#the hateful turn of her devotions & her vitriol ....

[jahiera]

at the grove with dark urge emrys and I have GOT to say. sticking to keeping her a paladin (of vengeance here) was such a moment. still getting all the flavor text as a paladin but having none of your memories might feel like a slight incoherence in the narrative to most but the idea of waking up and nothing but blood blood blood. and this deep in your bones knowledge that you swore an oath at some point in your past and you must adhere to it. sexy as fuck.

#durge!emrys is not her canon but it might have to be a little separate AU I hold tenderly to my heart #in her canon I'm giving her a few more levels in cleric than I originally intended too -- probably like three #so I'll give her a few in ... MAYBE warlock? for Durging. #I DONT KNOW what to do there yet I just like the dark mirror of it all. #because it's still very coherent with a lot of her main character ideas #it's like all that deeply repressed hate & rage is inside ripped right to the surface in this & must be worked through more purposefully #the hateful turn of her devotions & her vitriol .... #and of course. her faith. even uglier here. maybe she would like to be daddy's specialest boy but she'll turn away in the end #the pull between the urges and her oath. the ugliness of her spirit. all that is RIGHT here. #and she's even goth. #playing bg3 #oc. emrys #bg3 spoilers

[stainedglassthreads]

ralsei-NO WAIT, SUZIE!!!!

I’m just taking this as an excuse to do both, so!

Susie

Favorite thing about them: She’s so soft and emotional and genuine under her scary exterior. She cares for her friends so much. She doesn’t really understand how Darkners turn into items but she’s sad when Lancer isn’t around and so so happy when he does reappear. And how ecstatic she is to show off her healing magic, or how she takes the time to get Kris smiling after the Spamton fight. I am very soft for characters like her, who care so much more than you’d expect.

Least favorite thing about them: I hope her not realizing Darkners turn into items is going somewhere. She’s not a smart kid, but that just seems. A bit oddly dumb of her? So I kinda hope there’s a reason she can’t figure it out and it’s not just a running gag.

Favorite line: Probably when Lancer says he wants to be like her and she just goes ‘You want to be… like me?’ It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship and her character development, but also shows some vulnerability, because so far, we’ve gotten the impression NO ONE likes or looks up to Susie. Susie confronting Snowdrake and MK outside the bunker was also great. And in terms of comedy nothing tops ‘What would Kris do…? (Eat moss/point and hearts come out)

She’s just a goldmine of great quotes okay.

brOTP: Is it not obvious? Susie and Lancer.

OTP: I think think Krusielle (Kris, Susie, and Noelle) is an underrated dynamic. I want all three to be weird together.

nOTP: Uh, don’t really have one? Not one I have very strong feelings about, anyways.

Random Headcanon: In the fancomic Paper Trail, Susie was always hungry and eating weird stuff because no one ever bothered telling her she was a carnivorous species of monster, and she recounted a memory where she got so hungry she broke down and ate the class pet in kindergarten and felt so guilty, and there was a scene where Noelle told her and told her about services she can use to get the food she needs even if she’s poor and Susie just broke down going ‘this is… normal? I’m not a monster?’ Technically not mine but I loved that concept.

I also like the theory Susie grew up in a human community, or even knew Kris in that community before the Dreemurrs adopted them.

Unpopular Opinion: Uuuh… none really.

Song I associate with them: I think she’d sing along really loudly to Godzilla by Blue Oyster Cult.

Favorite Picture of them: Don’t got one.

Ralsei

Favorite thing about them: How thoughtful he is! He makes rooms for Kris and Susie with more care than Queen does, he tells Kris(us) that we don’t need to explore all Castletown bow we can take a break, he banishes Kris and Susie until they do their homework… he’s not perfect at it. But I genuinely don’t think he’ll pull a Toriel and try to trap Kris snd Susie in Castletown. He wants to provide them with a place to escape, but not at the cost of their lives and relationships in the Dark World.

Least favorite thing about them: When is a Lightner going to comment on his similarity to Asriel? When are we going to address the elephant in the room? When?

Favorite line: When he remarks how wonderful that Susie is herself, and wonders what being Ralsei-like even is.

brOTP: Uh. Don’t really have one I feel strongly about yet.

OTP: Same. I only really enjoy a ship if I enjoy the dynamic of the relationship, and Ralsei is so passive with everyone that he just… isn’t even noticed by a lot of people. Makes it a little hard for me to get invested in any ships with him as of now. Maybe that’ll change in the future?

nOTP: Again, no strong feelings here. I guess I don’t love Kralsei, because his devotion to Kris in canon can easily turn into that thing I hate where a character has no personality beyond loving and supporting another, but I don’t have any particular vitriol for the ship. I think I’d prefer to see him figure out what being ‘Ralsei-like’ means before he gets into a relationship, especially with Kris. But I don’t think I hate it enough to call it a nOTP, per se, it’s just not what I really want to see from the character.

Random headcanon: I like my weird baseless speculation that Chara made him based off of their idealized vision of Asriel, just like how Flowey was projecting his idealized vision of Chara onto Frisk.

Unpopular opinion: There is a huge spectrum between ‘sweet little cinnamon roll’ and ‘evil mastermind, satan incarnate,’ you guys… and several mysteries surrounding him become kinda obvious if you just think a little bit.

Song I associate with them: Canary in a Coal Mine by the Crane Wives feels applicable.

Favorite picture of them: Still don’t really have one.

#ask meme #deltarune #ralsei #susie

[silvereternitywrites]

The Longest Chess Game

Prompt: Your king is objectively, irredeemably evil, so as his advisor you have to try your hardest to make good, helpful changes to your country that sound like they're evil or harmful in some way. Prompt Source: user Red580; subreddit “Writing Prompts”

"So, given that we've been at war for almost 50 years and they don't view anything as 'submission' or loss, I really don't know what they hope to accomplish by offering their princess," the King complained, his voice gone shrill with his confused annoyance.

"It is, perhaps, a play to restart the war so they can win it," I cautioned his Majesty, wondering for myself what it meant. That country would never capitulate to ours; they 'knew' my King was filled with vitriol and hatred for all mankind. Little did they know that he was not hateful, but selfish; there was no easier man to manipulate than the selfish one. Every good the world ever held and breath of kindness could be traced back to a selfish reason or desire, if one tried.

"They need not offer one of their Royals for that, a well-placed peaceguard at one of our festivals could cause havoc and attack people during their enforced resting, and all that pent up energy we so cleverly drain away so they never wise up to coming after the nobility would turn into a mob frothing for war. Sending her is a risk. Why take it?"

I considered what I knew of the other court and had a quiet, creeping thought too fantastical to be true.

Too outlandish not to be a possibility.

"It may be their royal family has an advisor as clever as I, your grace," I offered cautiously.

"What? Explain."

I obediently coughed and answered.

"I can see a gambit, my King, but it would only work if they believed they knew your every action and reaction in advance, and even then it would take many moving parts and uncertain players to ensure it went off perfectly."

"Detail it," he demanded, hands gone white-knuckled on his throne.

"If the Princess was offered as a wife to an opposing nation, and the king married her despite the age discrepancy so as not to restart the war, the first royal family could damage his reputation in both kingdoms by implying him to be a cradle-robber, without the virility to have heirs with someone of his own age and station. It would turn your own against you despite their terrified awe of your edicts and stricter and stricter rule. It would also put a vaunted warrior in your court to strike down multiple Royals for an insult and if she killed a husband too old for her, would make it easy to meld both kingdoms under loathing of a cradle-robber."

He looked at me. He knew I was already building a solution, the solution that would grow his empire as every puzzle and challenge answered had grown it, with more land willingly swearing to his flag with dazzled devotion and tearful acknowledgement of his sovereignty.

I smiled.

"But if the wise receiving King should pretend it a misunderstanding and welcome the Princess as a cultural ambassador, and hint she could only be there to pay court to his Heir, and send off his fourth son to pay court to their Heir, it is now a simple hostage exchange. And if either pair of courtships should hit it off, only the better, to prove the lack of hard feelings, never removing the Heir from their home kingdom, of course. And so long as your son is there, he will spread word far and wide of our rule, making their nobility long to submit to your glories until the courts are so intermixed they are one, and as long as you own your own people, you would come to own theirs, as well, making you the true ruler."

"You were right about the Nobles needing to be reminded they are dependent on me and wait on my pleasure, and thus must adhere to a schedule of court days...." The King mused, rubbing his chin.

"I have not had half as much whining and complaining to irritate me when I have a use for them. Yes, their Nobles needing an equally firm hand is just sensible. And having their Princess court my Heir is not an insult to anyone but their Royalty, as an Heir is almost as magnificent as myself, so they cannot use the plot they had in mind, especially with- you did say the fourth prince? The little schemer who keeps tabs on the gossip for me?"

"Yes, Sire, for exactly the reason you divined yourself."

"Yes, excellent. Yes, good! Make it so, Advisor Andias."

"At once, your majesty," I bowed out, and grinned with anticipation. I doubted the princess was anything besides a well trained assassin, but killing off other kingdom's heirs during a courtship where your name and face was known would be sloppy. And the first prince had a mercenary streak she just might like.

Perhaps within the year, I could meet the player on the other side of the chessboard.

Now that I knew there was someone just like me in their court, I looked forward to it.

#writing prompts #fantasy #silvawrites #Royalty #Politics #stupid nobility shenanigans #prompt inspired #When Selfishness isn't Selfish

[tuiyla]

The New Directions ranked by how much hatred for them baffles me

Reverse order to keep it interesting.

13. Finn

No surprise there. The combination of his questionable actions and the disturbing framing is enough to turn me into as much of an anti as I’ll ever be so how could I be surprised when people drag him.

12. Puck

People will never agree on how much an actor should influence how you view a character; I for one think it’s ‘as much as you want it to.’ Some will just never vibe with Puck and I respect that. His creepy in-universe moments don’t make it easier.

11. Artie

It would surprise me if someone has such strong feelings but truth is Artie didn’t get a ton and what he did get included being your local misogynist which wasn’t counterbalanced by a whole lot. Not that I don’t think he has plenty of likable qualities and he’s not all that polarizing but also not popular enough for me to be surprised about negative emotions.

10. Santana

Bet ya didn’t expect that, huh? Well, here I am as your local Santana stan saying that I’m not too surprised by those who happen to hate her. Part of it is expecting contrarians when a character is as popular as she is but part of it is just her occasional status as a villain that is bound to inspire haters. But, if I’m honest, I mostly think it’s contrarianism. Either way, not surprised when I see a strong push for “well but remember when she!!!”

9. Sam

The way his character changed over the years inspires at least some controversy and I feel like it’s easy to find people who are at least a little disgruntled with either version of him. Or people who just never liked him to begin with. Him being hailed as an unproblematic himbo can also inspire counterbalancing.

8. Blaine

We’re entering sort of baffling territory because, while I get why Blaine’s character could be annoying to some on certain levels I have seen levels of anti behaviour that I simply don’t get. Or I just don’t know enough about the intricacies of anti-Blaine reasonings.

7. Brittany

I think it’s easy to not take Brittany’s character as ~intended~ and when you apply a logic to her actions that simply wasn’t there in the writing itself, sure. It still confuses me when she’s treated as some sort of war criminal instead of comic relief and my own bias obviously doesn’t agree with it so I do find it confusing every now and then.

