength comes from - we... I have sacrificed much - much of value. Livia sas Junius: Who knows what else you will take from me if you stay alive. Livia sas Junius: My people... my comrades... possibly Legatus Gaius! Livia sas Junius: No, you will never take him from me. Livia sas Junius: Gaius belongs to me - his dreams, his ambitions, everything - he belongs to me body and soul, only to me! Livia sas Junius: I won't let anything be taken from me again, never again. I had to do without too much... Livia sas Junius: I will kill you, adventurer, with my own hands! Only your death can bring me peace! (combat) Livia sas Junius: What you have taken from me you will lose a hundredfold! Livia sas Junius: The Aglaia will teach you what pain is. Livia sas Junius: Don't get cocky, you hero castoff!** Livia sas Junius: Hmph. You're tough, I'll give you that. Livia sas Junius: But just wait until I'm done with you! Livia sas Junius: I won't lose... Against anyone, especially not against you!

*this line is strange. dunno if she means she imagined what kind of hero she'd be or if she imagined us to be taller

**my best guess

#play: mitr’a

[youleavethetardisbrakeson]

Ok but clearly I’m not used to seeing corlys x rhaenys fighting so badly and not being on the same page? It was so strange to see them in such contention with no resolution. And the next time they see each other after all the drama that leads Corlys to leave the family home, he’s at Death’s door?? 😭😭😭😭 I need them to resolve this rift asap.

I get it. I was absolutely not prepared for them to be arguing in episode 7 either. But they WILL make it up.

Their argument is a really good thing in the long run and needed to be said for a few reasons. Get ready for a half rant/half essay:

The show is obsessed with legacy and power, and this discussion brings up two polar ends of the spectrum: the patriarchal structure vs bloodlines. SOMEBODY had to talk about how they handle this situation. The reason their conversation didn't resolve in this episode (other than for the ~*drama*~) is because neither are really fully 'right.' If they choose either side of their grandchildren, something else gets lost.

Corlys can't be the one to be perturbed about the boys not being legitimate; it doesn't work for the plot or his character development. Like he said, calling it out isn't going to do anything but hurt them AND the boys (watch for Vaemond next episode).

Quick side rant: I should note that in the book, Corlys wasn't interested in marrying into royalty before Rhaenys. Queen Alysanne tried to get him to marry one of her daughters and it was reported back that he cared more about his boats. Rhaenys turned his head and they made a love match. Corlys' ambition may currently be for his own personal legacy, but it STARTED when his wife and their children were slighted. The dude is so love drunk he kinda just let it consume him and didn't actually pay attention to what his wife wanted or was saying.

So Corlys will take what he can get to feel that this wrong was righted. He is desperately trying to regain that legacy out of both ambition and what he sees as love for his family. But he also plays by the rules of the society. Westeros is deeply, deeply patriarchal. He knows the name Velayron is what matters most in this situation.

Rhaenys on the other hand, as a woman and once presumed heir, is far more inclined to adjust tradition in favor of her female heirs. Corlys, while still a great and supportive husband compared to most in this universe, is still bound by the ways the patriarchy is structured.

Rhaenys also sees and knows how obsessed with bloodlines the Valyrians are. While Westeros is more fixated on the male lines and family name, the old old Valyrian families are more obsessed with bloodlines and blood purity. Vaemond is all about ready to mutiny at any moment because of this supposed slight against their bloodline. Just letting the boys take over Driftmark is going to rub that family, especially Vaemond, the wrong way. She is also advocating for her granddaughters to have a place in their family's legacy because they are all she has left of their daughter. She's placing equal value in the male and female lines. This obviously clashes with Westerosi tradition.

We should also note that Rhaenys is DEEPLY upset and grieving. Rhaenys and Corlys have clearly had this discussion over and over again, but it is Rhaenys' grief that pushes her to say things she wouldn't normally. If we look back to what we saw in episode 5, she just shushes him and that's that. The grief is allowing her to state her frustrations in not being listened to. So this discussion also as a springboard for Rhaenys to finally come into her own and say "I am SO SICK OF THIS SHIT" and finally take control.

And so what can you do in this situation? Bloodlines vs family names. Next episode will certainly bring it up and resolve it. Without being too spoilery, I will say that the two major ways this show hands political conflicts are war and marriages.

#ask #rhaenys targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #this is what i did on my lunchbreak #be nice #i have an english degree and im not afraid to use it #corlys velaryon #caroline rants about film analysis

[stewblog]

Dune: Part Two

In my review of Dune: Part One three (!) years ago, I described it as a compelling and arresting “half” of a story. It’s an assessment that held up nicely on a recent revisit. But now that Part Two has arrived, how does Denis Villaneuve’s adaptation of this sci-fi cornerstone shake out? Dear reader, allow me to tell you.

