#I truly don’t want them to become canon out of spite

[supercalime]

I’ve been lurking in the 911 tags for only a week and I’m already exhausted of most b*ddie shippers holy shit

[connorsnothereeither]

how did Ulysses and Vesperae start dating and what was their relationship like during the war?

So this was going to be part of the “In Spite of All His Efforts” canon fic, and honestly still might be if/when I have the time/motivation to go back and write more of it, but in short, I think it stemmed from a mutual need for connection, in the beginning.

Ulysses was called out to the front lines by request when Vesperae was badly injured, after a previous meeting where he healed them. And after that, as the medical personnel were moved back to the city, Ulysses stayed on the front line to help the soldiers instead. I think it started as mutual respect, and grew to mutual flirting; at first to playfully keep spirits high, and then later because feelings actually started to develop. I wouldn’t say they were enemies to lovers, but more… nuisances to lovers, maybe? Dynamic wise.

I think at the start, their relationship was never something either of them truly considered a “real” relationship. I think in the beginning, they were both just looking for the comfort of having someone else physically and emotionally there, romantically or not. They were together so that they weren’t alone. For a long time it was just sort expected they would move on from whatever their relationship/situationship was whenever it stopped being convenient for their situation. It wasn’t until a few months into being “together” that it really struck them that they had developed genuine feelings, and that they wanted to stay together after the war. I don’t think it was until they were dating that either of them had even considered the possibility of a life outside of the war.

Externally, I think for a long time their relationship was very “open secret” among the soldiers. They never said anything about it, but it was clear that the general and the primary medic had something going on. Not that anyone would give them shit for it, because those are sort of the main people you don’t want to piss off. And honestly, I think it was maybe somewhat of a morale boost. That they had fount love there, despite how shitty the situation was.

Internally, between the two of them, I think it was a relationship that grew from joking and sniping and being rough around the edges, to one that became very open and vulnerable, and allowed them to really come to terms with and explore who they were as adults. At the start of the war they were both around 18, and so a few years on, being together for them was a space where they could really figure out who they were, and who they wanted to be. It was a relationship that grew with them, and was sadly cut short before either got to fully become themselves; which I think is part of what allowed Ulysses to so easily be taken advantage of, and have that image of himself twisted by the Directors. He wasn’t finished figuring out who he was yet.

I think about their relationship and the plan for it a lot tbh. I always pictured it as very Achilles/Patroclus in a way. It’s very much a relationship that shouldn’t have happened, but that they worked hard to made work once they found each other. And it’s intentionally quite tragic that their hard work was cut short. I like them a lot and I hold them in my hands

[themadlu]

A Star's Purpose

Part of the Spelljammer challenge by @spacebarbarianweird!

Astarion is happy, truly happy, in the safety of his lover's affection. The troubles of the Underdark have no sway on his mood as he relishes simply existing with his Zélie.

Until a call for help takes them to the depths of the Astral Sea on a Spelljammer vessel, and he'll be damned if he lets his maddening hero face the dangers of interplanar space on her own.

TW: None, I think. Maybe a smidge of self-worth issues? And end-of-game spoilers.

Not beta read and minimal editing, sorry for any mistakes!

This is mostly non-canon to Zélie and Astarion's story (I think).

@amywritesthings, in case you wanna check it out!

A year and a half has passed since the Netherbrain’s defeat. Zélie stayed in Faerun with Astarion, who’s now confined in the shadows due to his vampiric nature. They have settled in the Underdark, after concluding it was their duty to guide the 7,000 spawns towards a semi-functional society and a second chance at life. The lovers live in the magic tower near the sussur tree and have made it their own haven. A home, Zélie would say, but she is home to Astarion, and where they are matters not. 

He just wants to keep falling into reverie with her warm body tangled in his, keeping his demons at bay, and welcome the day with her wild, owlbear-esque hair all over his face. To live in the comfort of each other’s embrace, as nauseatingly cliche as it sounds. Not that she would allow it on most days, his precious, maddening woman. They have responsibilities, she says. Obligations. To the hells with them, he thinks, as he walks with her towards whatever bothersome issue they need to attend to next.  

So what happens when a message comes from a dear friend asking for their assistance in the cold void of the Outer Planes? Astarion knows. His steadfast hero will do what heroes are expected to do: run to the rescue, even if she’d rather not risk their lives again so soon after…well, everything. “You don’t have to come, Astarion, really. Actually, I think it more appropriate for you to stay here, now that we are making progress with your siblings.” As if. Aurelia and Leon can make themselves useful for once and hold the fort on their own. The pale elf is no hero and never will be, but his heart beats in her chest and her soul is his own, so he’d be damned if he doesn’t follow her into this new, gigantic mess. She (“We, Astarion”) already slayed a Netherbrain; what’s a lich queen in comparison. 

______________________________________________________________

Well, that’s impressive.