6. Quinn

With her story of many ups and downs and twists and turns she’s bound to be at least a little polarizing but I’ve seen people be so pissed at her, as if they were the not-so baby daddy she had tricked. Quinn will always be a traumatized teen in my eyes, with all her flaws, and it annoys me when people don’t at leats cut her some slack.

5. Rachel

You might think she’s too high on the list but it’s the result of the sheer vitriol the character faces from people who think disliking the central character is the ~cool~ thing to do. Rachel is an intentionally grating character and I get how that’s not endearing when the show loses sight of the point of her story every now and then but I simply don’t think she has any business being as polarizing as she is.

4. Tina

Similarly to Sam, the abrupt change in character was just a no-no for some but criticism against Tina tends to be so lazy I simply can’t give it the benefit of the doubt. “She’s just so annoying” is and has always been my least favourite sentence to hear about a character and I cannot, and will not understand it. What has she done against you?

3. Kurt

The fan favourite aspect, like with Santana, does come up but anti stuff also tends to be a bit more insidious, e.g. borderline or fully homophobic. If your big 2k22 Glee hot take is that Kurt was too much of a gay stereotype I think we’re all begging you to move on. Valid criticisms exist, of course, but the ones I tend to see also tend to be bs that baffles the mind.

2. Mike

It’s hard to rank Mike on any list. To be clear, wholehearted devotion and love confuses me just as much as ardent hatred because, like... what has he done? Seriously, Mike is just not enough of a character in canon to feel that strongly about. If you consider yourself a Mike anti, good for you, but I probably won’t think your reasoning is all that justified.

1. Mercedes

Apart from Quinn, Mercedes was my reason for making this list. There’s simply not a good enough reason to be an actual Mercedes anti and maybe I do make the rules, so that’s that. I can understand being mad that she didn’t get enough but that’s about it. That’s not to say everyone has to stan Mercedes, you do whatever you want. But actively hating her must have a reason and, imo, that reason can hardly be not sus.

#a list that is bound to go over really well with the whole entire fandom #:)) #just a random list don't read too much into it #glee #nd ranking #the criteria isn't all that clear but hey so what

[ipsomaniac]

dont really see what the point of celebrating is, we still have a monarchy. i do find all this dancing-on-graves stuff weird. think some people will unfollow me for this but:

although i do on the one hand understand the personal vitriol directed towards the queen because it is literally her sacred duty to represent the nation/empire that was responsible for a lot of evil shit and colonization etc. and thus she is symbolically responsible for the suffering of millions, possibly billions of people around the world over the course of the past 70 years...

at the same time i don’t quite get it because. being born into the royal family is a curse, right? like, what do you actually do if you have the misfortune to be born to the royal family, is there any morally good action you can take? is there any hope for you to turn out an ok person? is there any way at all for you to opt out of bearing the weight of all the evil of britain, which is simply an impossible burden for a person to fully comprehend and assume without driving them to suicide...

maybe someone would say, “yes, the morally correct course of action if you are born a royal is to abdicate from your royal post, disown yourself from your family, devote your life to destroying the very institution into which you were (through no fault of your own) born and indoctrinated, and making amends by championing the rights of peoples oppressed by the empire” etc etc. so potentially a royal could save themselves from being worthy of tumblr-levels of vitriol by being 1000% more moral, self-sacrificing and less compliant than an average person, by being a statistical outlier of a saint. or maybe some of the more historically knowledgeable people on tumblr who aren’t simply jumping onto an easy ideological bandwagon would say, “actually the queen did so-and-so bad things and was actually personally bad and that’s why we hate her” and that may be true! but a. i think if you are born a royal you are given impossible parameters to work within - you are responsible for all suffering caused by your nation but can make no actual policy decisions, great! yes she does have lots of soft power and wealth but she doesn’t have many tools qua monarch to make things better b. i don’t believe this is actually why people hate her so violently. i think the logic you see on tumblr and twitter is more of a sort of calvinist determinism where if you are born royal there is simply nothing you can do to stop yourself from being damned. which is ironic because, in deeming the queen to be a worthy object for all this hatred i.e. a proper figurehead for all the evil committed by the state - one has to buy into the crown’s own narrative about itself as the embodiment of the nation, instead of seeing the monarch as just a random person who happened to have been born into a horrible imperial pantomime.

i don’t say this to be like, “oh boo hoo poor royals they have such hard lives” or “actually they are all decent people” or “the queen did nothing wrong”. royals have had the cushiest lives ever and most of them seem like more or less nasty people. i dont like them. but the fact that we literally breed these people in such a way as to give them no chance at a decent, normal life, so that they are doomed from birth to embody and perpetuate evil: it’s barbaric. sacrificial even (at the altar of the tabloid press which is the royals’ main real social function at this point).

we should abolish the monarchy for many reasons, most of which are much more important than this one. but somewhere down the list is that it’s just appalling to breed people into these doomed, twisted roles.

#babble

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

in defense of the knights of favonius

Looks like I'm writing a post defending a fictional military dictatorship.

About Diluc, II: Huh? Knights of Favonius? ...I have nothing to say about them. We have different views is all.

Au contraire, Master Diluc. You have plenty to say.

So, I was prompted to write this after reading some of the hot takes in the notes of my "a hate letter to Diluc (no not really)" post. I did not expect the response it got because my exasperation with Diluc seemed to both strike a nerve in some people and resonate with some people.

*bonks Diluc* why are you so controversial???? I just wanted to write a meta post about how hard it is to write you?? fuckin- *bonks him again*

The point of me bringing up Jean and Kaeya (and then Yo bringing up Eula) was that Diluc...doesn't treat them all that well.

About Jean, Responsibilities: Her unparalleled sense of responsibility is the sole reason why she still hasn't found her true calling.

About Kaeya: Kaeya? You can only trust half of what he says... at best.

About Eula: Ah, yes... I've heard about her. She has her own convictions. Her determination to liberate herself from the shackles of her clan is praiseworthy. But, she's... joined the Knights of Favonius.

Listen, I don't actually feel all that strongly about liking/disliking Diluc, my original point was that he's difficult to write. But I do feel strongly about the Knights.

Here's my point in this post: Diluc comes off as incredibly condescending!

Jean is working her ass off. If you read her voicelines and story, you can see how deeply she cares about Mondstadt, about the knights, about her heritage and her work. Mondstadt is her everything. Hell, the Gunnhildr motto is "For Mondstadt, always." She's so overworked that she needs to be tricked into a birthday party and her story quest is about her literally working herself into exhaustion and collapsing.

Because she loves her city that much.

And for Diluc to swan in here, knowing full well what kind of a person Jean is, knowing full well how devoted she is and how much work she does, and say that she "still hasn't found her true calling" because she's part of the Knights? Because that's what he's implying! Cmon, man. It's the equivalent of, like, your parents trashing on you for wanting to major in art or something.

Hell, he knows she's overworked!

About Jean, Enemies: Trifling matters can become Jean's greatest enemy.

Hey! Yeah! She's overworked! And his quest has you help him to not only subvert her authority by fucking with the Knights, but generating a whole slime crisis so he could go off and play vigilante. What the fuck did he think would happen if he failed to hold up the Abyss Order with the Knights already occupied? With the shorthanded Knights already occupied with a problem he created? And what if one of the Knights had gotten injured dealing with the slime problem? Diluc, that's on your head.

Sure, he succeeded at taking them down, because this is Diluc Ragnvindr. He can't lose /s. But the fact that he takes all this responsibility on himself displays a startling amount of arrogance and lack of foresight that, yeah, pisses me off.

Onto Kaeya: Diluc obviously has issues with Kaeya. Fine. Fair. He doesn't need to like him. Kaeya's also an ass sometimes so, yeah, alright. But he's so dismissive of him.

Kaeya also works his ass off, as much as Traveler teases him for slacking. And sure, maybe he's the Knights' biggest flight risk. But Diluc never acknowledges the fact that Kaeya works so damn hard--he has a whole list of Treasure Hoarder names. He has a spy in the Hoarders. He's Jean's confirmed second in command. Hell, this man spent all of the Windblume festival doing paperwork! Kaeya hauls ass for the Knights and Diluc's entire is opinion is "yeeeeeahhhh but he's faaaaaake :("

It's just frustrating! This man seems to respect nobody except himself!

And Eula! Eula Lawrence, who has to put up with outright vitriol from the citizens she's sworn to protect. She, out of everyone, has the most reason to turn into Mondstadt's enemy. The most reason to quit the Knights when the going got rough.

But she decided not to! She chose the populace's disgust and loathing over betraying Mondstadt and she continues to do her job despite the discrimination! And Diluc, who is Mondstadt's darling, has the gall to shit on her career choices?

Diluc, a little bit of empathy or respect for people other than yourself would be nice. A little bit of foresight would be nice.

Because his very first voiceline in game is trashing the Knights. The Knights who, mind you, are shorthanded. Varka fucked off with the entire cavalry, who make up an entire unit that Kaeya, ostensibly, commands. They're spread so thin that they're forced to rely on Traveler, a foreigner who fell out of the sky, to help them out. So thin that Jean needs to help people out finding their lost cats!

Mondstadt is a big region! You almost never see a Knight procrastinating. They're always patrolling or standing guard. These guys are doing their damndest to keep the region under control and they're just swamped. They simply don't have the manpower of the Millelith, for example. And Diluc's response isn't really to help them out.

No, it's to continue his personal revenge quest against the Abyss Order and actively subvert their authority.

And I get he has his reasons. I get he has redeeming qualities and I know this post comes off as me being a Diluc anti. I'm really not.

I think he has an intriguing character even if I also think he's poorly written. I think he has a lot of potential, narratively, that may or may not get squandered. And I wish that he and the Knights had a better relationship, but I understand why he quit.

I can think he's a cool character and also greatly dislike his choices/attitude at the same time. But, yeah.

That's the post.

#diluc discourse #yeah this is a tag now #genshin impact #Aurie Character Analysis

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S5 E10: The Pincushion Man - 5 Things I  Loved/ 3 things to consider

1. I love the fact that the actual makers of Riverdale have the same relationship with Jughead that a lot of the fanfic reading and writing fandom have with Jughead.  We all, collectively, enjoy his adorable traits - a gift for romantic gestures, devotion, resilience, bottomless kindness, courage, a sweet-spicy mix of feral anger and weepy softness. The point of Jughead for the makers seems to lie generally in taking things away from him, because he suffers in such an affecting, emotionally open way.   A lot of the fandom also revels in his pain and suffering.  Where the fandom differs from the makers, though, is that the fandom actively tries to give the nice things back to Jughead, and most of the Jughead intra-fandom arguments are about what that should be.

Which is to say, this midseason cliffhanger’s purpose was  to Take Things Away From Jughead.  Jughead starts this episode in a nice place (he’s housed at Archie’s, he’s got two stable jobs, he’s got some direction to his writing, he’s made a new friend, who is no less than the beautiful, kind, smart Tabitha). He ends it naked, out of his mind, bloody, alone in the woods and possibly summoned by aliens or rats or something, and his ex-NYC-girlfriend that he seems both afraid of and dislikes knows exactly where he lives.  He can’t even have a drug induced nostalgic sex dream stay a nice sex dream.

