#(so apparently I was old enough to be allowed to have *some* opinions)

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[cesium-sheep]

when I was little, alternating weekends and holidays read to me like a 50/50 deal between my parents, which was probably because mom was a workaholic and never spent a second of time at home that she didn't have to on weekdays anyway. and then as I got older I spent a lot of weekday afternoons at dad's anyway because his house was much closer to my school and all my friends, but he was working nights so he was usually asleep most of that time and I still had to go back to mom's in the evenings. (I tried using this convenience of proximity as weight to negotiate to move in with him instead once. she had a screaming crying meltdown about how I don't love her and I never asked again.)

but being court-allotted 96 hours out of every 672 (14%) with a handful of bonus days throughout the year is uh. not half. it's very not half. even if we subtract school and sleeping that becomes 64 of 288 (22%). he really got fucked over trying to reach escape velocity huh.

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC Au: Normally when Danny vandalizes ancient cave walls and historic places on his 'favor' missions for Clockwork, he gets sent back to erase them. But no, apparently this time, when Danny added his actual phone number into some painting, he's not allowed to go back and fix it. Ugh.

...

Tim has had the painting of Bruce professionally reviewed a few times since the old Bat was retrieved from the time stream. He's not entirely sure how the painting still exists, he's not even sure that it matters any more... But one day Tim catches something new in the painting.

It was small, and it could've just been the light at first but... Is that a phone number in the background?? It looks like black marker on the black curtains and it makes him feel feral. The family is kinder this time about how they think he's gone crazy- but each one of them admit that they can't remember a phone number ever being present.

The lab reports that the number was added over the paint- and that it's an ink based marking akin to a sharpie but like, hundreds of years old. So... It's been added recently but not at all recently enough for Tim to have an explanation.

Tim doesn't want to hear any more of his family members opinions on the matter and he certainly isn't going to just, stop investigating or something stupid like that. So, he takes the painting to the tower, gathers his team (Cassie, Kon and Bart), and they call the number in the middle of the night after a lot of planning/back-and-forth/catastrophizing.

It doesn't answer until the final ring, and the static that comes through the phone is bone chilling. A deep, monstrous groan which echoed with agony fills the room.

"I have a math test in like, three hours, who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you calling in the middle of the night?" The voice now complains, still sounding vaguely inhuman despite it's very human word choices.

"Your number is in a historical painting, we had a few questions but uh, you can call us back later?" Tim cringes as he says it but he hadn't planned on having to reply to someone trying to go back to bed. Or someone who was apparently also a teenager. (He had so, so many contingency plans for like, every kind of villain, alien or demon. lame.)

"...Ugh. might as well." The voice calls out, agreeing with a sigh that echos so deeply the team can feel it in their bones.

"Cool. Good luck on your test?" Tim offers.

"Mph." And the line hangs up.

...

Danny is at lunch with Sam and Tucker when he remembers the late night call. He'd spent the morning bitching about never getting a full night of sleep and it finally occurred to him what had happened. Of course his friends think it's hilarious that CW wouldn't let him erase his number. Of course they do.

They stop laughing when Danny calls the number back.

"Hello, this is Red Robin of Gotham. I have Superboy, Wonder girl and Impulse present with me. How did your math test go?"

[yunofreak]

During my 685' watch I realised something. During part 1 Pen flees 3 times during a ball. But there's an interesting storytelling with those escapes. Let me explain.

The first escape takes place during the first ball of the season at Lady Danbury's house. This ball was an opportunity for her to show off her new look. And although she initially gets the intended effect, it later becomes apparent that the exterior alone is not enough. Pen is unsure of herself and doesn't know how to talk to potential suitors. She is all alone. Colin has let her down, Eloise has turned on her, and the only person who showed her a shred of sympathy at the ball - Francesca - has also been forced to leave her on her own, due to social norms. Pen continues to be a wallflower. And the ball itself ends with her being humiliated by Cressida (nothing new). Upon her escape, the only person who reacts is, of course, Colin. Unfortunately, after Pen finally explains to him why she doesn't want to speak to him, our traveller is so shocked and embarrassed that he simply has to watch her leave.

The second escape takes place at The Full Moon Ball. Pen feels much more at ease there than before. Her relationship with Colin is in a good place again and her interactions with potential suitors are not as disastrous as before. Colin has already given her a bit of confidence which she uses efficiently. Plus he is always somewhere around to make her laugh and give her encouragement. She is no longer completely alone. Unfortunately when the information that Colin is helping her find a husband gets out, she is once again completely embarrassed. All eyes are on her and not for a good reason. She feels cornered and so she runs away. And once again Colin is the only person who reacts, but Pen is too stunned to notice that he is following her. He starts at least, but despite his earlier statements, COLIN IS BOTHERED by the opinions of others. And above all, he still doesn't fully understand his feelings for Pen, so he's not determined enough to stop her. Instead, he confronts Eloise (who instinctively also rushed after Pen) for revealing the secret he asked her to keep. Unfortunately, because of this confrontation, they are both left in a situation where they just allow Pen to leave once again. She leaves alone and in shame once again.

The third time tho...

The Queen's ball. Penelope was sure Lord Debling would propose to her that evening. It was a turning point. She had to abandon her old self that evening - her feelings for Colin and her dream of marrying for love, to avoid ending up as a spinster and to finally gain some acceptance and respect from her mother, sisters and society. But Colin ruined those plans for her and caused her to find herself at square one again - without love and/or friendship. Rejected, humiliated and with no acceptance or understanding from her family. Once again she is on the run, alone. Except this time it is not the same. COLIN LOVES HER and as he watches her depart once again, he knows he cannot possibly let it slide. He literally runs after her, even though he could just take his carriage and follow her. No - he needs to make sure that he catches her and that she understands that she's not alone and doesn't have to escape anymore. That he will be by her side, and that he will never let her feel completely alone in this world.

I am most certainly not crying right now..

[gotranting]

The push - Remus Lupin x female reader

I want to keep my stories on one blog. This is the same story as from my main tumblr, in case you come across it again.

The idea is...imagine Remus witnessing that your patronus has changed its form.

I'm missing older Remus stories, and I need to scroll way down to find them. Tumblr refreshes every so often and brings me to the first post. So I had enough and wrote a few things. Once again, maybe someone will like it...enjoy if you do <3. I plan on making a part two (one day...), and we'll see how that goes.

There are no warnings, except a larger age gap.

Imagine Remus seeing that your patronus has changed its shape. You were surprised as well. Whatever has been going on between you two was never given a name other than friendship. A denial of feelings is what I would call it.

For Remus it was also a feeling of not being enough for you. Of being too old for you. What could he possibly give you, he thought. Living from one paycheck to another? Never knowing where you will live next month? Having to suffer all sorts of slurs and insults once people found out he was the creature you chose as your partner? You had a life in front of you. He would not let you waste it.

And yourself? Apparently you were both presuming how the other would react without even asking for the other's opinion. There was a different pattern of thought in your mind, Of course you would not allow him to settle for you. Remus could do better than that. What could you possibly offer him? See, you believed that all your conversations were on surface level (they were not). You thought that once he would try to get to know you on a deeper level...he would find nothing there (Sirius teased him over how enamoured he looked every time you spoke). You did not see much worth in yourself at all. Oh, yes you hid that well. But, if you saw no worth in yourself, how could you possibly believe anyone else would find any. Remus would have spent hours proving you wrong if he knew. Just as you would spend hours proving him wrong.

There was another problem. To be with him would require of you to open up. And that thought alone frightened you. Yes, you two might have spent hours talking about everything. Or nothing sometimes. So, it is strange that it suddenly became something to fear. But perhaps for many it is not strange at all. Anyhow. If you suffered with such thoughts, why would you put Remus through all of that as well? He deserved someone better for himself.

Strange how similar you both were in that regard.

Well, apparently denial of feelings is how it would be between the two. Without a push, nothing would happen except longing gazes, and too long embraces when one came back safe from a mission. Or throwing oneself in front of the other to defend them against a dozen of dementors. It was the strongest patronus you ever casted. A bear that tore down every dementor which tried to get to Remus. Some got to you. Not many. But at least, Remus was safe.

As for that push - Well it just so happened, there was no need for long waiting. It's strange how fate works yes? I wish Umbridge had nothing to do to contribute to this, but sadly she did in a way. After coming to Hogwarts, she did a marvelous job at teaching the students absolutely nothing. With Voldemort returning, the students were vulnerable if there was no one to teach them how to properly defend themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione had a brilliant idea. Dumbledore's army. Not everyone believed the Ministry's lies. Soon there was quite a few students joining the initiative.

All in all they planned it quite well. But it was always good to get a second opinion. So, when Harry came to the Grimmauld place, it only felt right to ask the three residents of the house for assistance. Sirius was there constantly. He didn't need any convincing. Spending time with Harry, breaking some school rules, aiding in fighting Voldemort...and getting to call Umbridge a cunt as much as he liked. ...He would have done so regardless. But still.

Remus was there at the insistence of Sirius. The last few months have been difficult after his previous colleagues found out what he was. He defended himself when a hex came his way before he left that shop. See, even with witnessing that, he still thought of himself as a monster. After Sirius found out, he would have it no other way than Remus staying with him. And if the previous coworker somehow got too ill from eating one of Fred and George's experiments well...the twins left their things around constantly. It was an honest accident.

The girl? Well, she had a home of her own. Small place. Hidden. Cozy and simple. Sirius insisted here as well. She didn't know why exactly. And she couldn't be at Grimmauld all the time. But she did stop by as often as she could. After finding out about the hexing, it was more than other members of the Order. Good thing that Sirius handled it (it was an accident I swear), or she would have used something far more darker.

With Harry's arrival it was the four of them in the house. Planning which spells would be the most useful ones to teach. Considering they had cleaned the attic, it was as good a place as any to let Harry practice those spells with their supervision. That way he could get a better feeling on what should he pay attention to.

Spell by spell. Expelliarmus. Reducto. Stupefy. Expecto patronum. The push.

„I think that is a break for me. Anyone wants some tea?“ Sirius asked after an hour of dueling. James would be so proud of Harry. Remus was leaning back on one of the tables observing it all. Your dog was begging for food so you kept to the sidelines as well.

„I'm going back in three days. There is no time for breaks. I cannot let them down.“ Harry on the other hand was not backing down. He would not let anyone be unprepared. He would not let anyone lose a friend in front of their eyes. He needed to practice more.

„Harry, you will not be able to teach them anything if you fall unconscious from exhaustion.“

„Then I need to practice more, to endure as much as I can. The death eaters won't stop because I am tired. Voldemort will kill someone else while I am catching my breath!“

The others could only look at each other. One way or another, he would continue. With or without them. So it was decided, that while Sirius went to get tea, they'd practice something other than dueling. It was your time to step to the centre of the room. You agreed that you would cast the patronus. You would make random mistakes, which Harry would have to notice and correct properly. Remus would give him advice in case he missed something.

Considering she did well when casting a full bodied patronus, she didn't think there would be anything unexpected. First try, she moved her hand in a slightly different direction, which Harry noticed quickly. Second time, she didn't cast a powerful enough memory. Harry gave her some ideas. He would do well, they knew it. Third time, she decided to allow for some wisps to flow from the wand. Still not strong enough. Even here, Harry would give words of encouragement. She thought she saw Remus softly smiling in the corner of her eyes. She thought of that. The last time she saw him like that. It was after the Full Moon. Despite Wolfsbane, she found him pale in bed, wrapped up in blankets. With tea on his bedside table, she put a vinyl on. He mentioned he was fond of Cohen. He was a favourite of his mum's. A muggle store had that vinyl. She didn't have to think twice.

He mentioned that vinyl around six months ago.

