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ahhhsami · 5 months

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Mizu’s Womanhood

I keep thinking about how well Mizu’s story was written. A huge factor that makes me love the show is how they show Mizu’s abilities during fight scenes, but don’t forget that she is a woman. On the surface level people could see these fights as amazing action sequences, but there’s so much story being told at the same time. And that’s what makes an action sequence truly great (Warrior HBO is another example of amazing storytelling through fight choreography. Ah Toy's fight against Cleaver and Hammer comes to mind right away when comparing).

We start off by seeing Mizu tear through young men in Shindo Dojo. Her skills are showcased as agile, flexible, fast, and based on her ability to use her body in ways that are fluid. She’s tested as soon as Taigen enters the picture. He’s physically stronger than her, shown in a multitude of ways throughout the action sequence from him throwing her to him pushing her down to her knee, but she’s still more skilled. She uses his weight against him, which she will do in every fight during the series. Mizu beats him due to her agility and speed. On top of that, it is the first time we see a man assume victory be his downfall. And it will happen on multiple occasions.

Episode 2 comes around and Mizu is tested again, but this time by 4 opponents and one who is significantly larger and more trained (Chiaki). Mizu's smart, evaluates her situation, and changes her surroundings by jumping down onto the cliffside. It doesn’t put her at an advantage, but at least she’s not at a severe disadvantage. It allows her to fight mainly one-on-one which changes her circumstances. But it doesn’t win the fight for her. What does is her resilience, adaptability, and skill once more. Once again, in the fight, the man opens himself up for a counter during the finishing blow. Chiaki ran forward, his guard completely down because he was sure he’d won like Taigen.

Episode 5 is where we get to see Mizu struggle due to overwhelming numbers. She’s forced into a corner, but the weapon that saves her is the Naginata. Naginatajutsu has been most associated with female samurai. The added range was a huge advantage and allowed women to protect their homes when their samurai husband were gone. I love that Mizu's first time using the weapon extensively was in a situation where it wasn’t her own life on the line, but also the women of the brothel. It showcased the connection between the Naginata, women, and protection in a beautiful way. Also, her using it during these circumstance felt like she was reclaiming the weapon from the traumas she had experienced during Mikio's betrayal. The parallels of Mizu not just being demonized for her blue eyes, but also for being a woman was stunning in this episode.

In Episode 6, we see Mizu almost lose to the big club man (Okiyama). We see her completely overpowered by the size difference. Okiyama can pick her up easily, throw her, and she’s unable to parry him properly. For the first time we truly see the difference between a man’s strength and hers (which will also be present against Fowler). The fact that both Fowler and him pick her up, and attempt to crush her with their bare arms is so powerful and as a woman, it’s a striking parallel to the real world and the powers of men. She was going to lose the fight if not for her last ditch effort, that also could have resulted in her own death with the bomb. It shows her willingness to sacrifice everything for the quest she's on. And at the end of the episode, Fowler manhandles her completely. It doesn’t matter that she’s injured, it doesn’t matter that he has a gun. What matters in that scene is that he takes pleasure in using his power. He destroys the weak and he lords over them. He uses women as sex slaves. He cares for no one but himself. He is the perfect representation of what Mizu as a woman has to fight against.

There’s no fight scene in Episode 7 of note, but what is important is Mizu’s acceptance of her appearance, whether it be the blue eyes and sharp features, or her womanly features, all of them had once been sources of pain for her. The heart sutra scene is stunning and one of my favorites of the entire series (even if her little toesies were most likely being burned to be so close to the makeshift forge).

And finally Episode 8. We get to see her fight Fowler. I have multiple gripes with the structure of this fight, but it still represents Mizu’s womanhood in a way that continues the flow of the series. Mizu has to use everything to take down Fowler and even when she does she is still overpowered by him. He mirrors Okiyama, easily lifting her and using his strength over her instead of skill. And the line “your bones break like a woman’s” shows the societal norm that men associate with women being weaker, fragile, and unable to withstand what men can. It's fitting of the time period, but also current day too.

But hubris is the man’s downfall in this series because as soon as he lets his guard down, she takes her chance. She breaks free, her rage, need for vengeance, and essential reason for being at this point drive her to beat him. The single line “Oh my dear, that’s your white half showing,” doesn’t just target her being mixed race, but also being a woman. Fowler doesn’t let up there though, he calls her eyes pretty. And not just because they’re blue, but because they’re of a woman’s. He brings up unwanted daughters and digs the knife deeper. And these last lines from Fowler represent everything that Mizu has been combating, everything that has been driving her. There’s so much to her character. The writing in this series shows how multiple compounding factors contribute to a person's drive. And in this instance, it shows how being a woman and half-white has lead to Mizu’s self-hatred and it’s beautiful in such a destructive way.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #I have my gripes with the show but Mizu's character is not one of them lol #Love her/them so much <3 #Taigen #Fowler #Chiaki #Okiyama #long post

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chosetherose · 9 days

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"The Alchemy" = Karlie's POV of how she's going to take Taylor from Travis?

"I haven't come around in so long

But I'm making a comeback to where I belong"

Karlie showing up at the Eras Tour! Taylor didn't spend long enough with either of the beards for "so long" to make any sense as being about them. How do you make a comeback when you're barely a thing to begin with? Karlie's comeback was headline news though.

"So when I touch down

Call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team

Ditch the clowns, get the crown"

Her football fan baby ("fly like a jet stream") is touching down and coming to sweep away the understudies, users, narcissists and clowns. King of my Heart coming to reclaim her crown! We can only hope 🙏

"Cause the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me"

Taylor can rewrite history all she wants, but Tratty was never a thing and no-one with a brain can buy the idea that he was the love of her life ten years ago, while Kissgate was happening right in front of him. Peak Kaylor era. When we all saw with our own eyes how she looked at Karlie! But, no, it was Matty all along! Sure, Jan.

Meanwhile, even the "anyone but Karlie" Gaylors who hate her can't deny Taylor has been writing songs about Karlie for a decade now. Even they think she's not over her. So who "still" has Taylor's heart and could make a comeback? Mmhmm.

"I circled you on a map"

Flashback to Taylor highlighting Kaylor-related towns on the weather map in the Lavender Haze music video. Uh-huh.

"Who are we to fight the alchemy?"

Alchemy is the process of turning things into gold. Are we really going to sit here and pretend this isn't Ms Gold Rush, Ms "it's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold"? Are we really going to pretend Karlie hasn't been gold coded since the beginning? But no! This is about Travis! Totally! Does your blindfold fit snugly enough, babe, or do you want me to tighten it some more for you? 🙄

"Hey, what if I told you we're cool

That child's play back in school

Is forgiven under my rule?"

The child's play is the bearding. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. It's getting so old to never grow up. Karlie is saying it all means nothing.

"These blokes warm the benches

We've been on a winning streak"

Her British beards have just been keeping Karlie's seat warm. While she and Taylor have privately been on a winning streak.

(Seriously, the construction of this song makes no sense if you believe it's about Travis. How could she have been "on a winning streak" with him, while "these blokes" were present-tense warming the benches? Or are we supposed to believe they're just waiting on the sidelines for Taylor to get back with one of them? Even though things are so great with 🚜 and she's said multiple times she doesn't want that? So . . . how is any of this working, exactly? What benches are they warming? Are we SURE the "we" is Travis? Hmm?)

"He jokes it's heroin but this time with an e"

People are so distracted by this "dig at Matty" they can't see what's right in front of their faces. Heroin with an e = heroine. As in, the female hero of a story. The joke is that the one to "save" Taylor won't be any of these jokers dressing up as kings. It's a woman. A HEROINE. Not a hero.

And then we get a football metaphor everyone will assume is about Travis, even though Karlie's love of football is well-documented. Do we really think Travis cares more about the beard he's made his meal ticket than he does about winning a trophy? Yeah, right. The days of wasted celebration with no Taylor in sight really give that impression. The thirst traps he was liking on Instagram while "dating" Taylor really show he only has eyes for her. Totally.

Meanwhile we have a million songs where Taylor tells us all her obviously-Karlie lover ever wanted was her.

I can't see The Alchemy any other way than as a Karlie comeback song. Bring it home, Karlie! We're all rooting for you! Go! Fight! Win! 🏆

Wow, Anon! I love this take! Lots of food for thought.

#CTRask

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starsreminisce · 30 days

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I'm know I've mentioned it before, but considering that Feyre and Rhys are both two halves made whole, Nesta's and Elain's books essentially mirror ACOMAF split into two. Nesta's journey parallels Feyre's healing from her UTM ordeal, with Rhys's full Illyrian counterpart. Meanwhile, Elain's exploration mirrors Feyre's ascension to reclaiming the High Lady title, with Rhys's full fae counterpart.

While SF may have faced criticism, Nesta had to heal through aspects that had never bothered her before, much like Feyre did, and Cassian has already worked through most of his issues, though he still acknowledges his self-worth issues. Their story seems complete, but ACOMAF hints more towards Elucien's story, especially when dissecting Rhys's chapter 54 alongside Lucien's journey throughout the books.

Though Rhys's and Lucien's experiences differ, there are enough parallels for me to draw connections. SJM loves her patterns, so it wouldn't be surprising if she continues this trend in Elucien's story as well.

Indents are from chapter 54 and orange is Lucien

He paused, swallowing. “I was chained in the mud, forced to watch as they battled. To watch as Jurian took my killing blow. Only—she slaughtered him. I watched her rip out his eye, then rip off his finger, and when he was prone, I watched her drag him back to the camp. Then I listened to her slowly, over days and days, tear him apart. His screaming was endless. She was so focused on torturing him that she didn’t detect my father’s arrival. In the panic, she killed Jurian rather than see him liberated, and fled.

A tight sigh. “His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch.”

And that night, when she kept turning her attention to me, I knew what she wanted. I knew it wasn’t about fucking me so much as it was about getting revenge at my father’s ghost. But if that was what she wanted, then that was what she would get. I made her beg, and scream, and used my lingering powers to make it so good for her that she wanted more. Craved more.

He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “She insisted. Tamlin was … Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.” No wonder she’d backed off him. She’d gotten what she wanted. “Please don’t tell Elain,” he said. “When we—when we find her again,” he amended. He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn’t enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred—badly.

