#I have so many more quotes for them I had to narrow this down to a specific topic focus

[moltengoldveins]

Emerald Duo -

[weirdmageddon]

the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom

i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.

ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.

i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.

i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.

i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!

according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.

and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.

that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.

but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:

the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.

the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?

jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.

the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!

the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.

as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.

so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.

from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.

at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.

but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.

being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.

reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.

at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.

EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.

i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.

additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.

[esther-dot]

Was gonna do a poll then realized that with how often this has been mischaracterized as show bs by the rest of the fandom, we might want to run through some of the book hints for Sansa being the girl in grey first. So…

The one thing we know about Sansa's future is that she will find her way to Winterfell. ASOS features a prophecy telling us so:

I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow." (ASOS, Arya VIII) The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. [...] She picked up a broken branch and smashed the torn doll's head down on top of it, then pushed it down atop the shattered gatehouse of her snow castle. The servants looked aghast, but when Littlefinger saw what she'd done he laughed. "If the tales be true, that's not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell's walls." (ASOS, Sansa VII)

Doesn't make her the grey girl, but it’s fun that we’re told she’s going North via prophecy, and Jon is told a sister is coming North via prophecy. I’m sure it means nothing.

We have a quote which points to a reunion between Sansa and Jon by virtue of her moment of despair being a prelude for her wish coming true (there are no heroes/Edd, fetch me a block…wait a sec, that involves Jon too???):

Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise. (AFFC, Alayne II)

More & meta links under the cut (I kept it as short as possible, promise!)

Obviously, the reunion could happen after Jon has retaken Winterfell, except we have this line which indicates a Stark will be present for that:

Battles had been fought at Winterfell before, but never one without a Stark on one side or the other. (ADWD, Jon VII)

We also have breadcrumbs leading North for Sansa by @istumpysk :

"I never knew a wolf to run up a streambed for miles," said Reek. "A man might. If he knew he was being hunted, he might. But a wolf?" - Theon IV, ACOK x The Liddle took out a knife and whittled at a stick. "When there was a Stark in Winterfell, a maiden girl could walk the kingsroad in her name-day gown and still go unmolested, and travelers could find fire, bread, and salt at many an inn and holdfast. - Bran II, ASOS x If Dontos and this northern girl helped murder our sweet king, it seems to me that they would want to put as many leagues as they could betwixt themselves and justice. Look for them in Oldtown, if you must, or across the narrow sea. Look for them in Dorne, or on the Wall. Look elsewhere. - Brienne II, AFFC x Or would she seek her own blood instead? Though all of her siblings had been slain, Brienne knew that Sansa still had an uncle and a bastard half brother on the Wall, serving in the Night's Watch. Another uncle, Edmure Tully, was a captive at the Twins, but his uncle Ser Brynden still held Riverrun. And Lady Catelyn's younger sister ruled the Vale. Blood calls to blood. Sansa might well have run to one of them. Which one, though? - Brienne II, AFFC) [link for much more + a map)

And most importantly, in the vision itself we have a hint that the girl is Sansa, as noted by @starwarsprincess1986

[link]

We even have a tentative travel timeline thanks to @aegor-bamfsteel [link]

Some fans believe Alys or Jeyne is the girl in grey, but neither girl’s path fits with Mel’s vision:

GRRM has the map for a reason, in order go along with the story and where everyone is at in the chapters. FArya is coiming from Stannis’ camp in Crofters’ Village, which is  located in the wolfswood west of Winterfell, on the west side of the kingsroad and on the wrong side of Long Lake. Whereas Alys Karstark was coming from Karhold, which is located on the east side of the North, but it’s no where near Long Lake. This makes neither girl the one Melisandre saw in the flames. [link]

That's a good argument that neither Jeyne nor Alys is who Mel saw, and paired with GRRM’s widely noted thing for the number three, it’s pretty compelling:

Then there’s the GRRM rule of 3s; who the characters think it is, who the audience thinks it is, and who it actually is that has been foreshadowed all along. Jon’s other sister he knows was in a forced marriage has barely been on his radar. by @aegor-bamfsteel [link]

Also, Sansa is Ned’s narrative heir which would explain why Martin would want to write her return North as an echo of her father’s journey home after the rebellion as detailed by @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir [link]

Of course, we have parallels from Jon’s side too. As many fans have noted, Jon getting murdered when he’s wanting to save a sister can be read as a callback to Brandon, but Jon dealing with a prophecy that’s eating away at him makes for an interesting parallel to his father. In both instances, for Brandon and Rhaegar, it is not any girl, but a Stark girl who is central to the matter. In fact, Sansa has specific parallels with Lyanna, and if she is the girl in grey, it would mean she and Lyanna both flee from an unwanted marriage and meet with a Targ which interestingly enough allows the conversation that Jon’s story is having with pre-canon Targ and Stark men to continue. He might save his “sister” where Brandon could not, and where his father spirited the Stark girl far away to a place she ultimately died, Jon will return his Stark girl safely home.

[Elaboration on the Sansa and Lyanna parallels in this tag and in a recent post by @julibf ]

There’s also the succession issue which both Jon and Sansa’s story have prominently featured with LF wanting to use Sansa to claim the North and Stannis wanting to use Jon, and of course, both are significant in the debate about Robb’s will which will create a fun wrinkle:

There is a conflict between them too - until they learn that Bran and Rickon are alive they both are kinda heirs of Starks and Winterfell, both are ruler coded since AGOT and their political strengths complement each other's weaknesses. Moreover, both can support each other's claim. Sansa Stark while being legitimate heir in many lords eyes is still married to Lannister and everyone knows it and she is also a girl who doesn't know how to wage a war. On the other hand Jon Snow even with Stark blood printed on his Ned Stark (who is still beloved in the North) face is still a bastard and can't interfere with claim of legitimate heirs (given that Robb's will is still unknown). One of them on his/her own can raise a lot of questions but two can make a decent claim. by @asoiaf-essays-collector [link]

All of this set up is wasted if they are not both feasible options (in the North) for the Northern Lords to back, allowing the political drama to unfold. (And then imagine when Bran and/or Rickon shows up alive!)

I’d argue this bit hints that the girl in grey will not only make an appearance, but will have real significance to Jon’s story beyond Alys’ brief appearance:

[link]

There’s also the the possibility of Jon post assassination being a play on “the Stranger,” and Sansa a “silent sister” to consider:

[link]

And I can’t do a recap of this theory without acknowledging The Meta. Written all the way back in 2013, this post predicted that Jon and Sansa would not only reunite but reunite first of all the Starks:

If one believes in dramatic irony, it is that thoughtlessness in regards to each other....that gives them the best chances of being the first (if not only) Starks to reunite. [link]

So, is Sansa the girl in grey?

Feel free to add on additional arguments and/or your favorite bits of evidence. I’ll post a poll in a few days!

[gremlin-girly]

Can I request for your 20s questions challenge

Steve Rogers + "What are we going to tell the others?" + Arrange marriage

Thank you 🥰❤️

A/N: Thank you so much for this ask 🥺 it actually reminded me of a wip I had ages ago and so I've finally put it together. Sorry it took so long! Enjoy ❤️

Arranged

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Trope: Arranged marriage

Quote: "what are we going to tell the others?"

Not beta'd. All my work is 18+ and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through AI.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Royal/Bridgeton-esque AU, arranged marriage,

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Collection | 20s Challenge | 20s Masterlist

Steven Grant Rogers, crown prince of Angeion, never had much luck with women. It wasn't for lack of trying on his part but, when stood next to his knight Bucky, Steven couldn't catch a maiden's glance even if he was king.

He'd courted, of course, that was expected when he became old enough. However, the only women he seemed to court either had more interest in Bucky (giggling and paying no attention to Steve, trying to catch Bucky's eye) or were quite clearly interested in the status and wealth that came with being a potential future queen.

After numerous failed courtships (that were beginning to gain negative attention), Steve's mother, the Queen Regent, had announced that she would make a match on Steve's behalf.

"Mother," Steve pleaded in a hushed voice as they walked through the gardens. "I can pick my own wife. I've just not found the right one."

"Good thing I have found her for you," Queen Sarah chuckles and pats her son's arm lovingly. "I'm sorry Steven but there are sacrifices we must make. You'll understand when you're king."

Steve puffs his cheeks in a pout and narrows his eyes, half playful - half annoyed. "Whatever happened to true love?"

The Queen snorts. "Whatever happened to it indeed."

"Bucky suggested that I go with him on a training trip." Steve says, quickly changing the topic. "A year or two to study the art of war, fighting and whatever else that princes study. A king must know how to win a war."

The Queen narrows her eyes at her son skeptically, taking in his thin body as he disguises a cough in his hand. With a withering sigh she concedes, before shooting a glare to Bucky who walks a few feet behind them. Bucky grins and waves, making Sarah roll her eyes.

"Very well." She nods. "But only a year, Steven. Then you need to marry."

It turns out that a year is not very long.

When Steve returned to his home many, especially the ladies, we're surprised to find that scrawny Steve Rogers had transformed into one of the most handsome suitors in the country. He'd had a growth spurt and was now a good few inches taller, chest and shoulders broader, and his hair had been styled perfectly (despite him urging that he hadn't touched it).