If he had more strength in him, he'd get up and carry her with him to his bed in that moment. Nothing sexual. Just to hug her closer. To kiss her on the forehead. To nudge his nose to hers, until she gazed at him with that look. A look which left him thinking that it did not matter at all to her that he was a werewolf. Or 17 years older than her. Poor. Broken. At that moment he would know there was more to him. He'd nudge her nose once again until she blushed. Then he would press his lips to hers. And she would brush the hair away from his forehead. No, they would not let each other go. If only he had more strength. And courage.

She thought of him at that moment. At how she still managed to make him laugh to tears, even after that Full Moon. At how they both hummed to the songs. At what could be. The wisps got stronger this time. She saw the outlines of paws, only they were smaller this time. Strange. The whole bear seemed to be a bit smaller than it usually was. Remus's smile faltered, as he noticed what creature was forming in the room. The realisation was slowly dawning on her as well. It was not the bear she has come to expect, it was a wolf. She could lie to herself only so many times, but here was the proof. Right in front of him. A wolf making a circle around Harry. Coming to greet her dog. Harry was busy looking at the beautiful creature to notice two figures standing frozen in the room.

And sure, he hoped that it was him this wolf represented. She would not stop lying to herself, but she still hoped he understood now. What did each of them see though? He saw her carefree look fading. He saw her standing rigid in the centre. Was she ashamed? Angry? What if the wolf was not connected to him at all? He didn't want to meddle in her love life. If only to hide the jealousy of which he had no right to feel. What if there was someone with whom she felt as comfortable as she had with him the night that vinyl played. He had no right to wish it was him alone who would get to see her like that.

She saw him straightening up. She saw his smile fade. The clenched jaw. He was angry. A girl, barely out of Hogwarts fell in love with him. Just what he needed.

Sirius came up with tea. She was quick to apologize, saying all the practice made her a bit dizzy. Remus still stood next to the table. After a moment he excused himself as well. One could sense something went wrong.

„I suppose no one is in the mood for tea anymore. What happened here?“

„I'm not sure. The patronus appeared and right after they both left.“

A push needed to happen. However, that push can move events in any direction. Sirius had no idea what had transpired in that room. But he would do his best to find out.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Bake Sale

Husband!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When Grogu brings news of an upcoming Bake Sale hosted by the little school he attends between missions with the New Republic on Nevarro, his father enthusiastically throws himself into baking the the sweetest treats to impress his classmates. Din's devotion to the task makes you feel like there is a third person in your marriage as he constantly asks for your opinions on recipe combinations. Still, you are nevertheless charmed by his determination. Ultimately, while the fruits of his labour are delicious, you soon discover that Din Djarin's love is the sweetest treat of them all…

Word Count:  3.8k ✯ Rating:  General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, but apart from that, fluff (and cakes) so sweet they might rot your teeth! ✯ Author's Note: Took me like a month, but I finally got around to finishing this fluffy little baking oneshot inspired by a conversation I had with the lovely @suresnips about Din being a chaotic but enthusiastic baker! This one is also dedicated to you, Senna. Thank you for all of your help on TBOBW, much appreciated! Anyway it was a DELIGHT to imagine Din doing something so sweet and soft, now that he finally has his own home. I would love to explore more of this in the future! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Din Djarin is a man who throws himself into any task with every atom of his being. Your riduur’s determination is never more apparent than when said task is for the benefit of someone he loves.

You have been privileged enough to observe Din’s love language firsthand and experienced how his love is all-encompassing, absolute and unconditional without suffocating. You know that if Din truly cares about someone, he will stop at nothing, no matter how tall the task, to improve their lives and ensure their happiness, even if the task demands everything of him for only a fractional improvement in their lives in return. 

That fact is particularly evident when it comes to his son.

Since their first meeting on Arvala-7, Din has been wrapped around each of Grogu’s tiny green talons. The hulking Mandalorian would do anything to ensure his boy’s contentment. 

Lately, that pursuit of Grogu’s happiness involves an activity utterly alien to Din—baking. 

Training his son in the ways of being a Mandalorian is important to Din. A task he has thrown himself into with the absolute devotion it requires. 

However, it is also important to Din that Grogu mixes with other children and learns how others view the galaxy. Din has told you on numerous occasions that he wants Grogu to be the best Mandalorian possible. 

Yet, even more than being a great warrior, it is more important to Din that he brings his son up to have a well-rounded perspective. 

After all, Din would never want Grogu to swear the Creed when he is old enough because it was the only path his father ever showed him. Din is determined to ensure that Grogu wants to be Mandalorian. 

Din is also in the unique position of raising a child who is actually older than him. As such, Din is not blind to the fact that Grogu’s lifespan will be far longer than his. There will come a time when Grogu has to fend for himself. Din wants to ensure that his boy is well prepared for that eventuality. He wants to ensure Grogu is well prepared for the multitude of fates and destinies which possibly await him throughout the galaxy.

That is precisely why Din insists on sending Grogu to the local school on Nevarro whenever there is a gap between their missions with the New Republic. It allows Grogu to be around other children, while also granting you and Din the opportunity to spend some precious time alone together. 

For the few hours that Grogu spends at school each day, you and Din enjoy time together without a mischievous toddler running around and causing mischief. 

However, as soon as Grogu returns from school, Din’s attention is fully turned towards his boy. You love watching Din as he dutifully helps Grogu with whatever projects or homework he brings home from the small school which Grogu attends whenever there is a gap in the steady stream of jobs that flow in from the New Republic. 

You are eager to see how Din is progressing with the task you left him in the middle of when you departed the small cabin you share near the lava flats to pick Grogu up from the repurposed Cantina in the centre of town. 

Din had been busy weighing out the ingredients to make Uj’alayi or Uj cakes, a Mandalorian delicacy that Grogu will take for his school’s Bake Sale. You are eager to see his progress when you arrive home. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greets you in the cabin’s small kitchen when you return home, however.

You and Grogu can barely stifle your giggles as you notice how the shine of Din’s gleaming beskar armour has been dulled drastically by the flour that, somehow, Din has managed to cake himself in from head to toe. 

“Oh, hi there, you two!” Din exclaims, slightly flustered at your presence, “Wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon!”

“Patu!” Grogu chirps from your arms and nods towards the chronometer on the wall above the stove. 

You smirk at the child’s sassiness, a trait he has learned well from his father. 

“Sorry, pal, I must have lost track of time,” Din apologetically shrugs. 

It is not the first time that Din has unintentionally let time get away from him. Baking the perfect Uj cake for Grogu’s upcoming Bake Sale has consumed Din’s every waking thought for the past few days. You and the little boy who brought home the assignment have served as Din’s tasters, checking each combination of ingredients until he settles on one that he is happy with. 

A few hours later, after dinner, it is a role you find yourself fulfilling once again. 

Usually, you and Din would spend quality time with Grogu, either inside or outside the cabin; mainly in an attempt to wear him out so he settles in his bunk without much fuss.

Tonight, however, as evening descends across Nevarro, you are alone with the tiniest member of Clan Mudhorn. Din has once again excused himself to the kitchen, mumbling something about how he needs to get the combination of nuts and dried fruits just right so that the sticky batter is not overwhelmed and weighed down by the fillings.

You would never have considered Din to be a baker when you first met him. You would certainly never have imagined he would throw himself into the pastime with as much enthusiasm as he has. 

Grogu’s task has seemingly reawakened the passion for baking that had lay dormant for some time. He told you it reminded him of his childhood, and you had learned that food played an integral role in Mandalorian culture. 

Despite his imposing demeanour, you have been privileged to see Din’s softer side evident beneath his armour. As you grew closer to him, you learned that he not only enjoyed baking and cooking but also tended to the assortment of plants he was cultivating in the fertile volcanic Nevarrian soil on his tract of land. 

Your husband is a man of multitudes, and Din continues to surprise you each day. 

As he does, once again, when he stands in the cabin's doorway and softly calls your name. His familiar deep voice travels through the warm Nevarrian evening towards the spot by the pond where you have crouched next to Grogu, who is enjoying his favourite pastime, levitating frogs. 

“I’ll be right back, pal. I think your father wants me to be a test subject for his latest creation,” you say as you playfully roll your eyes at Grogu, who responds with a giggle. 

You cannot help but smile as you return to the cabin, amused by Din’s determination to create the perfect Uj cake. Despite how endearing it is, you cannot help but be somewhat relieved the Bake Sale is tomorrow. If only because you fear the toll it is taking on your husband’s sanity. And his bank balance. 

Even though he is one of the New Republic’s most valuable employees with the wage to match, you fear you may have to take on debt to keep up with Din’s supply of ingredients. 

You hold your breath as you enter the cabin, mentally preparing yourself for the sight you that will greet you after Din’s latest attempt at baking. 

Fortunately, the kitchen is mostly clean. 

The same cannot be said of the man who occupies it. 

Din’s mouth is smeared with batter from his creations. His dark hair, which curls slightly at the ends, is stood up in every direction as though he has been furiously running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. Your gaze travels down his body. You notice that he has changed into comfortable cotton clothes. It is an outfit you know is supposed to be cream-coloured, but in reality, Din's garments are stained with various shades of brown from the Uj cake batter.

You cannot stop and gawp at him any longer as Din motions for you to come closer to him. A giggle escapes from somewhere in your chest. You are so endeared by his determination to perfect the recipe. 

“Try this, cyar’ika,” Din rasps as he holds the wooden spoon covered in a dark, lumpy batter towards your lips. 

Din watches as you lick the batter from the spoon he is holding. You savour the sweet flavours as they dance across your tongue, forming your opinions with a thoughtful expression. When you look at Din again, you see his eyes momentarily darkened with an emotion you might even consider lust. It marks the first time he has allowed himself to think of anything except crafting the perfect Uj’alayi for the past few days. 

Before the moment can continue, Grogu chirps from behind the two of you. In response, you and Din hurriedly jump apart as though you have been caught in a compromising position rather than the entirely innocent gesture of tasting the batter. 

The child whines unimpressed at the sight of his buirs dedicating more attention to the Uj cakes than towards him. To keep him happy, you scoop Grogu up into your arms and take him to the fresher for a bath before you put him down to sleep. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

With Grogu finally tucked up between a mountain of plushies, you wander through the narrow hallway of the cabin in the direction of the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, Din is still hunched over the countertop, working on the Uj’alayi. 

“Din, it’s getting late,” you sigh, gesturing towards the chronometer, much like Grogu had hours before. 

“Just one more batch!” Din pleads, turning towards you with a frenzied look across his features. 

You shake your head and let out an exasperated sigh, simultaneously amused and concerned by his antics. Din throws himself into everything with nothing less than one hundred per cent devotion, so you know better than to fight him on this matter.

Slipping beneath the blankets on your own is a lonely, miserable experience. You are used to it when Din is away, of course. But it is a strange sensation to know he is here in the cabin, and yet he is unable to be here with you. 

Too devoted to baking to cuddle you.

You sigh forlornly at the emptiness next to you, a stark reminder of Din’s absence. Hoping that sleep, instead, will cocoon you in its warm embrace…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The other half of the bunk is still empty and ice cold to the touch when your eyelids flutter open sometime later. When you reach out to feel for him, the frigidity of the bunk beneath your fingertips makes it obvious that Din has not joined you. His absence is confirmed when your eyes finally focus and recognise the light streaming in from the hallway outside.

Din is still up in the kitchen. You groan, far too comfortable and warm to truly want to leave. Still, the buckethead’s well-being is somehow more important than your own.

You pad down the hallway towards the kitchen, groggily rubbing your eyes as you go. As expected, Din is still furiously mixing the batter.

“Din, have you seen the time?” you ask exasperatedly. Despite the late hour, Din is determined to perfect the recipe ahead of the Bake Sale. 

“I have to get it perfect,” he mutters, shaking his head in exasperation as he looms over the mixing bowl. 

“Darling, you look exhausted,” you whisper against Din’s neck as you wrap your hands around his waist, looking concernedly at the dark bags underneath his eyes as you pepper kisses along his neck. 