Astarion examines the raiding ship that Lae’zel somehow managed to secure. The very thing that is going to sail them into the cold, deep astral sea. The technology is clearly Illithid—since he woke up inside that fleshy pod, he’s become familiar enough with their tentacled technology to recognise it when he sees it. But the Githianki’s influence is evident: the large, fan-shaped sails stand proud against the moonlit sky like a dragon’s wings, ready to take their riders towards their next conquest. The front of the ship has what he can only describe as teeth; fanged protrusions, not unlike his own, ready to swallow whole whatever unfortunate creatures they’ll meet. A silent but unavoidable promise of war echoes off the vessel. It makes Astarion antsy. 

He has no issue with violence–he still revels in it at times, the need to own, to consume and not be consumed, so typical of his kind, exasperated by the horrors he suffered. But his bouts of spite and aggression have been fading since her. 

He turns to look at Zélie only to find her staring at the ship with eyes so wide they mirror the moon perfectly. Her mouth is the slightest bit agape in wonder, the closer her stern face can get to a surprised expression. Perfect thing. Gods, over a year together (A year, five tendays and eight days.), barely leaving each other’s side even in dreams, and his little hero still leaves him speechless with the smallest quirk.

(The way she smiles at him when she thinks he isn’t looking makes him want to scream, weep, beg her for forgiveness—for all he has to his name is a used body—and ravage her for days. At the same time.)

You’re a gift, my love. Let me keep you. 

Astarion isn’t worthy of her devotion and mercy, no angry huffs and puffs from her will convince him fully, but gods below he wants to be. He’ll do anything, become anything to keep her safe, happy, looking at him as if he were some miracle of the heavens. 

(Do it. I dare you, he thinks to the silent gods, Try to take her from me. See what happens next.)

“Seen something you like, darling?” He jests in an airy tone, both because he likes to prattle and because her attention scalds him kindly, completely, like the sun never could. Insufferable woman, making him feel so alive. 

Zélie flips her head towards him, frizzy curls bouncing wildly. “Oh Astarion, this ship! I know we’ve been on a mindflayer vessel before, but this is incredible!” She takes his hand in hers and he burns in the best way possible. 

Precious thing, so enamoured by technology, human or otherwise. He pulls her into his arms so he can feel whole one last time before he has to share her with their friends. Astarion kisses her softly, a grin on his lips at her inexorable embarrassment. She is not one for public displays of affection—most of the time.

(Part of the reason he prefers it when it’s just the two of them, so he can worship her properly in the temple of their home.) 

Fuck. 

He is getting hard just thinking about it. He needs to distract himself or else he’ll end up with a wet patch on his trousers that Lae’zel will ridicule until the end of days. 

Jealous prick. Green suits her.

The pale elf grips Zélie tighter, his familiar hardness pressing into her stomach, and her already wide eyes become impossibly larger, paler. (He so wishes he had a reflection in times like these.) 

“I stand by my point, my sweet. Size does matter, it seems.” Astarion winks at her and the woman’s flustered expression turns unamused. Oh, he so adores riling her up, his fierce hero. 

It seems he has underestimated the effect he’s had on her since they met—he can’t believe it’s almost as deep as the one she had on him—because suddenly she presses into him, burying a hand into one of her coat’s pockets so she can grab his length without being seen. Astarion hisses under his breath with poorly concealed pleasure. It’s his eyes that widen and darken now.

“You, cheeky, little pup,” he murmurs, rattles, heat spreading through him so that he would surely combust if he weren’t a cold corpse. 

“Mhm. I guess you do have a point, my dear,” Zélie says, face still unamused as she looks at him and gives him a gentle squeeze to emphasise her statement. 

(It takes all of his self-control not to buck his hips into her hand.)

“Although size doesn’t mean quality. Both are necessary. What good would such a huge ship do to us if it couldn’t sail properly, don’t you think?” She whispers the last few words in his sensitive ear and Astarion almost whines, the desire pooling in his underwear threatening to stain the fabric.

 If it were anyone else touching him like she does, Astarion would rip their throat and limbs out or die in the attempt. But it’s his Zélie and, gods and hells, he wants her, this, all of it, desperately. Her hands are so gentle to him, always, as if he would break should she press a little harder. He thought it was her relative inexperience at first, or worse, pity. The idea that she could be so tender with someone like him purely because she wanted to was unfathomable; now, he has no interest in living without it.

Only she can come to him unannounced. She can do anything she wants with him. 

(He trusts her more than he trusts himself.)

“T’chaki, you two never cease to be revolting,” a cutting voice calls out from behind them. Ah, right. Lae’zel is here. And a few dozen other Gith warriors loyal to Orpheus, all looking equally disgusted. 

Astarion scowls at them while his love-addled brain quickly sobers up at their most untimely appearance (Thank you very much, Lae’zel.) 

Only then, he notices the strangeness of his predicament: it’s his usually stony Zélie who’s all but moulding their bodies into one, it’s her smaller frame in his arms and her fingers caressing his still-hard length. 

Oh? You’re more worried about this journey than you let on, aren’t you, darling?

He recognises the signs from their last life-threatening adventure, her need to have him close to her so she could keep him safe. Impossible thing, always shielding him so fiercely, he is starting to consider his centuries of captivity as a due price for having her to himself. 