Rumours spread that Steve had gone away to make a deal with a devil or pay for a potion; not that it mattered to the ladies of the court. A single, handsome prince was in the market for a wife and, even though a year ago no woman would look at him twice, Steve now had a presence of confidence that he hadn't exuded before. This meant, rather irritatingly for Bucky, Steve was gaped, gawped and gawked at everywhere he went more than before and was often surrounded by women.

Today was no different and as Steve spotted a gaggle of ladies coming to follow him like a mother duck he took off down a side street, leaving Bucky to be almost trapped by the squad of women with their shoes clicking against the cobblestones.

Steve took a sharp right, pleasantly smug that he was faster than before, and came to a dead end. He could hear the ladies calling for him and in a blind panic, scrambled up the wall in front of him, half throwing himself over the edge and onto the hard lawn six feet below with a thud.

It wasn't everyday that a prince fell into your garden.

You pause to watch him roll upright, your paint brush dripping small explosions of pink water colour against your gown. He jumps to his feet, head whipping back and forth like a frightened cat. The whoops and squeals of ladies died to questioning huh? 's over the other side of the wall and you see the prince's stiff shoulders relax slightly.

When he turns, brushing some leaves and petals that had stuck to him from his clothes, he spots you. You go to open your mouth but he frantically waves at you, pressing his finger to his lips as he approaches.

"Please don't scream." He pleads quietly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm trying to escape them."

You glance at the wall with a smirk, hearing one of the ladies take charge and urging the others to split up and look for one Prince Steven. You look back to your stranger, his blue eyes bright and begging for your mercy, as you smile softly and shuffle up in your seat to make a space for him.

"I only have one cup of cold tea." You tell him, leaning forward to add a gently stroke to your painting. "And so long as your quiet, I wouldn't mind your company."

Steven nods and slips in beside you, keeping a gentlemanly distance between you. He sighs in relief when there's a flurry of footsteps away from the wall, and focuses his attention to your painting.

Hues of pink, purple and green are scattered in bursts of colour across the canvas, the image of a bright hydrangea bush becomes clear.

"It's beautiful." Steve says enthusiastically as you're mid-brush. "Did you paint this yourself?"

You stop and look at him with a raised brow and Steve feels himself flush with embarassment at his own stupidity. If it weren't for the fact that you were painting on the canvas, the other clues such as your paint-stained fingers and the smudges of green on your cheek should have been a dead giveaway.

But instead of ignoring his stupidity, you snort at him and continue painting.

"Perhaps there's a ghost in the garden, Prince Rogers." You tease gently, dipping your brush into the murky water of a mason jar besides your paint. "Possessing me to paint on this spectacularly convient canvas I've only just noticed."

"You know me?" Steve asks, before internally cursing his own stupidity again. Of course you knew who he was. He was the prince of the country.

"I know your name." You say, mixing your brush in two shades of green and stamping them to the canvas. Steve watches as you create leaves with such ease, mesmerised by your talent. "I do not know you. Not anymore."

Steve ponders your words for a moment, his heart stirring in his chest. "Not anymore?"

You sigh through your nose and look over to him, dropping your hands into your lap. "I remember you before this." You gesture vaguely to his form. "The sweet young man who drew so beautifully."

Steve blinked. No one had ever really paid attention to who he was before. Or so he thought.

"Right." Steve clicks his tongue thoughtfully. "Well, I'm different now. I'm-"

Steve is to attempt to think of a better descriptor of whom he had become, even though he felt like he hadn't changed at all, before you cut him off.

"Oh? That's a shame."

Then you go back to your paints.

Steve blinks, dumbfounded. He'd grown taller, had more muscle, he could grow a beard now and now that all the ladies swooned over him like they had for Bucky, he found himself drawn to the only one that seemed indifferent to his new look.

"I'm not that different." Steve argues half-heartedly. "I mean, I look different and I've been away learning and training. But I'm still-"

He catches you trying not to smile as you paint and his heart leaps excitedly.

"I'm still me." He finishes a little more confidently, sitting a little straighter.

"I'm pleased to hear it." Your voice is soft, pleasant, and Steve can hear the sincerity of your words in your tone.

Your eyes flicker to his and Steve's head swims, his breath catching as he tries in vain to come up with something smart to say. Something witty to make you laugh.

"So," he begins awkwardly. "Painting."

"Painting." You repeat back to him with a grin, deepening the colour of your hydrangea petals. "What about it, my prince?"

Steve blushes. "Do you paint only flowers?"

"Flowers mostly. I'm not very good at portraits." You say, cleaning your brush.

"And only watercolours?" Steve presses, enthused. "I could never get the water and paint ratio quite right."

"I prefer watercolour." You admit setting your brush on the easel and wiping your hands in a colourfully stained rag. "I would be happy to show you some time - if you show me your drawings."

"Sounds like a fair trade, my lady."

You try not to shiver as a wave of excitement rolls over you but as you turn to face Steve, he snorts.

Your brows furrow for a second before embarrassment heats your cheeks as you realise with a sinking feeling, that you've rubbed paint on your face.

"May I?" Steve asks, dipping his pristine white cuff into your dirty paint water and holding it up to you in offering. You nod shyly, allowing the prince to wipe away your paint.

His touch is gentle but it's gone too soon. You realise you've had your eyes closed throughout the sweet gesture and when you open them you find Steve's eyes looking directly back at you.

"I have an appointment to keep." You squeak out, jumping to your feet and almost knocking over your easel. Steve follows suit.

"Let me escort you back."

As you walk together, you're oddly close. Steve apologises profusely about landing in your garden and you point out all of the flowers ypu have already painted. Conversation flows easily, and is pleasant, the air is light with polite excitement that you know you aren't the only one feeling. By the time you reach the reception room (your head maid giving you an odd look at the random apparition of the Prince), you're already nostalgic about your conversations.

Steve stops mid-reach for the door handle to the foyer and turns to you. "Can I be forward?"

"If falling into my garden wasn't forward enough, then by all means your highness." You smirk at him, and Steve almost crumbles at the sight.

"I've never... You are..." He takes a breath and steels his nerves. "I would like to court you. Officially. I've never met anyone quite like you before."

"Aren't you engaged?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. Steve can't quite place your tone, but it's somewhere between curious and amused. "What are we going to tell the others?"

"That it is the will of the future king that I want to get to know you and not some random woman who my mother picked for me." Steve huffs. "That is, if you would like that to be my will?"

Even though you don't answer immediately, there is an unmistakable glimmer in your eyes that tells Steve your answer.

"I think I would, your highness." You bow your head slightly

"Just Steve." He insists. "Call me Steve."

The door suddenly swings inwards, almost knocking Steve in the back of the head and he tumbles forwards managing (just barely) to catch himself before barrelling into you.

"Steven?" Queen Sarah gasps as she enters the room. Servants trail behind her; your lady-in-waiting looking particularly rattled by the Queen's sudden appearance and mouthing a "Sorry ma'am" to you.

"Mother?"

"Your majesty." You curtsey low and bow your head, but when you rise you're smiling at the Queen. "I hope I didn't keep you too long. Steven walked the garden with me after falling into it."

Steve looks between you and his mother incredulously. "Why didn't you say you were meeting my mother?"

"Would you have stayed for as long as you did?" You counter and Steve's cheeks grow pink.

"I trust my son behaved himself?" The Queen asks, ignoring her son.

"Of course, your majesty. He was a gentleman." You nod approvingly. "Just as you said."

"I'm glad that spending all that time with Bucky didn't rub off on him." The Queen replies, narrowing her eyes at Steve, who smiles sheepishly. "I do suppose that makes me the first to congratulate you on your engagement?"

"I - wait - mother. I need to speak with you. About my engagement." Steve's spine almost turns to jelly under his mother's glare but he swallows his nerves and clammers on. "I cannot marry whomever you've picked. I'm sure she's lovely but I would like to court Lady Y/L/N."

The Queen looks at her son, blinking in bewilderment, before looking at you and then to him again. "What?"

"I would like-"

"No." The Queen holds up her hand to silence Steve and he catches you stifling a laugh out of the corner of his eye. "By all means court her all you want - she is your fiancée."

Now Steve blinks at you with bewilderment, mimicking his mother's expression to a T. Slowly, his lips begin to twitch upwards and his excitable gleam returns to his azure eyes.

"Now, why didn't you tell me that?"

"I didn't think it was in your best interest, your highness." You say simply, looking a little too smug about the situation. "You had just launched yourself over my garden wall to escape many ladies vying for your attention. I doubted the last thing you needed was another claiming to be your fiancée."

Steve scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly. "Yes. I may have found that to be a bit much."

Steve grins over at you, beaming brightly and you try to keep you're lady-like composure but there's a heat creeping up your neck that you can't stop and have to glance away, biting back an equally excitable grin.

The Queen looks between you both with a pleased smile, waving her hands dismissively and turning on her heel followed closesly by her ladies-in-waiting. "I suppose my job here is done. Enjoy your afternoon."