2. The Blossom altar and magick witchcraft whatever that was, was awesome.  I was HOOTING.  The Blossoms keep giving me so much to love.   This religion also has some sort of rosary or maybe it’s an offshoot of Catholicism? (Nana Rose totally looks like she’s praying using a rosary).  Everything about this - the pile of sage, Penelope Blossom’s crazed eyes, the fact that this table full of macabre stuff wasn’t just a display but an altar all this time, and the fact that THEY CAN SUMMON WITCH WIND filled me with joy.

3. I loved Betty stabbing Glen in the stomach.  Her antihero path continues - she is annoyed at having to make a cake each for the twins, you know, like, they’re not two separate people.  Asshole Aunty!  She uses tears and wiles to properly manipulate Charles, throws a knife at Chic (LOVED THIS TOO) and isn’t all that arsed about Charles being shot.  Like, Charles is shot in the chest (!) and Glen was stabbed in a way that she knew would miss organs, but the one Betty rushes to is GLEN and this seems like a strategic, calculating choice.

4.  I really LOVED, like, ADORED that Reggie’s way of trying to get the groves from Cheryl was to woo Nana Rose, and he wasn’t cheap about it either. Put on a silk tie, combed his hair back, and bought two dozen scarlet roses.  His full service smiling and winking with his handsome face, giving her some of his sexy young man energy was fabulous.  His willingness to set an entire forest on fire though was very disturbing.

5.  Things we learned about Jughead this episode were all very very interesting to me.  When he gets high he gets naked. . He dances around, which I just found so cute.  He has a really lovely chest tattoo - a big crown, a quill, and a bunch of roses. He likes bondage, with handcuffs. He is really scared of Jessica but also won’t refuse her advances even in hallucination.  He uses “being a Betty” as an insult, and it’s supposed to mean something to other people, and yet when his guard is down, he would have sex with Betty again in a second (I mean, fair. Have you seen her?).

3 things to think about 

a) So now we know that Archie was in Uzbekistan, and it’s like I’ve already said. It makes zero difference to this story, to know where he was.  Oh and just a funny bit - The reporter who calls Archie is named Sara Bellum = Cerebellum?  This cracked me up.

b) Neither Glen nor Jughead (!) understanding that actual people really don’t like it if you turn their lives into content under your name as a sole author if you don’t have prior permission is very amusing.    Like Glen seems to think Betty would be flattered by his delving into her entire family tree in this invasive way, and we’ve seen the Serpents’ reaction to however it is Jughead depicted them in his novel. 

c) I’m not sure why I hate Uncle Fucking Frank so much.   He’s constructed to be sort of sympathetic.  A nice enough looking, gruff, manly man, that Archie obviously likes and trusts on sight, who is on some sort of redemption arc from a dark past about which he feels very badly, and so on.  Like, normally, this type of character does not make me HATE them - feel bored by them because done to death, sure, but the level of vitriol I feel about Uncle Fucking Frank surprises me.  I WANT HIM DEAD.

#riverdale s5 #riverdale positivity #Sept 9 is E11 airing in my region!

[franki-lew-yo]

For the actual POC (especially South Asians) who feel Lindsay Ellis is still not apologizing, I’m not gonna argue with you. I simply feel (not know, just feel) like her point in that video was to talk about the bad crit leveled against her and how/why it was genuinely hurtful. That Lindsay went back to her old ugly videos and even her original Raya tweet reply with critique in hand is more than most yt ‘apology’ videos can muster...and that’s just it really.

I think we, the progressive-types and all other marginalized ppl, are kind of traumatized by the aftermath of GamerGate and the 2016 election wherein we saw so many youtubers we enjoyed turn out to be bad people and a devoted stanbase going on the attack in the name of those people.

People who absolutely refuse to take responsibility for their messing up; JonTron, Sam Pepper, Channel Awesome+Doug Walker, PewDiePie, Shane Dawson, Lacy Green, Tobuscus, Cosmodore, H3H3, Brad Jones/Cinema Snob, MatPatt, ProJared, Mandopony - just to name a few. People turn out/turn into bigots, predators, or BOTH and now every single argument that can be made by someone or in someone’s defense carries this bad taste in your mouth. “I literally don’t have time to go through every criticism made against me and sus out the good from the bad” - is a valid argument and feeling for anyone. Hard to trust it now though after so many bigots, asshats, and creeps use it to wave away their bad deeds. Again, that’s not what I think Lindsay’s doing. She’s taking responsibility for what she said but not going to apologize for the sake of people who are truly vitriolic about her.

The one thing I disagree with her is I don’t think people are going out of their way to hate on her just to be mad.

People who went out of their way to celebrate Lindsay’s ‘downfall’ and were vitriolic to the point of forgetting this is supposed to be about Asian voices? They really did do these things because they thought they were doing something good.

That’s what I see from these absolutist-type‘Anti’s: only one in twenty is a genuine mooch who’s just out for brownie points - these people are critics with good takes and probably good faith in their hearts. They are, like Lindsay said, angry and pissed that they feel they can’t do more and really think their brand of criticism can’t be toxic because it’s fighting a noble cause. They are so angry they get caught up in a mob of tearing stuff apart that they lose sight of what’s actually important. They spread a toxicity that’s wholy different than the bigots or creepers they know are bad.

Is it just as awful as genuine bigotry or sexual deviancy? No.

Is it still destructive and can do it’s own kind of psychological damage? Yes.

#lindsay ellis #antifandom #can someone please make a Asian/POC yt analysis channel list to actually take people's minds off Lindsay? #that really is what you should be doing and promoing with your time

[owl-with-a-pen]

What if Nia had gotten so angry at lex after what happened with brainy, she went to go try and kill him? 😳 and brainy had to stop her. We’ve seen the dark side of brainy before but never in Nia really, discluding “reality bytes”

- Oooh, I like this idea a lot! I brought a few more characters into play for this as well, hope you don’t mind!

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Nia stormed past Kara for the third consecutive time, swivelling on her foot just shy of hitting the far wall so that she could continue pacing across Lena’s lab. Her hands were clenched so tightly together that her fingers were beginning to burn, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was ending Lex’s sorry existence once and for all.

“Nia,” Kara cut in, taking a placating step forward, “just think for a second-”

“You can’t stop me, Kara,” Nia snarled. She knew she’d gained something of an audience since Lena and Alex had returned from the recovery room, could feel their eyes tracking her every movement, but just thinking about who they’d been tending to, the state he’d been in when they’d found him in Leviathan’s ship, made the anger inside her chest that much more vitriolic. There was a pressure growing inside her skull, throbbing along to the beat of her heart. She stopped short, jerking her arm in the direction Lena and Alex had come from. “Look what he did to Brainy. Months of hurting him, putting him through god knows what!”

“And you have every reason to be angry,” Kara said gently.

Nia snorted, rolling her eyes. “Great, ‘cuz I was totally asking for your permission.”

“Nia-”

“No.” Nia turned to Kara then, jaw clenched tight. “Y’know what? No. You don’t have a right to tell me I’m wrong here. Lex kills people, Kara, did you think of that, huh? Did you think of who Brainy might have helped Lex kill? What Lex might have made him do?” Nia could feel tears burning in her eyes, could taste a thickness in her throat, but she forced every bit of strength into her voice regardless. “None of us stopped that.”

“None of us knew,” Alex muttered.

“And who’s fault is that?” Nia shot back, whirling on Alex accusingly. “Brainy’s? Or maybe, maybe the truth is, it was ours. I ignored my dreams and we all, we all ignored him!” Nia sucked air through her teeth. She knew she was trembling, but seeing those concerned looks on her friends’ faces did nothing to cool the fire welling inside of her. She swallowed hard, ignoring the iron tang in the back of her mouth, and drew out a slow breath. “But, most importantly,” she said carefully, “it’s Lex’s fault. This is all Lex’s fault.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Lena said. Her expression had been especially still throughout Nia’s tirade, although something about it now looked distinctly uneasy. “But, Brainy was careful. I saw him-” Lena cringed suddenly, looking away.

Nia knew why, just as well as anyone else in the room did. Lena had known Brainy had been working for Lex – for months - and she hadn’t said a word. She’d kept his secret. No, no, she hadn’t kept his secret, she hadn’t cared about it.

“It was only brief,” Lena said quickly, glancing back to her, “but during that time, he promised me that no one would be harmed whilst he aided with Lex’s schemes. He wouldn’t have broken his code, Nia. Not even for Lex; I’m certain.”

“You killed him.”

“What?”

Nia stared at Lena coldly. “You shot him, right? You shot your brother in the heart and you didn’t think about it. Because it was justice.”

“It wasn’t justice-” Kara tried desperately.

“I’m not talking to you!” Nia gritted. She didn’t even spare Kara a passing glance. All of her attention was devoted to Lena. “Let her talk.”

Lena’s eyes were bright, shimmering things. Still, she didn’t look away this time. Instead, her lips twitched into sharp smile. “What do you want me to say?” she asked coldly. “That killing my brother was cathartic, that it closed old wounds that I thought might never heal?” She raised her chin. “No, you want the whole truth. That my actions stopped a threat that would have continued relentlessly unless someone had the nerve to take that shot. To leave his lifeless body to rot with the worms like he deserved.”

Kara made a pained sound in the back of her throat.

Lena glanced at her. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said plainly. “I don’t condone this. But, not because I don’t agree with her.” Lena turned back to Nia, her brow furrowed. “Nia, taking a person’s life is something you can never take back.”

Nia bared her teeth. “And yet, that’s exactly what the Anti Monitor did.” She gestured at Lena frankly, feeling wayward strands of dream energy snap and spark between her fingers. “Absolve you, or whatever.”

“I’d kill my brother again without a moment’s hesitation,” Lena said stiffly, lifting herself to her full height. “But, we can still stop him without resorting to that.” Her expression softened. “Even if we couldn’t, my actions, they aren’t yours. Nia, you don’t have the stomach for this. You shouldn’t.”

Nia clenched her hands again, feeling her energy pool into every digit. Vibrant blue light simmered against her palms. “No offence, Lena, but you don’t know anything about what I’m capable of right now.”

“Nia?”

Nia faltered, the shock of her power dimming as she half turned to meet the new voice behind her back.

Brainy was stood in the lab’s entryway, his shoulder pressed heavily against the wall. If the frailness of his expression was anything to go by, Nia was certain it was the only thing keeping him from keeling over.

His green skin was still far too pale to be healthy, and his blond hair clung to the side of his jaw with cold sweat, but he was awake. He was…

Why was he awake?

Between the two of them, Lena and Alex had been able to help along Brainy’s natural healing process using a cocktail of experimental drugs, the names of which Nia wasn’t even going to try to pronounce. But Brainy’s IV wasn’t present, instead she could see an angry looking bruise already beginning to blossom over the delicate skin on his left hand.

The dream energy dissolved from Nia’s hands in an instant, rocketing back towards her chest so quickly that she nearly choked. She rushed over to him, reaching tentatively for his arm.

This close, she could see the shadows that had sunk into his cheek bones, the red veins that still branched along the whites of his eyes. He held one arm protectively around his chest, clenched between the steady glow of his three life projectors.

“Brainy,” Nia said breathlessly, running her hand carefully along his arm, desperate to offer any kind of support she could. “You shouldn’t be up.”

Brainy clenched his teeth, lowering his head. “I-I overheard…” he managed.

It took her a second, but although his eyes were heavy lidded, Nia realised that Brainy was looking down at her hands, at the vibrant energy she’d summoned only moments ago. Something heavy settled inside her stomach at that look.