But your final trial came, and … When she started torturing you, something snapped in a way I couldn’t explain, only that seeing you bleeding and screaming undid me. It broke me at last. And I knew as I picked up that knife to kill her … I knew right then what you were. I knew that you were my mate, and you were in love with another male, and had destroyed yourself to save him, and that … that I didn’t care. If you were going to die, I was going to die with you. I couldn’t stop thinking it over and over as you screamed, as I tried to kill her: you were my mate, my mate, my mate.

Lucien staggered a step forward as Elain was gripped between two guards and hoisted up. She began kicking then, weeping while her feet slammed into the sides of the Cauldron as if she’d push off it, as if she’d knock it down— “That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron. And the king’s power leashed him, too. On the ground beside Tamlin, his single eye wide, Lucien had the good sense to look horrified as he glanced between Elain and the High Lord.

So Amarantha died, and I spoke to the High Lords mind to mind, convincing them to come forward, to offer that spark of power. None of them disagreed. I think they were too stunned to think of saying no.

Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered. Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints. Tamlin remained leashed on the ground, a gag of white, iridescent magic in his mouth now. But his eyes were on Lucien as—As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him

When I went to leave you … I think transforming you into Fae made the bond lock into place permanently. I’d known it existed, but it hit me then—hit me so strong that I panicked. I knew if I stayed a second longer, I’d damn the consequences and take you with me. And you’d hate me forever.

But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain— Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you’d earned that happiness.

“My mate is engaged to a human male.” He spoke more to himself than to me. “I’m sorry if—” “I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.” I couldn’t bring myself to say she was, to give him that sort of hope when Elain might very well do everything in her power to hold to her engagement. Even if immortality had already rendered it impossible. Lucien leaned his head back against the rock wall behind us. “And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”

“It killed me, Feyre, to send you back. To see you waste away, month by month.

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand? The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

But I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop being around you, and loving you, and wanting you. I still can’t stay away.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #acotar mating bonds

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bookworm-with-coffee · 1 year

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Stories . . .

( Thorin Oakenshield x Child!Reader)

(A/N); Hello, readers!! Happy to present this fic as the sequel to "Excuses" ! I finally thought it was time!!

Pairings; Thorin x Reader (Platonic)

Plot: Thorin returns to the Shire not just to see Bilbo...

Warnings; None, cavity creating fluff

Part One

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It was high morning in the Shire, the sun reaching its peak and spring in full bloom. To the day, it has been 3 years since the quest to reclaim Erebor was completed and Bilbo Baggins had saw fit to return home. He never expected guests of any kind, especially after the quest business. Save for one inquisitive little Hobbit...

Thorin Oakenshield, now King Under the Mountain, had left late by the standard of years. He had intended to visit the Shire again sooner, but establishing peace in the Dwarven colonies had taken longer than first anticipated. He had left from Erebor weeks ago, leaving Fili in charge of the runnings. The young Dwarf had done much to impress his uncle in the quest for Erebor and Thorin had no doubt that the kingdom would run smoothly in his absence with Fili in charge. Yet now, he needed some days of peace, away from home. He had seen much, too much, of war and politics in the last few years. His people were finally at peace, helping rebuild homes of their own and that of the people of Laketown. Thorin, with great difficulty, had also established good relations with Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. There was peace, a hard-earned peace. And finally, he could rest.

With a smile, he pulled encouragingly at the reins of his pony. "Come on", he murmured. "We're here now". The grasses and trees of the forest had at last pulled away, to reveal stone and dirt paths into the small Shire city of Hobbiton. Ever prosperous and oblivious to such things beyond their borders, there was an element of serenity that allowed Thorin to sigh and relax at last. Of course, the Padfoot— no. Padfeet family were not impressed with the new face entering their domain. The King had come armed to the teeth with baggage for a week's stay. This was not a welcome sign to them, nor to the prudish Hobbits that also avoided him. He cared not, however. His mind was fixated on an old friend.

Thorin slipped down from the saddle of his pony, gently caressing her face. "Well done", he whispered with a grin. "And thank you". Giving the animal a well deserved pat and apple, he turned at last to the nearby Hobbit holes. He remembered after all this time which one it had been where his young friend had lived. It had been over three years since she had last seen him. Three years since she'd given him the coin which he wore as a royal pendant around his neck. A sign of luck that he'd carried with him over so many distances. He wondered if she'd forgotten him after so long? Children grow and many things end up being forgotten, after all.

His ocean orbs spied a woman that was familiar to him, tending the gardens of her home with love and care. "Fair morning to you!".

The King's greeting startled the woman at first, but her eyes lit up at the sight of the familiar Dwarf. "Mr Oakenshield!", she exclaimed, throwing aside her tools and gloves to open the gate between them. Without hesitation, she hugged the larger Dwarf. "What a welcome surprise it is to have you here!". Thorin returned the embrace with a few gentle pats to the maternal woman's back. (Y/n)'s mother was a kind individual, always fussing over others. She pulled away in a flurry, smiling in a sudden bout of excitement. "I have a person who would love to see you!".

"Where is she??". He had the eagerness alike to a father wishing to see his daughter after being away. Knowing this, the Hobbit excitedly shouted for her daughter who had gone to play in the streets. Within moments, little footsteps made their way up the path.

Before the King could turn to meet them, a smaller figure had knocked into him, attempting a tight embrace. He laughed whilst his younger counterpart happily cried out, "Mr Thorin!!".

"Look at you!!", he mused, enthusiastically lifting her from him and into the air above his head. "You're so big and tall now! I hardly recognised you!". (Y/n) giggled,

"It's also because of my teeth!". At her proclaimation, she pointed to the few gaps she had with the now adult-looking teeth.

"Most definitely". He laughed, finally holding her like he did many years ago. He even bumped her head with his own - a Dwarven custom to friends and family. One he still practiced with his nephews...

"I just knew you'd come back!". To his amusement, the smaller Hobbit grinned, grabbing at his braids and chestplate scales restlessly.

"Of course! I told you that I would try, didn't I?".

"Did you get back your home??", she pressed with the greatest curiosity.

"Yes, dear one, at great cost. I have a great many stories to share with you of my travels".

"Did you fight monsters? Did you–".

"(Y/n)! Calm down, he's only just gotten here, Love!", her mother chided with a chuckle. "My apologies, Mr Oakenshield".

"It's no trouble", he grinned allowing the small girl to bury her head into the crook of his neck.

"If you're not busy, we were just about to have Luncheon. Would you like to join us?".

"I would hardly like to impose—", he tried to politely downplay the offer.

"Of course he's staying, Mother!! He's hungry!! He's just too polite to say so!". Thorin's brows rose at (Y/n)'s interruption, finding it hard to keep back his laughter at her cheekiness.

"It looks as if I'm staying", the statement came out more like a question, but he offered a polite bow of gratitude to (Y/n)'s mother. The young Hobbit hollered for joy as the raven-haired King followed her mother into their home. Nowhere near as big as Bilbo's house in Bag End, but it was beautifully set out and open. The smells of freshly cooked food and the security of home lingered in the air. And it was that fair noon that Thorin Oakenshield truly found himself at peace, joyfully recounting the various stories of his company to (Y/n) and her mother.

The young Hobbit with her pointed ears had never listened more intently. Thorin's voice was no longer kingly in nature, but soft and playful. He let every different story be an enigma; (Y/n)'s eagerness greatly reminding him of the late nights he shared in the Blue Mountains, storytelling to his nephews. He missed those days and greatly wished that in his younger years that he had settled to have children of his own. Despite this, he was grateful for his two nephews and the young Hobbit he had befriended for life.

His gorgeous blue orbs shimmered as he told the girl of his time in Rivendell and the chase that lead them there. He told her of mountains that could move and fight! Of Goblins, Orcs and Wargs. Of Eagles and Beorn with his monstrously huge house. Of the city on the Lake and the evil Dragon who had taken his home before burning down theirs. He told her that many fought for his home in Erebor and that there had been five different armies.

"I am now King of Erebor, young one", he spoke to her gently. "It is why I have taken so long to return. And why I may not visit as much as I'd like". Her mouth fell open in wonder,

"If you're the King, are you not allowed to leave??".

"I can leave. As long as I leave my nephew, Fili, in charge. He will be King after I am gone".

"That will never happen!", (Y/n) protested to amusement, snuggling into his side. "You'll live forever and ever and I can come and visit you!".

"When you're old enough, dear one", he assured. "I pray that someday you will venture to Erebor to look upon the halls of my great home. To perhaps meet those of my house, as I have come to know yours; and be welcomed as kin".

"I will one day! I'll go to Erebor! I'll visit you, I promise!!". Thorin smiled fondly, softly rustling the (h/c) curls on the little Halfling's head. "And be welcomed as kin! Whatever that is".

"It means family, (Y/n). You, Master Baggins, my people. All of us are part of each other. You will come to understand it all one day. And I will be a proud Dwarf to see that day come".

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"Uncle!", Kili bounded into the throne room with his usual spirit. Thorin bowed his head in greeting to his second nephew. Much had changed for Kili. He had finally grown a small beard and his royal duties had increased tenfold. Alike to Fili, he had truly made the mountain King proud.

"Kili. I trust you bring good news?".

"I do", the younger Dwarf grinned. "We have guests". Thorin's brows rose, his hand lifting in approval.

"By all means, let them in!". The King found himself dumbfounded as Bilbo strayed in, however, it was not him that Thorin's eye had caught. He stood, agape at the Halfling who now followed the first into the room. Although many years had passed, his older eyes would still know her face. She grinned up at him with (e/c) eyes shining with wonder and familiarity. Kili stayed if only to watch the joy meet his uncle's eyes.

"I'm here, Mr Thorin. I kept my promise".

The End. . . .

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Thank you to any and all of you who have taken read these two short fics and support me!! Again, I hope you enjoyed!!

As always, let me know what you think! Any and all feedback is welcome!! ❤🥰

And if any of you wish to be a part of my taglist for any other posts I may or may not make in future, let me know below!! (Just note!! - I am multifandom, so specify which posts to be specifically tagged in!) ❤

___________________________________________

TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard

#thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #child reader #platonic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #gif not mine #credit to creator

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dairy-farmer · 1 month

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I call this the Highlander Au! >:Dc There can Be Only One! (Unless he REALLY enjoys the process and the world stops going to shit for like... FIVE god damned minutes!) (The second is sadly unlikely)

Tim? Fully Cis gendered male. Not terribly ATTACHED to this, physically, but certainly identifies as Male and has a male body.