(A mortal human protecting a vampire should be laughable, but she saved him in every possible way already.)

Astarion snarls in warning at the burdensome company that ruined what could be the last moment of private intimacy with his person in a long while. “With all due respect, Lae’zel dear, go fuck off for a bit, would you?” 

Lae’zel’s warriors look just about ready to use him as a practice target (They can try.) when the woman in his embrace clears her throat, “It’s all right, Lae’zel. We’re revising last-minute arrangements for the journey. We’ll board in a moment, thank you.” 

The Gith does not look happy, but she and Zélie share a close friendship (And a stick up both their backsides, Astarion used to think.), so she listens to her and heads to the ship with her crew, cursing some pretty mild threats. Small mercies. 

“Oh,” Finally alone, Zélie realises she is still gripping Astarion’s length, colour draining from her face in mortification. “I’m so sorry Astarion, I got carried away,” she tries to move her hand away but he grabs her wrist, keeping her in place. 

“You don’t have to apologise, love. I know I’m simply irresistible!” His attempt to lighten her mood is met with a sceptic glance. Silly, precious thing, always caring for his well-being. Let me help you. “Truthfully, my sweet,” his next words are the truest ones he’s ever uttered, “you know I’m yours.” 

Zélie raises an eyebrow, “you are your own person, Astarion. We went through this, multiple times in fact.” 

He laughs, “To you, with you, darling, it doesn’t matter. As you can clearly see,” he squeezes her hand around his dripping cock.

His stubborn woman studies him carefully, searching for any of his masks and finding none. “Very well,” she concedes. She turns to her left as noises filter from the ship. “Last chance, Astarion. If you want to remain in the Underdark, you must tell me now. Lord knows how long this expedition will last, and I reckon your siblings would benefit greatly from you being there to—”

That’s what it is, then. She worries for him still; and it still unravels him. 

Let me care for you, idiot.  

“Hush, you,” Astarion places a finger on her lips to shush her, “I am where I belong.” 

(Something inside him tears at the thought of being separated from Zélie. Of her alone in the face of danger.)   

His hero’s stance softens, finally relaxed. Her relief makes her look so much younger. “Oh, well, in that case,” she leans into him and kisses him. Truly, fearlessly, savouring all of him. Astarion barely suppresses a noise of surprise before responding in kind, fangs grazing her lips, never hurting her (Never.), devouring her. 

Zélie quietly moans into him. Astounding, how she is still pleasured by such a simple act when they have been entangled into way more complex scenarios during the last year. (As if he were not close to coming already.) If the Gith are watching, he’ll gauge their eyes out.

A tremble of the earth signals that the ship is ready for departure. Zélie detaches from him and this time he does whine at her loss. She gives one last gentle squeeze to his length, making him narrow his eyes at her. The cool night air flows between them.

“The moment we are alone, I will bury myself into your perfect little body so deeply they will have to pry me from you, love.” 

(There’s no holier sight than her tender ecstasy as she shatters around him.)

He expects her embarrassment but not her smirk, “Careful. Promises must be kept, Astarion.” 

She pecks him on the lips again, fully extricating herself from him to climb the steps to the main deck. 

Cheeky, maddening pup.

Yes, Astarion decides, he will make her shout his name so loud Vlaakith herself will hear. 

______________________________________________________________

The Astral Sea is not what Astarion expected. Not that he expected much of anything since he didn’t really want to come here in the first place.

Zélie is leaning against the taffrail in front of him, a multitude of celestial bodies surrounding them. She is so eager to examine every part of the vessel that she stepped onto the outer deck the moment the ship slowed down to pick up some more crew members (As if they weren’t cramped enough already.)

“Don’t you find it uncanny, Astarion? This works very much like a regular ship, and yet it doesn’t. The Astral Sea functions like any material sea, until it doesn’t. And those strange helms—” 

“A pinnacle of technology, taken from the Ghaik and immensely improved by the Githianki so that our empire may conquer and prosper,” comments Lae’zel. Her queen’s betrayal hasn’t quelled the admiration for her own people; if anything, she seems more determined than ever to see a worthy leader at the helm of Gith society. “With a spelljamming brig such as this, you can travel anywhere, anytime. Time passes differently in the Astral Plane. Open a gate into one of many material planes to plunder and pillage to your heart’s content!” 

Gods, intense as always I see. Good. 

A formidable trait in war; fearsome in a foe, welcome in an ally. 

(So Lae’zel can protect Zélie on the battlefield while he keeps her safe from the shadows.)

Zélie’s attention shifts to the mechanism supporting the sails as she speaks, “The travelling part sounds delightful, Lae’zel. The plundering and pillaging less so, for my tastes.” 

The Gith begins a rant about the istik’s inherent weak nature. She even dares to say his Zélie should have chosen her as a partner, back when she proposed, so her martial skills would not have been dulled by the puny vampire. 

Excuse me?!