Steve bows his head at his mother's back respectfully before offering his hand out to you. "I believe you have some tea that's getting cold."

You place your hand into his and smile at him. "At least I can offer you a cup this time."

End

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[hottpinkpenguin]

For event:

Alfie Solomons with

A - “Ask me to stay” + N - not good enough

Please. Thanks

A/n: hiiiiiii, i realized after i wrote it that i got over-excited and forgot the quote (the trope is there though!!) but i like this too much not to post it!

Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2229 Tags: angst, steam, canon-divergence, swearing, misogynistic themes

Alfie Solomons was a man of many vices and few virtues. He’d gone to great pains to ensure that. 

Usually this fact was one he lived proudly. He lived violently, lavishly, and with reckless abandon. Spent his money foolishly, shot his pistols carelessly, and slept with women thoughtlessly. This earned him a larger-than-life reputation in Camden Town. It impressed his employees, amused his business partners, and irritated his enemies. Alfie Solomons was a thorn in the side of propriety, and he loved it.

That changed quickly after meeting you. 

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure when that change happened - he couldn’t finger a specific moment or blame any particular feeling - but he had realized some time ago that the man he’d spent his entire life growing into was suddenly a hindrance.

And it had never been clearer than now.

“Mr. Solomons, I am not a man prone to jokes or levity, especially in moments as grave as this.” Your father was sitting across from Alfie, his back as straight as a whipping rod, hands splayed on the small kitchen table between them. He was taller than Alfie remembered, with shrewd dark eyes that bored straight into him. The absent smile of regret slid off Alfie’s face when he snapped back into the moment, dragged out of wistful reverie. 

“No, n-no sir.” A stutter? Alfie Solomons had never stuttered a day in his life, but here he was, reduced to a stuttering, sheepish shadow of himself in your kitchen. He could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard outside the kitchen door - no doubt you and your three younger sisters listening intently to the near-midnight conversation about your future. 

“I must admit, Mr. Solomons, I am utterly perplexed. My daughter is a young woman with no means, very few prospects beyond that which marriage will afford her. It is my understanding that she intends to pursue a life in the church, in fact.” Alfie’s heart froze to solid ice in his chest. A nun? My god, what was this woman doing to him. Alfie Solomons swore silently to himself that he’d die before he saw you don a habit and wimple. The mere sight of that alone would kill him.

“Yes sir, yes, I understand. I understand well.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed as it was rather obvious that Alfie Solomons did not, in fact, understand at all.

“She is a good girl, but plain and modest in both looks, prospects, and background. Surely a man of your… stature-” your father’s voice pressed down on this word with distaste “- would have his pick of eligible brides.”

Alfie stifled a chuckle, recognizing that it would do him no good to appear cocky or dismissive of your father’s concerns. Your father was right on all accounts: Alfie Solomons was a gangster, a womanizer, and a criminal. You, on the other hand, were… well, words failed Alfie when it came to describing you, but to say you were everything that he was not was an understatement of the worst kind. 

He settled on what he hoped was an appropriately chaste nod. Your father leaned back slightly in his chair, eyeing his eldest daughter’s apparent suitor with bald antipathy. Alfie wasn’t used to people - especially other men - regarding him so openly. It made him uncomfortable in a manner he was quite unused to, as if he was being truly seen for the first time in a long time. He squirmed slightly in his chair, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the wide-brim of his best hat, something he’d had commissioned specifically for this occasion. 

The silence between the two men was widening into a chasm. It was more than you could take. Suddenly unable to stop yourself, you leapt up from the crouch you’d been in for the last half hour, eavesdropping from the stairwell with your mother and younger sisters. You launched down the stairs, despite your sisters grabbing at your nightgown. Your mother gasped as you flung open the kitchen door, almost unseating Alfie in the process. Your kitchen was as modest as your future prospects, and with the three of you crammed into the space it was mighty tight. The added pressure of your nearly-dashed hopes, your father’s broad disappointment, and Alfie’s hopeless attachment to you turned the meager room from cozy to positively stifling. 

“Papa, please! I love him! You can’t keep me from him, I won’t let you!” 

Childish and painfully simple, not nearly the eloquent protest you’d been mulling over all day. And a lie to boot. If push came to shove - as it so often did with your father - he could very much keep you from marrying Alfie Solomons. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your outburst.

Alfie, for one, thought you’d never looked more perfect. Your eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight, your hair was undone and slung over one shoulder in a lazily constructed braid, small curls breaking free around your temples and forehead. Your skin flushed with the unseasonable warm of the September night in Camden Town, those beautiful pillowy lips he couldn’t get out of his head parted and pink. If he was a coarser man and the situation less important, he felt sure he’d grab you and pull you onto his lap right then and there, bystanders and naysayers be damned.

“Saints above, m’dear, come away and cover yourself!” Your mother had been only a few steps behind you. Unable to step fully into the kitchen, she settled for tugging on your arm. Your blush deepened to a shade of red bordering on purple as you realized you were standing in nothing but a summer-thin nightgown. Alfie’s gaze hadn’t made its way far enough from your face yet to take in the ample expanses of skin on display, but your father was glaring daggers into the opposite wall, his jaw set so tight you wondered his teeth didn’t break. 

Appropriately embarrassed, the element of surprise now lost to you, you bowed your head and let your mother tug you out of the kitchen. Your mother - a soft-souled romantic at heart - made gentle soothing motions against your back as silent sobs began to rack through you. You climbed the stairs in a fog, your sisters scattering at your mother’s insistence that ‘the show’s over, girls’. With each step higher, you felt certain that the future you’d imagined for yourself with Alfie was destined to be nothing more than a far-flung dream. 

The kitchen had sunk back into a tense silence, however for subtle reasons not quite clear to Alfie, your father seemed infinitely more disquieted by your scene than he’d have expected from the sour old puss. Those gnarled, knobby hands that had, until just a moment ago, been laid out like piles of kindling on the table all evening were suddenly clasped together and fidgety. Your father seemed shorter, his spine bowing under an invisible weight. Against himself, Alfie Solomons found himself leaning forward with a hint of concern.

“Sir? Are you quite alright?” 

Your father’s gaze had lost none of its venom, although behind that mask of derision was a spark of emotion. 

“How did you manage it, Mr. Solomons?” The question was as quiet as snowfall in winter. Alfie almost had to ask him to repeat it. 

“What, sir? Manage what, sir?” More stuttering. Gods be damned, Alfie Solomons was a mess. The image of you bursting into the kitchen, all softness and outrage and girlish desire, had tied him into knots. 

“My eldest daughter is many things, Mr. Solomons. A diligent student, a kind voice to her sisters, a steadfast helper to her mother. A pious child of God.” (Alfie struggled to keep himself from breaking into an impish grin, knowing that if your father had any inkling of the enthusiastic midnight rendezvous the two of you indulged in frequently that he most certainly would not dub you pious.) “And a passionate spirit, I confess. Yet… that part of her is… locked away.” 

Alfie found himself nodding, his memory dragging him back to the first few weeks of your acquaintance. You’d been all business - all ‘yes, Mr. Solomons’ and ‘right away, sir’. But he’d seen that fire in you, the same fire your father spoke of. It simmered deep in your eyes and bubbled up when you laughed. It had sent Alfie to the brink of madness to come so close to something he wanted so badly and to be denied it. But with diligence, patience, and focus - all virtues that Alfie Solomons had gone to great lengths to rid himself of - he’d finally won you over. He’d finally found that the fire inside you burned wild and free. You were raw and open and unfettered with him now. A gift he’d kill for. Hell, he’d die for it too. 

“But not with you, apparently.” Your father’s voice trailed off into quiet. Alfie wondered what he was meant to say. He settled on a noncommittal grunt of agreement. 

“How that came to be, I find myself unable to hazard a guess…” Another probing gaze, the kind that made Alfie squirm. “And perhaps I wouldn’t like the answer. In fact, I…” Your father stopped suddenly, clearing his throat and straightening his crisp Sunday jacket. A ridiculously formal choice for the occasion, Alfie thought, although he realized he could hardly cast stones as he looked down at his freshest suit, newest hat, and shiniest shoes. It seemed both of them had understood the importance of this night, and of the things that hung in the balance with their words.

“I am quite shocked to hear myself say this, Mr. Solomons, and I urge you to leave quickly lest I reconsider. But yes. You may marry her.” 

Alfie wondered if he’d finally drank himself into madness. This surely was a dream, a whiskey-addled fever dream. He gaped openly at your father, stammering out nothing more than shocked noises. 

“You don’t have my blessing, although I won’t stand in your way.” 

The door to the kitchen burst open again, and in you came once more, squealing and flying into a pair of outstretched arms. Alfie smiled as your father engulfed you in a surprised hug. You were bouncing on your toes, peppering the side of his freshly shaved face with kisses and earnest expressions of ‘oh thank you Papa! Thank you!’ Alfie was glad to see that you’d thrown on a housecoat and pinned up your hair in a style more akin to what he was used to seeing you wear. He didn’t trust himself around you with that just-woke-from-sleep blush on your lips. 