Maybe it's been all the near misses. The "all my friends fuckin DIED on my and I mentally spiraled like you wouldn't believe". Could be him finally reclaiming his life. Or yet another horrible mental spiral. Who knows!

But he's decided.

He wants to be a Dad. *sound of various Bats choking and/or dropping things*

Is even seeing anybody? Nope. How the FUCK is he gonna get a baby?! Oh, normal, Bat Paranoid fashion. Cloning tube. Same way Damian happened. He just needs to figure out the maternal DNA and he's golden. Figure out where to hide his tech to stop Villainous Baby Snatching Plots.

Because that's a very real concern.

No you can't talk him out of this. Timmy want himself a baby. Is already designing a nursery and studying child development books. Parenting manuals, getting those little animal onsies, lazer death grids to ward of Ra's ninjas. The works.

Bruce is off to the side, quietly having an aneurysm and choking to death on his own spit. Baby boy? Fatherhood? OFFSPRING!? Alone and not going to LET HIM HELP!? But why would he help!? Bad idea! But. But he needs to BE THERE to TAKE CARE of TIM and the future BABY! Aaaaaaaaa-!!!!!

It's a... "Fun" time. Dick is nearing a nervous breakdown. Bruce not far behind. Damians having Feelings(tm).

Then! At a Wayne Charity Event(tm)? Small glowing child. Looks alien. Is getting upset. People backing away IN A HURRY because they just watched this child WARP REALITY to turn the nearest table into candy.

Tim is there as the face of the family. A hero. Already feeling generally Paternal. Upset baby is Bad. So he goes in, dispite clear protests. Gets low and talks soothing.

But the alien Wants Her MOMMY!

And? Oh. Well there goes the protective amulets JLA Dark made for him. Now he's in an alien dress and? Very much no longer Cis. Guess he would have and DID inherent from his dad's side of the family, no boobs. Tiny. At least he got his mom's killer legs.

And the kiddo isn't scared any more. Since he "looks like mommy".

Except not even remotely, because she warps into being an HOUR later, looking for her daughter and is made of pure light. Thanks him. Doesn't FIX anything. And just leaves. Gee, thanks lady.

There were REPORTERS there. Tim Drake has tits now. Front page news. Great. Ra's is GOING to know and get WEIRD about it.

Tim shrugs. Off to Leslie we go, though. Check up time!

Yep. Full lady bits action. And, hey! Shiny new spleen! So that's nice.

It DOES change his plan though. He didn't, you know, collect any "samples" yet. But? Does... does he NEED too? He COULD concoct a story of "rich person hires mystic to get penis back" after going and getting magiced back.... OR?

He could have someone put a baby in him! *simultaneous Bat Choking Noises*

MUCH easier to defend. THEN he could be changed back, after the baby is weaned. The problem is who to trust? Ra's is ABSOLUTELY going to do everything in his power to get his seed inside Tim new puss. So a seed bank is out. And-

*hands slam on the table*

Obviously! We can't trust anyone outside this house! Villian plots and Ra's specifically! Bat paranoia! W-we will just have to make this sacrifice for you!

.....Weirdly intense, but okay.

Objection! Says Tim's newly no longer Dead team mates. Tim tried to CLONE Kon! OBVIOUSLY it should be Kon! And Bart! Bro Threesome! Let nature decide! (Then kid number 2 is the other Bro, is only FAIR)

ALSO a good point. He did have that promise, if one of them ever got turned into a girl. And a Kon baby WOULD be nice...

Shit! Grayson pulls "last of my legacy and I have so much to make up for" cards!

Is betrayed by his OWN FATHER (Bruce! How COULD YOU!?) Who plays "you saved me from the time steam and nearly died for me, let me help(emotional)" to devastating effect!

Cheating! Howls the Speedster! You're CHEATING!!!

And Tim stands there... kinda confused but finding he's actually Really In To This as people argue over how much THEY want to be the one to put a baby in him? He's never felt this badly WANTED. Desired.

He may not want to go through the whole "actually carrying a baby for 9 months then pushing one out" thing more then once.... but the fighting over him thing? This might be awaking something.

And, well, Kon already made a good point. Why try to control it? Let nature decide~

Everyone can help.

The argument stops dead. For all of the seconds before "who goes first?" Occurs to everyone.

Sadly for THEM, Bruce is a bastard willing to play dirty to get what he wants. And his house his rules. He goes first. After all, he no doubt smirks, none of THEM have the... experience, to handle a virgin properly.

He refuses to allow Tim hurt on his watch.

Got it? Good talk. Tim, with him.

Which is what leads to Tim clawing at the bed and begging like his life depends on it, soaked in sweat, hours later. As Bruce STILL gently, teasingly, RUTHLESSLY eats him out. Puddles worth of lube ruining the sheets and easing his way, as he works calloused fingers DEEP to find spots Tim didn't know he had yet. As they rub and tease and fuck against those spots so relentlessly it feels like Tim's coming apart.

He didn't even know he could MAKE half these noises.

His hole is so wet and sloppy, it's like it's given up. Like his body can do nothing but quiver and twitch under Bruce's hands. Given how big he is? Probably the point. Because he crawls up to loom over Tim like a giant. Presses kisses to his whimpering, sweaty face. And rocks into his exhausted body, filling every inch of him.

It doesn't even hurt. Something that big probably SHOULD for his first time, but Bruce isn't a legendary playboy for nothing. And it just fills and Fills and FILLS. Rubs against everything in a way that makes his toes curl. Makes him want to gasp and cling, even though he's so exhausted.

Bruce just shooshes him. Pulls him close. He won't have to do a thing. He can just cling to Bruce and feel good. Bruce is here. He's got you.

And it's the best thing Tim's ever felt. Forget masturbation, sex is AMAZING. Bruce rocking then thrusting then pounding into his body. Holding tight like something precious. Hammering his good spots still he sees stars. Til he's nearly sobbing, hiccuping, from how good it feels to have his insides all messed up.

Bruce fills him up. All gooey and warm. Picks him up and carries him to a clean bed to get wiped down and tucked in. Cleans up then joins him. Fills him back up and tucks him close. He feels boneless and precious. Sleeps like the dead.

Discovers sex with a puss is AWESOME.

Next morning, he's barely out of Bruce's room before Dick is scooping him up and dragging him into his room. Almost franticly bending him in half as he presses him to the bed, kissing the air out of him. Holding his face as he whispers filthy praise into his lips. Hips relentless as they slam home, pounding at just the right angle.

Like he's trying to make for YEARS of mistakes by pouring it all into pleasure NOW. Clinging tight and trying to fry Tim's brain with how good he can make him feel. Dick buries his faces against Tim's neck and rutts like he's making up for lost time. Fucking Tim through orgasms, spilling again and again, like he's determined to drain his balls dry and wring every last bit of pleasure he CAN out of Tim's exhausted body.

Tim has to threaten to hit him with an alarm clock to let him up. Tim wants LUNCH damn it. They missed breakfast. By a LOT.

But then work calls. Damn it. So he has to get dressed. Double damn it. And he does it, but refuses to be pleased about it. Resolves things. Even gets ahead on work. Only for DAMIAN to walk stiffly into his office. Sus.

The gremlin hands him a frankly VERY well put together report on why he, Damian AL Ghul... should be allowed to fuck a baby into Tim. He has brought along a slide show and genealogical report.

.......Explain.

Damian does. He REALIZED some things about himself. When Tim was discussing becoming a Father. Using the same method as he, himself, was created. Went through a whole "go to the Kent farm and have a life change adventure" character growth arc, as you do. And? Now realizing that he potentially COULD be DIRECTLY involved in the Hypothetical Child's life instead of as an uncle?

He wants in. They could be glorious, combined. AND he firmly believes Tim will be a magnificent Mother. Let him Father your child.

It's a bad idea. Tim knows this. He literally JUST slept with Bruce yesterday and nothing good comes from sleeping with AL Ghul's. They Obsess. But? Fuck it. Maybe THIS is the thing that finally stops the Tim-Gremlin cold war and bring peace to house Wayne once and for all. He unbuckles his belt. Walks over to his resting room.

And Tim KNOWS, even as he's being urgently fucked into the fold out bed, that this is an AWFUL idea. No way in HELL, from the desperate and sloppy thrusts, clinging, panting and whines, is this NOT Damian's first time. He's utterly undone.

Pounding load after load into Tim because it feels too good to stop. All enthusiasm and no skill. Half the pleasure Tim's even GETTING is his own hand, relentlessly teasing his own clit. But? Oh. The feeling of being wanted so BADLY. Of cum, gushing and gushing into him. Knowing it's HIS hole that's so good, it's driving Damian incoherent.

He feels... sexy. It DEFINITELY does something for him. He may not be able to go back. Could see himself enjoying being a milf.

But of course. Business hours end. And he PROMISED! Is swept up by Bart for their threesome. Which, after several rounds and untold loads of near-no-refractary-period speedster cum dumped inside him? Is kinda spotty, in his memory.

All he knows for certain is he wakes up to his sheepish best friends, "Sorry we fucked you unconscious repeatedly" bribes, no voice, and a warm bath. He's also plugged up and FULL full of that premium speedster/half-kryptonian blend cum, because apparently his friend intend to WIN and nothing says victory like overwhelming odds. He'd call them fuckers, but they ARE and hold no remorse. He can't move.

Carry him you bastards.

When he asks where Cassie is, he learns she's apparently trying to harrass the magic users into a making her a temporary "turn me into a dude" amulet. Both as a gift AND so she can join the race for Father Of Tim's Baby. Huh. Interesting new options.

Obviously, throughout ALL of this, ninjas. Because Ra's has never wanted to smash so hard in his LIFE.

Instead, Tim is out here, on Jason's shitty couch. Getting lifted up and slammed down onto his cock. Called baby girl. Princess. Jason's never been harder. Already planning their kids graduation dinner and baby number three.

Tim feeling precious and taken care of and DESIRED. Like the young adult with a first shitty apartment he never got to be. Something so close to normal. Put a baby in him. Fuck him like you love him, like they do this every Saturday night, then eat pizza and watch trash TV. Fill him up.