It might be a shameless attempt to seduce him. At least it would get him into your bunk. Still, Din is too hyper-focused on baking to acknowledge your advances.

“I’m fine,” he huffs, continuing to mix the batter, “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head and retreat, knowing when you are not wanted. You know that Din will make it up to you and apologise once the Bake Sale is over. Although if he offers to bake you something to make up for his behaviour over the past few days, you may resort to using one of his weapons against him… 

You drift off for the second time, fantasising about which blaster from his armoury you would turn your hand to first…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

When the alarm sounds next to your bed the next morning you thrust a clumsy hand towards the buttons to turn it off. You immediately notice that you are, once again, alone.

Din is nowhere to be seen.

It is a miracle that he hasn’t burned the cabin down.

Before waking Grogu up, you decide to see what kind of condition his silly buir is in. The rage that burns in your belly is extinguished the second you make it to the kitchen and lay eyes upon the adorable sight before you.

The golden light streaming in through the windows illuminates the entire room, where Din is slumped over the kitchen table, surrounded by plates piled high with Uj cakes. You shake your head and smile at him, not wanting to wake him just yet.

You busy yourself by getting Grogu up and ready for school, which is easier said than done, considering how lazy the child can be at times. 

When you return to the kitchen, you place a soft kiss on Din’s forehead. He stirs slightly, warm brown eyes flecked with honey in the sunlight and as thick with sleep as Uj’alayi batter. 

“Come on, sleepyhead,” you grin when Din finally focuses on you, “We need to leave for the Bake Sale in a few minutes.”

While Din dashes to the fresher and hurriedly pulls his beskar’gam on, you carefully pack up the Uj cakes. Grogu watches you, doing his best impression of a Porg as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, desperate for a taste of the sweet snack.

“You can have one later, Grogu,” you tell him, tone firm. 

You ignore Grogu’s whines as Din reappears, fully armoured and ready for the Bake Sale. Enthusiastic, despite how little he has slept.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The enthusiasm gives way to darker emotions when you and Din finally make it to the town centre of Nevarro.

As you begin setting up your stall, it appears that the other parents at Grogu’s school have not taken the assignment as seriously as your household. Most of them, it transpires, have used self-rising mixtures to hastily contribute to the Bake Sale. A fact that disappoints you as you watch them setting up their respective stalls, ready for the children to take over shortly.

Only Din had taken the task seriously, a fact that fills you with pride rather than embarrassment. How lucky are you to have someone as dedicated and driven as your riduur?

Despite how much more impressive your wares are than other stalls, the flow of customers is slow at first. Not helped by the fact that every unfortunate soul who comes to examine the Uj’alayi gets a lecture on their origins from an overly enthusiastic, sleep-deprived Mandalorian. 

When Grogu and his classmates appear to take over from their parents, you and Din make yourselves scarce. It is their Bake Sale, after all. 

You are intent on enjoying the rest of the fair; by exploring the stalls, sampling the food and playing traditional games which have been set up by the children.

You begin wandering through the fair, appreciating the effort that has gone into each stall. The children deserve a better school building and you have no doubt the fair will raise enough money to move them out of the former cantina.

But, when you do not feel the presence of your riduur at your side, you halt in your tracks and look around for him as panic sets in. 

Being the only Mandalorian on Nevarro, Din is not difficult to spot. You discover him pacing up and down, arms behind his back and helmet tilted in the direction of the stall. Although you cannot see his face, you are fairly certain that anxiety lingers behind the blackness of his T-visor. 

“Din, why don’t we go and enjoy some of the other stalls?” you plead, hoping that Din will relax and enjoy what should have been a fun event. 

Din shakes his head, “Can’t,” he murmurs. 

“Standing and watching them is not going to make them sell any quicker,” you huff, growing increasingly exasperated by his antics.

“You go on, I’ll catch up to you,” Din murmurs as he waves you away absentmindedly.

“Please, Din,” you beg, reaching out to take his gloved hand in yours, forcing him to look at you, “You’ve been so preoccupied with those kriffing Uj’alayi, it’s like you’ve been having an affair! Now that they’re finally out of your hands, can’t we please spend some time together?” you plead, hating how desperate you sound.

Din stands there motionless for a few seconds. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice him clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, a mannerism of his that you have come to understand is a sign of anxiety. Your heart drops as you realise you have upset him.

“Of course, cyare,” Din finally breathes, clearly conciliatory and not annoyed as you had feared, “I'm sorry for neglecting you. Let's go."

Din follows you without hesitation.

You are ecstatic at finally having a chance to enjoy the delights of the fair. So much effort has been put into organising such an event by the people of Nevarro, and you are happy to support them.

The Mandalorian by your side seems less awed by the assortment of stalls, however. The various traditional games and food are tricky for Din to enjoy from behind his helmet.

There is one stall you suspect he may succeed at, however. 

Your eyes lock onto a high striker, a familiar game synonymous with fairs. You stand back, watching a man cockily sidle up towards the stall. After exchanging credits, he picks up a heavy mallet and nods towards the woman who accompanies him. You think you sense him straining under the weight slightly. Especially when he draws it back to strike the base of a tower with a heavy mallet.

The puck rises pathetically, not even managing a third of the tower's height. Yet, if struck with enough force, the puck would strike a bell and the competitor wins a prize.

You do not doubt that Din could win. 

“Din, why don’t you have a go?” you nod in the direction of the high striker.

Din looks towards the stall, as the man who just attempted it murmurs something about how they are rigged. You aren’t so sure, convinced that your hulking Mandalorian could win you a prize.

“Sure,” Din shrugs, clearly not fazed by such a challenge.

Unlike the cockiness of the previous contender, Din approaches the stall with his usual calm, understated confidence. You enjoy watching him swagger towards the man, getting a kick out of the fact he is all yours. 

After exchanging credits, Din picks up the mallet without a hint of strain, nodding towards you as he raises it above his head. Sure enough, when he brings it back down in one smooth movement and strikes the base of the tower, the puck seamlessly rises to the top and strikes the bell. Announcing Din’s victory to the entire fair with a ding, to which he receives a smattering of applause.

“Congratulations!” the stall owner chirps, “Which prize would you like?”

The man gestures towards a collection of brightly coloured plushies in various shapes and sizes. Your eyes roam across them, stunned by the collection. 

“I want that one,” Din nods without hesitation, pointing towards a bright green frog plushie. 

You smile, knowing precisely who that is for. Grogu can barely sleep in his cot as it is, but you have no doubt he will find room. Especially for a frog. 

Yet, Din is unable to bask in the glory of his victory for much longer. A familiar booming voice behind you soon causes both of you to turn around.

“Mando!” High Magistrate Greef Karga exclaims, “I hear your Uj’alayi went down a treat. Perhaps if your job with the New Republic does not work out, a future as a baker lies ahead of you,” the kindly old man chuckles as he brings a hand to clasp Din’s vambrace in greeting.

“Seriously?!” Din questions, clearly taken aback by the apparent success of his Uj’alayi. 

“All sold out! Before I even got a chance, can you believe that?” Greef smirks, “Perhaps you’ll have to bake me some?”

You cannot help the way your entire body tenses up at the thought of your kitchen once again being overtaken by Din baking. Still, as Greef disappears into the crowd, those thoughts are far from your mind as Din laces his fingers with yours. 

Now he has confirmation that the Uj’alayi were a hit, perhaps your husband will finally return to you.

As you stroll through the remainder of the stalls together, the sweet treats that Din had been so preoccupied with are far from your mind. The sweetest thing is being in his presence, proudly strolling around the Bake Sale and being unable to stop the feeling of pride that spreads through your chest at the knowledge this man is yours.

No matter how many passersby stare at him admiringly, Din Djarin’s heart belongs only to you. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later that evening, the two of you are standing in your kitchen back at your cabin long after the sun has set. Din is clearly in a pensive mood as you work together, drying the last of the plates which you used for the Bake Sale. 

“Cyare, I’m sorry for being so focused on making the Uj Cakes that you felt neglected,“ Din offers apologetically.

“It’s okay, Din,” you smile, “Thank you for apologising.”

“I was thinking,” Din pauses, raising a single eyebrow cheekily at you, “That I could bake you a cake to make up for it.”

“Din Djarin, you better sleep with one eye open tonight or so help me Maker, I will help myself to your arsenal!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Din smirks smugly, as he snakes his arms around your waist and brings his lips to yours. 

The sound of your laughter carries throughout the cabin, all the way to Grogu in his room. Cuddled up to his new froggy friend, with his little belly full of Uj cakes, he is blissfully unaware of the strain his school’s Bake Sale placed upon his parents’ marriage.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[pruneunfair]

Ranking all the OI I read. Part 1: the lesser.

It'll be like my tier list except with added stories from the haven't read yet section and of course my opinions.

Since Tumblr only allows 30 images per post and a daily pass based on how many pictures can be posted at all. I'll be posting this list through multiple parts starting with the worst. Get ready because there's gonna be a lot of negativity right now.

Starting with the tier I like to call "Absolute dog shit." Terrible plots, gross content being glamourized and little to no potential at all.

honestly picking the worst of the worst was hard cause there's so many to choose from.. and I think the title of the absolute worst doesn't go to Remarried empress or Today the villainess has fun again..

Its this one: beware of the brothers

I really can't say I was surprised 😭. I mean.. look at the damn title. The FL gets adopted into the family because she looks like the ML's dead sister and it just.. escalates into step-bro love. "But it's not related by blood-" still incest and even if they didn't grow up together, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO FUCK SOMEONE WHO LOOKS LIKE YOUR DEAD SIBLING!?

The order of slave breeding

Yes this is an actual manhwa.. I genuinely wanna know why the author just looked at themselves in the mirror and said "Yes this is a good idea." As the title suggests.. it's about a slave merchant for a FL and her slaves falling in love with her and as if it couldn't be uncomfortable enough it is one of the few manhwa with a dark skinned ML. I don't care how many times they'll offer excues for the lead I don't fw slavery being used as a romance device in media.

I belong to house Castillo

Technically I didn't read all of it, I just read the spoilers for the rest of the chapters but to be fair, I just got finished cursing myself by reading stepbro fantasies and master/slave ships, I'm not trying to give my FBI agent a reason to search my hard drives. It's a basic and cliché found family where the FL Estelle is sold by her mother to her father and the ML is a 17 year old who basically grooms her..why? Because raising your love interest is the "only" way to make a story stand out amongst the other generic found family tales.

I tamed my ex husband's mad dog.

More cases of grooming except this time it's the FL as the perpetrator. ML looks like he's 8 but he's apparently 16.. so we got a groomer protagonist in the form of Reinhardt who also neglects her first child and favors her second child she had with her victim with the excuse of not wanting to care for her son being that he looks like her toxic ex. Lady what? That boy deserves his own villain arc holy shit.

No more turning a blind eye.

This one really dissapointed me 😔. The cover looked stunning, the artstyle while a little off was still eye catching and the title sounded promising. Nah this is a hunk of junk that had a gentrification plot for some reason.. and you were supposed to sympathize with the guy who wanted to render hundreds of people homeless to make room for art galleries or whatever it was they wanted?

The dragon kings bride

I already knew this one was probably gonna suck judging by the title. First off it treats dark skinned people like barbarians, the ML Hakan meets Lucina when she's a child, Lucina is threatened with death if she doesn't marry him and you can probably guess where it goes. Like I said I don't really have a right to be shocked but it still goes on the list for its weird obsession with Lucina being so tiny that having sex with Hakan could kill her along with a not so hidden pregnancy fetish.

I became the tyrants secretary.

Its just workplace sexual harassment, theres not much to it. Cannot stand the ML who is a basic garbage human and Rosalyn is a block of wood when it comes to personality. She wants to do all these things but she has no spine and no will to actually do them but at the same time shes so good at everything on a whim. I usually don't mind a clueless FL but Jesus christ! She makes Adrien Agreste look smarter!