Epic filmmaking comes along only rarely. James Cameron wants his Avatar films to feel this way, but they come across as technologically impressive and little else. Not since Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Lord of the Rings have we seen a series of films that feels fully awe-inspiring and materially impactful in the way that Dune: Part Two often feels. But this is not an emotionally riveting drama, this is an intergalactic tragedy that serves as an epic-scale warning about the dangers of unbridled power and ambition, as well as the poison of religious manipulation and fervor.

The ending of Part One served as a fitting cliffhanger. It was half the tale, but it was the end of Paul Atreides (Timothee’ Chalamet). Forced into exile by the treachery of the Emperor (Christopher Walken) and the vengeful violence of Baron Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgard), Paul was no longer intergalactic royalty. He is now, as Part Two opens, at the mercy of Arrakis’ Fremen, and thus begins the journey of Paul Maud’Dib.

But where Part One was a film composed largely of exposition, explanation and setup, Part Two is almost entirely payoff. If your lingering complaint with Part One was its somewhat passive tempo and lack of action, boy are you in luck. While I wouldn’t go so far as to describe the film as “action packed,” it’s a consistently thrilling ride as the insurrection unfolds. Villaneuve displays a mastery of scale and impact, delivering setpieces that recall moments like the Battle of Aqaba in Lawrence of Arabia (if T.E. Lawrence had stormed that city riding a titan-sized sandworm, of course). It is, at its core, as stark a battle of good versus evil as anything we’ve seen in a while on a scale like this.

But while there is a stark morality found in the core of the film’s values, its characters are often much more complex. With the Harkonnens having laid waste to House Atreides and taken over spice harvesting, Paul and his mother, Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) are now at the mercy of the Fremen. But it isn’t long before he ingratiates himself into their tribe and proves himself a capable ally in the fight against Arrakis’ destructive new overlords. This happens in no small part due to the fanaticism of Fremen leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem), who fully believes the “prophecies” seeded millennia ago that point to a man like Paul arriving to become their messiah, the Lisan al Gaib. And while Paul himself considers such prophecies nonsense, he becomes more and more willing to play into them for his own aim of avenging the murder of his father and the slaughter of his House. This all culminates with events and a decision that are chilling and horrifying in equal measure.

And that’s what ultimately makes this now completed film so compelling. There are no real heroes in the story of Dune. There are no noble motives being pursued (by the major players, at least). There are only murderers, manipulators and those seeking raw vengeance at the expense of all else. And yet Villaneuve’s craftsmanship makes such sordid trappings feel engaging and even relatable. Paul’s descent into becoming a vengeful warrior and religious scion is, in its own way, heartbreaking, especially given the emotional toll it takes on Chani (Zendaya), the woman he comes to love. Their relationship is the emotional throughline of the whole story, and it’s anchored by the terrific performances from Chalamet and Zendaya. Chalamet becomes far more formidable as a leadership figure than I honestly thought he had in him when Part One began, but he more than capably sells the dramatic shifts Paul makes both internally and externally. Zendaya’s work is much more subdued at times, but her magnificently expressive face provides the necessary window. If nothing else, few in Hollywood have a better “mean eyes” expression than her.

The entire cast is as on-point, as they were in Part One. Those wishing Javier Bardem had more to do last time out ought to be beyond pleased as Stilgar becomes a dominant presence as his zealotry evolves from mildly comedic to spine-chilling. It’s a true sight to behold and Bardem fully sells the weight and intensity and genuine passion this character experiences. The true standout, though, is Austin Butler as Feyd, the psychotic nephew of Baron Harkonnen. He disappears under a pale sheath of facial prosthetics and weirdo vocal choices to deliver a truly unnerving and hateful villain.

Butler’s look and performance meshes perfectly with the stunning monochrome aesthetic of his homeworld, Giedi Prime. A stark, nearly sterile landscape overtaken by hauntingly smooth architecture that looks sort of like what you’d get if H.R. Giger tried to blend his work with the Art Deco style. It’s as memorable a sci-fi landscape as we’ve seen in ages. At minimum, you’ve never seen fireworks like these people fire off.

At the end of it all I was left in mild awe at what Villaneuve had accomplished. Dune, the novel, was a work that I had to force myself to get through. It always kept me at arm’s length, I felt. And yet somehow Villaneuve and company have managed to translate that into one of the most enrapturing and engaging epics that Hollywood has seen in its modern era. Some may be frustrated at the feeling that we are once again left on a cliffhanger (of sorts), but the point at which Dune: Part Two cuts to credits feels as natural an endpoint as Part One. This is the conclusion of yet another definitive chapter in Paul’s journey, even as it immediately begins a new one. I can’t wait to see how Villaneuve pushes it further.