And if course~ it's a VICIOUS game of Fuck The Tim keep away, up until one day he starts to show. Then Everyone is loving and coddling and in a "No I Am The Father" cold war. The birth is a nightmare, because Tim is slender and more scar tissue then not. But?

Adorable quarter-Kryptonian! With the biggest blue eyes and Tim's porcelain doll face.

Tim is NOT doing that again. Ffffffuck giving birth. And being pregnant! Granted, the EARLY part? He loved. He glowed. Getting pregnant was AWESOME. But later stages? God awful. Clone tube babies from here on out.

Absolute Devastation in the Tom Fucking Community. Babe no! You can't MEAN IT!

Woah, hey! He never said he'd STOP. "Getting Pregnant" is very, VERY enjoyable. He's just refusing to carry SHIT. Birth control for HIM. Scooping that slurry of "leave it up to Nature" out and storing it. Now... Kon stop being smug and hold your son.

-🐼🐼🐼

😭😭😭 tim getting everyone to come to dinner and they all think it was alfred and are like 'this was a great idea alfred! we should all get together like this more often' only for tim to cough and say well actually i called you all here, i figured you all deserved a heads up since i'm going to be undergoing some serious life changes. everyone's confused and then tim says he's going to have a baby.

immediate panic and some disappointment from bruce because he thinks this is a teen pregnancy and he expected better from tim only for tim to have to yell to interrupt everyone and say there is no 'girl', not yet anyway. he's just announcing that he's GOING to have a baby. they're not yet conceived and now the family is dealing with whiplash of how of course TIM would do something like this now they're sitting their listening to him talk about the ideal gene pool given tim's family has a history of mental issues and he's going into some very detailed things like nurseries and everyone just wants him to slow down because tim is still a kid!!! dick is older than him and even HE doesn't feel ready. so everyone is trying to talk tim out of it while tim insists he's ready, he's been going to a therapist for 11 months trying to deal with his issues so he COULD be ready to be a parent.

which of course baffles them even more because???? dick has been trying to get them all into therapist for years and tim just???? went??? on his own????

bruce is of course the least welcoming of tim's ideas of teen parenthood. because what about highschool, college? at least ONE of his kids has to go to college!

tim however says no, says his GED is more than enough.

bruce tries finding other angles, asking what if he just sets tim up with babysitting gigs? make him see kids aren't that great and tim just huffs and said he already did a bunch of babysitting and volunteering at the children's centers in gotham as part of his adoption application!

which ???? just stressed bruce out even more?! because tim had tried to adopt a baby first? but apparently got rejected because of his age, lack of partner, and lack of job which tim loudly says is unfair because bruce was in his 20s when he took in dick and HE hadn't had a partner or a job!

so the family is protesting, despertly trying to get tim to change his mind,,, then tim gets a womb and suddenly the protests die down VERY quick.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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qhorinhalfhand · 10 months

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genuinely fascinating to me that despite the earnestly held intentions by everyone involved in hotd to avoid the mistakes made with female characters in got, they are still falling into basically all of the pitfalls made. you could really really see their attempts at genuinely dissecting the divisions between power and gender in the first episode with aemma’s birth scene (which i loved) and other scenes like alicent being forced to seduce viserys, but it falls apart soooo fast.

i think the main categories of ways the female characters in got fell apart was being stripped of agency based on some “female trait” (cersei’s motherhood, brienne’s love of jaime), committing some heinous action as needed by the plot (dany), and having any softness or femininity removed entirely because “strong women = emotionless women” (sansa and arya). the first two have already started happening in hotd, but i wouldn’t be surprised if we saw the last one by the end.

what’s really sad is that i think these issues are popping up not out of genuinely held misogynistic beliefs, but in an earnest attempt to not ruin female characters like they did in got. take alicent for example. i didn’t care for her in f&b because she was just an evil stepmother, but the way they expanded her character in hotd was great. at first they were making a point by stripping her of agency. but by the end of the season, she was being left out of plotting and sexually assaulted by someone else. these are two things that don’t even happen in the books. how is she being set up to be rhaenyra’s main rival in this story if men are making literally every decision for her? by making her a passive player in her own story instead of reclaiming herself after viserys’ death, they’re forcing her into the same role they’re trying to subvert by turning hotd into alicent vs rhaenyra instead of aegon ii vs rhaenyra. she didn’t need to be sexually victimized again. she didn’t need to be shut out of planning and have the plot to make her son king again sprung on her: she should’ve been leading the plot. alicent has spent the entire show thus far reacting – i want to see her act.

rhaenyra, on the other hand, was a really gray character in the book. sure, she started out as someone yearning for her rightful title, but it doesn’t take long for her to end up pretty far gone. f&b makes a real point out of not having a set villain, despite the one-dimensional characterization of the greens. both rhaenyra and aegon are bad people. but between the prophecy and the white deer, the show solidly sets up rhaenyra not only as the rightful ruler, but as a literally prophetically destined godly ruler. the addition of aegon’s prophecy not only excuses targaryen imperialism, but also makes the targaryen who knows about the prophecy the Rightful Ruler For Sure. if grrm had one point about the dance, it was that there is no such thing as a rightful ruler. so by setting rhaenyra up as more or less the golden child, we have two options later on in hotd: either the atrocities she ends up committing will be an act of sudden and underdeveloped madness like dany, or they’ll be her reacting to someone else’s wrongdoing, which would effectively put her in the same spot as alicent is now.

hotd had a real chance to do something incredible. it could have been a show about women and their relationships and what they have to do to make something out of a world designed to shut them out. but instead of that, all hotd has done so far is box them into their roles and offer all of their cruelty and anger and choices and agency to men.

#also when i was listing off the got issues ik i missed several women who were fucked over by got #like missandei specifically #she just didn’t fit into those three categories #but i was thinking of her #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenicent #game of thrones #fire and blood

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the-pen-pot · 5 months

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(Bagginshield Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies fluff. 2,000 words. Read above on AO3 or click the read more ♥)

The Only Truth

Amidst the great Dwarven halls, with the strike of pick and hammer conducting the percussive beat of honest toil, music grew like weeds amidst freshly tilled soil. From their earliest days, crafting down in the dark, dwarves had lifted their voices in song, the caverns they carved into their mountainsides carrying the tunes from dawn until dusk. They sang, and the earth that cradled them sang back, sharing in their joys and sorrows.

To his shame, Bilbo had been surprised that the Company all played instruments. In his prejudice, he had failed to understand how a dwarf could be made rough and course by hard work, but still carry the grace in their fingers to play with any skill. They all soon proved him wrong. There was not a dwarf among them who did not seem to have a flute or pipe ferreted away in their pack, and they came out often, their tunes bright and cheery as they made their way over the land.

Yet it was only once they were back in Erebor that Bilbo realised that even their celebration of music had been whittled away by necessity. They had kept with them the instruments they could carry as they fled. Only now that the Lonely Mountain was slowly reclaiming its splendour did the Master Craftsmen turn their attentions to their heritage once more. Slowly, the voices of those dwarves hard at work and raised in song were joined by the tuneful dapple of strings and flutes and brass.

Still, to Bilbo, it felt as if one part of Erebor's great orchestral rebirth was missing. He knew, from stories told on the roads over Middle-earth, that Thorin, in his youth, had played the harp. Balin had confided in him, his eyes bright with recollection, how beautifully he had once played, before the dragon came and turned all he loved to ash. The instrument had been left behind amidst the embers of Thorin's old life: too big and unwieldy to be saved.

That was why he was here with Bofur, up in the wrecked remnants of the royal chambers, opening up old doorways and viewing the calamity confined within their walls.

'A right mess, this is,' Bofur murmured, his usual good humour eclipsed by the destruction. 'It'll take years to repair.'

'And Thorin has prioritised every other part of the mountain.' Bilbo sighed. He understood why he did it. Thorin's heart lay with his people. He did not care for the symbols of status that his grandfather had held in such high esteem. He would rather sleep on a rug before an open fire than live in luxury while his people went hungry.

Bofur grunted, and now, at last, there was a touch of a sparkle in his eye. 'He won't get a choice in the matter before long. For now, the dwarves arriving in Erebor are grateful for his humbleness, but soon they'll insist he climb back on his pedestal and stop getting his hands dirty. You'll have to soothe a lot of ruffled feathers.'

Bilbo cast a look in Bofur's direction, shaking his head before lifting his torch higher. 'That's why we're here, remember? To do something for Thorin, since he will not take the time to do it for himself.'

'First, we have to find the thrice-damned thing, assuming Smaug left any of it behind.'

That was a valid concern. Even here, after traversing the ruined, twisted staircase, made narrow and precipitous by Smaug's ruination, he could see signs of the dragon's invasion. Gouges scored the walls, disrupting the marble's exquisite sheen. Tapestries had been ripped from their moorings, their fine silks and gold thread hoarded amidst the mountain of treasure. Delicate glass windowpanes, worthless to the wyrm but expensive all the same, had been smashed in his wrath. What remained was a skeleton of grandeur, and one that would linger in its sad state for some time yet.

'Bilbo, here!' Bofur's voice was hushed, as if he had disturbed some poor soul's tomb.

Bilbo crept forward, lifting his lantern higher to let its light pour into the chamber he'd revealed. It was then, with a flash of grief, that he realised a body of a sort had found its rest here. The once graceful arch of a harp lay, its pillar broken and its soundboard cracked. Many of the strings had snapped or come loose from their pegs. It was a sad sight, but something in him rebelled, determined to find whatever small life might linger in the instrument's shattered frame.

'There must be something we can do.'

Bofur rubbed a finger up the bridge of his nose before adjusting his hat with his palm, his dark eyes black and thoughtful in the meagre light. 'I'm a toy-maker,' he pointed out. 'I don't think "we" is the word you're looking for, but...' He hunkered down, setting the lantern on the floor and sucking in a breath through his teeth. 'It's not rotten. That's a start. Looks like it was smashed against the wall. Key bits of the frame will have to be replaced, and that needs the right kind of wood and hands with the skill to fix it.'

'But it can be done?' He didn't mean to sound quite like that – achingly desperate – but the dwarf he loved carried a multitude of hurts. Not merely the physical ones, which had almost claimed his life, but ones upon his soul. This, Bilbo knew, was as much part of the healing as Oin's tinctures and constant nagging to rest and eat.