The villains savior

Gotta say the artstyle is really pretty and the FLs design is so cute. Everything else though is pretty bad. The point is basically the lead Ezlay is trying to essentially "fix" the ML as the title suggest. A lot of people dislike this one because Ezlay is very emotional and cries too much but that's honestly the least of the issues here. Now to be fair, Aseph is a villain so it's expected that he's gonna suck but that doesn't mean Ezlay needs to have the personality of a rock either, it's not that she cries a lot that annoys me, she's literally just a male fantasy personified. All she is absolute patience and acceptance for what Aseph does to point of enabling that toxic behavior.

Now we enter manhwas that are horrificly awful, not much difference except these ones have a bigger grain of potential

Lucia

This one got a lot of hate tiktok so naturally I had to read it and yeah, it was pretty bad. The artstyle though just.. I'm sorry but Lucia's face is literally just 👁 👄 👁 and thats not even mentioning the ML Hugo. It's really crinegy and it tries to fill that void with poorly made smut. The plot is also really and I mean REALLY dead set on 1950s values for women and the relationship between Lucia's and Hugo is downright toxic. In fact I don't even think there's a plot.. it's just porn. The only reason it's not in dogshit tier is that it's so iconic for being awful that it deserves to be higher up.

When the villainess is in love.

Okay all I can give this one is that Libertia has a better character design than Lucia. She's a mary sue but at this point that's a lot of leads nowadays so it's not a total shock but this is definitely a case where the story would be so much better if it was the actual Libertia as the protagonist instead of a carbon copy of the ogfl taking over. The worst part though is the fashion and I normally do not care about how dresses look in OI as long as they at least look good and fit the setting.. and dear God a lot of those dresses are nightmares to look at. Thankfully I had heard the novel was better.

Today the villainess has fun again

not a fan of the protagonist. Reilynn is really insufferable to follow since she's basically just an entitled asshole who thinks that just because she got transmigrated as the wealthiest woman in the land that she must be in the right because she's not like Iris who is a basic pick me girl. Beyond the fact that watching her throw money at people to get past an obstacle without effort she's also heavily written as a pedo because out of her options which had 2 green flags her age, she chooses the slave she bought who acts and looks like a 10 year old boy with attachment issues.

Try begging

what is with Solche and their weird obsession with rapist male leads? It's somehow worse then cry or better yet beg. Basically the FL Sally/Grace is a spy and when the ML Leon finds out.. he basically tortures her and SA's her multiple times and somehow they fall in love. Do with that what you will, the only slack I will kind of give Try begging is that it at least warns you of what your getting into beforehand. I really hate that Solches writing actually has so much potential to be amazing yet they use their talents to make rape fetish content. I want to know why manhwa tiktok likes this so much, they're all about girl code until a rapist looks hot (Leon isn't even hot, hes mad ugly)

Abandoned empress

Ah yes, good ol abandoned empress, the manhwa communities favorite punching bag so it's only right it lands here. For all the writers out there if your making a character you'd want the readers to support as the love interest you typically would give them an interesting personality and to tone down anything you think is too much for a healthy relationship. Abandoned empress decides to do the opposite of that and even after scenes of Ruve abusing his wife Aristia by cheating on her, beating her, SA'ing her, killing her dad, and causing her to miscarry so you would naturally think "okay clearly Ruve is the antagonist." But instead they pulled some bullshit "but he's not doing it anymore because he was poisoned in the last timeline!"... what!? Were there any new writers by any chance because how did we go from a abusive monster to a misunderstood Lil guy? I would say more but I think everyone already agreed a long time ago Abandoned empress is ass.

Revenge on the real one

the protag is essentially those villainesses in regression stories that cause the heroines initial downfall. I was already aware of what would happen before I even read and let me tell you it was accurate. The protagonist Helga is AWFUL. The torture she puts Hillian through is overkill and at this point Hillian deserves her own regression story to stand up to Helga because my girl was not that bad for her sister to ruin her life because of a stupid tragic origin story. The worst part is the Helga fans I see on places like tiktok who just don't want to admit their FL is a bad person. "Oh but Helga past was so sad! It's not her fault she's like this." Don't mean she has to banish her sister from her own nation when Hillian was innocent.

Villain Dukes precious one.

I really dislike the reincarnated as a baby trope and I can only ever tolerate it when it's just for a few little chapters. They always feel like those weird ass Elsagate videos with embarrassing humor to come across as funny and this one is no different. Even after the FL grows up the plot is still bland and cringe inducing. I don't have a lot to say about this one other then it is weird as hell. Apparently it also got a little incest-y so no thanks!

Poisonous Lily

While the characters looked basic in terms of design the title sounded intriguing. Unfortunately the translation is horrible, they can't even get the whole Lily flower theme right on the tapas version by giving her tulips to carry on her wedding. The dialog is..interesting to say the least. I won't lose it too much though on this one though since I'm pretty sure this is a lower level book trying to make it out in a sea of over advertised manhwa

I thought my time was up.

You know those porn/no plot tags on ao3? That's basically ITMTWU in a nutshell. Within only 20 chapters, the male lead Asrahan is already obsessed with Lariette after chapters of her violating his personal space to force a relationship between them. The whole magic plot is pushed to the side, Asrahans curse isn't allowed to be an actual rotting flesh curse like it's described as cause he's still gotta be pretty, and the rest of the plot is basically just soft core porn and fanservice that does little to actually move whatever is left of the plot.

For my derelict favorite.

The. Hypocrisy. How is this book gonna make the entire message about deconstructing main character centered morality and then almost immediately backpeddaling with justifying Hestia for attacking a woman who doesn't know her for rejecting her favorite man and proceeding to just ruin her day whenever she can. Hestia would say "im not like other girls." Hestia would be an avid fan of those trust fund baby GMV. Hestia would put her hair in a messy bun, shit on whatever is popular and act like she's making a statement . Even calling her Hestia feels like straight up disrespectful to the real goddess of the hearth who funnily enough is known as one of the most chill Greek gods.

Marry my husband

now Marry my husband is not insanely problematic wheras it's just cliché, predictable and in general pretty bad. It is a fast food manhwa designed to fulfill the classic top boss takes good care of you fantasy so naturally a lot is put on hold to showcase the sweet relationship between the central characters and almost everyone needs to have a lover. It's so bad it's actually kinda funny because the villains are so cartoonishly evil for office workers. Sumin is out here speaking in 3rd person, dressing in clothes found in the little kid section of Walmart and makes comical comments about her desire to ruin Jiwons life, Minhwan is basically a borderline discord mod who casually killed jiwon in the first timeline and goes "Oh well." and there's this random ugly old man who's name I can't remember who's the only one interested in Sumin till the end because he basically wants em younger without the risk of going to federal prison.

Remarried empress

I don't think i need to explain much at this point, if you know my account then you already know how I feel about remarried empress. Season 1 was pretty good though.

Divorcing my tyrant husband

I think we all know at this point that's whenever a title has the word "divorce" 9/10 of the time there is never going to be divorce and it'll devolve into the FL changing her mind and staying with her trashy ex husband because he now decided that Robelia wasn't like other girls and left his mistress in the dust. The plot kinda started getting out of hand when Robelias love interests expanded to one of her obsessed slaves and a Duke to prove that Alexandros was the better option. The villian Aisha is a joke who gets her ass handed to her over and over because "damsel woman always bad." and the art starts to lose its touch. I usually don't mind when artstyle changes but dear God do some of these characters look a Lil fugly.

Cry or better yet beg.

The final story that is in the awful section, why? Because it has the most lost potential. As terrible as this CoHo equivalent is, it details the very realistic parts of being a mistress to a nobleman. In most other stories, the mistress is an evil wench who could easily back out but in cry or better yet beg, Layla is unable to escape Matthias's abuse because it could risk her uncles job. There's a lot to this manhwa and novel that could've made a tragic story about a girl trapped in an abusive relationship with little help, the art is gorgeous and the characters for the most part were well written. It's a real shame that it turned out to be a rape apologist work instead.

next up are the mediocre manhwas, finally there will a little more positivity.

The villainess is a marionette

its.so.boring! This one was hyped up all over the place on Instagram and tiktok and the art looked stunning so I gave it a shot. This is definitely one of those stories that only got popular because of its art in my opinion because the plot is so confusing. Events are happening left and right, the pacing goes from too fast to too slow, characters personalities and traits keep warping, and while this might just be the result of poor adaptation her brother comes across as incestuous a couple of times. while Cayena isn't the worst FL, she's a mary sue by all definitions. Sorry but it's a bunch of jumbled wires. The reason it earns a spot in "it's okay" is because I heard the novel like usual is better so it might not be the fault of the original author

I was the male leads ex

It wasn't bad just boring but a little less boring then the former I'll give it that. The artstyle looked prettier in the beginning so that was kind of sad to see it change in later chapters. What drew me to keep reading was the chance that the ogfl Julianna may not be evil but even a potential love interest. So I got excited and apparently there's the idea that Julianna is actually her brother in disguise which.. would just ruin it tbh, there goes any chance at a ogfl being a human being and not a plot device. Not a huge fan of Erica or really any of the love interests.

From maid to queen

This is the newest of the lineup I read and it was actually interesting for once to see a new story where the MC was the concubine. First off the maids feel less like women employed to do the chores of the palace and more like the cartel 😭, in early chapters whenever Urania is aiming to be the concubine, being lazy with her job or getting comfortable with a powerful man in general they're already out with sticks ready to ruin her day and they even try to kill her. Lot of people don't like that Urania isn't a girls girl but honestly I can't blame her for wanting more out of life then poverty, where she comes across as stupid is that she's still wanting that role even after it got her killed last time. I think that it could work though since it shows that urania is more human and not a perfect goddess of a woman however that does not make up for the shit world building (like what the hell was that mushroom that could turn into a perfect still corpse of you 💀)

The villainess maker.

Ill admit I'm a little harsh on this one on my tier list. The plot still isn't great but there are so much worse out there so it ended up moving up on the list due to default. The plot is mostly just bland and generic down to all the characters and the tropes. Ayla is a girlboss in the villainesses body, Charlotte is a super "revolutionary" kind girl turned wicked wench and the ML is another "touch her and I'll kill you" type. What i will give the Villainess maker is the distinct artstyle. It's not as stylized and while it does get lazy at the end it still is very recognizable.

Abellas dessert shop.

Its another extremely underrated manhwa that's another isekai about a wronged woman looking to move on from her shitty fiancé and start a dessert shop. Ngl the moments where Abella is forced to put on a kind face despite her cheating fiancé or her ex friend popping in is definitely relatable especially in the workforce. Still a little bland but wholesome.

I didn't mean to seduce the male lead.

Eleanor is the FL hired to convince the ML to accept women into his life with the hopes that he will fall in love with the ogfl Irene. Tbh this one can get very icky with how it tries to force the notion that you must fall in love but the guy just instantly falls in love with Eleanor so.. I guess that's a little better? Regardless though i will not fault this manhwa too much because unfortunately the author died before the story was over so it deserves a little slack since it never got the chance to be more. Rest in peace author.

Who made me a princess.

Ill be straight with this now: it's Mid. Objectively the story isn't too terrible and I do find Athy a good protagonist not to mention my love for Jennete but everything else is pretty "meh." Not a huge fan of Claude from his design to his personality, the ML is another case of a grown as immortal meeting his wife when she's still a child (theres a little credit ill admit for Athy being mentally a grown woman but that doesnt stop me from thinking its uncomfortable to acknowledge) It can be cute sometimes and I'll give it that but I don't think I'll ever reread it, just not for me.