Always trailing behind you, in rushed your three sisters and your mother, exclaiming and clapping their hands as if it were a jubilee. How the entire family - plus Alfie Solomons - managed to fit into that pint-sized kitchen was nothing short of a miracle. Hugs were exchanged, and Alfie kissed so many hands he wasn’t sure who’s high-pitched voice was talking to him anymore. 

It wasn’t until he felt your familiar weight balancing on the toes of his boots that he felt himself begin to swim into reality. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off your feet into his embrace. You squeaked with joy, your soft hands finding their way to frame his face. Tossing all rules of propriety to the wind, your lips connected with his in a defiant, joyful, and soft kiss. You were warm under Alfie’s hands, and he was glad that no one but you could hear the groan of need he let loose as he tasted you on his tongue. For a moment, he let himself lose time in your mouth, hands resisting the urge to roam across your backside and around the swell of your hips. 

A pointed throat cleared, bringing Alfie Solomons down from the high. 

“As I suggested, Mr. Solomons, a timely exit would be a wise decision.”

Despite his generally somber countenance, Alfie could detect the faintest note of happiness in your father’s words. A confident declaration you’d made earlier that week drifted back to Alfie: Papa loves me, Alfie. He’ll have no choice but to say yes when he sees how in love we are. 

Alfie hadn’t believed a word of that back then, but he was grateful for your prescience. With a broad smile and a swelling heart, Alfie nodded graciously to your mother, sisters, father, and lastly to you, his bride-to-be, before making his exit. He donned his cap on the front steps outside your door, not minding the oppressive warmth of a sticky night even under his three layers of wool suit.

You stepped halfway out the door to wave shyly as Alfie retreated into the night, his feet barely touching the pavement beneath. He turned back more times than he could count to see you still standing there, bathed in the streetlamp’s light. He rounded the corner at the end of your street with the warm realization that, in a few weeks time, there’d be no more goodbyes from front stoops between the two of you. Only goodnight kisses - likely much more than that, if Alfie had any say at all - as one of you would turn down the bedside lamp, turning off the light on another happy day together in a future neither of you were sure would ever come to be…

[tuskhansworld]

Dusk and Dawn

DEMO LINK

You have failed, you have failed yourself, your mom/dad and your friends. It was your last chance to graduate, and you blew it. If only you had studied harder had done better. No one said college would be easy.

It was supposed to be an ordinary walk, one where you could ruminate in peace as you wallow in your own self-pity. Going off path was the first mistake, the second was failing to turn back when you had the chance.

What now? What direction will your life take? Is there even a chance to get back to college and if there was would you take it. Would you take the ordinary over this?

Dusk and Dawn is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, morally questionable behaviour, and so much more. Dusk and Dawn is an urban fantasy type IF inspired by CYOA’S like slayer v4, gifted and supernatural detective. If you haven’t heard of this, I recommend that you do. They’re amazing.

FEATURES

Customize your MC (they whose life you will live) appearance, personality, and coping mechanisms. Will you be broken? How will you cope by being accepting in denial or dissociating

This is an urban fantasy type IF as the story progresses you will work on your character’s abilities as well as skills. Will you go down the path of a Knight, or bishop. Currently a work in progress.

Engage in fiery romances with an array of characters or not. The choice is yours.

Ros

Alexandrea/Alexander Ariti

Holier than thou attitude. Believes they are better than everyone else thus making them the best. The mental gymnastics it took to reach this conclusion is somewhat worrying. Has an ego so inflated it’s a surprise their head hast exploded yet. Sadly, is severely competent that bragging is just plain honesty to them. Considered a genius by many. Likes to pull up quotes from philosophies and other things. Actually, gives good advice if you can get over the condescending attitude.

Description: Tall with an athletic build, dark mahogany skin, with eyes the colour of honey. Their dark kinky hair is long currently worn in tribal braids inset with golden ornament and as an afro at the back. Forming a sort of lion's mane. They prefer wearing simple long flowing clothes and they took the ROOK class route.

Blaise/Blanca Everest

An absolute motorcycle riding, shades-wearing, vodka drinking badass. Knows what they want, and lord help you if you stand between them and that. Collected to the point of coming of as standoffish and whilst also being a complete and utter jerk. Rumours about them sometimes spread. B could care less. Knows obscure rituals and can get difficult to find incidents through less savoury means. Don’t ask where b gets them, seriously don’t. A close friend to St. Dew.

Description: They are of average height and have a lean, solid build. Their skin is pale and covered in beauty marks, and their eyes are hazel-coloured. Their dark hair is ear-length and trimmed into a messy but stylish wolfcut. They prefer wearing dark colours with soft, loose tops.

Isra/Isran Dawnstar

Your local “plant mom” and geek will mansplain anything they love and are interested in. Is somewhat endearing since they usually talk about interesting topics. Also, can help you research very obscure myths and legends. Can talk for hours about gardening and alchemy. Grows their own [i]alchemic[/i] ingredients. Wink An alchemical genius will brew amazing potions and philtres. Usually tests some of their more eccentric potions on themselves.

Description: Almost as tall as you, with an average build, I has a sharp jaw, high cheekbones and a hooked nose. Their eyes are sharp and narrowed, with black eyeliner used to highlight the green in them. Has a chemical burn atop their left hand from one of their first experiments. Straight dark hair that’s shoulder length.

Narrak/Narrah St.dew

An absolute darling, a literal gem. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone that doesn’t like them. A fun-loving person who most definitely was a golden retriever in their past life. Can be a bit of an airhead. It’s not that N is dumb it's just that they could care less unless something interests them. Though don’t worry they have a lot of interests. Loves anything and everything that involves outdoors, hiking camping, though more partial to rock climbing and surfing. Knows how to give piercings, usually re-pierces their own for…reasons. One of the only people to Everest their best friend.

Description: Average height, with an athletic build though leaning towards that of a runner, their skin is the colour of caramel, with a dusting of freckles across their nose and shoulders. Long curl dirty blonde hair sometimes though rarely worn in a bun.

Rowan/Rowana Barlow

If kindness could kill then they would be wanted in four different states. Though they may have killed a few with their ‘Bear hugs’. Even then the police would let them go with a slap to the wrist. Kind to a fault. Though R knows their limits. Won’t let anyone walk over you. Prefers to talk than to fight. Has vitiligo across their body.

Description : Taller than average with a bigger build, patches of their hazelnut skin is a light pink tone. Vitiligo is most prominent on their head and face with a large section of the eye, forehead and hair affected by it. A patch of their ebon hair has lost its pigmentation as well as their left eyelash. Their eyes are dark blue.

Torek/Toren Metheka

Everyone knows about them. But is there anybody who actually knows them? Versed in both magic and fighting. They are the main reason why half of the recruits joined the Great Hunt. Tales of their prowess and skill border on legends. Is mysterious. Origins are unknown…to the general public.

Description: Tall solid thick build with broad shoulders and shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair. Their hands are large and calloused. Their storm-grey eyes stern.

Special romance route: There is a poly route but let’s save that for later.

Your choices will have consequences remember that.

[schrodingers-deadbitch]

Half A Corpse

Chapter One

The soft hum of the radio filled the silent car ride, the four bodies inside somewhat anticipating what was to come. It had been a couple of days since they had left the ruins of Amity and were making their way to their new home in Gotham.

If any of them had their own way they would have stayed in Amity and mourned what they had lost. Every Amity Parker would have, even Dan. But with some prompting from none other than Clockwork, they all made their way to their new homes. Where was that? Wherever their hearts took them.

Most, like the Nightingale's, left for Gotham. Others, Metropolis. Some strayed from the trend and moved to places like Central City or even far into the countryside. But it was as Clockwork said, and they went where their hearts took them.

“This place smells of death.”

Jazz couldn't tell if her sister was complaining or not but she wouldn't blame her if she were.

“Haven't you been to Gotham before?” She asked, her eyes drifting upwards to the rear view mirror to look at Dani, only to see her sitting upside down. “Also if you keep that up I'll be the one going to jail not you.”

“It was actually the first place I went because I thought it was interesting,” She said while shifting herself into an upright position “but I could sense that it was someone's haunt so I didn't intrude.”

“Good thing you didn't. She doesn't have the ability to deal with many of the issues within her city but Lady Gotham is a powerful spirit nonetheless, and doesn't do well with outside ghosts.” Dan stated, putting down his book to give his full attention to his little sister.

“Well if that's the case why did she let us in?”

“Because Clockwork and I asked very nicely.” Danny yawned at her. He was still waking up from his nap. He was very, very tired.

Dani didn't ask any more questions. She was already off of that topic and was now observing the city around her. She was completely enamored. Fascinated by how well both the modern and gothic architecture complemented each other. To her (and probably everyone else in the car);

“It gives dark academia vibes, ya know! Just modern. And with lots of crime.” Her voice filled with awe and wonder.

“Excusing the fact that you've been on the internet too much as of late, it would have been better if there was a little more sunlight.”

They all couldn't have agreed more. True to every Gothamite's words, the sun did not shine in Gotham. And with all the smog, probably never will.

From there on the car ride was filled with convocation. Everyone had something to say about their new city. Their new home.