'Aye, I think so. It'll be a challenge, but I know more than one dwarf who lives for this sort of thing, and to do it for our King? They'll rise to the occasion.' Bofur gave Bilbo a look, full of the soft fondness of friendship. 'This was a grand idea, Bilbo. Leave it with me.'

It took time, as all such things did. True craftsmanship could not be rushed, and the broken body of Thorin's old harp was an invalid in need of delicate care. Bilbo dropped by often, nervous, at first, that Master Mothi would view his presence at an intrusion. However, the kind old dwarf, busily training an apprentice, was more than happy to talk about his craft as long as Bilbo kept his hands in his pockets.

'I remember when my master first built it,' he confided one day, as his gnarled hands stroked along the sound box, testing it for any small flaw that might break the harp's voice. 'The look on the face of the young prince as he played! I recall his only complaint was one he made to his mother, and that was a criticism of his grandfather's decorative taste.'

'How do you mean?'

'The old king had it carved and covered from crown to base in gold leaf. Delicate work. Challenging, too. It made the harp more fragile. The sound a touch less pure. My master was unhappy to do it, but we had our instructions.'

'No gold, this time,' Bilbo decided, feeling in his heart how Thorin would rather the wood's grain could shine through. He would wish the strings to sing with their truest voice, more admiring of the harp's function than its form.

'Perhaps an inlay, here?' Mothi stroked his palm down the front of the pillar. 'Something shallow, so as not to compromise its strength. I have a wonderful alloy: brass with a touch of mithril. It gives a wonderful sheen and need never be polished. Geometric, perhaps?'

Bilbo hid a smile before inclining his head. He had not wanted to say anything about the graceful lines of the harp, though he had noticed that there were some fundamental differences between the ones he had seen in Rivendell and this specimen. Even broken, he could tell Thorin's harp had a subtle angularity to its form, something sharper, where the elves favoured the sweeping curve.

'Will it be much longer?' he asked, eyeing the framework, which to him looked as good as whole, but as yet unstrung.

'Another week, maybe two.' Mothi gave him a knowing look. 'You cannot rush perfection.'

'And I would not wish you to. Thank you.'

He tried to set it from his mind, the secret slowly taking shape beneath Mothi's hands. During the day, when there was much to be done, he did a fair job. Yet it was in the evening, when he and Thorin retired to their shared chamber in the overseer's quarters that he felt the strange, amorphous absence of it. He observed how Thorin seemed to not know how to draw the boundary between work and rest. He carried his tension with him, his mind forever caught up in the needs of his kingdom without a moment of respite.

So it was that, the day the harp was ready, and stolen carefully into their chambers, Bilbo found himself alight with nervous anticipation. He hoped that this had been the right thing to do. He prayed that he was healing a wound in Thorin's being, rather than ripping off a scab to leave him bleeding anew.

'We need to finish treating with the merchant guild. They have their eye on the treasury, as always, but I will not allow them to –' Thorin's words stumbled to silence as he preceded Bilbo over the threshold. His next breath was an odd little hitch, as if his lungs had forgotten how to work, and Bilbo sank his teeth into his bottom lip, praying he had not made a grave mistake.

'This is...' Thorin swayed before stepping forward, reaching out with shaking fingertips to rest them against the harp's pillar like a healer checking for a pulse, reaching for the life that resided once more in the instrument's beautiful frame. The strings gleamed, waiting to be stirred into song, and Bilbo was almost sure he could hear them humming softly, like a cat purring in the presence of one who loved it. 'Where did you find this?'

'The Royal Wing.' Bilbo shifted forward. 'It had been broken and forgotten, but there was enough of it left to save.' He swallowed, thinking how those words were not for the harp alone. They could be said about the kingdom around them and the line that ruled it just as easily. 'Master Mothi remade it, keeping as much of the original as he could. I thought you deserved something out of all this that was yours alone.'

Thorin turned, sweeping Bilbo into his arms, his brow a warm press against Bilbo's own. It was an assertive embrace, as if Thorin were trying to press everything he could not put into words down into Bilbo's bones, and the kiss that followed it had Bilbo's toes curling against the flagstones.

'You like it, then?' he managed, delightfully breathless when Thorin reluctantly eased back, those rich blue eyes all softness and delight.

'More than almost anything, except for you,' Thorin promised, his voice low and resonant in a way that set love thrilling through Bilbo, spreading beneath his ribs to pool in the hollow of his belly.

'Will you play?' he asked, feeling as if it were some moment of truth. He had heard Thorin sing, his voice soft and deep, but this was another matter. He knew how talented those hands could be, and now he wanted to see them there, coaxing sound from an instrument that had been silent for far too long.

'It would be a crime not to, though I warn you, I am out of practice.'

Though Bilbo could well-believe the claim, he could hear no flaw in Thorin's playing. At first, perhaps, he was a touch hesitant, learning this old friend anew, but before long the music swelled around them, filling their chamber with its magic. It was not the ethereal, haunting melody of the elves, but something faster and deeper, the pitch of the harp more resonant: fitting for the booming mountain halls. It made Bilbo's heart race and quickened his blood. He let his eyes drift shut, the better to lose himself in the melody, and it was only when Thorin stopped that he opened them once more.

'That was beautiful,' he murmured, feeling a little drunk – transported to somewhere glorious by Thorin's playing.

'Would you like to learn?'

Bilbo's first thought was an instinctive refusal: the instrument too fine and his skill non-existent. Yet there was a gleam of something in Thorin's eye that made him think about how dwarves saw music – not as something to be performed for praise, but something to be shared with one another: the good and the bad. Skill was not as essential to them as the simple act of creation, and that was something he knew Thorin sought to share with Bilbo at every opportunity.

'I can't even read a stave,' he warned, reaching out to take Thorin's hand and allowing himself to be guided closer, to cradle the harp between his spread legs like a lover, and set hesitant fingers upon its strings.

'You don't need to. We rarely write down our songs. They are fluid things, learned and adapted, simplified and embellished.' Thorin stood behind him, bending to place his larger, broader hands over Bilbo's own. Warm, calloused fingers showed him how to move, teaching him where to pluck the strings and where to soothe them, leading him through it like he might lead a partner through a dance.

And so it was that, slowly, music raised its voice once more in the halls of the Lonely Mountain once more. The tune carried, bright and true, through the turn of the seasons until the melody of love at the kingdom's heart became a symphony of prosperity for the whole realm to enjoy.

For all the years to come.

#The Hobbit #Bagginshield #thorin x bilbo

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lunchtimebedamned1997 · 11 days

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Fanfic Recommendations, Installment #1!

This is a long one! But even if you don't read all of my words here, you should definitely read theirs!

. ★.`.☆...☆.`.★ .

It feels as though it would be some sort of terrible crime not to highlight the most wonderful fic series that has been circulating its way through the Hazbin Hotel fandom over the last little stretch of time. Yes indeedy, I’m speaking of nothing other than the meteor shower series by spoondrifts on A03 (and ofc as @cringefailvox here on lovely tumblr!)

This enthralling little series is currently comprised of two parts; time has changed the metaphor and its sequel, dragging its tail in the sea.

Herein we get the most delectable example of polyam, QPR, label-less goodness that I dare say there has been a gaping lack of up until now! (and if I am mistaken, I am happy to be so so wrong so long as you send all those good fics my way!!! My perceptions are fallible)

And who might make up the delightful QPR trio featured in this story? Why, none other than our most beloved Alastor, Rosie, and Vox!

I will admit to you, my dear reader, that I was skeptical of how this trio would function together. A fool, even. But the fanart (here for pt.1 fanart) (and here for pt.2 art) drew me in, it delighted me, and the writing, well, the writing simply blew me away.

How lovely it is to sit down and read such gorgeous, thoughtful, and perfectly complicated renditions of these characters. One that deeply explores the bounds of non-traditional connections, and the twisting, complicated ways we can come to find others in our hearts. Because it seems that even in hell, there can be things that make you feel foreign amongst your peers. That is, if you don’t let yourself be known.

The way Spoondrifts dives into the mentality of the three characters is such a joy to read that I scarcely think I have adequate words to express how exactly it is I feel.

To be Queer in any form is such a varied array of experiences, indescribably vast; and while labels can often be a freedom for some, especially as a place of belonging, or a reaffirmation of identity – or even simply that labels often act as a gateway to community and support – there are many that feel labels restrict them. That those labels are another set of rules they don’t fit neatly into, a chafing reminder of common-society’s boundaries in a place that is supposed to offer refuge.

This is precisely why many have embraced and reclaimed the word "queer" itself as a catch-all term for ‘outside the cis-het bubble’.

Yet, we often jump, especially in fiction, to labeling exactly who and what a character may be. Defining their relationships with immense detail, and fighting ruthlessly over canon vs. fanon vs. fanon-but-less-popular. Yet, here in this fanfic, we see a shining example of the complicated web of queer experiences. Of connection. Of love and care.

A refreshing lens to be sure.

It is a story that says ‘these characters are enough, as flawed and rotten and lovely as they are, and so are you.’ – and isn’t that the very crux of this fandom itself? Is the commentary on Christian religion and the people that claim to uphold it, not in and of itself a similar thing? A story that says ‘you can be terrible and wonderful. You can be awful and be loved. You can be different and be whole.’

In watching the series itself, there was something cathartic for me, too personal for me to write in too great of detail in the here and now. But it made me feel loved. It made me feel like even if I wasn’t perfect, I could still have worth. That I could make mistakes, and still be allowed the grace of second chances if I’m willing to learn and grow from any of the mistakes I'll inevitably make on this complicated journey of life. And so, so much more.

That is how this fanfiction made me feel. Loved. Warm. Safe. Free to be a mess of a human (because aren’t we all?). And still at the end of the day be worthy. To, someday, be loved and cared for in whatever ways I need. That none of us are too much or too little.

I’ve been straying away from labels myself over the years, knowing I fit into a few different nooks and crannies within our vast umbrella, but not quite vibing with a lot of the words anymore. Life is, after all, a journey of discovery; and I’d be a fool to say I know and understand all of myself when I’m not yet even 24 – and fics like this, this fic, made my chest ache in the way the thought of kissing a woman once did. Maybe there’s something there for me to discover, maybe there isn’t. Perhaps it’s just my neurodivergences and my queerness aligning into a desire - and deeply rooted fear - for being seen.