Actually I was the real one

Good god this was such a bastardization of the original novel. With that said I'll admit i was still entertained reading it since you could say that the novel wouldn't be an instant cheat sheet to learn what was gonna happen. Still it could've at least tried to be a loyal adaptation. They give Keira 2 options to choose as a love interest when she had none in the source material, Zeke is pushed to the side and the maids honestly get on my nerves with their one note personalities. They also seem to forget that Cosette is literally being possessed by a demon he'll bent on destroying humanity (which she succeeded in the first time) because what was built up as an amazing antagonist is just a joke now. The only other redeeming factors are that in the Manhwa Cosette is still alive and the whole elemental plot stays constant. Despite my complaints on the adaptation it is still a interesting read but the novel will always beat it no matter what.

I know it sounds like I'm just being a negative Nancy with all of these and I'm sorry for being so negative but the next part will be more positive.

Next time on part 2 will be the decent stories.

[suzukiblu]

 Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @this-was-a-terrible-idea behind the cut; nineties "Captain America" ride or die. ( chrono || non-chrono )

Hawaii is . . . a place. The asset might actually hate it, which is almost a novelty at this point in its existence. Hating something that isn’t a fascist organization or a murderous supervillain is something it honestly thought it’d forgotten how to do. 

It’s a weapon, after all. A weapon and a thing and not enough of a person to hate things like “getting too much sun” and “too many tourists on the beach”. 

There really are a fucking lot of tourists, though.

The asset suspects that Captain America just picked up the first brochure he saw at the airport and has been following its advice, as opposed to, he doesn’t know, asking a single fucking local where a quieter place to hang out might be? 

Then again, Captain America seems to be enjoying the scenery. By which the asset means people-watching all the pretty dames in unexpectedly skimpy swimsuits. Which is definitely not typical Captain America behavior, but . . . well, what the hell does the asset know, anyway? The kid’s closer to the height it remembers, at least, if still a lot thicker. And his face looks right. And his tendency to get himself punched in the face, that’s right too. 

The eyes are definitely right. 

The asset gave Captain America its leather jacket for civilian camouflage on the way here. The kid proceeded to wear it over the damn armor because he refuses to wear anything but the armor, and also sewed a giant white star patch to the back of it and bought the douchiest sunglasses that the future has ever produced to wear with it. The asset has never previously seen cause to use the word “douchiest” in cold blood, but Captain America has once again expanded its horizons in new and unanticipated ways. 

Fuckin’ punk. 

“Punk” has some different definitions in the future, apparently, but Captain America seems determined to live up to all of them. 

The asset also hates punk music, it turns out. Go figure. 

How the fuck do people even dance to that shit, though? 

. . . well, now it sounds like an actual centenarian, it guesses. Great. Which it is, technically, but that’s not the fucking point, alright? It’s a goddamn old man yelling at the kids on the corner for playing too loud or whatever, apparently. 

As much as it counts as a “man”, anyway, old or not. 

“Damn,” Captain America whistles, peering over his glasses at the back of a very pretty dame who’s just walked by. 

The asset is increasingly certain something is awry here. 

“You really should pick an alias, Cap,” it says. 

“Why?” Captain America says, wrinkling his nose at it. 

Because there is absolutely no way HYDRA is not going to find us while you’re walking around in their gear in public with their shield on your back, but I would like to at least PRETEND we’re trying to hide, the asset doesn’t say. 

“It’d make it easier to avoid HYDRA’s attention,” it says instead. Baby steps or whatever. 

Captain America, unfortunately, is still the same stubborn little shit he’s always been, and “baby steps” have absolutely never worked on him. 

“So what?” he says. “We’ll just kick their asses if they do.” 

The asset really should’ve known better. 

“Understood,” it says instead of You’re a fucking idiot, kid, because . . . because it’s not the person who’s allowed to say things like that to Captain America.

It doesn’t have the right to be that person anymore. 

Doesn’t deserve to be. 

“Wanna hit the waves?” Captain America suggests. The asset will literally never want to do that, but supposes it should appreciate being asked for its opinion.

“No,” it says. Captain America doesn’t tase it for the refusal, which is . . . novel, again. 

It really had forgotten how to say that word, it thinks, but Captain America has definitely reintroduced it to its vocabulary. Both in DC and in that lab, and especially ever since following him out of that lab. 

The asset was really not prepared to have to explain why the legal drinking age applies to Captain America, for one thing. Though it’s not like alcohol really affects him, so . . . 

It’s very difficult to explain to Captain America why a rule or law that he thinks is stupid or irrelevant is a rule or law that he should still consider listening to, is the thing. More accurately, it’s a fucking moron’s game, and most of the time the best the asset can do is distract or reroute him. 

Still. Walking into a club or bar in HYDRA-issue stars-and-stripes body armor and ordering a cocktail that looks like the damn Fourth of July while undeniably a teenager would definitely draw both unnecessary and unwanted attention. 

Also, the drinks are too damn expensive these days anyway, to say nothing of the damn cover charges. If the asset hears that “inflation” bullshit one more time, it’s gonna go goddamn dig up Reagan and kill him deader. 

Trickle-down economics its ass. 

“C’mon, Buck, you’re supposed to be the fun one, aren’t you?” Captain America teases it with a smirk, pushing his stupid douchey sunglasses up into his hair. The asset cannot think of a single thing more “fun” than avoiding ending up in HYDRA’s many arms again. Not regularly getting its brains fried out of its head is in fact the most fun it’s ever had in its life. 

Seriously. Fuck everything else except that. There is not a single damn thing the asset wouldn’t rather do than that. 

Except for be face-to-face with Steve Rogers again, obviously. 

“I’m too busy sweatin’ to death for fun, Cap,” it says dubiously, hitching its heavy duffel bag up a little higher on the metal shoulder that’s currently mostly-camouflaged by a denim jacket and an unfortunate embarrassment of a Hawaiian shirt that Captain America had laughed at it for wearing. The asset doesn’t experience embarrassment when the alternative is sticking out like a sore thumb and obvious target, for obvious reasons, but Captain America apparently didn’t get that memo and had again refused to wear anything but the body armor. 

Christ’s sake, they’re on a goddamn tropical island. Isn’t that fucking hot? 

Stubborn little shit. 

The stupid bullheaded stubbornness is SOP for Captain America, at least. 

“Toldja you were overdressed,” Captain America hums. The asset rolls its eyes, which is a strange impulse, but it does it before it thinks better of it and then it’s already done it, so fuck it. 

“You’re wearin’ a leather jacket and fuckin’ nanobot-enforced Kevlar right now,” it reminds him dubiously. 

“Breathes pretty good, actually,” Captain America says with a grin, adjusting his lapels as he preens. 

The asset genuinely does not know what its life even is anymore.

[goodluckclove]

So apparently when I drink enough to start posing real questions (such as "what spec fiction author would be the most fun to party with"), my body reacts poorly and I end up with insomnia. I've been lying in bed for about four and a half hours just pondering before I realized I'm an adult and I can just change locations.

I'm in the living room now. Bob seems happy for the attention. And I'd like to share my central ponder of the night, centered around how much of a bummer it is that like most of the online queer centered spaces I've seen consist of rampant in-fighting.

Stay with me here. Seriously this is a long one I'm very tired.

I'm not coming from some nonsense centrist place of no conflict ever. I just feel like so much queer conversation I see is either vague blanket support, or a massive thread that somehow starts in the middle of an argument. And as someone who is not necessarily old, but definitely not active online, this is super isolating.

I think it's a really interesting anthropological concept that as queer culture develops it becomes more niche and simultaneously more vague. That's cool. The downside is that I am now the human embodiment of that Griffin Mcelroy meme about not knowing what something is and being too afraid to ask. And every time I see someone who is clearly super passionate about some queer take, I really want to ask why they think what they do or how they came to that conclusion, but holy shit that feels dangerous.

Like it's not an immediate invalidation to ask why. More modern queer identities are so varied there's a very good chance two people experiencing the same circumstances might have two radically different reasons and ways to get there. I am at the point where I no longer think anyone can speak for our collective queer experience unless they use the broadest of terms. I'm genuinely just grieving that we're immediately giving each other shit over variations instead of getting together and comparing notes.

Oh but Google is free - fuck off. Like straight up. That shit flies for the surface level information and it's crazy to me that more people don't acknowledge that. Google is free for people who think there's only one intersex variation. Google is free for people who really want to know if scissoring is real. At this point in society there are multiple generations of queer people (or people in general) with multiple senses of online validity. Someone who grew up in the 90s might trust a more traditional source for information rather than a google doc or Tumblr post or reddit thread or tiktok, and by that logic they aren't really going to be convinced by any Googling they do for a lot of new cultural shifts.

Like I was a teen with shit opinions. I was snarky about "transtrenders" who used neopronouns. Not online or to anyone - I wasn't a complete dipshit - but I definitely thought it. If I posted about it online I'd say all the regular arguments and the opposing side would say all their regular arguments and we'd block each other and accomplish nothing.

Which would be a massive shame because one of my shining qualities is my ability to admit when I'm wrong. There's a much better alternate reality in which I did post about how people who think you don't need dysphoria to be trans are cringe, and some kind trans person asked why I thought that. Because then I'd say something like because everyone wants to be trans that doesn't mean you're just allowed to say you are.

And then they'd probably be like yeah maybe you should talk to more people about this and consider where you're coming from, saving me like ten years of gatekeeping myself from my own identity.

Like I tried the Googling thing for something niche that I'm curious about. I learned about aplatonicism recently and was like huh. New info. But every post I see in the aplatonic tag is already angry about being aplatonic so I'm not about to take space with my own curiosity.

But after scrolling a Reddit thread I am more confused than ever. I don't know what a squish is, friends. I mean, I know the definition - but my brain doesn't think of human relationships like that. People were talking about having friends that they love but they don't have squish love or friend love, also aplatonic describes some autistic people, also also aplatonic is a word specifically used for aromantic people who don't want QPRs. I don't think any of this is wrong. I do think that it is so much information that it cancels out in my brain, and now I kind of just think aplatonic is a word that means things sometimes. And that's not what I want.

I'm being self indulgent because I don't think anyone is reading this far and I'm feeling relaxed because I took an Adderall earlier today and I feel like I can actually think for the first time in months. I want to ask some aplatonic people what they think "friend love" is supposed to be compared to what they feel for their friends, if they have them. If they don't have a need for friends, I am very curious to know what they think about the friend list function on virtually every social media website and game. Like this is not a bit. I've been awake in bed for almost five hours and it occurred to me that might be a bummer. Maybe some people use them out of convenience, but I think it would be interesting to meet a person who's so staunch in their philosophy that they just don't. I feel like there's probably a lot of aplatonic people who are like just straight up not online and don't even know that's their vibe.

I want to ask some loveless aros what they consider to be positive emotions or motivations in their lives. Like I'm so full of love for virtually anything that the concept of not having that emotion across the board makes me wonder if something else fills the space. Like do loveless aros love ideas? Do they love their hobbies? I don't think aromantics are sociopaths at all, I've just seen people who both say that loveless is reclaiming a slur and also defining a lack of love and I'd like to know more about both.

I saw a post on my feed about how anyone should be allowed to get gender affirming surgery even if they aren't trans. I don't disagree. That argument has honestly never occured to me and I really wish I could've asked why someone would want that. Because "a cis man might want a vagina" is valid, but doesn't fly in terms of actual logistics. You have to make so many appointments and wait for so long and answer so many questions. I'm aware my opinion on this is heavily biased by being Agender and actively ridding my body of as many secondary sexual characteristics as quickly as possible. I am not immune to the propaganda of my own identity. I would just like to have an in-depth conversation with a cis man that wants a vagina and ask why and also if they think it's worth the maintenance. Because, like, there IS maintenance.

I'm not doing it to judge. If this hypothetical man is like "yeah I know I'd have to keep up with the upkeep and maybe wear hormone patches from now on, but structurally it makes sense for my view of my own manhood", I'd be like "that's really interesting, I considered adding a penis to my architecture but then decided that it would probably be a sensory nightmare for me. I'm surprised so many cis men can ride a bike."

And then maybe he'd say "where do you think cis men put their pensises when they ride a bike?" To which I would say "I don't know the mechanics of a penis and at this point the thought of learning in which direction I'd have to stick my hypothetical one makes me anxious."