“Nia,” Brainy continued softly. “You- you don’t need to do this.”

A pained laugh caught in Nia’s throat. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Brainy smiled tiredly, lifting his head with clearly more energy than he had to expend. Nia ached to do something for him, to take that hurt away, but the anger inside of her no longer burned like fire. Instead, it twisted deep in her gut, churning together with every bit of fear she’d been trying to hold down since the moment they’d gotten Brainy out of Leviathan’s clutches.

“Killing Lex…” Brainy said, meeting Nia’s eyes. “It will not take back what I did. I worked for him of my own volition, he didn’t force me into anything.”

Nia swallowed hard, closing her eyes.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Brainy said earnestly. “But, please, don’t channel that anger into something this destructive. Lena is right. Taking a life is never worth it. There is always a better way.”

Nia’s eyes shot open at that. She blinked quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m not mad at you.”

When Brainy only stared at her, Nia felt the twist in her stomach sour even further. She gritted her teeth, blinking back against the sudden burn in her eyes. “I- I don’t want to be,” she said weakly.

“It’s okay.”

Nia startled at the feel of Brainy’s fingers brush against her free hand. She clenched the one around his arm in response. “It’s not okay,” she gritted. “It wasn’t your fault. I-”

“From what I understand,” Brainy said, “emotions do not always make sense. But that does not make them any less real.”

For a long moment, Nia couldn’t say a word against him. Because, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She was angry, so angry, but she was also terrified and sick and hollow. There was a bitter hole in her heart, one that had only continued to grow in the months since Brainy had broken up with her. He’d barely spoken to her since, had hardly stood to be in the same room as her at all. The closest they’d gotten was work-related interactions and even then, he’d been so distant, like a part of him hadn’t even been there.

And when she’d seen Brainy in Leviathan’s ship, every single piece of bitterness had surged to life in a united front to keep her grounded, to keep her away from every other emotion threatening to tear her apart. It had warped into a violent rage, an acrid burn inside her lungs, fuelling her on this fruitless pursuit to, what? Kill Lex? As though that’d make her feel better, as though any of this would make her feel better?

Nia couldn’t find it in her to say that all out loud. Instead, she sniffed hard, biting her lip. “You left me alone,” she said lowly. “And that killed me.”

“I know,” Brainy said, his voice pained. “It… it killed me too, and I know this isn’t enough, that it won’t take away the hurt, but I am so, so sorry, Nia Nal.” His eyes fluttered suddenly, and he closed them quickly, lowering his head. “I will always be sorry.”

Nia knew this wasn’t the right time to have this conversation. Brainy’s complexion was already losing the little colour he’d gained; his jaw was tight with discomfort, and as a harsh shudder ran up his spine, she watched as he lost the last of his composure, leaning his head against the wall with a weak grimace.

Nia wasn’t sure what she was feeling in that moment, but when Brainy’s legs nearly gave out, she didn’t hesitate. Her arms were wrapped around his back before she even knew that she was moving forward, burying her face securely into the side of his neck. His skin was sticky with cold sweat, but she didn’t care, she only hugged him fiercer, unable to keep a sob from heaving its way out of her throat.

“It will be enough,” she whispered, feeling as Brainy slowly began to relax into her embrace. “It’ll just take some time.”

There was more she wanted to say now. The words practically thundered inside her ears, clawing to be let out. Words like, how much she loved him, how she’d never stopped loving him, but how even that couldn’t take away the resentment she’d stored against herself, against him, for leaving her without a proper explanation, for making her feel like her feelings were unwarranted, unreciprocated.

But her throat was tight, and the only sounds she was able to make were the harsh gasps as her chest hitched and fell outside of her control. She could hear Brainy’s pulse beating away against her cheek, the moisture of his own tears wetting strands of her hair.

All she wanted to do was hold on and never, ever let go.

Brainy didn’t say a word, either. Although, for him, it was for a far more pressing reason. His breathing was already beginning to strain against her shoulder, and when he suddenly dipped dangerously in her arms, Nia strengthened her hold around him, leaning them both against the wall to support their combined weights.

“So, does this mean no one’s murdering anyone anymore?” Alex asked from across the room.

Nia’s chest clenched. She’d totally forgotten that her reunion with Brainy had been met with an audience. She lifted her head from his shoulder, blinking against the brightness of the room before turning towards her friends.

Alex was already on her way over to them, her eyes reviewing every inch of Brainy in both parts medical and familial concern. Kara and Lena hovered awkwardly together, seemingly aware that crowding Brainy right now might not be the best plan.

Nia met Kara’s gaze warily, offering her an apologetic wince. “I…” she began.

“It’s okay,” Kara said softly, her eyes creasing with a smile.

Nia sighed, shaking her head. “Okay,” she said levelly. “Maybe, maybe we don’t have to kill him. But the next cell we put that asshole in, he’s never getting out of.”

Kara’s smile widened into a grin. “Now, that’s a plan I can get behind.”

“First thing’s first,” Alex cut in, rousing Brainy enough that he was able to glance blearily up from Nia’s shoulder. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, narrowing her eyes at the result. “You’re telling me what the hell you did with your IV. Then, you’re going back to bed.”

Brainy nodded weakly, mumbling a quiet apology, although Nia knew Alex wasn’t looking for one. In fact, she was pretty certain she’d heard Alex forgive Brainy at least a dozen times over while he’d still been delirious from the radiation.

Nia chuckled, helping Alex manoeuvre Brainy’s weight back down the hall.

“C’mon Wildcat,” she murmured into his ear. “We’ve got you.”

Maybe they hadn’t had a chance to get everything out in the open just yet, but they would. 

Once Brainy was healthy and rested, they’d have all the time in the world.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #supergirl season 6 #nia nal #brainiac 5 #dreamdox #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor #kara zor el #lol is anyone keeping count of how many different ways i've written brainy getting saved from leviathan yet? #it's .. many #but all the season 6 hype is finally giving me a bit of that hurt/comfort writer's fuel #also. don't ever yank your IV out kids. it's a bad time. dont do it.

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Digesting Chapter 138

Don't get me wrong, there were moments in chapter 138 that fucked me up (cough Connie and Jean cough), and I love the art. Eren and Armin’s fight and the final panel with Mikasa, which I want to dig into in a bit, are both especially powerful drawings. Overall, though, I feel much calmer after reading this chapter than I thought I would. I’ve been trying to figure out why that is, and one reason is probably that I expected some of it. The rumbling was going to continue, the explosion wouldn’t have killed Eren, and he was probably going to die in either this chapter or the next one. 

But I also think that part of why I feel so normal is because I’m not thrilled about this chapter. Which is rare for me. I won’t say that I’ve never been peeved about a chapter, since I definitely have been and I just can’t remember the specifics, but it’s been a while. 138 is confusing, it’s disgruntling, and it didn’t pack as much of a punch as AoT usually does. I don’t hate it, but I’m also not here for it, and there are a couple specific moments that make me feel that way.

First, the titanization. 

Like I said, Jean and Connie’s last moments cracked my heart, but even though that last panel of them standing together, watching Falco fly away, was beautiful and painful, I’m so confused about how the titanization happened. The chapter heavily implies that the gas which infects the characters comes from the Hallucigenia-worm-neck-thing.

Okay, bet. I can accept that the spine worm primed the Eldians for titanization. What confuses me, though, is that it’s not clear that the worm triggers the titanization. If anything, it looks like Falco did, which I don’t understand. 

As Falco flies away with Mikasa and Levi on his back, leaving the other characters behind to become titans, Falco screams. After he screams, the Eldians turn into titans. It’s not clear what else could trigger the transformation. There’s no panel of, say, Eren screaming, and from past chapters, titanization is trigged by a scream, not because of exposure to gas or spinal fluid alone. 

So, the chapter looks like it implies that... Falco screams? 

Maybe that’s not what’s going on, but that’s what it looks like, so the titanization makes no sense to me. If Falco screamed The Scream, why? Screaming turns the people that he wants to protect and free, e.g. Gabi and his family, into titans devoid of autonomy. If Falco is the trigger, that also means the titanization was preventable, which is incredibly frustrating given that so many important characters were transformed. 

Maybe someone could say this is a highly dramatized scream of anguish, and that the gas was strong enough to turn the Eldians through exposure alone. Maybe the worm is just insanely powerful. But that sounds like a cop-out, so this is a really confusing, frustrating scene. 

The confusion about the Hallucigenia and its role in titanization is part of a bigger problem with this final arc and this chapter: Ymir and the lore.

 The more I see of the Hallucigenia and Ymir, especially after the weird origin story last chapter, the less sense everything makes. I have a lot to say about Eren’s death, and I’ll get into it more some other time, but for now, I want to focus on Ymir’s reaction to it.

Putting aside how morbidly funny I think her presence is, why is she smiling? Ymir has either helped or controlled Eren, I’m still not completely sure which, for a long time at this point. She’s invested in him. His death seems like it would be a massive loss for her own objectives, but when Eren fails, Ymir just... watches. 

Her smile definitely makes me think that there’s much more going on here than she’s letting on, but I also can’t figure out what the hell that “more” is. At this point, watching her react this way, I don’t understand what she wants or her dynamic with Eren. Last chapter’s lore confused me, too, so this chapter’s weirdness exacerbated my frustration with not knowing what’s going on. 

Why this panel from last chapter confuses me is a whole other text post, and I don’t want to go off on a tangent, but basically, if she made the titans/ Hallucigenia to have an undying body, and if she meant to escape to a free world, whether that’s the paths or something else, she didn’t succeed. It’s also not clear to me whether she completely controls the thing in Eren’s neck, or if she only made it. 

Ymir and the founding titan’s powers are massive components of the rumbling and Eren’s behavior. They also don’t make sense. After last chapter’s lore threw me off, I hoped that 138 and 139 might shed some more light on the titans’ origins and Ymir. After reading 138, I’m more confused, and I’m started to give up on trying to wrap my head around any of it. It’s still intriguing, but I’m increasingly frustrated, and it makes the series’ ending feel rushed. 

Beyond Ymir, I’m not into the ending in general. And yeah, it’s because of That Final Panel. 

Like I said at the beginning of this post, I LOVE the imagery. It’s so dramatic and macabre, and I’m excited about what fanart it might inspire. I don’t also love it thematically. 

I’ve seen a lot of really vitriolic reactions to it, especially from people who dislike EreMika. For me, I’m just bummed about it means for Mikasa’s character.

One of, if not her greatest, defining traits for YEARS has been her love for Eren. Especially after Eren’s rampage in Liberio, it became more and more clear that her development would have to mean letting go of that devotion, or at least not let it keep her from stopping his plans. 

Mikasa rejecting the dream and killing Eren fulfills that development, but the kiss undermines it.

The kiss is closure. A goodbye. It is also still a kiss on the lips, which, at least for me and in the culture I grew up in, reads as romantic. Since Eren is dead, it’s also unreciprocated. The scene is both as Mikasa letting go of Eren and perpetuating the same (recently toxic) devotion she’s had for the whole series.

I’m not saying that I don’t think she should have closure. It makes sense that, after such an intense relationship, her goodbye is going to be tender. Nevertheless, I don’t think that the kiss is the form that closure had to take. Even if it took the form of a kiss, I don’t think that it needed to be on the lips. It’s like Yams can’t decide whether he really wants Mikasa to lose her love interest or not. Or, by extension, to not be defined by Eren. 