“I’ll let you know, Lae’zel, that I can keep our dear leader on her toes just fine,” the elf interjects. Astarion is about to add a snarky remark (He was chosen after all.), but Zélie speaks first, “Oh Lae’zel, I would have just been an impediment and you know it. I would have slowed down all the conquering and deadly fighting you enjoy so much. Besides,” she turns to Astarion, a playful glint in her eyes. If he weren’t so attuned to her, he’d miss it.

 (He wonders how many silent gestures he has missed at the start of their travels.)

“I am where I am meant to be,” she concluded. The tips of his ears definitely do not blush at those words. 

(She’ll be the end of him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.) 

Astarion shoots his darling a winning smile, which morphs into a cocky grin as he looks at Lae’zel. 

There. Don’t be sour, you heard what she said. 

Lae’zel is unimpressed. “T’chk. Suit yourself, Zel. Your loss.” 

She marches off towards the helm of the brig when Zélie interrupts her, “Wait. You mentioned that time here passes differently, but how so?”

The Gith sighs, “Ignorants. It’s not the time itself, but its effects. They come to an almost complete halt; no hunger, no ageing—you’ll see when you won’t recall the last time you ate.” 

“Oh”. Oh. 

No ageing is almost as good as—

Immortality. 

Astarion has heard about the Astral plane before, but it seemed so out of his reach he never bothered to learn more. He pickpocketed a book or two about it from some of his liaisons, but they were confiscated immediately and he was handed to Godey for his insolence. It’s not as if Cazador ever had any interest in entertaining his spawn’s curiosity. 

Time is of no consequence to him, but to know that Zélie’s limited lifespan (Because of course the impossible woman had to be human, of all things.) could also be endlessly extended— 

Astarion faces her, her eyes already on him, lit up with the same realisation. He doesn’t dare to hope it’s going to be that simple, but gods, if anyone deserves eternal life is her. And he deserves some happiness without such a dreadfully finite time limit, he fucking does. 

He sees how Lae’zel looks at him, then Zélie, and sighs loudly. She stomps off, shouting, “Boarding is about to be complete. I suggest you two get inside soon enough, if you don’t want to end your dull lives swept away by the astral winds.” 

Astarion nods as she passes by him—her people-reading’s skills have improved enormously since they met. The moment she is out of earshot, he speaks, “Darling, did you—”

“I don’t know—” Zélie says, at the same time. 

The elf lets out a shrill, small laugh, “You first, my sweet.” 

She smiles, a “I don’t know what to think, Astarion. Being immune to the effects of time, it all seems so impossible, so…” He knows what she is thinking, that it’s unnatural, that it’s not how things, people, are supposed to be. When he thought ascending was the right choice for them, when he failed to convince her to embrace becoming his eternal bride, she recoiled, attached to her mortality. 

She doesn’t understand. 

He would outlive her even if he were not a vampire because he is an elf and she, holy as she is, is human. There is no facet of reality where she won’t leave him behind and go where he can’t follow—

“I think we should try,” Zélie stands taller, back straight, like a general making an important call, “After we help your siblings and all the others settle down. Who knows, maybe we can even get our own astral skiff. Do you think dogs will be fine here? I wouldn’t want to leave Scratch behind.”  

She talks faster, excited, and Astarion’s breath catches, head spinning even though he doesn’t need air. He darts forward to cage her between himself and the taffrail, causing her to let out the most adorable little breath. 

(Perfect.)

Zélie composes herself again, “And if we can travel between material planes, there may be a chance to find mine…to find my family. Even if just to tell them I’m well and to introduce you to them.”

Astarion feels like he’s falling, so he catches himself with centuries-old sarcasm. “To—what? Love, you can’t be serious. Introducing a vampire spawn to your oh-so-proper family is a moronic thing to do, even for an impossible woman such as yourself.” 

They would scorn you my sweet. 

She speaks of her family, her planet, sometimes. The image of stern faces, so similar to hers, twisted in fear—or worse, disgust—at the monster their precious Zélie is in love with leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He isn’t fond of children, but even he wouldn’t want his daughter to have anything to do with something like him. 

Zélie exhales in offence, “Of course I want you to meet them, ridiculous elf. I have nothing to hide. I am proud of you, all of you, infinitely, and I know they would be too. You complete me, and for that they would welcome you with open arms.” She stares him down in challenge. 

Astarion studies her expression as he presses his forehead to hers. He seeks for unwillingness, for embellishments of the truth—because lying is a sin to her— and finds none. 

You mean this. Gods.

“Yes, love. We can bring the pest. We can even ask Halsin for the owlbear if you’d like. We will travel through every single material plane if we need to. Anything,” he kisses her parted lips, “Anything,” pecks her cheeks, “Anything,” her forehead, “Anything,” her nose, “Anything you want.” His grip on her tightens. 

She smiles at his onslaught, “All right, all right. We’ll find out how to make it work. For a while!” Zélie points her index finger at him in mock sternness, “I don’t think an unchanging eternity wandering the Astral Sea is something we should limit ourselves to, even if I want to. What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Astarion snarls the word as if it personally offended him, “We are purpose enough, stubborn woman.” He lifts her up and she clings to him on instinct. He strides inside the ship, ignoring the disapproving looks of the Giths. 