But regardless of how you do or don’t identify, I think anyone would feel a deep fondness for the bonds within this story – though if you align with any of it yourself, it may of course hit you even more profoundly.

The pacing of the story is beyond impeccable and it never once feels stuck in a ‘set of locations’. The world of the pride ring feels sprawling and alive within these words despite spending most of our time within Rosie’s domain.

The care and thought that was given to each character and their depictions - just, damn. Every action felt grounded, understandable for each individual character, and kept you wanting more of each and every bit. Elements of canon were woven into a beautiful tapestry of fanon that feels so real and so right, that if Viv said it was true in a parallel version of Hazbin-Hell, I would believe you in a heartbeat.

The three characters play off of each other beautifully and enticingly, without sacrificing an ounce of what makes them (particularly Al and Vox) ripe for a good ‘you fucking dumbass, get it through your head’ shoulder-shake.

I can’t say too much more without simply gushing over every sentence and ruining the experience for those who have not yet read it, but let me just say: wow. As well as: Thank you, Spoondrifts. What a lovely gift you’ve given us. Thank you for your words. For this exploration of relationships, and hearts that beat a little funny.

#fanfic recs #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction review #radiostatic #radiorose #alastor #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #lunchtime rambles #lizzie rambles #ltbd rambles

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geddy-leesbian · 7 months

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alright does anyone else ever think about the fact that the "Navarro" comes from Luis's maternal grandfather, who actually fucking raised him when his father (Serra) obviously isn't someone he cares about at all, and yet he introduces himself as Luis Serra? like why not Luis Navarro??

I like to make this man suffer so naturally my headcanon to explain it is angsty; The anger stage of grief had hit Luis the hardest. now he was alone in the world, and he blamed his grandfather for making a mistake and getting sick.

Eventually he gets out of that angry stage of grief and wants to be Luis Navarro, but everyone in his new life knew him as Luis Serra, to the extent that he would have felt weird just suddenly being Luis Navarro again. (I know he did use both names and was technically Luis Serra Navarro for university documents, but since "Navarro" shows up in it once and then it's just "Serra" from then on, so to me it seems like a thing where he'd acknowledge himself being Luis Serra Navarro in super formal/official contexts, but in any other context it was just Luis Serra.)

Going back to Valdelobos initially would have been a great opportunity to reclaim Navarro, no awkwardness of an overnight name change. There was yet another opportunity when he introduced himself to Leon. But he doesn't take any of these opportunities. After the horrible shit he's done he decides to stay Serra, not wanting to disgrace his grandfather's name. Plus the fact he abandoned the name in the first place makes him feel guilty, like he doesn't deserve a second chance after rejecting it without any valid reason to.

bonus layer: Luis idolized his father. as in, idolized his imaginary version of his father he made up. I headcanon that he does take after his father in one way- his father was never in his life because he hated life in the village and decided to run off to a big city before Luis was born. (I flip-flop a bit but tend to imagine him as a deadbeat who knew Luis's mom was pregnant when he left and just didn't care) so all Luis knows about his father is that he left the village, so he turns into this blank slate Luis can project whatever fantasies he wants on to. Like if his grandfather told him he couldn't do something, he'd imagine his dad being the cool parent who would say yes. Whatever Luis is interested in in the current moment, he can imagine his father shares the interest.

Another thing I go back and forth on is whether Luis knows his father left knowingly. I can see his grandfather lying to him and saying his father didn't know, to spare him the pain of rejection. But I can also see his grandfather just being honest, to prevent exactly what ends up happening: Luis building up a mental image of his father that reality would never hold a candle to. But that wouldn't work; Luis is a really creative kid who loves heroes, and his imagination has no trouble spinning stories about how his father is a hero who fights bad guys, and wants to have Luis in his life, but it would put him in danger.

So when his grandfather gets bit hunting, and then sick from it, he imagines his father would be a perfect hunter who would never make a fatal mistake like that. Making "Luis Serra" an even more appealing option in the midst of his grief.

#luis serra #i hope this makes sense im drunk rn lol #⛓𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼⛓

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 9 months

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never would forget how we moved

sirius x kingsley (starking)

(my submission for @cruelsummer-ficfest, my song was Starlight from the album Red. this song is truly one of my favorites. there's so much lightness and love after an album that is essentially a break-up album. this song to me is about hope for something that can be good in a sea of bla. please enjoy)

He felt seventeen again, the way his heart lept out of his chest, and the electricity surged through his veins as he stared across the garden at a man who commanded so much attention it might as well have been his occasion.

Kingsley wasn't one for ministry gatherings--at least the ones in London, preferring the ones from back home where the music went until the middle of the morning and everyone's smile seemed genuine. The ones here felt so formal. Stifling. Except for the man with the dark curly hair, and a loud laugh, who didn't seem to care about any formalities in the slightest. Kingsley took a sip out of his wine glass--even the wine was bitter--and watch as the man continued to tell a story, women, men, everyone eager to listen in and join in on the joke.

For all Kingsley knew, this man could've been speaking about the economy, inflation of galleons, and market-values, etcetera etcetera and everyone would've been enamoured. It was hard not to be. Kingsley was across the room and was still knocked out by a devil-may-care grin.

There was music playing, the kind that Kingsley listened to while studying all those years ago; "brain music" was said to be stimulating without overpowering to ensure maximum retention or something or the other, thoughts of his study skills falling sideways the closer he got to the man on the other side of the room with tiny gold hoop earrings and tattoos visible down the side of his neck. The people around him didn't even seem to know what they were laughing at anymore, keen to just be in the presence of this man.

I met Bobby on the boardwalk summer of '45...

"Excuse my interruption, I was sitting over there and heard the laughter and had to find out just what I was missing," Kingsley said, extending his hand, "Kingsley Shacklebolt. I don't think we've met."

"Now what makes you say that?" the other man asked, corners of his mouth tilting upward with amusement and silver eyes glimmered in the stars and fairylights above the garden. The crowd that had gathered around him began to disperse--Kingsley had just enough authority to be intimidating, and was just new enough to make everyone uncomfortable.

"I've never met a comedian."

"Ah now, don't tell," he responded, "that's my nighttime gig. By day, I'l just a simple member of the Wizengamot and a junior counselor."

Kingsley tried to keep his face neutral, hiding his surprise at the word junior counselor. Judging by the 5'oclock shadow and the confidence, Kingsley had pegged this man to be in his 30s at the bare minimum. And if that was the case, 30 was a bit...old.

"I see."

The other man let out a single, loud laugh, "Finally an honest reaction. Sirius Black," he dropped Kingsley's hand just as a silver platter of champagne glasses floated by, grabbing two off it with ease. He extended one of them to Kingsley, fingers covered with ornate rings that would've looked atrocious on...anyone else.

"I've heard about you," Kingsley nodded, accepting the glass, "you're giving my colleagues grey hair. I thought you'd be..."

"Better looking? I get that alot."

"Further along...legally," Kingsley cleared his throat around a sip of champagne and Sirius grinned.

"Had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and decided to step into the family business a few years later than most, reclaim my seat, so on and so forth. It's a great story," Sirius said, nodding a long with a wink.

"I'd like to hear it."

"Over dinner, maybe. Too long for drinks."

"Suppose..." Kingsley looked around, the stiff music swelling around them in a glorious crescendo, "Too long for drinks and a dance?"

For the first time since entering the conversation, Sirius looked surprised, eyebrows raising as he surveyed the scene. Telling a joke or two or three...or perhaps just being impossibly charming was one thing; dancing was a whole other.

"This isn't exactly Earth, Wind and Fire."

"All the more reason, I'll be able to hear your story better," Kingsley said with his own playful grin, stepping back toward the dance floor, champagne in hand, his other outstretched to Sirius. "I personally, love, this song. Catchy, isn't it?"

And I said, oh my, what a marvelous tune,

it was the best night never would forget how we moved.

Sirius clapped loudly, standing up at his table and cheering as Kinglsey wrapped up his speech, stepping down from the stage at the center of the room. A band was setting up behind him, the garden magically shifting from a boring ministry event to a party at the conclusion of his speech. Multi-colored fairy lights appeared in the bushes and air, reflecting on the grass. A constellation of rainbow stars everywhere they stepped. By the time Kingsley got to Sirius, he was smiling, two whiskey gingers in hand. The days of champagne and monotonous garden parties had disappeared when Kingsley became Minister of Magic, vowing in the privacy of their home that he would make the culture and climate bearable.

Telling Sirius that good thinkers, good people were too often run out of politics because of the environment and wanting to change it from the ground up.

Don't you see the starlight? Don't you dream impossible things?

"Great speech, very official," Sirius told him, kissing Kingsley quickly on the mouth once he was close enough. "I'm feeling so motivated, I want to ditch this whole thing and go straight to the Ministry to get to work."

Kingsley rolled his eyes, "That's a bit much, don't you think?"

Sirius grinned, dropping his voice and leaning close to Kinglsey's ear "You're right. However, I would ditch this whole thing and go straight to the ministry but only because your office would be completely free of interruptions..."

"Hmm..."

"Or we can get the dance floor started."

"Why not both?"

"At the same time? Minister," Sirius gasped, pressing a hand to his chest, and Kingsley laughed, leaning forward to capture his mouth in a kiss longer than the one Sirius had given him.

Their first dance had been at a party, a ministry party, right when Kingsley had transferred from Nigeria. Their second had been in the halls of Number 12 Grimmauld Place not long after, a record player in the living room playing Nina Simone.

They had lost track of dances they had shared over the years but always remembered to connect at Ministry parties. Always remembered to turn the unremarkable into a spectacle--together.

The whole place was dressed to the nines, and we were dancin'

Like we're made of starlight.

#starking #sirius black #kingsley shacklebolt #cruel summer fic fest #era number three #oh look! i did it for my own fest!#please enjoy all my starking fans #this ones for you #and for me

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pinkpinkstarlet · 24 days

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Nah but it's the way every time a story features or is about women or a woman's story, people always want to try to make it about men or say "what if there were men instead?"

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Six: the Musical both have parts of their fanbase(although thankfully in Six it's not the majority) saying that there should be a version with all men or going "what if this female main cast had a male main cast instead"? Even though the point of both is to provide representation for women, MLP is about how there's no wrong way to be a girl and changing the way girls'/girly shows are seen as shallow and less good, and giving girls multiple strong female characters to see themselves in instead of just one token/cookie cutter archetype, while Six is all about REAL-LIFE women whose lives were destroyed because of misogyny, it is all about girl power(same as mlp) and women getting to reclaim their stories from a patriarchal society that shortchanged and silenced their voices throughout history, but no let's make it about men lol.