Over the years, I’ve gotten exasperated with how much Yams writes Mikasa focusing on Eren. This end doesn’t read like she breaks free the way she needs to. Saying “see you later” instead of “goodbye” right before she kills Eren also reflects her attachment, although the dream/vision/??? is a WHOLE different rabbit hole and that line is up for a shit ton of interpretation. 

As you can see from the watermarked panels, I’m not using an official English translation, so maybe the official English pages might clarify some things when they come out. I doubt it, though, since my frustrations don’t hinge on interpreting slight differences in wording. It’s also true that this is a pretty raw reaction, so my opinions might still develop, and I might figure out some of the lore and confusing panels that I’m stumped on. 

Nevertheless, this is how I feel right now, and based on what I’ve seen, I’m not the only one. If you liked the chapter, you do you. This is just my opinion. Everyone values and focuses on different elements of a story. Even though I just slammed the chapter for about 1400 words, I also liked some parts of it. 

In the end, it still doesn’t bode well for the manga’s ending. An author doesn’t have to explain every mystery and ambiguity for me to like a story. Grey areas and space for interpretation actually make a series stronger, in my opinion, but only to a point. Right now, there’s just too much that seems out of reach. I don’t blame Yams for wanting to be done with the manga after, as of about a week and a half from now, 11 years. At the same time, when I read this chapter, it felt like it was written by someone who was ready for it to be over, and not in a good way. I’ll wait and see how everything ends, but so far, I think the ending is... kind of underwhelming, unfortunately. 

#snk #aot #snk 138 #aot 138 #snk meta #aot meta #bluebird's snk meta #aot spoilers #snk spoilers

[merelygifted]

The Guardian view on Rashford, Sancho and Saka: let down by dog whistles from Downing Street | Editorial | The Guardian

The prime minister should have done more to defend the England team against a racist minority

The country awoke on Monday to greyish July skies and a sense of sporting disappointment. Overnight, the England team Twitter account had published a nicely turned message seeking to capture the sense of national togetherness that grew during Euro 2020. Football, it read, was not just about winning trophies, it was also about solidarity: “It’s community. It’s unity. It’s home.”

These admirable sentiments will reflect the feelings of the vast majority of those who watched the final between England and Italy. Unfortunately, they risk being undermined by an outpouring of online racist abuse directed at Bukayo Saka, Marcus Rashford and Jadon Sancho, the three players who missed penalties in the shootout won by Italy. It also emerged that a mural of Rashford in Manchester had been subjected to racially aggravated damage. The mural, erected close to where Rashford grew up, had been commissioned in recognition of the player’s remarkable campaigning on child food poverty. Taken together with footage of large groups of ticketless fans breaching security and causing chaos at Wembley, and violent scenes in Leicester Square, it all adds up to a depressing end to an inspiring sporting interlude.

There has long been a nasty, vindictive minority among the England national team’s support. In the summer of 1998, when England lost to Argentina in the World Cup, an effigy of David Beckham was hung outside a south London pub. Vile as that incident was, the racial dimension this time round takes it into a different league. And as a Guardian investigation revealed last month, the vitriol, spite and bile is now being magnified a thousand-fold on social media. In April, Premier League teams and other sporting organisations boycotted online platforms for a weekend in protest at the unending torrent of abuse. Twitter said on Monday that it had removed more than 1,000 posts and suspended some accounts, but social media companies need to devote far greater resources to dealing with hate speech on their platforms.

The buck doesn’t stop there, though. Boris Johnson rightly described the abuse of Saka, Rashford and Sancho as “appalling”. But the prime minister helped enable this squalid postscript to a wonderful few weeks. On the eve of Euro 2020, Mr Johnson refused to condemn spectators who booed the players for “taking the knee” before games. His home secretary, Priti Patel, also defended the right to boo, and expressed her personal hostility towards “gesture politics”. As the most ethnically diverse England team in the country’s history progressed all the way to the final, Mr Johnson swiftly donned an England shirt and hopped on the feelgood bandwagon. But given the consistent efforts made by players such as Raheem Sterling to highlight issues of racial inequality and abuse, the prime minister’s dog whistles revealed his true colours. The mood music from the top of government gave cover to a racist minority, some of whom seized their moment in the aftermath of defeat.

There are plans on Tuesday for a “solidarity meet-up” at the defaced Rashford mural in Manchester. How dispiriting that, after a national occasion that showcased so much that is positive about England in 2021, such an event should be necessary.

#uk #WTF uk?! #football hooligans #football #soccer #anti fascist #anti racist #anti nazi #nazi punks fuck off #nazi punching #white ppl are crazy #white supremists #euro 2020

[nonfayth]

a deep dive into the home life of bern’s royal family, and why zephiel became the man he does when he grows up. whilst some headcanons are made here, it’s mostly just me extrapolating what we already know in canon.

tw: emotional abuse and toxic parenting under the cut.

king desmond and queen hellene were wed out of an entirely political marriage, and although hellene was excited at the prospect of having the opportunity to be a good wife and mother, she would never have the chance to truly be seen as the former due to the fact that desmond harbored affections for his actual paramour, a bernese woman of common birth. he would never be able to marry the love of his life due to both status reasons as well as how bern sought out the advantages of linking themselves with one of etruria’s most noble families, thus giving them a link to another major power in the continent. it would be foolish, in the bernese court’s eyes, to refuse the marriage offer from hellene’s family then.

though he could not officially be with his paramour, king desmond was allowed to host her within the bernese royal palace, and so he did, making quite public displays of affection with her while electing to not spend more time with his wife than necessary. it was quite obvious who he favored of the two, and desmond was never really a subtle man who kept his emotions close to his chest. servants could describe his behavior towards his lover as amorous to the point of being sickeningly sweet and his behavior towards his wife were dismissive at best, outright hateful at its worst.

desmond’s nasty nature against his wife is what leads hellene’s own dreams to turn away from that of love to one of power. when she bears desmond’s heir in the form of zephiel, she immediately expresses hope for the day that zephiel will take the throne away from desmond. being the mother of the future king, she assumes she will be given more respect around the palace and have a more secure future. zephiel is seen less as her beloved son and more as her winning piece to get back at desmond; zephiel is the constant reminder that desmond’s days in power are limited, and that one day it will be hellene’s own blood taking over.

desmond, upon first seeing zephiel, hates him for the mere fact he is hellene’s son. zephiel is living proof of their a marriage forced onto him, and he cannot stand the living reminder of it, especially if people were going to come and congratulate him on the birth of a healthy heir and then speak about the son frequently now. to avoid the nuisance of being forced to see his newborn child, he banishes both zephiel and hellene to an off-site manse under the guise of claiming that hellene needs more time to be able to relax with the baby. this further enrages hellene, motivating her to make zephiel into a project to spite desmond.

she will make it so desmond must acknowledge their son.

hellene from a young age is both strict and neglectful with her son. zephiel is afforded every tutor he can be given with her own personal funds ( funds that desmond is obligated to give her every month but no more ) and is sent to lessons as soon as he can walk and talk. he is drilled in military arts, history, etiquette, the arts, and all manner of topics to groom him into the perfect heir. luckily for her, zephiel proves to be a prodigy and excels in everything quickly. she spreads this like wildfire, telling every and anyone of how perfect her son is so as to make the general populace enamored with him.

the lessons zephiel devotes himself to is scheduled in such a way as to not afford him much free time if any at all, and when he is given the chance to breathe, he is encouraged to spend it on pursuits that will make him look either handsome or intelligent such as learning to play an instrument or falconry. when he gets the chance to speak with his mother, usually only at meal times, she is quick to ask him of his studies and nothing else before excusing herself. if things are going well, she praises him and finds new topics and limits to push onto him. if things are going poorly, she goes to discuss things with his tutors.

zephiel does not know love, but if he does not know it, then he cannot be sad to be missing it.

these days of aiming to become the perfect heir continue, and when he is old enough, hellene tries to show him off to desmond. hellene waits until she is positive that zephiel is in top form, and she stresses upon zephiel to make sure he impresses his father.

he performs spectacularly. he is polite, he is well-learned, and he endears the knights with both his charisma as well as his talent in martial arts despite his young age.

the sight of everyone surrounding desmond, people devoted to him, being taken by the prince enrages him. hellene’s smug smirk in the corner does no favors either. desmond realizes that the people love the person he has resolved to hate, and he looks bad for not welcoming zephiel into the palace as a result.

stubborn to a fault and envious over how his son is better than him in every degree, especially given how desmond himself is a mediocre man, desmond takes to publicly shaming zephiel. desmond is unable to quell his own ire in order to remain civil, and so he sharpens his words in order to try and chase the boy away. the less time zephiel spends in the palace, the less he can charm the people around him.

desmond also goes on the offensive, calling out zephiel’s behaviors as manipulative. he tries to warp the narrative, claiming zephiel’s attempts to get in his father’s good graces are in actuality calculated moves to make him look bad in contrast, and that zephiel is merely a power-hungry prince who needs to learn respect. desmond is convinced this seemingly perfect son of his is just like the woman who conceived him, and he cannot see zephiel as anything other than someone who plots against him and wishes to see his downfall.

zephiel, confused and distraught by this callousness, struggles to cope with it. his mother and the tutors ensure he is wonderful, but his father openly bashes his character and disapproves of him so vehemently. though hellene is upset by this turn of events, she insists that zephiel continue his studies and attempts to make desmond recognize him as his rightful son.

being treated to verbal abuse every time he visits the palace but encouraged to desire approval from his father, zephiel’s brain attempts to make the reality easier to stomach by twisting his perception of his father’s words as right. if he is to keep trying to curry favor with his father, then it would be difficult to do so while believing he is being unreasonable.

every time desmond scolds him and tells him that he is not worthy of his love nor his position as crown prince, zephiel begins to believe it more and more. the problem lies with him, and he must earn his father’s love. the burden lies on him. he begins to pray to st. elimine every day for this, but his prayers go unanswered as the abuse remains the same.

if even st. elimine won’t help him, then this is proof that zephiel is simply not working hard enough and is not deserving of such a gift as familial love. st. elimine isn’t wrong to not grant his wishes. st. elimine is a beloved religious icon.

the desire for love grows as does the mistreatment when zephiel meets desmond’s second child. she is a little girl named guinivere, born from desmond’s mistress. though desmond attempted to keep guinivere and zephiel from ever properly meeting, guinivere is a bit of a rebellious girl in her youth and desmond is helpless to stop her, too doting and weak to her as the product of his healthier romance.

guinivere instantly loves zephiel, and she begins asking every day to see him again and play with him. she is open with her adoration, and this is the first time zephiel experiences actual love from anyone. he, in turn, loves her too in the purest way a half-brother can, starved for genuine affection all his life, and the two prove difficult to separate.

desmond grows paranoid that zephiel aims to kill guinivere to try and get him where his greatest weakness lies, still convinced that zephiel is as conniving and out to get him as hellene is. desmond grows physically violent now, destroying and killing any gifts that zephiel brings with him as he is unable to physically harm zephiel himself without being criticized even more by the royal court of bern. he shuts zephiel down even more each conversation they have, and his vitriol is even worse than before.

desmond hates his son for not only being the perfect heir but also for being the person guinivere loves the most in the world, even moreso than her own father.