And then he'd kind of scoff bemusedly, and we'd go out together for banh mis.

I think at this point in my rant I'm realizing that my major issue here is that the world as a whole is not friendly to genuine curiosity. I also get triggered by hate bait, and it bothers me that I can't pull the subject of the cringe fuel aside and be like what are you doing? Like, not judgementally. I want you to explain to me what you are doing and why it's important to you.

I don't think it'll convince me every time, but I'm pretty sure I'd be like "ah, okay. Makes sense." And then move on with a greater understanding of the growth of humanity.

And also we can get banh mis.

I really want a bahn mi but I can't bike to get one or else my guts will fall out. Gender affirming surgery is a mistake for the sole reason that it prevents me from yummy Vietnamese sandwiches.

Kidding. I'm kidding, not having a uterus anymore has been pretty cool.

The sun came up.

Fuck.

[ijichi-nijika]

i can’t fall asleep so let me tell you all a story of a little girl named iris.

when iris was nine, she went to bed one day as she always did. it was a friday, the day before a holiday, and she was excited to go to her grandparents the next day to celebrate. iris of course, never had much in common with her cousins on either side, but she enjoyed her grandmother’s cooking and just listening to people talk. of course, she would have to put up with her father, a racist, homophobic and sexist man, and he would probably get drunk and force them all to get in the car while he drove the family home. that of course being her mother and brother, and her dog, who went to event with them.

upon iris’s awakening, she was being yelled at for waking up too late, and needing to rush to get ready. she of course, was never taught how to get properly washed or how to brush her teeth on her own, having just been told to figure it out at a young age, and then her anxiety would not allow her to ask for instruction or help. so of course, iris took her time to make sure she was actually clean. this was not something her father liked, as being late was apparently more important that his daughter having proper hygiene. so as she was brushing her teeth, her father stormed into the bathroom and ripped the toothbrush from her mouth and said to hurry it up. iris of course, scared of him, simply asked for the tooth brush back. of course, her father did not like the idea that she could possibly have her own feeling about this and began hitting her for “talking back”. she ran from him and hid in her room, crying for being abused, but he followed and continued his torment. iris had finally had enough and said the only thing she could think of to possibly get him off of her, even if only for a second in shock.

so iris said “i want to be a girl”.

coming out at 9 was not something iris was sure was a good idea. she was labeled a boy at birth, with no questions asked of her own opinion on the matter, and had always thought that she never quite felt like she was a boy. of course, when she has seen girl characters in games or anime growing up she would always sympathize or cherish them, not as some crush symptom (although that did develop later) but as a form of jealousy. so she concluded, around the age of 8 that she wanted to be girl, not knowing that she already was one.

of course, this story doesn’t have a very happy ending. saying this only stopped her father for a moment, until the beating began anew and even more harsh than before. she was dragged downstairs on the carpet and wooden floor (that she had already fallen down before and broke her arm on), essentially thrown in front of her mother and brother and screamed at. iris of course doesn’t recall the exact words said, but tears from her mother she’d and her brother looked sick a tiny bit, at least to her in the moment, it seemed that she was the cause of all of this turmoil.

upon finally all being together (and a momentary lapse in memory due to a blockage of iris’s memory of how bad it was) the family took the time to not go to her grandparents. instead, they drove iris all the way to the church that she was “baptized” in, brought in front of the stairs by her father, and told that it’s against what “god” wants from her to be a girl, and that she was disgusting and sick. and that if she didn’t take back what she had said, that things would get a lot worse. iris of course, being as scared as she had ever been in her life, pleaded with her father, that she just wanted to say something to shock him and make him stop hitting her, and said it wasn’t true and that s-she was a b-boy…

her father, happy with this news, made her swear on it (something extremely scary for the nine year old girl) and then took her back to the car, where she apologized for “lying” about this and took it back once again as a “joke” in front of her family. iris doesn’t have much memory beyond this of being happy for most of her life of course, as she spent the rest of her youth trying her best to convince everyone that she definitely was a “boy”, and ruined many friendships by lashing out.

…

iris, came out again in 2021, after the first year of the pandemic, to a few of her close friends at the time, but of course, was unsure of if she was making the right choice, and allowed them to call her the name that was chosen against her will, instead of just saying to call her the name that actually made her happy. she started hrt in 2022 at the age of 25, at the behest of her girlfriend, who is trans herself. she hid that she was on hrt for two years from her father that she was forced to still live with, until only 5 months before she escaped, with the help of many true friends.

iris has nightmares of the terrible acts committed on her by her father, at least once a week, although they have been less frequent in recent months.

[here-there-were-dragons]

just read the new hatchling skin rules and am having Some Type Of Initial Emotional Reaction and am now writing down said Initial Emotional Reaction uncensored as i currently Strongly Feel A Type Of Way and Require Venting. i cannot word this more politely. i do not have the capability to render this rage into polite borderline corporate-speak for the sake of the damn rules that act like anything short of apologizing for being alive to make up for having even the most constructive understanding friendly criticism or even personal mild non-critical dislike of something like a color or a breed is tantamount to personal targeted hatemail. i cannot wait until i cool into calm bitterness later because if i think about this enough to write about it again i will just go right back to being furious and the fact that everyone ielse who's complaining is focusing entirely on the lolita fashion thing and not on in my opinion the far more significant and offensive part is pissing me off even more. extremely angry unedited ranting ahead

fr having it's own "female presenting nipples" moment right now, not that i'm particularly surprised, they've been a prime example of "conservative protestantism in a lefty-language veneer" for a long while now.

"don't adultify" is such a fucking vague and easily selectively interpreted rule, not to mention insulting for a number of reasons,

but putting that part aside the whole idea of "nothing that suggests that the dragon is an adult in a young body" is. look, i'm not exactly fond of the "adult who looks like an anime schoolgirl" trope myself, but i fail to see how in the absolute FUCK having it be canon in-universe that it is both possible and legal for someone to be forced to stay as a child permanently, is somehow LESS creepy than just saying eternal youth dragons have dwarfism. also, fuck you to anyone with dwarfism apparently i guess?

and "no zombie baby dragons" is just stupid. even fucking minecraft has baby zombies, and microsoft has steadily butchered that game into one of the most t for toddler babymode things on earth this side of cocomelon.

and "no scars on hatchlings" so fuck you to any kids with scars too apparently, even though that's way more common than anyone seems to realize. you hear that, kids? if you're under 18 and have scars your very existence is too obscene for public view. 13+ year olds will be irreparably traumatized if they have to know you exist at all! fuck you disabled kids and fuck you amputee kids and fuck you any kids that have suffered anything ever at all for not appearing as a perfect unspoiled image of conservative christian child-doll innocent purity. flight rising staff says your body and existence is inherently too nsfw to even be acknowledged as existing much less visually seen. everyone knows REAL children don't get damaged at all, and if they do then they're too horrifying and defective at their job of Being A Child Properly to exist in public spaces! how dare ugly things that might make us uncomfortable with their existence by contradicting out ideals about aesthetic moral purity be allowed where good respectable normal people can see them!

i don't say any of these words lightly, and i'm very much not the type to go around calling people whatever-ists and in fact find that kind of thing extremely annoying, useless, reductive, and more or less only ever see it used as a blunt cudgel to shame people into line so they don't question you, and have historically found it especially annoying when people pull out the accusations-of-ism card on fr staff over things that are far more likely just completely understandable (if dubiously competent) issues of certain things simply not occurring to someone on code and design level due to lack of sufficient exposure to the idea, and have always been of the belief of giving them the benefit of doubt (even if often that just means i think they either most likely made an understandable mistake that i would likely also make, or, when i'm feeling less kind, that they're simply not particularly competent rather than actively hostile) so understand how much it means coming from me when i say- flight rising staff, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you, you ableist batch of pricks, so far up your own asses with your performative veneer of vaguely lefty-flavored language that you don't realize how fundamentally extremely conservative all of your actual beliefs underlying them are. for every update you make that i approve of there's another that does twice as much damage as the good update fixed (and i'm starting to wonder if you maybe know what you're doing with that too-always batching the fucked up shit on the tail end of some big thing you know people will be excited about, always hiding these controversial moderation changes under something shiny and new, to the point that now i dread any new good update that genuinely seems a step in the right direction and/or is something we've been wanting for awhile because i'm just constantly expecting the knife hidden behind the footnotes afterwards, the fucking "ban tiktok/gay marriage/strip rights from this population/end net neutrality/whatever/ect" clause stapled onto the end of a bill about something entirely unrelated functionally holding a change people want hostage until they allow the fucked up part through. i've been here most of the site's 10+ years and i've seen this sort of thing happen far, far too often.) and every year the shit that gets pulled on the management and moderation end of things makes me more and more almost glad i've never had an income to spend on this, and the fact that apparently the moderation behind every single other petsite in existence is somehow significantly worse fucking astounds me. the only reason i stay around here is because It's Free Dragon Pictures, because it's literally the only actually good petsite game i've ever played and not gotten sick of within a week or so (and really the only good low-energy game i've ever played in general, which i'm increasingly convinced is in spite of it's management), and because somehow, despite all of this shit, i still genuinely love the game itself, because unfortunately by some accident of creation it seems they apparently stumbled purely by coincidence into making an actually good game idea no one else quite has. and after all the fuckery that gets constantly pulled, i refuse to believe the game being good is anything other than, much like many of the of the incidents i think they're unfairly accused of malice and -ism over, an accident.

Disabled children too obscene to fucking exist. fuck you. good to know half the child population's existence requires a trigger warning to even be allowed to be acknowledged as existing to you. good to know if the heart surgery i had when i was 11 had left any visible external scars i would be considered inherently too obscene to exist to you. good to know if the overhealed and benignly potentially cancerous scar on my back from whatever actually happened when i was a toddler (i don't trust either of my parents to ever be accurate about something like that) was in a more visible spot you would demand i have a trigger warning to post selfies online. good to know if any of the shit that's broken me emotionally left visible physical marks you would think it was good and right for me to be forcibly hidden from good normal people's view and considered too taboo for even the slightest discussion without hiding it with makeup and lies, just so i don't make good, lucky, undamaged, normal people uncomfortable, god fucking forbid. should we hide the gays too, since they also make so many people uncomfy? i imagine it won't be long before disabled adults are too obscene for your polite societytm sensibilities too. i've had the feeling for a long time that amputee and disabled skins were living on borrowed time with your rules, kept technically not explicitly dissalowed where all other forms of injury and ""body horror"" are banned simply out of fear of the backlash it would cause to include them, and well. the doomsday clock on that one just got a little bit closer to midnight, huh?

the only reason i wasn't a (physically, visibly, externally) scarred kid was pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you weren't a physically scarred kid too is pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you're not some type of disfigured or ugly or amputated or visibly injured or whatnot is pure sheer fucking luck. you're lucky. nothing more. if having to contend with that fact-the fact of how easily it could have gone a different way and there is nothing they would be able to do about it- makes good normal tm people uncomfortable, then well, get the fuck used to it, other people children very much fucking included don't exist to cater to the aesthetic sensibilities of a lucky perfect few. the only thing that separates you from the damaged ones you find too obscene is a bad day and an unlucky hand. and one day, even if you were lucky enough to escape being damaged when you were young, you and i will both be just like them too.

more festival skin winners slots is good. elemental swords sound fun.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Back with the questions!

So Actually Traitors has Dooku getting taken with the Jedi when they leave. What's he doing there? Making trouble, furthering Palps' plan, gradually talking more with the clones and oh no he's attached??

Also. Fox. Is apparently allergic to particular Force acts? It's less that I think this is ridiculous (though it is very funny) and more that I'm wondering what the hell they did? And whether anyone thinks it's weird that they're writing papers on this or if the Archivists/researchers are just like "YES fun none war things to research!"