#dune #dune part 2 #timothee chalamet #zendaya #movie reviews #javier bardem #rebecca ferguson #josh brolin #austin butler

[lilikags]

@astranne

adding onto reo's part !

reo is lonely. despite so many people around him, that his parents "shower him with praise", the praise is for his achievements and not him as a person. he feels that he's just being taken advantage of. by his parents, his classmates, everyone (and maybe except ba-ya, but he's probably been told that she's nothing more than a nanny, though i swear he cares for her more than his own parents) and so because of that he doesn't really trust anyone to care for who he is, the ambitious person who yearns so deeply to be valued for himself and not his accomplishments

he didnt feel like he accomplished anything, deep down. not until he found soccer. he was alive, but he wasn't really living. many people work hard to get the things that he got so easily, which is easy to be jealous of, but what feels like a victory to someone else wasn't a victory to him. in fact, he didn't really want it. he was told to do it, and everyone else did it, so he did it too, and came out on the top of it.

and while he seems like he's full of himself, it's that he has expectations of himself that are harsher than most others. especially because of his background, he adopts the expectations for himself. and especially because they are not able to see how it is to achieve it themselves, they expect something higher from him. to them, reo is a prodigy, and thus he can do anything- most likely where he gets his motto "get what you want" from. these expectations can get pretty ridiculous when these people view reo as something above them (notice how I chose the word "something" rather than "someone") and reo is pretty hard on himself when he experiences failure for the first time at blue lock

actually, i think he knows how to act, but he doesn't know how to not act. he hasn't trusted anyone for so long, even and especially his own parents, that he's created a mask that serves a purpose towards his goals (that ones that didn't really matter to him, but the only ones he had) but it was only after he met nagi that he was able to discover himself too.

people thought he acted odd, and probably reo himself too, when he started hanging around nagi. the mask felt suffocating, so he took it off (and that was odd for him too, because he wore it all the time- at home, at school, anywhere he went. his face became the mask, until he took it off) and he started to discover himself, thanks to nagi. (this is also part of the reason why reo's so attached to nagi)

and also, being a rich kid means that you grow up with a different set of skills and issues than anyone else. not that it's easier or harder, the issues just are much less monetary and much more in regards to relationships with other people. the richer you are, the more you learn to trust nobody. because you have something they badly want. the more riches you're born with, the more "important" it is to be perfect, because you can't "waste your family's hard work".

and another thing as to why reo is so attached to nagi, it's the combination of loneliness, firsts, shared goals, and that he simply can't imagine life without nagi. nagi's his first friend. never had one before. this kind of friendship is new, exciting, and ever so dear to him. he's found joy and ambition for the first time in his life, his ego, his self and not his expectation that comes to life. and he holds that so dearly to him that if he were to return to what he was before (i chose the word "what" rather than "who" because i believe that reo views his past self as a shell of expectations in the shape of his body rather than him in the flesh) he wouldn't be able to handle it. he couldn't return. there wouldn't be a reo anymore. reo would be gone. there would only be the shell. more empty than before, because if the opportunity were to be presented to him again, he'd likely decline it, because he couldn't bear to feel the pain of it being ripped away from him ever again.

#ocean of orbis

[outeremissary]

🕷️ SPIDER and 🌏 EARTH and 💡 LIGHTBULB for Balthazar pls.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

I think I may have said it before, but Balthazar's greatest fear is being controlled. The idea of losing his autonomy is worse than anything else to him. And even more than that, he fears that he's already being played without realizing it. There's a bone-deep terror in him of being unable to shape his own fate from a lifetime of expectation heaped on him as a result of his bloodline. Living only at someone else's whims would make life meaningless. In a similar way, he fears that somewhere deep within him his blood has given him a nature he doesn't have the power to change (largely because he associates embracing his angelic ancestry with being used).

Mundane and irrational fears... he's really not fond of animals, and finds dogs of any size somewhat unnerving. No love for horses either. Fear of sudden public ridicule also strikes at random times. Despite being a social butterfly he hasn't got much affection for or trust in people...

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

Going for the throat here, huh... He'd certainly say no if you asked him. He'd never believe it of himself. And he'd expect it would be easy, too. After all, it's his goal to live selfishly and always satisfy his own desires. But as the omniscient creator and divine watchmaker, I'd say that it's certainly more difficult than that. I think for most people he cares for he still wouldn't be willing to make major sacrifices or would hesitate to give things up, but for the closest... the value he places on his own desires and even his own safety would finally be matched. It would be terribly hard. Or maybe it would be easy after all. With ambition, what's giving up the world besides a temporary setback, anyway?

At any rate, I very much think this is something that changes over time as he develops deeper and more genuine connections with people. In my heart Pathfinder: Kingmaker is about the power of friendship. <- delusional

💡 LIGHTBULB - is your oc a planner? do they write down every small detail or just wing it?