zephiel is given even less leave to be able to visit the royal palace now, giving him more time to reflect upon his perceived mistakes in conduct and more time to prepare for the next time he shall meet his father only to not even be given a chance to impress the man. the more effort he puts in, the more he despairs at the inevitable failures. the more love he receives from guinivere, the more he wishes he could be with her always, and the more he longs for similar affection from his father and mother.

he yearns for a loving, happy family. he tells himself he has not earned the right to have it.

this self loathing and lack of confidence in himself rises to such a point that zephiel refuses to believe other people when they compliment him. he sees praise as ultimately unhelpful to his quest to get his father to approve of him, and he convinces himself that his father’s insults and critiques of his character are his father’s way of trying to groom into someone worthy of his attention. the only correct person, the only person worth listening to, is desmond.

his belief in his father is unshakeable. even when his father hires assassins to get rid of him on the eve of his coming-of-age ceremony, zephiel does not suspect for even a second that it was him who had sent the hitmen in the first place. zephiel merely sees the incident as the universe testing him, seeing whether or not he can weather through what might come for him one day as a royal. it is merely expected of him to be able to fend off such attempts, and anyone could be out to get him.

when his mother goes through an unexpected shift in demeanor after the incident, even telling him that she will try and support his wishes to move back into the palace and live as a family, he believes he has taken a step forward towards his goals.

this would not be true, for desmond would merely wait for another opportunity to strike.

when zephiel grows to be of an age similar to when desmond himself became king, desmond invites zephiel to have a drink with him. zephiel is excited at the prospect; after over two decades of working for this outcome, it looks as if he has finally become a man worthy of love.

it turns out “love” tastes like poison.

for the next ten days, zephiel hangs on the cusp of life and death. he is unable to run away from the truth this time: his father wished to kill him. it was his father who knowingly served him poison, and it was his father who smiled as he was writhing in pain after taking a sip from the goblet. it was no ordinary poison either, but rather a poison meant to incur agony upon its victim as they remained aware of it for more than a week.

desmond wanted him to not only die, but to be suffering a slow death too.

zephiel is only able to survive the incident due to his vassal murdock’s dutiful attempts to filter the poison out of his system, but when zephiel is able to regain his strength, he is completely changed by the experience.

his previous unshakeable faith in his father being the type of man who is secretly looking out for zephiel and trying to make him the best man he could be is unable to cope with the damage and betrayal of trust displayed. the only way for zephiel to stay sane after the experience is to believe that it is human’s nature to be bad people. as zephiel ruminates during his recovery period, he looks back on all the years he had wasted trying to win the favor of a man who would never give it to him, and he evaluates the kind of man king desmond really is.

he looks at the envy, the open love for another other than his wife, and the paranoia. zephiel realizes desmond’s attempts to kill zephiel were all founded on ugly emotions, and in order to accept that the man he looked up to the most secretly had a dark heart, zephiel must then believe everyone can and will succumb to such emotions as well. after all, if desmond was supposed to be the best of them, then what could be said for people zephiel held in less regard?

he turns his personal tragedy into something he believes must be a universal one, and when he kills his own father a few days later, that marks the death of the zephiel who believed in the absolute good of people’s intentions.

it also marks the birth of a zephiel who believes the world would be better off without humans, for if they are all fated to become horrible people, then why bother with them at all?

#// is this the cleanest?? no. next question #// tldr zephiel refuses to accept that his dad is a bad person and assumes the blame for their failing bond instead --- #// -- when it gets to the point of no return he absolutely loses it. Oops #// hate the fact as i was writing this i was like 'dang this is easily the setup to like 500 manhwas i've read huh' #+. / hcs & metas. #long post --- #emotional abuse tw --- #toxic parenting tw ---

[mothdalf]

DAY TWO: Findis and Írimë Lalwen

@finweanladiesweek​

So this mainly focuses on the relationship between Findis and Fëanor rather than Lalwen but I’ll get to her later in the week.

Pics in order are:

Fëanor and baby Findis, Findis finally snapping at Fëanor, Findis and Lalwendë, and Findis gathering herbs for Estë in the Gardens of Lorien. 

I’ve put todays rant under the cut but I’d recommend reading it because it really gives the pictures context.

As mentioned in my previous post Fëanáro is like the equivalent of a pre teen (like 10-12) when Finwë marries Indis, and he elects to travel for his studies rather than living with them full time.

He is a young teen when he gets a letter to tell him that he’s going to be a brother, and to say that he takes it badly is putting it mildly. He’s crushed. He’s been angry that his father is (at least in his mind) trying to replace his mother, but now he’s going to replace him? So he doesn’t send a letter back and throws himself into every distraction because he’s going to make damn sure that he’s better than anyone his father tries to replace him with.

Finwë turns up and half begs half drags him home in time to meet his sister the baby. He doesn’t want to and turns up to the nursery (not his old one) in his traveling clothes before being promptly turned around and told to put on something clean at least.

He plans to give a quick glance into the crib (also not his) and a curt “congratulations” before returning to his room to sulk. But it doesn’t pan out like that.

Because his new sister is perfect. Not that Fëanor has been around many children but he’s sure that she must be the most perfect one ever.

Later he will try and rationalise this to himself by pointing out that she’s so different to him that she could never be a replacement. For one, she’s a girl, he’s still his fathers only son, but even aside from that; she has green eyes and golden hair and long Vanyar ears. Nothing like him. Not a substitute. There can be enough room for them both. That’s why he likes her.

Whatever the reason, she’s beautiful, every tiny detail from her fluffy golden hair to her grasping, miniature fingers. So what he says is more of a strangled “wow” after a long pause.

Indis asks if he would like to hold her and sees a beaming smile on Fëanor’s face that she never thought would be directed at her.

He hesitates at first because he realises he’s faced (for the first time in a long time) with something he doesn’t know how to do. But Indis points him to a chair and places Findis in his arms, hands gentle as she positions them.

He coos to her instinctively and she squirms and wiggles and blinks up at him. That’s the moment Fëanor decides he’s going to have kids of his own someday, as many as possible.

Indis is surprised when he breaks the silence and addresses her “well done,” he says without looking up “she’s wonderful, perfect”

The phrasing is a little strange but Indis understands; he’s complimenting her on craftsmanship, for all their differences he’ll always acknowledge that.

It’s quiet again until someone comes to call him away for supper. Fëanor kisses Findis’ head before passing her back and, almost shyly, asks if he can come back to see her later.

So Findis spends the first few years of her life with an adoring big brother. He sends her gifts from his travels, or things he’s made, and dotes on her when he’s home.

Everything is great for a while, so no one is worried when Finwë and Indis announce they’re expecting their second child, not even Fëanor. But things don’t work out that way.

This post isn’t about Fëanor and Fingolfin though.

Fëanor gets distant. His vitriol for Fingolfin doesn’t extend to Lalwen and Finarfin but neither does his soft spot for Findis.

For her part Findis struggles with the tension. When she’s older her parents explain the situation, her heart aches for her big brother. She loves all of her siblings and she hates the atmosphere so she spends most of the time playing peacekeeper. She thinks it’s ridiculous for someone older than her to have such a problem with a child, especially one she herself loves so much. It’s much better when Fëanor is away, but she misses him.

So like her mother in looks and temper, Findis is composed and calm and shoulders the burden of trying to keep them all happy.

Fëanáro is now a young adult and an apprentice under Mahtan, so he’s not around that much, but when he is the fights are always the same. This time however something he says clicks for Findis.

“So that’s it, the reason you hate him and like me? Because he’s a threat and I’m not? You only like me because you’re glad I wasn’t a boy! I wasn’t important enough to be a problem for you!”

Fëanor being Fëanor it devolves into a screaming match. It ends with Findis swearing to show him how much of a threat she can be. She’s going to be better than him at something one day, just you wait and see.

She tries for a long time to find that something. It’s never going to be any craft with her hands and they’re pretty evenly matched musically, so she tries politics, that should really make her a threat.

Findis reads everything she can from the library, asks her father 100 questions a day, attends councils and meetings. She learns a lot, planning to catch Fëanor out one day, call him out for something in front of the council, actually oppose him. Only that day doesn’t come. Fëanor hasn’t quite gotten to the point that we know he’ll eventually reach, so Findis can’t find anything to actually oppose him on at the moment. Frustrated, and getting more bored by the day, she draws back from politics.

Around this time Indis is planning a trip to visit the Gardens of Lorien (read, Miriel), and asks her eldest to come with her, lightly hinting that it will be good for her to get away.

It’s during this trip that Findis finds exactly what she wants to do. She sees how happy her mother is to be able to be close to Vaire again (see my last post about how Indis is a devotee of Vaire) and starts to seriously consider doing the same. Fëanor would never do that.

But when she sees the Maiar and Elven devotees of Lorien and Este, the (admittedly very few) tired or injured people finding rest and care and peace there, she knows in her heart that this is for her. Findis will be a healer.

She goes to Este immediately to apply to join her followers.

Este denies her. She has no more knowledge or experience of healing than the basic studies of her youth. Yes, the work they do here is usually routine and calm, but before devoting her eternal life to it, Findis should really try to think whether healing is for her. Can she handle injuries? Blood? Has she ever seen someone in pain? Really in pain? Not a younger sibling tripping and grazing their knee, but a hunter thrown by a spooked horse? A smith burned in the forge? Did she watch her mother give birth to her younger siblings? Did she hear the screams?

She hasn’t, Findis acknowledges, but she’s more than willing to learn.

She journeys home to Tirion without her mother to begin her studies. She starts at the bottom, back to reading books she can barely understand, stubbornly pestering the healers guild with letters until she can find a teacher. She attends lectures and eventually demonstrations with other students, usually far younger, in plain clothes, and most politely pretend that they don’t know who she is. She dissects animals and identifies what she sees. Bundles all of her scrolls and papers and books on politics into a cupboard and starts refilling her study with labelled diagrams, notes from lectures, samples of herbs.

The books start to make a lot more sense.

For some time each year she visits Estë again, just as a volunteer. She also visits Valimar and Alqualondë to learn from healers outside of the Noldor.

She starts to practice, assisting more experienced healers, in between lectures.

She joins a healer on a trip to the forest of Oromë; and returns with no fear of blood or broken bones, unbothered by a piercing arrow wound or the black bruises of a kick from Nahar.

There’s a drive in Findis now that was never there for politics, she’s all but forgotten that this started as a way to stand out against her brother. There’s a burning passion and a satisfaction to what she does. Her mother smiles and says that it’s the Noldor blood coming through.

Findis starts to come into her own with herb-lore and medicines. She commandeers an area of the palace gardens for medicinal plants. Writes report after report, learns to administer what and when and how. She’s almost settled on this as her focus when she is asked to assist her current supervisor with the birth of a baby.

She knows the theory. She’s recommended certain herbs and supplements to expecting mothers. She has vague memories of her younger siblings just after they were born. But this is different. This is her focus. So she switches track, asking questions of her tutors and colleagues. Requesting to assist with births wherever she can. She seeks female healers, midwives, and the input of her mother and her friends with children of their own. She makes notes and studies of their experiences.

Findis excels. Eventually becoming a healer in her own right. Only then does she approach Estë again. For something special this time. Yes, she appeals to join Estë’s devotees, but she wants to keep her focus on women, and pregnancy, and birth. She learns even more now, the Noldor passion propping her up as she learns that Vanyar ways of healing song from the Ainur.