***

Danny never thought that he would be having a conversation with Sam about what it meant to be low-key but here he was.

“Yeah, I know you said that you wanted something low-key but there was no way I was going to let you guys live in some shabby apartment. So I bought a place and renovated it for you guys.”

Danny rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. “Yeah okay I thank you for that. But what's the cafe, book shoppy thing down bottom huh?”

“Well you guys said that you wanted to be self-sufficient.” Sam stated as if that would answer his question. Based on pure context alone it did.

"Sam, you know we literally live in a place called Crime. Alley. Right? I know we border the Narrows but that's not the point.”

She sighed. “You guys refused my help because you said it would ‘feel like using me’, “ Danny could just hear the air quotes from over the line, “but let's face it! Jazz is doing college full time and you and Dani will be going to school. The only person left to work in Dan. And no offense to him but he looks shady AF.”

A shout came from the other side of the house informing them that no offense was taken.

“Anyways,” she continued “Dan looks hella shady. And from what I can tell, no one's gonna hire a shady person. Especially if they come from Crime Alley or the Narrows. The only work he would probably get is from a shady garage or joining a gang and doing straight up crime.”

Danny sighed and shook his head, plopping himself into one of the beanbag chairs Sam furnished the house with. She had a point and she was also painting a clear image in his head about how that would work out.

“Besides, I set up a protection circle after renovations were finished and I've gotta say it's the best work I've done yet.”

He could feel Sam's pride through the phone. She was probably puffing up her chest like a peacock.

“Yeah I felt it coming in. I don't know shit about magic but I could tell that it was pretty good. What does it do again?”

The next hour was filled with endless chatter between the two. It became even longer once Tucker joined the conversation.

Jazz couldn't help but watch her little brother talk so animatedly with his friends. He just looked so happy. Like everything that had happened to them didn't even happen. It was kinda unnerving. What she was seeing here, the happy go lucky boy she saw in the orphanage all those years ago, and what she saw a couple back just wasn't adding up. That couldn't have been her brother. It couldn't. But it was.

Her breathing was becoming ragged as she started to shake. She sighed in relief feeling the presence of Dan beside her.

“He's going to remember, you know.” He said, handing her a cup of jasmine tea. She took it gratefully and Dan continued. “Clockwork said that the seals would break eventually-”

“He also said that he needed a trigger.” She snapped at him. After a moment of realization she apologized. He continued.

“CW doesn't do anything uncalculated Jazz I just want you to know that.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asked, her voice quivering a bit.

“He had a whole life before he met you, Jazz. One he doesn't remember. That should say something sis.”

He walked away before she could say anything else.

@emergentpanda-blog

@epilepticnerd

@justwannabecat

@wind02summer

[jon-sedai]

Question for Jon stans: so I think a lot of us expect Jon to leave the watch at some point in his story, whether in Winds or sometime in Dream. I tend to think he’s going to straight up desert the Watch, like going ‘fuck it I’m done here’ much like Bloodraven and Mance, instead of leaving on a technicality (i.e., a ‘he’s dead so he’s technically done his service’ type of thing). 

BUT the question is, does he go north or does he go south? I think it’s reasonable to assume either direction works narratively.

We have this:

Lannister studied his face. “Yes,” he said. “I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers.”

Plus he’s been set up to parallel Bloodraven and Mance both of whom go north, and there’s this quote from AGOT that could be foreshadowing:

Far off to the north, a wolf began to howl. Another voice picked up the call, then another. Ghost cocked his head and listened. “If he doesn’t come back,” Jon Snow promised, “Ghost and I will go find him.” He put his hand on the direwolf’s head.

“I believe you,” Tyrion said, but what he thought was, And who will go find you? He shivered.

(Tyrion III)

There’s also symbolism in him embracing the name “Snow” and living in the snowy north….

But then we these quotes from AGOT as well that’s essentially about him finding the Wall to be stifling and equating freedom with the south:

“Yes. Cold and hard and mean, that’s the Wall, and the men who walk it. Not like the stories your wet nurse told you. Well, piss on the stories and piss on your wet nurse. This is the way it is, and you’re here for life, same as the rest of us.”

“Life,” Jon repeated bitterly. The armorer could talk about life. He’d had one. He’d only taken the black after he’d lost an arm at the siege of Storm’s End. Before that he’d smithed for Stannis Baratheon, the king’s brother. He’d seen the Seven Kingdoms from one end to the other; he’d feasted and wenched and fought in a hundred battles. They said it was Donal Noye who’d forged King Robert’s warhammer, the one that crushed the life from Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He’d done all the things that Jon would never do, and then when he was old, well past thirty, he’d taken a glancing blow from an axe and the wound had festered until the whole arm had to come off. Only then, crippled, had Donal Noye come to the Wall, when his life was all but over.

(Jon III)

He had no destination in mind. He wanted only to ride. He followed the creek for a time, listening to the icy trickle of water over rock, then cut across the fields to the kingsroad. It stretched out before him, narrow and stony and pocked with weeds, a road of no particular promise, yet the sight of it filled Jon Snow with a vast longing. Winterfell was down that road, and beyond it Riverrun and King’s Landing and the Eyrie and so many other places; Casterly Rock, the Isles of Faces, the red mountains of Dorne, the hundred islands of Braavos in the sea, the smoking ruins of old Valyria. All the places that Jon would never see. The world was down that road … and he was here.

(Jon V)

And if Jon is to live his best wildling/crow-deserter life, it’ll be about finding freedom - just like Mance.

Plus there’s the whole thing with him seeing three different trees which could serve as representing his arc in the series, and the final tree faces south… 

Just north of Mole’s Town they came upon the third watcher, carved into the huge oak that marked the village perimeter, its deep eyes fixed upon the kingsroad. That is not a friendly face, Jon Snow reflected. The faces that the First Men and the children of the forest had carved into the weirwoods in eons past had stern or savage visages more oft than not, but the great oak looked especially angry, as if it were about to tear its roots from the earth and come roaring after them. Its wounds are as fresh as the wounds of the men who carved it.

(Jon V, ADWD) 

So which one is it?

Also if you think he goes south, where does he end up? 👀 

[jaysdoodlehell]

3,9, 17, 22 and 27 for Starscream And 34, 16, 28 (about Soundwave) and 48 about your oc.

For 50 questions game.

Wooo thank you so much for the ask! It's gonna be the longest text post I've ever made, so buckle up!

>:3

For Starscream:

3. Obscure headcannon:

He is totally oblivious to any subtexts, thus often not being treated seriously. Now recall this scene when he tries to interogate Cliffjumper and Arcee. He thinks he's scary when he walks slowly next to the table filled with torture devices while touching them in the weirdest delicate/sensual way (cause he's like a sneak, right?) While it comes off a bit... well, I think there is a reason why most people on this hellsite call him per 'slut'... So yeah, he is just not aware of how you can interpret both his act and his looks. He genuinely thinks he's imposing and scary (it's also not as much a headcanon as my observation that no one else noticed. So either I'm delusional, or other ppl are purposefully ignoring it. But I don't have a lot headcanons cause I'm a canon connoisseur... so all my "headcanons" would be at best overanalysis of canon... with small exceptions)

9. Scene that made me love the character :

Oh, that will be hard, cause it was back in 2012/2013, so I would not remember exactly (I'm lost in the robo sauce for a long time). Over all, I'd say that it was not a specific scene, but the sum of all his appearances. But to narrow it down, I think that the rough path made me like him a lot more. The fact he was able to survive, kept going even when he got nothing, got robbed from essential organs, and still managed to prevail, and not only that, but actually succeeded in a task both factions with multiple well-trained and equipped personel just failed... I think his ability to manage stuff as well as his drive for survival and not giving up even on the shitiest task is what made me love him so much. Also, him being shown to be vulnerable in many ways. It gives the image of someone who went through a lot, and never gave up despite obvious traumas and harm that was done to him. I respect him for being so determined, and strong enough to push through in those moments. And as much as I think other characters may have even better mental strength, they were not shown in this exact way, and Starscream was, thus I think I like him so much.

17. Quotes, songs, poems I associate with them:

 I'm not really a poetry or quotes guy, but I can deliver some tracks :3

For sure Icarus by Starset, Madona by Era, Pteryla and Co-pathetic by Novo Amor, Children of the Sky by Imagine Dragons, Heavy Is the Crown by Linkin Park... and many more but this post is long enough as it is ;-;

22. Best physical feature:

Claws and how they correspond with his character. From often looking softer, moving slowly and fluently to just striking out of nowhere and piercing someone to death in seconds >:3

27. Their guilty pleasure:

Probably roleplaying as a royalty when no one's looking XD

Or watching human media for entertainment, even tho he hates humans, and treats them and their culture as inferior (like when he laughs at the monkey gif)

For Shadowground:

So, a little disclaimer. Shadow is based in an alternative timeline, where certain things had to be rewritten prior to the moment of his creation (an explosion in Shockwave's cloning facility). Everything after that has been changed completely - half of the season 3 and the movie just don't exsist in his timeline.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won't even admit to themselves:

In some way he has a lot of dark secrets, but not many are his own. It's connected to his abilities (which he's not very familiar with) but he has a way of obtaining secrets of others, and retaining them (it creates a lot of problems for everyone later, especially when he cannot yet control himself or any of his abilities). But yeah... the worst ones are of others. In this stage of the development he had no time to yet commit some serious atrocities.