The same is true for Sailor Moon, I have seen some people say that it's sexist or "misandrist"(as if that's even a thing lol) because it's all about women and the women are more powerful and how Tuxedo Mask "always needs to be saved" like goddamn let the girls be the heroes who save the world for once.

And for that matter PRECURE. Unpopular opinion that will surely get my head bitten off by fans but I don't think Precure NEEDS male Cures and it's not "erasing" feminine boys or saying boys can't be feminine or "reinforcing gender roles" to point that out. Precure is a franchise about female characters being the heroes and main characters who are powerful while also being feminine, it's supposed to place the women center stage and give them the spotlight when most media doesn't do that, trying to fit boys in it is just ruining that message imo. Tbh I would be happy if there were no male Cures at all, idgaf about your "but let boys be feminine" shit cuz I mean yeah but like go watch Cute High Earth Defense Club Love or something, that show seems more your speed(@ sexist Precure fans who say this, not you). I once got my comments removed TWICE for trying to point this out to someone, to the point where I just blocked them lol. One person even went so far as to make a petition for Toei Animation to make an all-male Precure season, again, just go watch Cute High, bc clearly that's what you're looking for.

I also saw some people complaining about Project MC^2 being "sexist" against boys and making them out to be stupid just because it's about girls being smart spies and good at math/art/science, one review even said "teach girls that boys matter too!" oh rly like they don't know already??? Like the world doesn't already tell them that each and every single day??????? The second girls get the spotlight everybody acts like boys are being attacked, but when boys get the spotlight it's all crickets and shit bc boys are supposed to take center stage like no one cares about girls getting attention. Your seven-year-old son isn't going to enter a self-hating misandrist crisis because one wee show said "women do run the world!" we still live in a patriarchy ffs.

Also in Cardcaptor Sakura the main character is a girl and the story has many female characters and is very empowering to women in general(while also having a great deal of powerful men and even a canon m/m couple), and yet I still saw this one annoying guy write an entire screed about how Sakura sucks as a character and should never have been Cardcaptor, the cherry on top was them saying that Syaoran should be the Master of the Clow Cards instead...because it's not enough that this show has multiple representations of positive men/masculinity in addition to women/femininity, it's still not good enough if it's a girl power fantasy, it MUST make a boy the hero!

I also saw someone say that Touhou, which has an all-female cast, needs more men. Wonder if they'd say the reverse if it had an all-male cast(correct answer: they wouldn't).

And then there's the Encanto fandom's entire can of worms where they went through that phase of wanting the female-dominated cast to be all about Camilo and Bruno, sidelining the women in the process. Like bruh. 😕

I really do wish that people would stop this shit, female-centric media is really never allowed to exist without people wanting men to be prioritized in it and take away from the female representation even though men have enough representation already lol, people can't handle when not everything is about men. It's why I will never listen to or take anyone seriously when they complain about shows like these being "sexist against men" and say that anything I write is too female-centric. Like. GOOD. The world needs more female-centric casts to shake up the status quo! You guys love complaining about shows being gendered and wanting gender equality in fiction only towards female-centric works, because you don't want to see women playing central roles without men also being there. Sucks to be on the other side of the playing field now, huh?

Anyway, I was inspired to write this to you rather than make it an original post because of your comment about people wanting Jennifer's Body to be about men(with Miguel as Jennifer) and yeah that is so disgusting and irritating. 🤢 I didn't even know that was happening but I'm not surprised because nobody ever lets shows about girls just center girls first and foremost. It truly is everywhere and I'm sick of it. Not everything needs to be about men, just let the women have something. Please.

Sorry this was long lol. 😅 Thanks for reading this far lol. You're a trooper! Have a nice day!

THIS ASK IS SO REAL ON SO MANY LEVELS!!

this also extremely effects lesbians and trans women because with lesbian women you’ll have people being like “do they really have to be gay? Why can’t they just be normal?” And with trans women it’ll be like “why can’t we just have normal nonqueer characters” or even “why can’t men just be men anymore” it’s like they hate any and all women and girls no matter what we do and it’s so insane to me

also I talked a little about this same phenomenon happening with Jennifer’s Body (2009), where there were people making aus of that movie with mainly MALE characters which downplays the whole message and plot of the god damn movie and it’s so ughhh

anyways sorry I took so long to get to this ask but everything you said is extremely true and I’m glad you brought attention to it!

also btw RADFEMS AND TERFS FUCK OFF THIS POST IS NOT FOR YOU

#asks 💌#feminism #tw misogyny #intersectionalfeminist #radfems dni #terfs dni #anti radfem #anti terf #tw transmysoginy

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ervona · 9 months

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Day 4: Mortal / Sanctuary for @tes-summer-fest

The king was dead. He was not the first Nordic tyrant to burn, though he was one of the few living–or unliving–men to receive such a simplified Dunmeri funeral. His killer wasn’t quite living either, but one was ash scattered over the sea, and the other was just floating face-down among the ice floes; a twist on the usual Morndas.

Fingers frozen around something of great value, hands buried in the pockets he’d sewn into his robe, he washed ashore like driftwood. He trawled for a place to crawl into before the fiendish court fluttered out in the guise of bats and carried him up, up and away. Back to the castle, where sneers had dissolved in their overflowing toasts to him. One who had crept out of their king’s shadow only for a moment necessary to assert himself for the first time. Why, he was a master of subterfuge, who’d had them all fooled. That and having taken it by force earned him the seat at the head of the blood-soaked table.

Thus he ran away.

Not straight away–he had some decorum left in him–but after the excessive celebration of new leadership that he was already set on shirking. He’d been unnoticeable for years and was fortunate he still had that in him too, for he could slink out of the hall and pack necessities for travel, which he checked three times. With that slung over his shoulder he snuck out quiet as a mouse, taking care not to look back, and made for one of the rowboats beached on the rocks.

In another story, the old king’s daughter and heir would have chased him far and wide beyond the water’s edge, torn him apart and marked her coronation with his entrails. Fortunately, she held her father in scorn moreso than anyone at that court had. A far better leader she would make. She had no love for him either, nor hate, nothing but the tepid exasperation any princess would feel towards her father’s sycophant.

He’d packed all he would ever need including enough blood potions to last him until he could attempt to brew his own, but most important of all a darksome gem now holding the soul of an ancient. Plucked from its master and thrown into the garden of a vengeful wife, its purpose lay in a ritual detailed in one of the dusty tomes that filled much of the boat. The castle faded from the horizon, leaving only the sea and a frightfully giddy vampire rowing southward.

Well, soon to be former vampire. “If I know anything at all, it’s how to strike up a deal. Isn’t that so, lord?” he called out to the sea-bird that had perched on him. Holding the oars down for but a moment, he palmed at his pocket, then the other one, then at each board of the accursed boat until bottles were cracking and papers were flying, landing on the surface of the water with unseen grace. At his back, the myriad lights of Jehanna’s dockside glimmered within reach.

“Where is it? Where…” He tried to detect traces of magic, peeled off his robes, lifted each and every piece of trash that encircled him, cried and howled and shrieked in the manner that had spurred sailors in the night to spin tales of sea beasts beyond comprehension.

For all those plans he’d devised over many sleepless days, his great caper of souls, to swindle the Lord of Coldharbour with his own servant’s soul withheld, unable to reach its destination before another soul was freed. What was left, a fool on a piece of driftwood who ought to have been claimed by frostbite. Who couldn’t go back now, nay, nor forward nor back. But he enjoyed the idea of life far too much, and was the world not full of souls who deserved it less?

“That’s it!” He leapt up, almost capsizing for the third or so time. Imagining himself at fulmost charm that only existed in his mind’s eye, by his soon to be outworn aptness for glamour he spake and made it truly so. “This life I shall reclaim in one way or another.”

Jehanna lay in a bay encircled by snowy mountains, in appearance not unlike cities to the east, colorful amidst the cold with sharp and steep roofs slicing the air. Its port enveloped the whole bay, by its secluded nature a sanctuary for all sorts of ne'er-do-wells. Nothing like him, though, the folk here would only bleed the valuables and trinkets alike out of one’s pockets.

Freshly glamoured, he stopped to admire the finest scion of Morrowind nobility for long enough that the seller of scavenged tableware yelled at him to buy or leave. Her arrogance would cost her a customer–not him, as he was rather low on coin anyway. Down by where larger vessels docked, a group of sailors were merrymaking like it was Saturalia. He understood them well enough, having been on the sea for but a day, and such a sordid day.

“Tredayn?”

It was rare enough that someone called his name, and rarer that it wasn’t tinged with bloodthirst. He turned around, twice around in fact, until a tall, well-dressed mer appeared to be speeding towards him. Momentary confusion gave way to disbelief, some kind of joy. In that very moment, both of them recognized their mother’s features.

“Azura, Mephala, and Boethia… Mavus?”

“You got it on fourth guess,” he guffawed, one hand pressed to his forehead as if running a fever. Then his brow creased, and a needle-sharp unease came upon Tredayn. “I don’t know where to start, but I suggest we head to my ship if you value whatever’s in your pockets.”

Tredayn followed, admiring each decorated prow, wondering which one belonged to his brother–well, half–and whatever it is that he did these days, more hoary than he remembered. Piracy seemed to be in fashion, but he couldn’t imagine his brother, stickler for rules as he was, doing that. The ship Mavus presented with pride as if he’d hewn it with his own hands–and perhaps he had–bore a terribly dull dragon head that Tredayn had seen more times than the sun in recent years.

“Lovely barge you have here. What do you do with it, still running supplies?”

“Oh, we’re pirates.” Mavus' thin mouth cracked into a smile just as thin, and far behind him dawn had started to break. “Joking, joking, you should have seen the look on your face!”

“I’ve not slept in so long, apologies... may I take a rest somewhere on board?” That gaze could cut the ropes on its own, but Mavus still showed him below deck. Captain’s quarters–his quarters!