“Astarion! What are you doing?!” 

He whispers, fangs grazing her ear, “I’m finding a private space on this overcrowded thing, darling, so I can fully demonstrate how purposeful I can be.”

Zélie pales and flushes at the same time, and Astarion can feel himself basically purring at the thought of what he’s going to do to her—

“I’m glad you learnt to keep your promises, Astarion,” she murmurs, the outline of a smile into his neck.

Oh love, you have no idea.

[bohemian-nights]

Let’s talk about the changed between white book laena to black show laena

Book leana had a pretty awesome life. She married at the age of 22 to a man she loved, traveled the world with him, had 2 babies and they lived happily on driftmark with her family together until she passed away at childbirth despite her loving husband doing everything he can to save her. + her husband remarried 6 months after her death.

Now let’s talk about show leana

She married daemon much younger than book laena, was neglected and unloved by him, was forced to live away from her beloved family and burned herself to death because “feminism” 🤡 only to have her husband sleep with another woman on her fucking funeral. And the showrunners claim they wanted to respect her character?????? Disgusting.

In the book laena is the only wife that daemon seemed to truly love. (Until nettles). He never cheated and they had a happy marriage. But when she’s black suddenly she’s the second choice to the white female lead. What a fucking joke. And then they absolutely spit on her by having her husband sleep with said white female main character on her funeral. This show treats its black characters like shit. I really don’t understand why people aren’t talking about this.

This shows deranged fandom tells you everything you need to know about the problematic way they treat black characters. We haven’t even got nettles’s casting yet. The most important dragon seed. Literally who gives a shit about the others? But I wonder why we have their castings but not the casting of the only canonically black character in the dance???? If nettles is not in season 2 I’m going to drop this show. If they’ll introduce the dragonseeds without nettles they are fucking disgusting.

All of this is why I criticize this shitty show and equally shitty fandom👏🏽

People try to act like you’re the crazy one for noticing how these changes affect the treatment of the characters, but nope fandom racism, more specifically fandom misogynoir, is real and it’s happening with HOTD.

Book!Laena was treated with love and respect, but the moment she became Black-ish she became worthless to both the showrunners and the fandom. All she's good for is to be a prop/placeholder. Hell, when she died people seemed more concerned about Vhagar, a dragon, rather than the woman who lit herself on fucking fire.

They made Laena into a stereotype just to make a crazed white woman’s death look better than it was and this demented ass fandom cheers it on.

Because she’s Black and not a cookie-cutter stereotype in the source material, Nettles' whole existence is a problem to these people and she must be cut, erased, reduced, etc.

They try to say she’s completely irrelevant. That the only reason people like her is because she's Black or out of spite, but I can think of a dozen white characters who don’t even come close to reaching her relevancy to the plot

This is why she’s always included where some characters like Ulf, Hugh, Sara Snow, Alys Rivers, Gwayne Hightower, and Silver Denys are omitted, and 5/6 of those characters are confirmed for s2. And I'm not trying to say none of these characters shouldn't be included(well we could do without 2 of them), but they aren't more important than her.

Nettles literally has all the qualities people usually like in characters(the ordinary girl who despite all odds does the unthinkable, she’s a survivor, she’s a final girl, she has one of if not the most powerful men in the realm willing to die for her, and she becomes a goddess like figure) yet she’s hated for it because she dares to be Black. They won't even try to relate to her or see her importance because she is Black.

They’d rather prop up psychos or mediocre flops just because they are white rather than ever admit that Nettles is an interesting and integral character to the Dance. She’s awesome. The man who created these freaking books that you claim to love and swear his word is law thinks she’s awesome and yet you want to deny that she’s awesome and has no real value because you’re scared shitless she’ll upstage your psycho(book!Missy Anne)/boring(show!Missy Anne) fave.

It’s nuts and like you, I won’t be watching s2 if Netty’s not there. They found time for a maid who shouldn't even be there, propped up Addam to the Gods, and gave Hugh an unnecessary sex scene, all while cutting Nettles out. Nope. I’ll skip straight to s3 cause I’m not dealing with this show's BS and blatant disrespect. It’s unacceptable!

[huynun]

So since I’m basically rewriting the show, I sort of know in general terms how I would want to lay out the first two seasons and part of the third

Season 1

- setting things up

- very episodic, you can watch most of them out of order (like a lot of shows seem to start)

- Chloe is the stereotypical mean girl

- setting up the friendships between Alya & marinette and adrien & Nino

- also setting up a friendship (and soon one sided crush) between adrien and marinette

- at some point, they have the hotel work study episode (with changes like the akuma won’t be quite the same and Chloe isn’t quite as obvious about giving the bad jobs to the people she doesn’t like) which is the beginning of marinette’s ties with jagged stone

- marinette also becomes class rep despite Chloe’s efforts

- some identity shenanigans but not too many since Lila is on the same school schedule as them