28. How do they feel about Soundwave:

Shadow in general has a complicated relationship with Soundwave. At the beggining of his life (when he's stuck in his beast mode and no one knows he's sentient) he is afraid of him. Mainly because of a big misunderstanding that somehow Soundwave is a creature living in the walls of Nemesis. It was the time when he understood close to nothing, and saw some defence systems of the ship moving. Someone then mentioned it was Soundwave, and poor beast just thought that Soundwave is a turret system, living in the walls. When in reality Soundwave just turned on the system... Later on, Shadow even thinks that Laserbeak alone is Soundwave! There is just a lot of confusion around Soundwave's person because nobody explains things to Shadow, and he needs to navigate a lot on his own. It takes some time before he realises that this scary system in the walls is actually a bot.

Later as he develops more, he reaches the point where he admires Soundwave's abilities, and would love to learn from him, but there aren't many opportunities for that. He respects the communication chief a lot, but keeps his distance because he doesn't really want to disturb Soundwave's work. At the same time there is this sort of hostile struggle between them, as they are both keepers of opposing powers in the Decepticon cause (meaning Megatron and Starscream). They are kin in many ways and if they'd work together they'd be a total overkill, but the situation, certain stances, ideals, and moral compasses (or lack there of) makes a rift between them. Still, Shadow highly respects and appreciates Soundwave, as he is the most effective member of the cause. He kinda just apreciates him from far away, while keeping some grudges to himself.

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.— can specify as many as you like):

You didn't specify which one, so I'd explain the general way he reacts to emotions. At the start he's stuck in his beast mode for a long time, so all emotions he feels are not mirrored by others or reacted to in any way, as others just don't really care about the feelings of some random creature, and they cannot really understand them. Only Predaking can understand some. Because of this, he has a certain freedom of expression and interpretation. No one cares if he is overly happy or sad, because they treat him as an animal. This changes however, when he transforms to his bot mode for the first time. Besides everyone having a very bad déjà vu of the same happening with Predaking, he is now treated as a bot, and a certain behaviour is expected from him. He suffers, having to tune down all his saturated feelings to the standards of the Decepticon cause, while not understanting what value comes from that. He learns to analyse the emotions of others rather than focusing on his own, but his reactions tend to be more honest, and he doesn't push his feelings down that much, especially later in his story when he starts to build his own view on the world, and makes peace with that.

48. Scariest moment of their life:

It comes much later in the overall plot. Being stranded alone on dead Cybertron, thinking that all others are dead, derived from any kind of sustenance... Lost and delirious from starvation, getting hallucinations going from worst mistakes and horrors of the past to the worst possible outcomes for the future, caused by an intense rumination, and his brain melting with too much informations from the surroundings. Also, hostile scraplets and rot being on the planet's surface... after all Cybertron post war is just a dead body left to rot for a long, long time...

Thank you so so much for the ask! I hope that the monstrously long reply is not too much XD

Ask game

[typically-untypical]

The Hunter & The Hunted

This was written for @thecrowslullaby as part of the Camp Cartoon Event run by @tss-camp-and-coffee

Ao3 Link Here

Normally Janus was more careful, he knew he was being hunted, even though he barely took it seriously, but tonight he had been a little bit off. That was the problem with drinking blood from someone who was drunk. The buzz was fun but it seriously lowered Janus mental faculties. That was why he was stuck in a trap, like a common animal. If it had been any other hunter's trap it probably wouldn't have caught him, so many of them were idiots, but this hunter, this one was too close to intelligent. It was thrilling. It was terrifying. Janus was trying to break the enchantment, half hoping to escape before the hunter had shown up, and half hoping to see him again. If he timed it right he could make a dramatic escape and throw the hunter a kiss just as he was arriving on the scene.

But he wasn't that lucky.

Janus heard the crunch of boots against asphalt, and no one who was sane would be walking down this dark alley on a moonless night. Sure enough, as the figure rounded the corner, Logan came into view his long hair tied back in a braid. Damn, he had learned from their last fight. Janus had almost tasted him too, the strong blood that set his senses alight. If it were any other hunter, Janus would be panicked, as it was, he might be willing to die at those hands.

Hunters had developed centuries ago; the human response to a predator that caught them in the middle of the night. Back then, unethical vampires were rampant, seducing women, stealing them away only to drink their blood and leave them a husk on the ground. Janus was an ethical vampire, sort of, he drank blood from the willing or the assholes and really the later category had it coming. He didn't prey on the weak or the naive. He thought it was distasteful. Which also meant most vampire hunters left him alone. Not Logan though.

"Hello handsome, what's a hunter like you doing in a place like this?" 

"Hunting you, obviously. Janus, are you injured? It isn't like you to forget." Logan's face was pinched in concern, despite the silver tipped cross bow he was pulling out of his quiver. 

Janus sighed, hot, smart, and also a little bit dumb. "I'm fine Logan, almost as fine as you are."

"It is strange that you've been monitoring my health." So, so dumb.

Janus continued to work at one of the boxes he had disconnected from the traps circle, fiddling with the wires. "I don't understand why you insist on setting up these traps. If you wanted me you could have just asked, I'd give myself to you fully," Janus purred. At one point Logan's rebuffs of his flirtation had been frustrating, now it was funny. Janus felt it was a challenge, trying to see how many ways he could ask Logan out without Logan realizing it.  

Logan narrowed his eyes as he got closer, "Really I am concerned Janus, you have known I was hunting you for some time. Why would I need to ask you to stop feeding on humans when you already know that is my stance? Also, I have asked you to give yourself up and your response was, and I quote 'I'm not into bondage' which is a fair statement considering I don't expect someone who is being hunted would like being bound." He loaded the bolt onto the cross bow. Janus was trapped, and he actually realized he really didn't want to die. For starters, it would be inconvenient.

"Sometimes, Logan, I think you're fucking with me. Certainly you can't be so dense that you haven't noticed I'm flirting with you?" Janus asked, eyes scanning the area for anything he could use to get himself out of this mess. Logan took a step closer.

"Oh no, I fully understand that you're flirting with me, it's just more fun to tease you and allow you to think I don't know what you're talking about." Logan held up the cross bow, holding it level with Janus' chest. Then he moved his foot, and suddenly the trap disengaged. Janus turned into a bat on instinct, trying to make himself a smaller target, but Logan wasn't shooting.

"You have twenty second Janus. I suggest you get a head start." 

Janus gaped at the hunter who was smirking at him, eyes still looking down the sight line of the cross bow. Janus blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times before turning in the air and flying off. A crossbow bolt flew right past him. It missed him entirely. His mind was racing a mile a minute as he escaped through the night sky. What the hell? Did Logan flirt back? Was that what that was? Janus didn't have time to think. He just flew. Tomorrow they would play this game again, but Logan had changed the rules. Would he kill Janus next time? Would he kiss him? 

Janus had no idea, and he wasn't sure he wanted the surprise to be spoiled. 

AN: Yeah these did end up getting posted back to back, what do you expect, it's the weekend!

[some-spinner-in-june]

how do you do web weaving,,, it’s really really cool and I wanna get into it but I’m not sure how

ah welcome hopeful weaver <3

spinning web weaves typically needs a central focus. often, this can be an emotion or an experience (e.g., grief, romance, childhood trauma). all of the ones i made are connected to a story, but more specifically, i narrow down to a character, relationship, or arc i enjoy. a more personal piece of advice i'd give is to web weave for what you genuinely feel passionate about; it helps with the process of finding material. i also spend an extra day reading through the story to get a strong grasp on it; i want my web weave analyses to stay true to the creators rather than shoving my own half-assed interpretation on it. but i'm a bit of a pedant and a perfectionist, so you don't need to do this.

after i select my focus--though this can sometimes be changed or further developed later--i look for material for the weave. this is where it gets tricky and time-consuming. as i mentioned in another ask, i'm a luckier weaver because i've had the fortune of a long stockpile of poetry, art, quotes, other web weavings, etc, gathered from a very long obsession with web weaving. i also tagged them all with themes, and i tend to search through relevant themes depending on the weave. (for example, for many of my rottmnt web weaves, i look through my "grief" or "siblings" tag, which happen to be among my largest.) for other fandom web weaves, i also tagged them by character, and they've been consulted if i feel such a character resonates with my theme.

other than my collection blogs, i also have other blogs i'm very fond of. @/araekni (also @/araekniarchive) and @/luthienne are my favorites, as they've tagged very thoroughly. @/morepeachyogurt is a close second, as is @/soracities and @/deadwatered. fandom-specific web weavers like me are rarer, but the mcyt fandom has some excellent ones. beyond that, i'm afraid i can't list too many.

i happen to have a laptop that allows me to take screenshots--more specifically screenshots that i can adjust before it captures--so i screenshot a lot of material and spend a painful couple of hours putting them together. i like a narrative flow, though most people don't and that's perfectly valid, so i'm really picky about the order of the materials, if there's too much monochrome, etc. i also prefer to incorporate fragments of the original story, since my weaves are dedicated to them and they also provide context, but for more general weaves, this isn't needed. additionally, i do my best to avoid repeating material, but sometimes this can still happen.

screenshots assembled--desktop tumblr allows for photo uploads up to 30--i do the MOST IMPORTANT step: CREDIT!!! it's only polite, and it's not even that hard to search up some writing to see who wrote it first. this is to all the weavers who don't credit >:(

anyway then i tag all the relevant fandoms and characters, though general weaves should consider themes and what tags best connect to them, and post!

phew, this was long, sorry. i hope just a general overview of the web weaving process helped! honestly, as long as you really want to and are willing to put in the extra hours, i'm sure you can do it :) thanks for asking!!