At first Dooku was supposed to play nice, to gain the confidence of the Jedi, banking on Yoda's love for his lineage. Then his job was to be three fold: 1. to provide Palpatine with information on the Jedi and their movement, so they can plan accordingly, 2. to encourage the idea that the Jedi need to act as the aggressor toward the republic, and 3. to plant the seeds to fracture the Order if necessary.

It never really gets off the ground, primarily because of Obi Wan. Though no one in the Jedi Order ever found out that Dooku was a Sith in this, Obi Wan did make a point of telling Jocasta Nu exactly who vandalized her Archive (in part out of pettiness to head of the Seperatists, in part to direct her attention away from Cody-who had just accidentally broken a data chip with a slightly rare treatise dating from the Old Republic). As a result Madame Nu effectively grounded Dooku- She has restricted his ability to send communications, he is NOT allowed to interact with any Jedi below the level of Knight OR any of the clone cadets or Shinies, and she or a designated guardian would be escorting him everywhere until 'he was mature enough to not destroy other people's knowledge'. No one is really sure that Madame Nu has the authority to ground Dooku (Who is at least nominally still a planetary leader and, strictly speaking, is being held against his will after being abducted by the Jedi Order).

By the time he is no longer grounded he has gotten attached, specifically to Alpha-17. Alpha-17 was one of his more frequent escorts, and the two shared similar opinions on the Senate (In that the application of some generous assassinations' would greatly enhance the atmosphere), Anakin Skywalker (far too too reckless, far too arrogant, and in desperate need to therapy-Dooku never seems to realize the irony of this belief), and a taste for very expensive alcohol. It is Alpha-17 that draws Dooku back to the light.

Dooku eventually goes before the Jedi Council to confess to being a former Sith, to find that no one is surprised. It took precisely two weeks in frequent contact with Dooku for each of the Council to realize he had fallen, but it was decided to see where things would go, and that Dooku's communications would have been monitored (and still would be monitored).

For Fox; he, Ventress, Vos they were experimenting with the use of Jedi mind tricks when compared to Sith mind control in sex. It is all Safe, Sane, and Consenual and heavily discussed beforehand. However it turns out that having both a Mind Trick (Actually three separate mind tricks geared toward increasing Fox's sensitivity and attraction) and Mind Control active at once caused hives for Fox. The baffled healers and medics, who had never hard of that reaction before, also found out that something in Fox's genetic code caused Antihistamine to get him really high.

Th Archivist are ecstatic with the experiments, especially since the Kenobi/Cody Polycule insist on the scientific method. It is the only reason that Madame Nu forgave Cody.

[dddesc]

thinking about my feelings on the dub. no hates here, just sorting my own opinion out to myself.

the dub seems very prevelant in the hnk fandom!... which is a struggle for me. the fact that nearly every dedesuka fanfic writes out dedede's dub accent phonetically confounds me. reading that feels like pulling teeth and i can't imagine feeling differently !

my opinion on 4kids was formed in my childhood. i felt so frustrated that they appeared to come at their properties with this base level of disrespect towards both the source material and their young audiences... dumbing down their content, erasing cultural references, and removing darker concepts (like threats of violence or death), all for the sake of appealing to uppity parents or network execs. it came off as cynical and disingenuine. very bothering to kid me!

being an adult now, i know better than to think the writer's room didn't care about what they were doing and instead realize that they probably had to struggle quite a bit with the censorship. it was a different time back then and i imagine that studios, especially for children's tv and especially for children's tv coming from across the water (people are still guilty of that offensive "WTF japan's so WEEEIRD and CRAAAZY" mentality, so who knows what it was like back then), weren't allowed a lot of wiggle room. i can say that i'm surprised at the amount they let right back at ya get away with. hoshi no kaabii was a pretty bizarre show and 4kids just kinda rolled with a lot of it.

i do appreciate right back at ya for... what it is. i like what some of the english vas bring to the table -- ted lewis is a very funny man, dan green is a perfect customer service, i can't help but feel biased towards maddie blaustein's performances, and spanish meta knight never fails to make me laugh -- but some writing and acting decisions feel flippant (not to mention the fact that beside the acceptable performances, there are some absolutely GRATING voices in there; tiff and tuff's line reads make me feel insane). the dub comes off as a big joke, which i think contributes to why it's been memed to death. i can't take it seriously, and i don't really want to!

i'm not going to pretend like hoshi no kaabii in its original form is like, emotionally deeper than the dub or anything. but what i do know is this:

kenichi ogata was, is, and always will be the dedede va of my all time. he plays such a lively and charming interpretation of dedede; he's old, he's loud, he's mean, he's cute. and maybe i'm gay and anime dedede being my first major childhood crush did something to my brain chemistry but we don';t have to talk about that. when i hear him i feel very something.

naoki tatsuta is a powerhouse as escargon. he mentions in an interview barely being able to keep up, and i don't blame him -- he goes in hard, and it gave escargon so much character. his exasperation is palpable (and, apparently, genuine!).

there are no voices in the japanese version that straight up bother me. every voice suits each character, at the very least, well enough.

at the end of the day, this is all subjective. tons of people like the dub enough to view it as their main visualization of the anime. i almost wish i could see what they see so that i had an easier time immersing myself within fan creations... almost. the japanese cast is just too likable to me. so i will continue to not see what other people see and i will enjoy it. i'll just grumble a little to myself about having to refer to "escargoon" and 4kids re-characterizations whenever i edit wikirby pages.

[yandere-to-express]

Goth and the thembo

Chapter 2


cw for obsessive behaviour and stalking, but, well, you guys knew that was coming, right? maybe the cw should just say "peter",,
(there's also some misgendering, but i promise it's very brief and non-hostile/unintentional!)

Dog barking. Microwave beeping. Smell of the instant meal they just pulled out. Big stretch...  

Breathe.  

“Be quiet, Blossom,” they sighed half-heartedly, already drained only 10 minutes after getting home. The little chihuahua sneezed confrontationally, staring out into the hallway, alert. It was probably the neighbour’s kids getting home from whatever sports club they usually attended. That, or their brothers were coming home after visiting whatever new friends they’d made at their own schools.  

They decided they were too tired to care.  

Legs weaving through the suddenly interested cats and dog now they were holding a plate of food with careful practise, Y/n carried it upstairs to their unfinished room, the blank walls staring at them almost accusingly with boxes of things that still had yet to be unpacked as they clicked the light-switch on.  

Speaking of unpacking...  

Y/n sighed as they sunk into their mattress, spoon in hand as they half-heartedly ate the curry on their plate, the events of the day almost dulling their usual favourite flavour down considerably, cheap chicken tikka masala not covering their taste buds in a comforting embrace the way it used to. Maybe it’s just the way it was made over here.  

Anyway.  

Yeah, they made a new friend in the least likely place, but that was nerve-wracking enough. They thought...They thought that because they got detention something terrible would happen. And when it didn’t...They didn’t know, the impending sense of doom still hadn’t left entirely, so it was exhausting enough just processing it from the comfort of their home. It was a miracle they hadn’t devolved into tears at school, especially with how loud it was in the cafeteria today.  

They couldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t , this was a new start. They weren’t going to blow it like they did back in Year 7.  

...No, they weren’t thinking about that right now. They’d unpack that memory when they had the mental capacity to do so.  

...What were they thinking about again? Oh, right, school today.  

So yeah, double-period History was boring until Peter showed up, French 2 was a wash (seriously, they were thankful they took it as a GCSE before they left England, they were further ahead than they thought they’d ever be), Graphic Design just went over the same old stuff they already learned back home, and Algebra 2 was even easier like, c’mon! Algebra wasn’t supposed to be easy! At least move them up a few classes if it was like that! They were so worried about the past two years of GCSEs (as well as the three months of Sixth Form that they promptly – and gladly – abandoned when the family moved overseas around Christmas) being earned would be useless now they were here, but it just meant they were too far ahead! And they weren’t allowed to join the Seniors so late into the year either! Back in England they’d been so worried about having enough intelligence, but now they apparently had too much of the stuff, and it was irritating! They’d rather keep being a “gifted” student back in Years 1 to 6, thank you very much. At least AP Physics was more of a challenge, but, well, it was AP Physics . It didn’t get much harder than that, in their opinion.  

Why was all this a problem? Because without work that would take more than 25 minutes to complete on average, Y/n was terrible at focusing. Worksheet finished? You’d think that they would ask for more, right? Wrong , they just stared out the window absently, maybe doodling in a book that they brought for that purpose if they remembered, trying their best to keep their cool when the class got rowdy and the teacher had to shout over the noise to call the class to attention again. It was worse than back home, honestly. The classes were bigger, for one thing, so that immediately meant more noise.  

Man, maybe they should have just gone straight to college. Oh well, too late now.  

They licked their spoon clean as they finished their meal, just opting to leave the cutlery and plate on one of the piles of boxes to take down in the morning, closing their curtains (their parents insisted that they at least hang those up) as they shrugged off their zip-up hoodie, tiredly undressing ungracefully and throwing on some pyjamas. After leaving the room for a few minutes to brush their teeth (hey, they were an idiot who ate unhealthily and kept dirty dishes in their room, but oral hygiene was still one of their top priorities! ...thanks for scaring that into them, Mum), they reached into a small box by their bed, pulling out an old pink DS, checking the cartridge and settling on the game inside, ignoring Blossom’s barking as they heard their brothers return.  

Pokémon Platinum would help them out for now...  

Y/n woke up with a start, eyes snapping open as they heard movement outside. They wiped their bleary eyes as they looked around. They’d fallen asleep with their DS, it seemed, the melody of Jubilife City at night out of place as their anxiety rocketed. Was this the beginning of a robbery?! Were they being robbed?! They scrambled to pick up their DS, tapping the Pokétch a few times to get a sense of how late it was and-  

Oh. 11pm. That was when their dad got home from work, which was confirmed by the door creaking open downstairs, his mumbles of greeting to what Y/n assumed was their Mum or a brother muffled by the floorboards beneath them.  

Man, were they dumb, huh? They let out a shaky chuckle at their own stupidity, shutting their DS and putting it on the makeshift nightstand (you know, just a stack of boxes, like what anyone else has in their bedroom) next to their bed. They lay back down, screwing their eyes shut in an attempt to sleep.  

Surprisingly, it actually worked!  

...Unsurprisingly, they missed the way the moonlight cast a shadow on the figure sitting in the tree just outside their window...  

Ok, that was way too close for comfort.  

That old dude who went inside almost saw him, apparently there was a family dog that hated people walking by, and poor Y/n looked terrified! They looked as though they were about to die (no, not them, they’d never die, he’d make sure of it)! But, fuck, if the streetlight was just a few inches closer to the house...  

Peter shivered as he looked back into his darling’s darkened room with his huge, almost luminous, cerulean eyes, safe in the knowledge that not many other people would be out at this time, and none of them would see them from the sidewalk. He waited for what felt like an eternity, watching as the rest of the lights shut off before making his next move.  

His mother and sister picked on him for looking scrawny, but he hardly felt it as he lifted himself up on the branch above and hoisted himself onto the balcony and into the doors that they must have left open by mistake (honestly, it was February! Never mind the dangers of the world outside, what about the cold?! Oh, he’d have to take care of them, help them stay safe and healthy)…  

Unless they were expecting him...?  

He felt a shiver race through him, caused by the excitement and the chill (it was 23 degrees out there, ok?!) as he tip-toed into the room cautiously, praying to whatever deity out there that he didn’t step on some old, creaky floorboard. Thankfully, his darling’s room didn’t seem to have any (good, they deserved the best room in the world, he couldn’t bear to let someone as adorable as them to live uncomfortably, and they were so small! He was actually a little worried some of the piles of boxes would topple over and crush them!), and he was right by their side in a flash.  

He stood, watching over Raine with a little uncertainty of what to do now, looking at the rise and fall of their chest. They were wearing some pyjamas with some yellow fantasy animal thing on it (Pikachu, right? So adorable ...), and they gave a little snort as they slept, a little bit of drool escaping their mouth.  