- Lila isn’t really a threat as a civilian but does make some comments and if you look closely, she does benefit a fair amount from the attacks, getting more effective as time passes

- don’t reveal who has the butterfly miraculous until the finale

- speaking of the finale

- adrien fully cuts off his friendship with Chloe after she does something horrible to his friends (after a season of them teaching him that it’s okay to set boundaries etc etc)

- obvs a more intense akuma

- marinette also gets a good win against Chloe when she lashes out about losing her friendship with adrien which does not help Chloe’s mood/vibes

Season 2:

- starts with Lila beginning to make herself a bigger name in the class and start trying to get an in with adrien

- she makes up lies that are somewhat out there but not easily provable

- however, she does say something that tips marinette off that she’s lying but has something to do with being ladybug so she can’t prove it

- Alya hears her say that this girl is lying and listens but doesn’t put much stock into it (like canon but actually hears her out and tries to alleviate some of her concerns even if not necessarily well)

- no one truly turns against marinette but they do brush her concerns off for the most part

- throughout the season, it’s still pretty episodic but things do escalate

- Chloe is still causing problems but fewer and less on purpose, beginning a redemption arc

- Lila makes more subtle digs at marinette and does things to try and isolate her (with varying amounts of success)

- Lila also becomes more blatant and cocky with her use of the butterfly miraculous

- meanwhile, Gabriel and Nathalie have been investigating the use of the miraculi, they can’t just figure it out because there are glamours over them but they can figure out that the butterfly holder is from the school since lila has been getting over confident and cocky about her use of it, thus they can survey the school and catch her

- when they see lila transform, it’s the second to last episode

- ladybug and chat noir have been investigating as best they can too in spite of their many responsibilities

- in the last episode, they figure out lila (not sure how yet) and try to set up a plan to catch her and take the butterfly miraculous

- they end up being just too late, seeing lila upset on the floor and Gabriel transformed into Hawkmoth leaving

Season 3

- starts with stoneheart

- when lila had it, she was bound to the children’s limits and only ever really did akumas with mind control and other things that didn’t result in property damage or real injury

- immediately, Hawkmoth comes in hard with something big that affects the city instead of just a small area

- ladybug only had the lucky charm power and since lila was on limits (and just didn’t know she could) they never had to actually catch the akuma after breaking the object

- though both ladybug and chat noir gain new powers (haven’t yet decided what I want chat’s second power to be) they don’t know how to use them yet (ladybug needs to capture the akuma and use the energy she gets from purifying it along with her own to cast miraculous ladybug) so things go similarly to canon stoneheart

- since it ramped up so suddenly and combined with the failure to get the butterfly from lila before, marinette really feels like she needs to give up, that she can’t do this, and tries (and fails) to give her miraculous to Alya

- an episode or two later, ladybug and chat noir are really struggling to face the butterfly without limits so fu releases the fox and turtle

- even with the help, marinette begins to buckle under the pressure of her responsibilities

That’s all I got for now

[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Bargain

Summary: Bloody and bruised from the nautiloid ship crash, forging a contract with a devil becomes your best and only option for survival. This is the first flashback oneshot for the main story of the series. The poem is The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Word count: 2197 Notes: Dealing with a devil, canon-typical blood and injury.

My writing masterlist

Bottles of Ithbank and mugs of red ale rose up to meet the bright stars embroidered into the velvety midnight sky. Comforting and familiar voices of laughter and cheer bubbled around you. It was a night to remember, reminisce and celebrate. In destroying the Absolute you had faced the impossible and lived on to tell the tale. You had gained allies and most importantly, you had met people, who you proudly called your friends.

Deep in thought, you fiddled with the ring on your left hand’s ring finger. A vexing lark from the gift giver, as the ring would fit no other digit. You had bet your soul on never removing the stupid piece of jewellery, at the same time dooming yourself to the eternity of answering delighted queries about a presumed marriage.

Every time you took a sigh to explain you were, in fact, not married, you heard the devil over your shoulder laugh somewhere deep in the Hells. Out of sheer spite, you wished you could hate him. But he had given you this life and this victory, so you endured.

Wyll, the freshly appointed Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate, sat next to you by the large table and noticed you twiddling with the ring.

“So. Do you know what became of Raphael?” he asked cautiously and nodded towards your hands.

You shrugged, not exactly keen on discussing the devil even though the wine had already spun your mind into a pleasant, relaxing buzz. You had been prepared to answer this particular question during the course of the evening and it was no shock Wyll was the one to voice it. You had met with Wyll from time to time after your travels together, but had always avoided the subject. Luckily the Grand Duke was a busy man. 

“I guess your pact still stands then. I’m sorry,” Wyll said and took a swig from his goblet.

“Don’t be,” you corrected him and opened your mouth to justify why, but Wyll just looked at you with compassion.

He was the only one of your companions who truly knew what you had been through since he had made the same choice – albeit your reasons were initially more selfish than his. The only difference was that he had found a way to outwit his devil patron to get out of his pact. The Duke Ravengard still had horns, but no longer even a tiny bit of the infernal power of a warlock was coursing through his veins.