Often, she visits the body of (Auntie) Miriel. She asks for stories of her fading from those in Lorien, seeks the insight of Estë, Irmo, and Nienna, and finally questions her parents. Piecing things together, she reaches out to other mothers- those who she attended at birth, her friends, those whose children she’s treated. She asks them about their experiences, asking them to be honest, to fear no judgement and feel no shame. Did they ever feel as Míriel did?

Some did, some didn’t. Either way she assures them that they are not alone. Over years she builds notes and papers and case studies as she works and follows her path in the Gardens of Lorien.

Findis becomes revered and respected for her work.

One day she gets a letter from her brother, he’s heard about her work, inspired by his mother. He asks if he could read it, so she invites him and Nerdanel to Lorien, so that he can read her papers. When they arrive it’s clear why he wants to do this now. Fëanor is afraid that his wife will share his mother’s fate at the birth of their first son.

Before they go home they get a lot of assurance, a list of recommendations, and signs to watch out for, all courtesy of Findis and her research. She promises to be there if they have any questions, and to assist in the birth personally.

Her brother embraces her for a long time before he leaves. He tells her how grateful he is for her help, how much more peacefully he will sleep now. Fëanor has never been happier that his sister out did him at something, and Findis has never felt less competitive. Healing, she thinks, is about always learning and getting better. Smithing, she supposes, is much the same.

#my art #tolkien #the silmarillion #noldor #yott more like yeet #Vanyar #Findis #Fëanor #siblings #listen I had no idea where this was going #but Findis is a magical obgyn #finweanladiesweek #house of finwe

[freddy-hughes]

Mother Knows Best~

“I told you those Reid’s were no good, Freddy. See, I just told you! But did you listen to your dear mother? No, of course you didn’t! I could have told you this was going to happen.” 

“Mom...please…” 

“What did you expect Freddy? Honestly! I should have known that little strumpet would go and do this to you. Leading you on this wild goose chase, leaving you alone in the forest, only to jump into bed with the first Mainlander to look her way? Hah! I told you, Freddy. I told you.” 

“Mom...please...stop.” 

It had only been a few meager weeks since Freddy woke from his trials and tribulations, and despite his every intention to not see his mother for prolonged periods of time, circumstances just were not within his favor. He didn’t have a home to go to. He had nowhere to be. His body was not in any condition to try, and survive in the forest. He had no coin for a room at the inn. As such, his mother had insisted he stay with her until he was healthy. 

“Stop what? Telling you the truth? You loved that little Jezebel with all your heart. Worked your fingers to the bone living in that hovel she called a home, and how does she repay you? By abandoning you to the Gods know what! You call that love? Hah! I’ve seen cows love better than that.” 

Freddy’s mother, Bridgette, was standing at the sink, cleaning the dishes from the meal they had just finished. Freddy himself sat at the table, watching her, fingers flexing as he felt frustration, annoyance, and anger bubble into his chest. “It’s not like that, mom.” He managed, but his voice sounded much more defeated than he intended. “I abandoned her.” 

“How could you say that, Freddy-Bear? You could never abandon anyone. No you were -taken- against your will. You had no choice in that. She, on the other hand, had every choice in her matter. Not even a year passes, and she’s already throwing her skirts up for another. Hah! I knew they were no good for you, Freddy-Bear. I just knew it!” 

“I told you, mom. It isn’t like that. You cannot blame her. I was gone for three years.” A beat to let it sing in. “Three years, mom. Nothing can survive that much time.” Freddy tried his best to keep his voice civil, but anger was rising up his throat like bile the more vitriol his mother spit about Lydia, and her family. “So stop it. Please.” 

Bridgette didn’t even bother to turn around, and face her son. She just kept dutifully washing dishes. “It isn’t my fault, Freddy, that she threw you out on your ear in your time of need. Look at you! You’re skin and bones, and did she even have the decency to see you? Give you your things? No. I had to go get them, and they were left in a pile outside her house! That isn’t love, Freddy. That is someone who didn’t care about you in the slightest.” 

“I know that isn’t true mom.” Freddy said hotly, fingers shaking against the table. 

“Oh? Then how do I have that atrocious cup she made you?” Bridgette retorted easily. 

Freddy looked at the ceramic mug in his hands. Lydia had made it for him after his growth spurt, as all their regular mugs looked comically small in his large hands. While it had a few defects, and sat off kilter, she had made it with. It was her first attempt at pottery, and Freddy had cherished it dearly. Engraved on the bottom was a small bee, and an even smaller heart. Freddy held the cup in his palms, looking down at it with a bittersweet smile.  “In the end, I was the one who didn’t see her. I called you before I even let Grams -- “ 

“Do not call her that in my house. Dierdre is not your grandmother.” 

“She was more a grandmother to me than your mother ever was! Do not speak about her that way to me.” 

Bridgette stopped washing the plate in her hands. Slowly, she set it down in the soapy water of the sink, and then grabbed a towel to dry her hands with. She turned around to level her son in a look Freddy knew all too well: disappointed anger. He cowed beneath the weight of it, ducking his head low, and avoided her gaze. 

“They abandoned you Freddy. That is the truth. For nearly ten years you loved Lydia, moved in with her, promised to marry her, and how does she repay you? Hmm? Does she wait for you, like the devoted woman she claimed to be? Or did she leave you for the first piece of meat to look her up and down?” 

“I said stop.” Freddy whispered, hot tears stinging his eyes as the flames on his tongue lapped at the backs of his teeth. “Do not talk that way about her to me.” 

“I will talk about whoever I wish, however I wish in my own home, and I will take no lip from my own son in the process.” 

Bridgette’s voice was stern, harsh, but her eyes were the most stinging. She looked at her own son with a mixture of pity, disappointment, anger, and surprise. Deep in Freddy’s heart, he knew his mother wished he felt the same way she did, and was upset he didn’t. She just couldn’t understand that none of this was anyone’s fault but his own. In her eyes, her son was perfect, it was the periphery that damaged him. She had never liked the Reid’s, but couldn’t bring it into herself to sequester Freddy away from them, especially when as children, Lydia used to sneak him out of his bedroom window to play.

“I will talk no more of this,” Freddy insists, trying to get away from the subject at hand. However, he knew his mother, and knew she would not let this go so simply. She finally had her reason to truly hate the Reid’s, and she would hold onto that with an ironclad grip, long after Freddy had let it go. “Let what has died, rest in peace, mom. Let it be. It is done.” 

“I am not done talking about it! Not until you hear my words, and know they’re true, Freddy-Bear. She -left- you. She didn’t -love- you. She -used- you. You were -nothing- to her, or that family. Why can you not see that? For God's sake, Freddy, she already has that man staying at her own home! In the bed you used to sleep in! How can you not be angry about that? Especially when that little conniving whore didn’t eve -- “ 

Freddy slapped his hands on the table with as much force as he could muster. The vibration shook up his forearms, rattled his elbows, and even jarred his head. His legs pushed him upwards, their strength found in rage, only to quickly wilt beneath him the moment they felt his weight. He wavered, but held onto the table for support. “I SAID STOP IT!” He snarled, slapped his palm against the table one more time, and then pointed a skeletal finger towards his mother accusingly. “If I so much as hear another WHISPER of your vitriol, I will leave, and not return. Do you understand me, mom? The next time Lydia’s name passes your lips, it will be a compliment.”

Brdigette stood shocked at the sink. She stared at her son in disbelief, for in this moment he looked exactly like his father. Red faced, furious, shaking, and sputtering. It was nearly uncanny. A long silence filtered between them, punctuated only by Freddy’s ragged breathing, which culminated into a wet, hacking cough that sent him back into his seat. He groaned, hand pressed to his stomach, while hot blood dribbled down his neck. He needed to change the dressing on his wounds, and decided that would be his escape. 

Without a word, Freddy stood, and limped his way towards the small bathroom on the lowest floor. He didn’t close the door behind him as he sat upon the toilet seat to begin the arduous process of cleaning his wounds. The Spiders bite on his neck never healed, and neither did the gore wound from the Boar. They were constant reminders of the hell he endured, and would likely be that way until the Forest called him home. No matter what he did, or how many times he tried to suture the wounds closed, they would reopen again. Freddy peeled the linens from around his neck, tossing them in a bucket nearly piled high with puss, and blood stained bandages from times before. He got up to inspect the wounds in the dirty old mirror, but they still looked as fresh as the moment the Spider’s fangs bit into him. 

With a sigh, Freddy began to stuff the wounds with gauze, and then wrap the bandages. However, his arms were too weak to be held up that long. They shook, wavered, and his shoulders burned from the effort, until they fell uselessly against the sink. Freddy looked down at them, betrayed, and frustrated. Slowly, his eyes cast themselves up to his reflection, and the man staring back at him was still just as foreign as the first time he saw him: ragged beard, a bird's nest of debris. Hair long, and ragged down his back. Features so gaunt he looked skeletal. He didn’t look like he remembered. Or perhaps he had always looked like this. Sometimes, it’s hard to recall.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. His mother’s words had cut him deeply, but not in the way she had intended. She had wanted to stoke a righteous fury in him, to make him resent Lydia, and her family as much as she did. Instead, she merely crushed his already beleaguered psyche beneath the weight of her implications. Dierdre had not sugar coated anything when she sat him down in her home once he’d rested. She had told him of the wicker construct, how it tortured Lydia, how it masqueraded as him, wearing his face, and body like a costume. She had even told him how Lydia had made her peace with losing him. She had let him go, because that was easier than constantly having hope that would be crushed time, and time again whenever that thing came around. In her peace, she had found someone new. Freddy couldn’t bring it in himself to blame her. He couldn’t even be angry with her. She did what she had to for her heart, and her sanity. 

It still hurt. 

It hurt in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. It hurt not because it was a betrayal, or he felt abandoned, but because the love he felt for her wasn’t strong enough to withstand these trials. He had loved, and fought, and yearned to return, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. In so many ways, Freddy had never been enough for anyone. He wasn’t enough for his father, his mother, his teacher, and now to know he wasn’t enough for Lydia? It broke him in ways he didn’t think he could endure. He was too broken now for any semblance of the life he had left that day. His body too weak, and fragile, his mind too fractured, and these wounds too real to deny. He couldn’t see her when Dierdre told him everything. He couldn’t face her. He couldn’t face the fact that in the end? 

He wasn’t enough, and now, he never could be. 

Freddy felt a hand on his shoulder, and he recoiled away from it, knowing it was his mother. She didn’t say anything, instead just picked up the bandages, and slowly wrapped them around his neck, and shoulder. Silence weighed heavy between them, punctuated only by the small wheezes, hiccups, and gasps that rattled Freddy’s lungs. “Sit down,” His mother instructed, voice as gentle as she could make it, and gestured to the toilet lid. Freddy sat, obedient. 

His mother got to work undoing the bandages around his stomach, and peeled the gauze from the wound with a look of concern, but acceptance. She knew this ritual too well to let it bother her anymore, but there was still that maternal instinct in her to protect her only child. “I was thinking,” She began, cleaning the jagged edges of the puncture with a damp cloth. “I came into a bit of money recently, and the Elsons’ farm has been abandoned for some time...perhaps we could spruce it up. Get you somewhere of your own. Your own little sanctuary away from that vile --” 

Freddy tensed, looking down at his mother with a look that dared her to continue. He had warned her. If she so much as uttered another foul thing, he would leave. They stared at one another for a moment, let it hang in the air, and then fall flat. “Somewhere you can finally call your own.” She finished, and stood to find the fresh gauze beneath the sink. 