If Y/n knew they looked like that while they slept? They would’ve been mortified.  

But, to Peter?  

They looked like an angel sent from the heavens. His darling angel. Fuck, how could anyone look so adorable and beautiful?  

...Well, the cold was no longer an issue for him, it seemed.  

Peter knelt down, placing his chin onto the mattress as he continued watching them breathe. Watching as their face scrunched up a few times, muttering nonsensical things out loud as they dreamed (he had no idea what a cookie cat was, but fuck, they were just so cute!) . He stayed there for hours, ignoring the plea for rest from his eyes as they drooped more and more. After the first half-hour, he’d gotten bolder and moved his face closer to theirs, able to smell their wavy brown hair (they must have used coconut scented shampoo before school, he realised, but God , it was addicting, he’d have to get some of his own just to be reminded of the scent of them ) and gently wipe away the line of drool leaking from their barely parted lips.  

...Deep within him he knew it was gross, but he licked the liquid away in a flash and, stars above , that was even better than their smell!  

He whispered praise to them as the night dragged on, petting their hair and caressing their cheek tenderly. He even got a little absent, sleepy nuzzle on the hand back (he was never washing that hand again)! His darling kept mumbling stuff about ice cream from outer space, and choosing something called a Bidoof (whatever it was, they giggled in their sleep about it being God, and, in case you hadn’t guessed yet, he did another mental bluescreen at how adorable they were being) to fight something called an Arceus?  

But then, they said something that made his heart (and, ok, maybe his pants) swell and his face turn bright red.  

“Mmph, Peter...Bite me...Sharp teeth...”  

Oh.  

Oh boy.  

The goth kind of just...sat there, staring at Y/n in bewilderment.  

Yesyesyesyesyes darling, he could do that!  

He cursed under his breath, averting his gaze out of bashfulness (somehow, he had some shame still left inside!), and pausing as he noticed the sky outside was brightening.  

Fuck , he’d been there all night!  

Peter hesitantly got up, looking back at Y/n as he made his way back to the balcony. The sun was only just peeking up behind the horizon, but it was enough for some golden rays to hit his darling’s body.  

Yeah. He was right. They had to be an angel, they looked so fucking beautiful and peaceful like that.  

He wouldn’t mind waking up next to them like that in the bed, some day.  

He shook his head, brushing his ebony hair out of his face, gazing over Y/n face and body one last time, before hopping out the balcony and back into the tree, scaling down it carefully and landing a little clumsily onto the wet grass. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hesitantly walking away, back towards where the school and his own house was.  

He was going to be so exhausted today.  

...It was totally worth it, though.  

“Someone’s chipper today,” Lucy noted as Y/n skipped into the classroom, sitting next to her with a smile. “You’re even in on time! Did Detention really scare you so much that you didn’t wanna be late again?” 
“Good morning to you too,” they frowned teasingly, pulling out a little sketchbook and their pencil case. “Nope, I just...I dunno, I didn’t sleep in for once. I actually slept great for the first time in, what? Ever?” 
“You look it, your eye-bags are basically gone!” 
“Oh, no, that’s makeup. But! I actually had time to put some on for once!” 
“Aww, Y-Y growin’ up!” Lucy teased and wiping pretend tears away and, patting them on the back and jokingly wiping away a tear. “But, how was Detention by the way?” 
“Oh, great, actually. I got some work done and I made a new friend,” Y/n admitted, beginning to doodle. Lucy smiled widely, seeming to be genuinely happy. 
“Good for you! I’ve noticed that my crowd seems to put you off – don’t give me that look, I’ve seen your face, I’ve worn that face, I’m only still around those loud assholes because they’re Vio’s friends, so I know how you feel – but, seriously. I’m happy for you, now you’ll have someone less obnoxious than the soccer team!” 
“You’re talking to me as if I have no friends other than you,” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her, grinning. 
“You know what I mean! You only really hang out with me and Vio, as well as that nerd in your History and Physics classes. TJ?” 
“TK, and they’re a sweetheart, I’ll have you know.” 
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but, anyway! Who’s your friend?” 

Y/n glanced down at the doodle and realised that without thinking, they’d drawn the new friend himself.  

“Oh, take a look, I just finished a drawing of him,” they pointed. Lucy followed their finger, their smile dropping as her violet eyes widened, pupils contracting. 
“No,” she hissed quietly, whipping her head back to face the other, panicked. Y/n groaned at her expression. “Not him! You can’t be friends with him, he’s- well HE FUCKING CURVE STOMPED A JOCK AND TEEETH ARE ALL GONE!” 
“Trouble? Yeah, I know, TK told me, but he was nice enough to me!” Y/n whispered back, frowning. Lucy shook her head violently, ignoring how her earrings bashed against her cheeks as they swung on her ears. 
“You can’t! Peter King is- He's-” 
“If he ends up being horrible, I’ll just back off! I’ll be fine, Lulu!” 
“But!-” 

“Excuse me, girls,” came Mrs Stewart’s voice and, ew, there’s only one girl here, Y/n grimaced, Lucy frowning as she caught on too. “Could we have some silence whilst I do roll-call, please?” 
“Sorry Miss,” Y/n slumped, staring down at their paper. Lucy continued to look on with irritation at the teacher, absently squeezing their hand in comfort. 

Soon enough, registration passed, and the class continued with its noise before the first bell went off to signify the change in classes. Lucy looked at Y/n, eyes worried.  

“She’s a shit teach, huh?” 
“I’m used to it, it was worse back in the UK,” Y/n shrugged, packing their things away so they wouldn’t have to hurry when the time came. Lucy sighed. 
“I’m sorry, y/n, I- Fuck, not just that old bat, but about Peter. I’m just- I don’t want you getting hurt, ok? And, well, he makes others hurt a lot. But, if you wanna try, I won’t stop you. You’ll tell me if he does hurt you though, yeah? Vio and the boys’ll kick his ass for you, heck, I’ll join in! It’d put my brown belt to good use!” 
“Thanks, Lulu,” Y/n smiled, picking up their bag as the bell rang. “And, hey, I can beat him up too if I have to! I do swimming! I have the muscle!” 
“You’re a bit small compared to him, Y-Y.” 
“So’s everyone else!” 
“You’re 5’4!” 

They paused as they walked, before laughing loudly.  

“Ah, whatever, you probably won’t need to, anyway. See you at Break?” 
“See ya, good luck in the halls!” Lucy shouted over the noise, grinning as she made her way to her Business class. Y/n sighed, looking back at her momentarily before pushing on through the crowds. 
“I’ll fucking need it,” they grumbled getting pushed to-and-fro by all the taller students, pulling up their hood and tugging on the cord to block out the smell of deodorant and teenage sweat as they made their way to a hopefully quiet classroom. 

Media had better have some sort of challenge today.

[eyedoeluhn]

the portrayal of Aisha in BCF is, to say it concisely, awful. It’s not a surprise, BCF is (in my opinion) a terrible fic, but it manages to, at this point in the plot (108.1) managed to make every character it seems end up in a far worse position than where they normally would’ve been in canon. Which goes the same for Aisha, who is part of our main character’s, Joe’s, squad.

Before she’s folded into Joe’s team she’s a sexually aggressive ‘fast’ girl who harasses Joe by flirting with him and following him around the Laborn’s gym which he frequents.

Apparently her favorite hobby is this because it’s basically all we get about her from the other people at the gym too!

thanks Joe I really loved reading that. It’s my favorite part between the bits where the gym guys console poor baby you about how they’re so sympathetic about you being harassed by a child. This isn’t even my specific point I just wanted to mention this is how they meet. Anyways, after this Aisha triggers and having worked out Joe is a cape, follows him to his workshop. Through CF shit he makes a focus that boosts and allows her control of her power and makes a workaround for him, and she’s now ‘part of the team.’ Her welcoming ceremony is his sentient fashion thing dragging her away to dress her ‘properly’. Don’t worry, she dresses modestly and tastefully with Joe’s guidance!

now as a member of his team Joe does not treat Aisha like the child she is. Not in a ‘you can do work’ way, he speaks to her as if she was a fully emotionally mature and stable woman. This includes sharing his problems with her, all the time. Aisha admits to herself that as the team takes form shes been shoehorned into becoming the emotional cornerstone as the only ‘normal’ human. The fact that she is 13 years old and is explicitly shown to have not aged during time dilation and only ‘matured’ nebulously and experienced most of her time within the workshop makes it worse. She’s also too mature to date a boy her age by word of god apparently.

Why is this guy in his 20s going to a 13 year old about his problems? In her interlude she even directly states she’s using skills she used to deal with her mothers abusive boyfriends to handle Joe.

this is just like, actually sad. Why is the 13 year old the one in charge of managing this adult man who has a licensed therapist’s mental health. Joe does not find this concerning or does not enough to take any measures to stop Aisha from feeling responsible for him or attempting to administer care. When Joe is having a difficult (for him) call with his family who he is estranged from due to his trigger event and traumas involving them, Aisha is the person to check in on him

Naturally Joe’s first and really only concern about this is that Aisha is annoying him by prying. There’s really no attempt from Joe to do anything but occasionally shield her from physical harm. He constantly discusses his issues with her and leans on her emotionally while only really gifting her items. Which is where most BCF fans cry, but she’s getting all that cool tinkertech and personal teaching! I don’t think this terrible relationship should be tolerated just because she’s managed to get some fun stuff. Joe shouldn’t be bribing a child to give him reassurance. This is frankly exacerbated by the giant, insurmountable power gap between them which goes beyond an age difference. Joe is perfectly capable of constantly surveilling Aisha, seriously harming her, altering her mental state (arguably he’s done this before) and a myriad of awful things that Aisha just has to take on his word that he would do. It’s less funny when he jokes about putting nano machines in her to keep her from doing things he doesn’t want her to do when he could at any time.

It’s not a parental relationship, it’s not a mentor mentee, at best it’s a toxic codependency where Aisha is not treated her age and really any positives to this are because the author wants Joe to seem sympathetic despite everything. for Aisha, honestly, this is extremely fucked up

why are you like this, BCF.

[horizon-verizon]

It’s so funny how HOTD writers were like “history will paint you a villain” to try and make their “the show is what really happened” narrative work when they’ve blatantly cut out people that were inarguably vital during the Dance like you can’t have it both ways…You can’t say “this is what REALLY happened” and then ignore details that appear to be “too small” just because you don’t have the time or budget for it. Then the show means nothing because it is incomplete even if the events are “more accurate” (they aren’t).

The masters apparently: oh woops Alicent was 3 years younger or something actually. Oh Rhaenys... Fuck it she had brown hair. Oh yeah we did make up an entire child to make Blood & Cheese more dramatic. Like yeah, some shit would be changed for political reasons but like ???? I don’t know how Helaena can even get pregnant at this point cause Aegon’s long gone with no dick and she seems to be eagerly awaiting Aemond’s death, unless she starts hooking up with a Kingsguard or something there’s no way Maelor is gonna happen.

And it makes no sense for the ages to be completely off as well because how tf did 8 YR OLD AEMON AND 6 YR OLD BAELON father Rhaenys and Viserys respectively, how did Aemma go from 23 to almost 40 when she died, how did Laena go from the older sister of Laenor and married at 23 to 16 ? If Baelon instead had Viserys at 15 the latest, then that means ALYSSA WAS 12 YEARS OLD when she gave birth. Why so much pressure for them to have a child so young when Baelon wasn’t the heir yet ? Why would Alysanne allow them to consummate at that age ? NONE OF THIS SHIT MAKES SENSE.

Of course, part of it is a present trend of execs styming tv productions whenever they don't feel like the show produces enough money soon enough or limiting budgets, but I simply despised how the writiers handled both how they sold/reasoned the show to fans and how some tried to denigrate fans' opinions.