For what they lacked in extravagance they made up for in comfort, which he supposed was the right way to go about things. Tredayn hadn't lied, he was too tired to think. But when he’d finished looking around the place, he spied a silver glint from the corner of his eye, and in a moment he was up on the ceiling, in the corner like a spider.

“What in the-” That was a silver blade, clear as day and utterly terrifying, moreso with how calm his brother’s face was.

“Tredayn, come down from there. I’m only checking.”

“Checking what? I hear you thinking now, surely I must have flinched at silver, rather than you pulling a knife at me!” He'd sharpened his own stake with that. Mavus shuffled through expressions, stunned.

“Well, if you hear me thinking, thank you for speaking in my stead.”

Vampires could not simply read minds in and of itself, but as with many of the myths around them, a grain of truth lay in it. Had he actually possessed the ability, this could have gone much better.

“Figure of speech. What is this about?”

“You tell me, with the way you went up, I suppose you’re a trained acrobat.” At least he had put away the knife, though the suspicion was going to be a harder bargain, no thanks to his own conduct.

“I am an ordinary mortal, so springy for I was born in springtime.”

“Morning Star the fi-”

“Oh, now you recall my birthday!”

“Enough.” Mavus covered his face with his hands, one eye peeking out ever still. “Come down, I’m not trying to hurt my brother, no matter what you’ve gotten yourself into now.”

Tredayn dropped with a cracking sound that ought to have marked the end of him but just left him sitting down somewhat askew. He collected himself and dusted off the robes that had been through so much, only to be pulled into a tight hug. Mavus sniffed, and he surely hadn’t been down with a cold. His brother’s embrace was safe, or he so wanted it to be, parched for care and all that was good in life.

The last person he’d hugged had allowed so only by hubris, perhaps confused before going up in flames. His searing flesh and unearthly shrieks lingered in the back of Tredayn’s mind. At the time, a part of him had been ready to burn as well, and the fear finally struck him in retrospect. If only for a moment, he felt not the burning wrath of his kin, but their protection, and held on to that as firmly as he could.

#tesfest23 #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #morrowind #tredayn dren #mavus ules #harkon and friends mentioned #not oc tag #i'm late sorry but minor npcs and my specific made up ideas for them yay #scrawling tag

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aegonbeingfakeisracist · 10 months

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If you were writing ASOIAF, what would you change about Aegon's story, both in its content and direction?

I find this an interesting question because we've really seen so little of him so far. So I'm going to ramble for a bit about his story and see if I come up with a conclusion.

One of the things I really enjoy about his story as it is right now is that his Rhoynish heritage is so present. They pass Nymeria's palace. He's on a boat with exiles of various forms. Everyone around him knows that they need Dorne. The surface is all the Targaryen side - he looks like Rhaegar, it's Rhaegar's friend that's been raising and guiding him, the original goal was for him to get to Dany, he's pursuing a claim through his father - but underneath that, his story is tied to his mother. All the references to Nymeria and the Rhoyne, the way he's ultimately going to meet with Arianne. So even though there's been so little of him so far, we get the impression of these layers to his identity.

In addition to this, Aegon is a cool character in his own right! He's friendly and likable and a compelling speaker. He gets along well with other people; he can convince people to follow his lead; he refuses to let harm befall Tyrion after Tyrion saves his life; he insists that he values Duck more than any knight of great renown and points out that Jaime Lannister had been that knight of renown. He's also prickly and argumentative and imperfect - he argues with people trying to keep him safe; he lashes out at Tyrion in response to needling; he freezes up because he's never seen battle; he's got a chip on his shoulder and comes across as a man that feels he has something to prove.

Now, keeping all that in mind...Aegon is, like, weirdly well adjusted. We're talking about a guy whose mother and older sister were murdered that has never known a single member of his family, despite his mother's siblings and their children being alive and well, despite his paternal aunt and uncle famously alive and in Essos. He's been raised with the idea of going back and reclaiming a throne. His father figure undoubtedly cares for him, but he is obsessive and controlling and not someone who's guiding him with clear eyes. And yet, he's just...living life, wandering around on a boat, trusting easily and seemingly not dwelling on the past.

To some degree, that makes sense - relatively speaking, he's been in a psychologically safer environment than other characters. It's not like he was in, say, Dany's shoes with a volatile and violent older brother pushing her into situations. But overall, I think it's a wasted opportunity, because psychologically safe is not synonymous with devoid of complexity. With so many other characters, we see the impacts of the past on them. Jon, despite having never known his mother, is heavily influenced by that absence. So Aegon, who has never known his mother or sister as people, but knows about their brutal murders, should be so influenced by that. Since we have no insight into his own thoughts, we don't know if he is or isn't, though.

So I think really what I would change is the amount of emphasis on why he's doing what he's doing. Why does he want the throne? What does the prospect of meeting Arianne mean to him? How does it affect him that people don't believe his story? What are his thoughts on the Mountain, on Tywin Lannister, on all these people that knew or could have known his family? I brought up his line about how "the Kingslayer was a warrior of great renown, and the son of a great lord as well" earlier, but I think it's worth reiterating: that is an insane line to leave at just that.

It would be one thing if that were, say, to have come up as a point of contention between Catelyn and Robb. In that case, it's just this famous event that sparked Jaime's notoriety. But it's Aegon that says it. Aegon, the grandson of the king referenced in the Kingslayer nickname. Aegon, whose mother and sister were being murdered while Jaime was sitting on the throne. Aegon values loyalty above all else because of this action - it's personal to him in a way it's not to anyone else. So how does he feel about not just Jaime, but everyone else involved? Why, in this world where entire families are held to account for the actions of one member, does he not have negative feelings towards Tyrion?

We haven't seen enough of him for me to know what I'd want to change, but I think this is what I'd want to see: what is actually driving him to make the decisions he does. Thanks for asking!

#A Song of Ice and Fire #Aegon VI Targaryen #starbright91 #replies

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neurotypical-sonic · 1 year

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Alright, spill your thoughts about Prime!Tails before the show comes out

Anon what have you unleashed. All of this is spoiler free because I haven't seen the first episode yet.

First thought: I love him I would die for him he makes my chest hurt

More coherent thoughts: he's obviously a little older; he's a little bigger, not as childlike proportions, dark colouring on his ears etc etc. Baby boy's growing up. But it's heartbreaking because it means he's been alone for that much longer, and the fact that he's been dealing with this abuse for so much longer than what og!Tails did.

Without Sonic there to save him from the bullies, he had no one, absolutely no friends or support - I don't know where Amy and Knuckles are in all this, but even if they have never met before, the fact that NO ONE ELSE in Tails' life has been there for him is heartbreaking, not even a brief positive interaction with a stranger. Yes, Sonic has always been the first to stand up for him, but the implication that just Sonic was been the only one willing to give Tails a chance, and because he didn't no one else did... man.

In Sonic's world it kinda makes sense he was the first to protect Tails? He met Tails when he was four, and you can tell by how Sonic told his story that he wasn't really seeing the gravity of the situation. They were just silly bullies being mean, so he chased them off. It's. Not great but you can understand his reasoning, because it looked like stupid school yard bullying. Most adults don't take that seriously, and pass it off as kids being kids or harmless teasing. Sonic got Tails out of that situation, so it's fine now (I'm not trying to say schoolyard bullying isn't a big deal, I'm saying this from Sonic's pov)! And Sonic was always there to support Tails afterwards, help him heal from it, so it IS a thing from the past for him. Not insignificant, but also not a huge deal.

But for Prime!Tails that never happened, Sonic never stood up for him, and it didn't stop at schoolyard bullying. It only got worse and worse. This Tails is bitter and resentful and angry because he HAS to be, it's the only way he could've survived. Flight wasn't working out anymore, he couldn't wait any longer for help, so he switched to fight. He's never had anyone else in his life to keep him going, to give him hope, so the only thing he's got is his anger and spite, that's the only thing getting him through the days. No one was there to teach him any healthy coping mechanisms, to help him see his self worth, to make him see he's not a freak. He's been ALONE this entire time and I'm losing my mind!!!

And so he's sort of reclaimed the whole freak thing. He stresses the fact that he was abused for having ONE extra tail, and so he made himself seven more, made them his greatest invention and in your face and uses them as weapons and defends himself with them. You're gonna call him a freak for having two tails?? Check mate bitch he's got nine now and he's ready to maim. Also the fact that he's only ever seemed to invent out of necessity, only making things to protect himself and give him an edge and not anything just for fun and just because he could does something to my heart.

So he's got all these emotional walls up to protect himself, has survived his way for however many years, and then Sonic comes along and acts all friendly and immediately Tails lashes out because of COURSE he thinks it's a trick, it's some ploy to hurt him. He has learnt again and again that nobody cares about him. I'm very quickly running out of energy and my words are getting jumbled in my head hang on

So he lashes out at Sonic, refuses to believe him, but all it takes is a few words and Tails is hesitating. He's refusing to even acknowledge that Sonic could be telling the truth because it HURTS, someone possibly caring about him is so fucking painful. However. This is SONIC, no matter the universe they have this unbreakable bond. This is Sonic reaching out and Tails can't help but tentatively reach back because it's universal law that they have each others' backs. Tails can't fight that.

I talk about this specific moment here a bit more in depth, but to quickly repeat: Tails' walls start breaking down real fast and despite every cell in his being screaming against it, he starts to trust Sonic, and let his guard down and be vulnrable. He went from "I don't need ANYONE, nobody has friends and I want nothing more than for you to fuck off and leave me alone" to "tell me more about us. tell me more about how we're friends" REAL fucking quickly.

He WANTS to be the Tails Sonic's talking about. He wants that for himself so bad, he wants to have had someone there for when he was younger, and I'm once again repeating myself from a different post, but: him saying “so what else did we do” is even more heartbreaking when you think about how he said it - what else did WE do. not you and this other tails, but ME and you. something something so desperate for crumbs of love and care that he’s willing to settle for second hand friendship.

AND THE WAY HE SMILES AT SONIC AT THE END OF THE CLIP...... It's so genuine and hopeful and!! FUCK!!!!!!!

I do have more to say but I've reached my limit and I'm really struggling for words. I can't wait until it comes out I can't wait to see how they explore their relationship.

#damn i wish I could write this much when im trying to write fic #wait let me check the word count on this #985 words #ask #anon #egg.txt #sonicposting #sonic prime #tails #I havent proof read this sorry for any bullshit #nine the fox

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