“I don’t think I could live on the Elsons’ farm.” Freddy admitted. “It would be too sad.” 

“So? Make happy memories there then. It’s just sitting there anyway, and it’s an eyesore to the whole town. The Mayor wants to get rid of it, or even have it torn down. Why not let it be yours? I am an upstanding citizen after all, and am well liked by the populace, so I am just sure he will give me a good deal on it.” The haughty, vain, and triumphant lilt to Bridgette’s voice made Freddy’s stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine what his mother had been up to in order to become such an ‘upstanding citizen.’ 

“If you want mom.” He relented, figuring she had already decided upon it, regardless of his answer. “Where did you get the money?”

“Oh good! Then I’ll talk to the Mayor tomorrow. Once we have the deed, we can spruce it up. Decorate it. Oh we can just throw out all that old nonsense, and start fresh!” She was absolutely giddy with the idea. At his second question, she waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about that, Freddy-Bear. Momma is gonna provide for you, no matter what.” 

“Yeah. A new start. Sure.” Freddy offered, half heartedly contributing to the conversation as his mother packed the wound with gauze rough enough to make him wince. 

“Then it’s settled! I’ll talk to Gibbs tomorrow, and we can let the past die as you said.” She nodded, and grabbed a fresh roll of bandages. She wrapped them around his midsection, a look of deep contemplation settling on her features. “Oh I have just so many ideas, Freddy-Bear! We can finally make something worth you, a Hughes,  staying in! No more shack in the wilderness for my boy. Oh no, oh no.” 

“It was everything we needed, mom. You know that.” Freddy said with a sigh, truly exhausted by his mother's constant badgering. 

“It was everything SHE needed. You were just a house guest. Need I remind you, Freddy, that a -stranger- is sleeping in your bed?”

Freddy sighed loudly, setting his head in his hands as he aggressively rubbed at his face. “Enough...mom.” He whispered, emotion choking his words. “Just...please...enough…I can’t take it anymore, mom. I can’t. I’m not strong enough, anymore. So please just...stop.” 

Finally, his mother relented. She reached up, and gently cupped Freddy’s cheeks. She wiped away the tears from his eyes, and smiled up at him, though it did not reach her cold gaze. “Okay Freddy. One day, you’ll see I was right, and it will be when you realize you’ll be even stronger without her.” 

She stood, and left him alone in the bathroom, where Freddy sat, and bitterly wept. 

( @drustvar-dragonfly​ for mentions ) 

#Freddy Hughes #Mother Knows Best #my writing #his mom's the worst okay #Bridgette Hughes

[mermaidmafia-official]

THE COVEN MEMBERS

BLOODMOTHER - an ancient blood sorceress, powerful and mysterious. ostensibly, the creatrix of werewolves as slaves to vampires. for the moment, she’s quite taken with her new lover, a woman she turned herself and seems to have an inexplicably intense connection with. @bebemoon​

A FACE LIKE A ROSE - the newest member of the coven with a gross misunderstanding of the underworld she’s now a part of. but, for now, the sweetness of being doted upon by the bloodmother overshadows all else. igniting jealousy in some and fascination in others, she will be buried in the earth by her enemies- screaming for forgiveness- soon enough. 

SLEEPING EVIL - she was put into an enchanted slumber a century ago by the bloodmother following a violent outburst that left multiple mortals limbless- and thoroughly bloodless. purportedly, her presence is still felt throughout the villa despite her constant comatose state. she has an attendant that keeps her fed in sleep, bathes her and brushes her long hair. / luxurious blood baths must include rose petals or else they are incomplete. and then after you can eat the blood-soaked petals as a sweet. death was lovely, everything now is delicious, and wouldn’t you like to fly into the red moon with me(at) ? / it seems to everyone in the villa that she’s on a constant blood-high, and it could be those blood baths that she soaks in for hours. it gives her hair the luster of a black pearl. @interluxetumbra​

THE GIRL IN THE WELL - reportedly thrown down an old well by her parents on the night before she was to wed when they discovered that she had been bitten. there she remained for months, unable to claw her way out, slowly starving of blood but never perishing. she was eventually aided by a wandering holy man, but his heroism did little to save him from the blood-starved fledgling. 

THE DEVOURER - a fifteen year old queen when she “died”, she has an innocuous look about her. however, she’s cannibalistic (other vampires included) and is kept under close guard by stronger coven members. she desperately wants to attend school to “make friends”, but has been forbidden from doing so with the fear that she would eat the students. the bloodmother keeps her sedated with spellwork, but eventually, she will have to do as she did with sleeping evil and put her to sleep…or perhaps chain her up and throw her in the middle of some unknown mountain lake where she’ll never be discovered. 

MORETTA MASK - more nun than vampire, she keeps to her lonesome in the villa and dons a black moretta mask that requires silence in order to keep in place. the mask, black veils, and gloves are a part of her everyday attire. she speaks to none, and only if necessary, employs the use of sign language (lis). she imbibes blood sparingly and cries often of self-inflicted hunger pangs- the only time she makes a sound. 

ЛЕДЯНАЯ ЖЕНЩИНА - soft and gentle as any vampire could be, she was found beneath the ice of the frozen baikal lake in siberia, russia with no memory of having been put there or even where she came from in the first place. yet, whenever she drinks blood, she receives vivid memories of her human life- it frightens her more than anything. she wears white, laughs easily, twirl-dances (in pools of blood) & sleeps in a sleigh bed in the shape of a swan.  

HEAD & BODY - a head and a body, once together, now apart due to guillotining- but unable to die naturally since the victim was already undead when beheaded. head stays on body via a strong metal collar but very often they are separated- sick of one another. it’s safe to say the head would leave the body for good if it thought it could make do without and the body would do the same if it didn’t need the head for imbibing. anyway, they’re not the sort you want to tangle with.

REGINA UMBRA - in the past, following her “rebirth”, she lived in sea caves, and much like a siren of myth, lured sailors and pirates alike to their bloody dooms for the sake of her diet. it wasn’t until (after a century of living so) she was harpooned like an animal and brought ashore that she first laid eyes on “civiliasation”. she’s been a faithful servant of the coven since its inception- when it was only the bloodmother and sleeping evil. and like bloodmother, she’s well-versed in “sanguinem magicae” i.e. blood magic if one isn’t pretentious about it- however, she happens to be pretentious about it.

BLOOD GETS IN YOUR EYE - if the rumours are true, her origins are in ancient china. she claims that her small, porcelain doll-like features garnered her much attention in her day, but after her creator tied her up by her ankles to drain her and then took her lovely left eye “as a prize”, she considered herself irredeemably marred- cursed and so enraged she could swallow her own tongue. however, a short but gory reign over her old hometown followed by a good piking of her much-loathed creator did much to lift her self-image. (besides, the glass eye with the ruby iris isn’t so bad- it’s fearsome.) but, recently, it seems she may not have finished the job all those years ago. @ayzrules​   

A COLLAR OF SPIKES - the sleekest motorbikes in the garage belong to her- the fastest cars, too. and the latex-iest skirts. but for all of her edge, she thinks of herself as a simple undead woman, seeking her purpose in the universe as a semi-god. in a life now gone, she was a devoted churchgoing housewife (without children but with a brood of cats to look after). now, in this second run, she’s determined to “live” fully, to wreak havoc, and have a laugh while she’s about it. @vampirkaninchen​

FUNERAL FEAST - gloomy but will absolutely take your legs out from under you. she spends a great amount of her time enjoying traditional vampire pastimes like bursting into a cloud of bats, sleeping in a glass coffin like some sort of ghoulish snow white, and wearing arterial spray on most of her outlandish goth clothing. she has a twin who resides with another coven- evidently, they hate one another like the plague. they say their quarrel is over something small and long-forgotten, but given their unhinged vitriol for the other, it seems unlikely that the matter is completely forgotten. @blubbingbeautifully​

#btr: characters #btr #fanfan's writing #if you need a name just ask ! #c o m p l e t e

[bounnostra]

4.4 || moss trial || re: scourge, duck

Moss is no stranger to negativity. When your own parents don't want you, after all, it sets a pretty low expectation for the rest of your life- and to that end, Scourge's spiteful words mean almost nothing to her. But what she wasn't expecting- and, frankly, wasn't equipped to handle- was the kindness suddenly been shown, even in the face of... everything. Even after she had stopped pretending like she didn't know jack shit. Duck's forgiving words, even after every jibe and taunt she had thrown her way. Pip's sincere gratitude, even after she had mocked him to his face about his dead girlfriend. And Rookie's- Hah. The more she thought about it, the more her mind was made up. Look at her. A coward. And if she didn't act, one of the others would be condemned. Rita's corpse was already strung up; she was fine with that. But she wasn't going to be fine about Pip's body hung out to match. Or even Maverick's. Or- well, none of them, really. Not even Scourge, as much as Moss disliked them. And what if it turned out to be another deadly mistrial, like the one Ivey had lost her arm to? If this was the way it was going to go, then the solution was clear. If anyone was going to take the fall for this, it had to be her. So-

"What's that, Scourge? Moss, lucid after jeopardy 'cause they were on the winning team, decided to stop the motive she caused?"

Moss imitates their accent as best she can, although it sounds bizarre being filtered through Lassie and back. She leans forward, elbows on the table, staring them down.

"Okay. You know what, Scourge? You're right. I killed Ivan with my own bare hands."

No going back now.

"I was faking amnesia because I needed an excuse to cover up my crime. Twenty four hours of lucidity, even I can dig a bunch of pits in that time. Making a bow? Sharpening wood? Climbing trees? Putting together that fire-starting implement? I can do that shit, easy. You have no idea what I had to do to survive in the wilderness alone- this is literal child's play. Of course I could never take Ivan in a fair fight- just look at me- but, you said it yourself. Everything was staged to put that son of a bitch at a disadvantage. Everything. You saw me pull that axe out of his chest, didn't you, Scourge? I put that thing in there in the first place."

Her breathing's heavy, her shoulders are shaking. But Moss isn't going to back down now. There's vitriol in her voice- real, bitter vitriol. It's a sharp heel turn from the cheerful woman suggesting that maybe a centaur did the crime only a few minutes ago.

"So there's your how. And why? I'll tell you why- Ivan Estrada is a pathetic son of a bitch who deserved it. Did any of you know his past? Any of you? Because he told it to me. Your beloved Cowboy is a fucking coward! An idiot who abandoned a loving family to play gangster with street gangs! And when his devoted brother came to rescue him, the poor man got gunned down in Ivan's place! I never had anyone. Not a single soul. My own parents dumped me in the forest and left me to starve. Do you have any idea what I would have done? For a single person to care about me?! And this motherfucker-"

They're all gonna hate her after this. Good.

"Wasted it! Not only did he waste it- he had someone who loved him so much they were willing to go into the mouth of the beast for him, and they died as a result! I don't care what anyone else says. Ivan deserved it. An innocent, loving man died because of him. So there. That's the how, that's the why. I did it, I killed him. Rule me guilty and hang my corpse up so none of you ever, ever have to deal with my incredible ability to ruin everything I touch ever again. Do it!"

#boun #ch4 #trial #moss #submission