Wyll changed the subject: “It feels like the whole thing happened in another life.” 

“It really does,” you sighed and raised the bottle to your lips again.

“I’m glad you decided to stay in Baldur’s Gate, though.”

“Don’t say anything about being a hero, please,” you exclaimed and Wyll grinned. You couldn’t help but grin right back at him.

“I wasn’t going to,” he assured you.

“I’m done playing the hero for now. I need time to put my feet up” – you lifted your boots and planted them on the table – “and enjoy just being alive.”

Wyll shot you a humorous look, but decided against noting how the heroics usually had happened when you had tried to avoid those situations the most.

Six months earlier

Hidden behind wreckage, you dared to inhale a shallow breath and barely held back a cough. Unknown parts of the nautiloid ship and horrifying, giant flesh pods laid scattered and broken around you. Their colourful liquids were mixed on the ground into sickening pools. There was a reek of burning something you didn’t want to think about and it made breathing even harder.

A couple of your ribs were likely broken from being thrown around by the impact from  exploding tubes. It had not been one of your finest moments or the best aimed fire bolt, but at least you had lost the pursuers, for now.

You prayed to every known god and goddess under your breath. You had survived the nautiloid crash and found yourself alone again amidst the debris – only to be attacked by a group of pathetic, random looters. It was five against one and you didn’t even have a weapon on you. It would’ve been a tough fight on a good day, but you were seriously injured, bleeding and delirious from the environmental hazards affecting your senses. So you had attempted to cause as much chaos as you could to hide.

If you had thought getting taken by mind flayers was bad enough, it had been pure downhill since then. The inevitability of this one becoming your last adventure started to settle in.

You sat on the broken floor, leaning into a crevice in the debris and listened to any voices. The looter group was not far, but unfortunately they were not foolish enough to make noise as they were tracking you down. You had maybe minutes to live and there was literally nothing you could have done about it.

So you prayed. Incoherent words tumbled from your mouth under your broken breaths.

You would give anything for the power to smite those pathetic thiefs.

Anything for the power and means to save yourself from the predicament.

You closed your eyes and focused on listening to the approaching final moments of your existence.

Anything to live and die on another day.

A soft step. Then another. Your pulse surged. Someone was coming, but nothing about him was what you had expected.

A man you would have eagerly described as mysterious and handsome walked towards you. His steps were leisurely, his pace unhurried and his expression tinged with curiosity.

Maybe some poison gas had finally addled your mind and you were seeing things.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—” he recited carefully with graceful cadence, pacing closer.

A poem? So you were either dead or poisoned. Your head lolled to the side, trying to see his face clearly in the midst of the smoke and floating embers.

“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” His voice was smooth, almost drawling. It sent a warm shiver down your back. His hands motioned in rhythm with the words.

The stranger paused right in front of you and continued: “’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door—”

He leaned down to have a closer look at you and his expression turned unreadable. His eyes were chestnut brown, cunning and framed by dark lashes. The high cheekbones were tinged with healthy red.

“Only this and nothing more,” he ended the verse with a contemplative note.

You blinked in confusion, openly staring and wondering could he have been one of the looters, because he certainly didn’t look like one. His clothes were fancy: a blue doublet, ornamented with gold trimmings and a frilly collar. His brown hair was combed back and waves of light curls gathered behind his ears.

Maybe you had gone mad or lost consciousness already.

“Are you really here?” you asked in a shaky voice.

“Is that not why you were rapping at my door?” he returned the question.

Delirious from the smoke and blood loss, you couldn’t understand what he meant.

“Please, you have to help me…” you pleaded, still unsure if the man really even existed.

“Wouldn’t you rather help yourself?” he remarked, tapping his chin in calculating thought. His gaze was evaluating you.

“What? I don’t…” you spluttered with desperation.

“Come.”

He took your hand and pulled you up from the floor. His touch was almost burning, or maybe your hands were just that cold from the loss of blood. A consuming inferno of bright flames swallowed you both and instantly you reappeared in an entirely different place.

The warm air and the general, faint smell of fire and sulphur ravaged your senses. Avernus.

“The House of Hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed,” the stranger presented dramatically with a flourish motion of his arms – an invitation for you to look around at all the lavish glamour. Paintings of devils hung on the walls and the large fireplace was lit with the most mesmerising, hungry fire you had ever seen. A massive table right next to you was loaded with mouth-watering delicacies and you were overwhelmingly reminded how hungry and weak you were.

Your legs were shaking and every muscle in your body ached, resisting the notion of staying up on your feet. Every breath now made your lungs sizzle, the air burning on its way inside.

“So you’re a devil?” you asked feebly.

The stranger crooked a smile at your quick wit and answered: “Raphael. Very much at your service.”

A devil – out of all the names of the gods you had taken in vain, this was the one to save you. The irony stung deep.

“Forgive me that I don’t drop a curtsy. I’m feeling so…” you fumbled to find the proper word and focused your energy on staying on your feet. You glanced down and realised that you had already smudged the floor with blood and dirt.