[mariuspompom]

Top 5: quotes from asoiaf 🙂

Sorry nonnie I procrastinated so much on this because it was impossible for me to choose just 5. I won't mention the quotes that encapsulate asoiaf the best necessarily, but the quotes that speak to me the most personally.

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door. "… the dragon …" And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

And no matter how far the dragon flew each day, come nightfall some instinct drew him home to Dragonstone. His home, not mine. Her home was back in Meereen, with her husband and her lover. That was where she belonged, surely. Keep walking. If I look back I am lost. Memories walked with her. Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. Rivers running bright and blue below, glimmering in the sun. Will I ever see such sights again? On Drogon's back she felt whole. Up in the sky the woes of this world could not touch her. How could she abandon that?

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Jaime lay on his back afterward, staring at the night sky, trying not to feel the pain that snaked up his right arm every time he moved it. The night was strangely beautiful. The moon was a graceful crescent, and it seemed as though he had never seen so many stars. The King’s Crown was at the zenith, and he could see the Stallion rearing, and there the Swan. The Moonmaid, shy as ever, was half-hidden behind a pine tree. How can such a night be beautiful? he asked himself. Why would the stars want to look down on such as me? "Jaime," Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. "Jaime, what are you doing?" "Dying," he whispered back. "No," she said, "no, you must live." He wanted to laugh. "Stop telling me what do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me." "Are you so craven?" The word shocked him. […] "What else can I do, but die?" "Live," she said, "live, and fight, and take revenge."

A Storm of Swords - Jaime IV

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but… well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.” Those were the last words Rhaegar Targaryen ever spoke to him. Outside the gates an army had assembled, whilst another descended on the Trident. So the Prince of Dragonstone mounted up and donned his tall black helm, and rode forth to his doom. He was more right than he knew. When the battle was done, there were changes made […]. It was queer, but he felt no grief. Where are my tears? Where is my rage? Jaime Lannister had never lacked for rage. “Father,” he told the corpse, “it was you who told me that tears were a mark of weakness in a man, so you cannot expect that I should cry for you.”

A Feast for Crows - Jaime I

Marsh flushed a deeper shade of red. "The lord commander must pardon my bluntness, but I have no softer way to say this. What you propose is nothing less than treason. For eight thousand years the men of the Night's Watch have stood upon the Wall and fought these wildlings. Now you mean to let them pass, to shelter them in our castles, to feed them and clothe them and teach them how to fight. Lord Snow, must I remind you? You swore an oath." "I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. [...] Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?"

A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Our Favourite Fics

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

thank you to @talictries for this lovely, lovely ask - and for letting us share our little slices of fandom happiness!

I thought this would be the perfect time to introduce the new blog team. I hope you'll join me in showering them with lots of love! 🤍🤍🤍

Mark/Seb

nsfw: I Heard You're a Player, So Let's Play a Game by Tianvette | E | 88.8k @boxboxbrioche's favourite fic. Mark and Seb are teammates, navigating a complicated relationship. This fic is absolutely stunning! There are parts of this fic that are haunting, that I still think of often, a year after reading it for the first time. The evolution of Mark and Seb's relationship is, although messy and difficult, so natural and so well written. I come back to this fic so often - I must be on my fifth or sixth read. It's captivating.

'Turning twenty-three clearly hasn’t made any difference to Seb’s infuriating cheekiness but surprisingly, he finds his chest growing warm with something like affection, his annoyance melting away like snow in sunshine'

Lando/Lewis

1999, heroes by @lilcrickee | M | 36k @ocontraire's favourite fic Top gun au that explores power dynamics, both in the context of age difference and in the more rigid structure of the military. The dynamics between friends and rivals keep me coming back to re-read this one, as well as the messy, lovely unfolding of the main relationship

'And just like that, Lando feels the wind get snatched from his sails. His chest deflates like a balloon that’s been popped unexpectedly. The easy camaraderie that he and Lewis had shared most of the night feels like it’s been reset. Lewis is his superior officer. Lewis is 14 years older than him. Lewis is someone bright and unattainable and Lando should tell his heart to get a fucking grip.'

Charles/Pierre

Name It The Blood by @effervescentdragon | Not Rated | 23.5k @singsweetmelodies' favourite fic. Charles and George are nobility, and Pierre and Alex are their respective childhood best friends who love them - until Pierre and Alex both run away from the lives planned for them to become pirates. They reunite just before Charles is set to be married. This fic just has absolutely everything, from complex worldbuilding to pining (so much pining and longing!) to not-quite-doomed period romance to pirate shenanigans to heartwarming friendship moments, and it is all so so beautifully written! I reread this fic almost monthly, and there are many lines from it that I can quote by heart. It still makes me tear up a little, no matter how many times I've read it. Just an absolutely stunning fic, from start to finish.

“Tell me, Pierrot,” he says lowly. “What am I to you?” Everything, every part of Pierre screams instinctively. You are everything to me, the sun and the stars, the air I breathe, the beauty in every flower I see for the first time, the rage in every sea storm, the one I would get on my knees for and worship like a God, the reason for my existence, the love of my life, the best friend I’ve ever had. You are everything.'

Daniel/George

nsfw: my temple will be beautiful too by @notthehardtyres | E | 6.3k @lydia-petze's favourite fic. Daniel, in his second year at McLaren, is in crisis over gender and body dysphoria issues that have pushed their way to the fore. He finds somewhere to have a breakdown over it, which happens to be an empty meeting room belonging to Mercedes. George finds him there, and eventually reveals that he himself is trans. Narrowing down all the F1 RPF I've loved to ONE seemed like an impossible task, but when I laid out my favourites to make the attempt, this is the one I kept returning to. It's stunningly good. The language around bodies, and physical reality, and not feeling comfortable in one's own is evocative and visceral - as physical as the selves it is describing. There is a recurring motif of light and refraction, and how much it can change the way we see something, or someone. George's support of Daniel is quiet and steadfast. His decision to reveal his own body is based in compassion, empathy and deep trust. .

'They don’t hear George move, either—only the sound of his deep, regular breaths. Daniel matches that rhythm for a while until their heart rate evens out and the anxious nausea recedes. The one time that they lift their head just far enough to see, George looks stoic and serene, staring at the opposite wall. He hasn’t even gotten his phone out to pass the time. What faint light diffuses through the window blinds has a cool bluish tint, and Daniel imagines that they’re somewhere under the ocean, pressed pleasantly down by the weight of the water.'

Charles/Max

nsfw: objects in mirror by @drivestraight | E | 87.8k @blueballsracing's favourite fic. A series, in which Charles Leclerc decidedly moves to Red Bull Racing and copes with the effects of having Max Verstappen as a teammate, all while he's trying to win his first maiden World Championship. This series is one I constantly reread, because of the characterization and beautifully written moments of what having a rival and a lover is like. It's my favorite fic in the fandom, and I suggest reading the entire series.

“Max looks—his eyes are slits, and his hand is still firm on Charles’ waist. “What are you looking for?” There are a lot of answers to that question. A championship. Forever and always. A gap to overtake. The racing line. My brothers, to hold my hand. Papa, sometimes, when I’m standing up on the top step of the podium, looking out into the crowd and praying for a miracle.”

nsfw: breathe you in (like a vapor) by @fabbyf1 | E | 53.3k @frickinsweet's favourite fic. An enemies-to-lovers story of Max and Charles falling in love over winter break 2022. Choosing a favourite fic was such a challenge (it felt a bit like choosing a favourite child) – but since I could only choose one it had to be this one. Firstly, Fabby is a fantastic writer and I would rec every one of her fics if I could but this one is my comfort fic that I keep coming back to.

This fic has it all: misunderstandings, a Max that is a little bit obsessed with and unbelivably fond of Charles, a Charles having a bad time and in denial about his feelings, petnames, Charles being called pretty multiple times, bickering as foreplay – you name it, this fic has got it. Most of all I love the charactherizations, especially Max who is sort of a weirdo who cant read a room for the life of him but also refreshingly honest and unashamed about his feelings. When I first read this I was new to F1 and definitely not sold on Max/Charles but this fic showed me the light! Also the smut is superhot 🤭.