Balthazar is a planner in the sense that he spends a lot of time turning things over in his head and meticulously plotting out courses based on that. He rarely writes things down though- if he doesn't remember it, it didn't matter that much. Surely there will be a way to work around it if it turns out important. The result is that even though he does spend a lot of time planning things out, he's quick to discard plans and go in completely different directions in the moment. He's never married to any one idea.

On a related note, the desk in his study is an incomprehensible hellscape to anyone except him.

#guess who thought that was queued to post tomorrow. whoops. ^^;; #ask me emithing #ask game #balthazar lucienne #dmagedgoods

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi: “Part Four” - Review

Obi-Wan launches a rescue mission in an exciting episode that seems to forget the strengths of past chapters.

Leia Organa has been captured. Held prisoner in the Fortress Inquisitorius, she is interrogated by Reva not only about the location of Obi-Wan but the entire underground rescue operation of Force Sensitive children. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan with his new allies plans a dangerous rescue to retrieve the Princess of Alderaan before it is too late.

We closed last week’s episode with our hero brought to an even further low. Not only out of practice and out of touch with the Force, Obi-Wan was beaten and tortured by the monstrous new form of his former surrogate brother. It was one of the darkest Star Wars installments in quite sometime and fairly traumatic for both viewer and character.

Which is the reason why this episode’s decidedly plot and action focused structure feels off putting and strange. Despite its sometimes awkward execution, the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan Kenobi has been the realistic and measured approach it takes to showing its title character’s trauma. We’ve seen clearly over the last three episodes just how much Obi-Wan’s faith and confidence have been shattered by the violent end to The Clone Wars and if anything his defeat at the hands of Vader should only send him into a further spiral. This is a man who spent the last ten years with a passive mission that let him wallow in his failures and misery and the first time he steps back out into the galaxy he loses the girl he was trusted to protect and is burned alive by a demonic reminder of his own failure to help one of the closest people in his life. This is not to say that Obi-Wan would just give up and go home and leave Leia helpless at the hands of the Inquisitors, but it seems only right that his faith be even more shaken.

And that just doesn’t happen. “Part Four” is a thrilling, classic Star Wars style rescue. It’s about as A New Hope as you can get, right down to the oblivious stormtroopers and rescuing Princess Leia. And it’s fun! Those clamoring for the action hero Obi-Wan of the prequels are sure to get their fill here. Even if his skills are still a little rusty, Obi-Wan still gets to swing his lightsaber around and take out patrols of stormtroopers.

On a spectacle level it’s probably the best the series has been so far. The Fortress Inquisitorius is a great set which feels imposing and Imperial, lacking in the sometimes shoddy production value of the last two installments. “Part IV” feels cinematic and the stylish and thrilling direction of Deborah Chow that first impressed way back in The Mandalorian’s first season finally hits its stride here.

But it’s all action and plot and little else. There are no true moments of reflection on Obi-Wan’s part. No flashes of doubt or worry. Sure, he’s got shit to get done, but what exactly was the point of last week’s fiery conclusion if we aren’t going to let it inform and alter our character. Even haunting moments like the eerie sights of former Jedi encased in amber (RIP Tera Sinube) feel more like lore wrinkles and less like an emotional challenge for our hero to overcome.

Similarly, after spending the last three episodes obsessing over finding Obi-Wan, Reva now centers her hunt on The Path and the hidden escape route for Force Sensitives. It’s a strange swerve and seems out of step with a singular focus that seemed like it had to be personal. Reva’s easy switch to different prey makes her motivations feel like pure ambition and little else, which I hope isn’t the case. Moses Ingram is too good for that.

Surprisingly, the one character that does really click here is Indira Varma’s Tala. While Tala’s exact motivations and history are kept mostly vague (the same can be said for most of the rest of The Path volunteers even if O’Shea Jackson Jr and Maya Erskine act their hearts out), Indira Varma plays her with such an empathetic presence and vulnerability that it’s hard not to get wrapped up her attempts to help Obi-Wan rescue Leia. She doesn’t have a lightsaber or the assurance of half a century of canon protecting her. She’s just a woman trying to use her position of power to help someone in need and at any moment that could all backfire on her dramatically. Her attempts to sneak through Imperial red tape and avoid detection are nail biting in the best paranoid spy thriller kind of way and its enough to make her eventual rescue feel like a breath of relief.

As a whole, “Part Four” can’t help but feel like a detour. When a series commits so hard and so well to being a character study, its abandoning of this for the sake of an overly familiar rescue mission episode can’t help but feel like an aside. Sure, the action is fun and the plotting tense, but it feels like a part of a much flashier and less intelligent show than the one we’ve been watching.

Score: B-

#Star Wars #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Star Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi #review #reviews #Ewan McGregor #Deborah Chow