Charles suddenly snapped back into the present when Max asked, “Were you guys finished for the day? Or did you want to play doubles with us?” Charles turned to look at Arthur, giving him a look that only a fellow Leclerc brother could understand. He didn’t need to use his words. It was obvious that he was telling him: we are absolutely not going to play tennis with Max Verstappen. Arthur tilted his head at him, his eyes locked on Charles before he gave him a slight nod. Because he totally understood. It was so nice to have such a solid, strong bond with his brother. Leclercs were basically psychic! “We’d love to play doubles,” Arthur said, turning back towards Max and Brad. Charles wished he was an only child.

[tkwritesdumbassassins]

WIP WHENEVER

Tagged by @satashiiwrites (thanks!)

I (no pressure btw!) tag anyone who wishes to do this! <3

Title: Caveat Lector Hic Sunt Daemones

Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook de Riva

Summary:

To outside eyes, the Rookery is nothing more than a quaint bookshop. But past its front door, it's clear by the hushed whispers and bowed heads, a different type of merchandise is also traded: intelligence, secrets, and acquisitions—the types of things that could make or break empires. When an attempt on her life causes a dark secret of her own to be released upon Minrathous, Isotta has to reluctantly ally herself with that of an Antivan Crow. But of course, out of all the demons in this city, she gets stuck with the "dead" one.

You can read all published chapters here :D

Isotta tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before dropping her hand into her lap. "This is probably such a stupid question—" she began to say just as his eyes snapped to her, a single brow raised. The action followed by the expression… She couldn't help but scowl. "What?"

"Having seen your complete collection of Machiavernai?" Impossibly the brow seem to quirk even higher before another snort escaped him. "I doubt that very much."

Ah, so that's what he had been looking at earlier. "That's—"she began to stammer. "It's— I can assure you it's really not that special. A collection of books does not indicate someone's intelligence." Isotta's then lips pressed into a thin line as she resisted the urge ro roll her eyes. If that were the case, half of the kings in history would be the smartest men alive.

Lucanis merely shrugged in return. The unsaid If you say so floating in the space between them.

She breathed through her nose before exhaling again. "How do you kill a demon?"

Despite the fact both of them were bundled up, Isotta still felt the temperature drop. Between one lamplight and the next, his face fell back into that mask she associated with the infamous alias. When he opened his mouth to speak, Isotta made a face and lifted a finger. "And don't say stabbing. I established already that it doesn't work the last I tried."

"I wasn't going to say that," he lied, making a face.

The action and the indignant tone he said it in almost made Isotta laugh. Almost. Still the smugness didn't quite dissolve as she leaned forward and responded, "I know you Crow types. You like to solve your problems with knives." Her eyes flicked down briefly to the nearest hilt poking out from beneath his thick cloak. She wondered not for the first time just how many he had on his person at all times. "And a lot of them when need be."

A half-laugh escaped him even though it carried little amusement. "If I remember right, so have you." His eyes narrowed as he shifted in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees in contemplation. "Because you mentioned having fought demons before. With, and I quote, 'claws.' How different can this one be?"

Oh, he had been listening after all. Sharp hearing this one. She flicked her hand dismissively. "Most of the ones I fought during my time in the Inquisition were lesser ones at best. Troops clawing their way through the Fade tears so quickly, they were nothing more than mindless drones. Easy to dispatch so long as you knew what you were doing.

"But," she faltered. "Erudito isn't that. And since none of my other attempts have succeeded, I figured with your expertise going after mages and all, maybe you would know something I wouldn't." A pause, followed by uncertainty. "You… have dealt with actual demons right? Not… not just abominations?"

"Of course I have," Lucanis quietly scoffed as he crossed his arms, more out of embellishment than actual offense. "It comes with the territory." "Oh." She released a breath, soon tucking her bottom lip beneath her teeth. "Makes sense."

[ghostwriterminuswriting]

Favorite quotes from 1984

by George Orwell .✿*

!contains spoilers!

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought?'

- page 55

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'You will have heard rumours of the existence of the Brotherhood. No doubt you have formed your own picture of it. You have imagined, probably, a huge underworld of conspirators, meeting secretly in cellars, scribbling messages on walls, recognising one another by code words or special movements of the hand. Nothing of the kind exists. The members of the Brotherhood have no way of recognising one another, and it is impossible for any member to be aware of the identity of more than a very few others. Goldstein himself, if he fell into the hands of the Thought Police, could not give them a complete list of members, or any information that would lead them to a complete list. No such list exists. The Brotherhood cannot be wiped out because it is not an organisation in the ordinary sense. Nothing holds it together except an idea which is indestructible. You will never have anything to sustain you, except the idea. You will get no comradeship and no encouragement. When finally you are caught, you will get no help. We never help our members. At most, when it is absolutely necessary that someone should be silenced, we are occasionally able to smuggle a razor blade into a prisoner's cell. You will have to get used to living without results and without hope. You will work for a while, you will be caught, you will confess, and then you will die. Those are the only results that you will ever see. There is no possibility that any perceptible change will happen within our own lifetime. We are the dead. Our only true life is the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing. It might be a thousand years. At present nothing is possible except to extend the area of sanity little by little. We cannot collectively. We can only spread our knowledge outwards from individual to individual, generation to generation. In the face of the Thought Police. There is no other way.'

- page 183-184

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As he looked at the woman in her characteristic attitude, her thick arms reaching up for the line, her powerful mare-like buttocks protruded, it struck him for the first time that she was beautiful. It had never before occurred to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, then hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an over-ripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping of red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?

'She is beautiful,' he murmured."

- page 228

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'Has it ever occurred to you,' he said, 'that the whole history of English poetry has been determined by the fact that the English language lacks rhymes?'

- page 243

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'Do you remember,' he went on, 'writing in your diary, "Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four"?'

'Yes,' said Winston.

O'Brien held up his left hand, its back towards Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.

'How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?'

- page 261

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'I have not betrayed Julia,' he said

O'Brien looked down at him thoughtfully. 'No,' he said, 'no; that is perfectly true. You have not betrayed Julia.'

- page 286

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Anything could be true. The so-called laws of nonsense. 'If I wished,' O'Brien had said, 'I could float off this floor like a bubble.' Winston worked it out. 'If he thinks he floats off the floor, and if I simultaneously think I see him do it, then the thing happens.'

- page 291

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And he was shouting frantically, over and over:

'Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don't care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!'

- page 300

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'I betrayed you,' she said baldly.

'I betrayed you,' he said.

She gave him another quick look of dislike.

'Sometimes,' she said, 'they threaten you with something-something you can't stand up to, can't even think about. And then you say "Don't do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to so-and-so." And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn't really mean it. But that isn't true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You want it to happen to the other person. You don't give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself.'

'All you care about is yourself,' he echoed

'And after that, you don't feel the same towards the other person any longer.'

'No,' he said, 'you don't feel the same.'

There did not seem to be anything more to say. The wind plastered their thin overalls against their bodies. Almost at once it became embarrassing to sit there in silence: beside, it was too cold to keep still. She said something about catching her Tube and stood up to go.

'We must meet again,' he said.

'Yes,' she said, 'we must meet again.'

He followed irresolutely for a little distance, half a pace behind her. They did not speak again.

- page 305-306

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He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.

The End

- page 311

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[thehollowwriter]

Finn is canon. Prove me wrong.

● What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?

● What would be the "incorrect but wildly popular" interpretation of your character in fandom?

● What is the quote between your character and their love interests that their fans would latch onto?

All of these for Finn (even though he's already canon trust 🙏)

Omg I thought this ask was lost 😭

I cannot prove you wrong because Finn stays out of so many shenanigans you won't see him in game aside from books 3 and 4 anyway/j

● What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?

I think I answered this but I'm gonna answer again. Finn doesn't have a huge impact, but he's an additional threat during chapter 3 because of how he attacks Yuu and Co after Azul's overblot.

In Chapter 4, he is very distrusting of Jamil and keeps insisting they all go back to Octavinelle and let Scarabia deal with their own problems. He has this sense that something will go wrong.

He's very against the plan to pretend Jamil's confession was livestreamed and is pretty pissed when they go through with it anyways. When they get yeeted, he has a very "I told you so, idiots" attitude, even towards the trio. I like the idea of him attempting a teleport spell with abyssal magic, and then telling everyone afterwards he had never used it before and was glad they didn't end up stranded somewhere random XD. He's much more vocal with his opinions in general after chapter 3

He doesn't really change much tbh

● What would be the "incorrect but wildly popular" interpretation of your character in fandom?

There are so many possibilities for this 😭 innocent little baby, selfish greedy bf that's just using Azul, just a monster with no morals at all who'll kill everyone, etc.

I'm very happy with how complex Finn has turned out to be, but unfortunately if he were canon he'd be narrowed down to some specific character traits. The fact that he's plus sized makes it worse 😭 I know some people will make him obsessed with nothing but food

● What is the quote between your character and their love interests that their fans would latch onto?

Umm... I don't know? I'm not good at this sort of thing fjrktr. Finn is very protective of them, so probably a "I won't let them get hurt" type line during the Halloween events or Chapter 3 or 4?

Tagging: @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @the-banana-0verlord @kitwasnothere @boopshoops @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @jovieinramshackle