Raphael noticed the stains too and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, you felt better and stopped gripping the table edge, knuckles white. Air poured effortlessly into your lungs without any pain and although shaky, you felt that you could stand properly. Your posture eased.

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured in surprise, but at the same time your pulse started quickening. As little as you knew of devils, you knew for a fact that they didn’t give anything for free.

“You’re welcome.” Raphael bowed lightly and pulled a chair for you.

“Please, sit, partake. You and I have much to discuss,” he mused and when you were comfortably seated, he circled around to the other side of the table.

Now healed, you were positively ravenous. You hesitated only a second before starting to fill your plate with pork sausages and honey-sauteed vegetables. Raphael’s crooked smile deepened, but he only watched, evaluating.

“How did you find me?” you asked, when the silence began feeling too oppressive.

Raphael tilted his head to the side, gauging your refreshingly lame reaction to the revelation of his nature. He replied: “That delicious life or death predicament you were in did the knocking, but you, my dear, were the one to push the door open.”

You swallowed a mouthful of food. “I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.”

Raphael hid his smile, which felt even worse than seeing it widen. He leaned over the table on his elbows, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

“Oh, but you did. You wanted to survive. You craved the power to burn those insignificant worms,” he explained with an intensive look in his eyes. Then he leaned back in his seat and continued: “Unless, you’re saying there has been a mistake? I can send you back with an apology.”

“No!” you interjected.

The devil’s eyes glinted. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, a piece of parchment manifested into the air. Red letters in the language of the Hells were seared on the surface. A quill hovered next to it.

Your pulse quickened again as comprehension snaked its tendrils around you: You had prayed to give anything to save yourself. Anything, including your very soul as if it were a mere trinket to be traded off. But, what else was it in this transaction between life and death? You would lose both your life and soul, if you didn’t take the deal. A soul didn’t do much good for you if you were dead already.

“Tell me, what is your name, mortal?” Raphael asked.

“Tav.”

“Well then, Tav. Let’s bargain,” said the devil in the most complacent tone you had ever heard. “I can grant you the ability to manifest my power. The power to tear through your enemies, to guile the unworthy and cull the weak – the power to survive.”

You set the utensils down and drew in a shaky breath. “You want my soul?”

Raphael cocked a brow, entertained, and leaned over the table, closer to you. He said: “Lest you have something else to offer for your salvation, but I promise you this: I take good care of my clients.”

You stared right into the chestnut brown eyes of the human facade of the devil, who was after your very soul.

And nodded slowly.

“I accept,” you said simply, forcing your tone even. “We can go over the details after I’ve killed the fuckers.”

The devil barked a laugh.

“Excellent.”

You signed off the contract for your soul. It would take a long time until the gravity of what you had just done would settle in. In the meanwhile, you would enjoy the patronage of Raphael and the benefits of the warlock pact.

In a swirl of flames, you were returned to the wreck of the nautiloid ship, right at the feet of the looting mob.

“She’s here!”

“Indeed I am,” you snarled as infernal energy crackled and surged on your palm.

There would be only cinders left when you were through with them.

[babyspacebatclone]

Ok, just back from the live action The Little Mermaid.

And may I confidently say?

Best live-action Disney adaptation yet.

True, a low bar to clear, but this honestly felt like a movie and a love story, and not just a cash grab.

Every single changed scene had me smiling. Eric (Jonah Hauer-King) was amazing, and Halle Bailey truly is Ariel, I want her version to become the defacto in the Disney Princesses line because she feels sweet and clever and brave above and beyond the animated version.

(No offense to Jodi Benson, I love her, but the animated version is what it was and the new Ariel is just given more room to breathe.)

I think, comparing, my child self would love the animated spectacle more…

But my adult self loves the tighter, more in depth story of the live action more.

It feels like the best kind of fan fiction, one where someone who loves the characters asks “How were they feeling here? How can I expand this?”

And gives us those glimpses.

Not perfect, but definitely enough for me to fan girl.

Speaking of which… Spoilers below the cut.

Right from the opening scene, you see this movie is taking itself and the responsibility of the story seriously. I love the development of Eric, his camaraderie with the sailors while also being a good mix of level headed (don’t just harpoon mermaids) with reckless insanity (dude, you’re a prince, please don’t laugh while dangling by one arm over open water. ah, well, i love you anyway).

I can feel how much the film pulls back the special effects budget, especially making the introduction of Triton’s daughters basically a business meeting instead of the grand performance, but the filmmakers were smart enough to make the change work. I like the idea of each daughter being “manager” of a specific sea under daddy’s “CEO,” and it was a great excuse to give diversity to each sister.

Plus, I loved their banter/interaction while cleaning the shipwreck, they felt natural and I wish we could have had more time with them.

Speaking of natural!

As a writer I was listening to the exposition, and in my opinion it was exceptionally well done, especially for the amount they crammed into the beginning. Some of it was on-the-nose, but that was restricted to Grimsby, Sebastian, and Ursula, and felt character appropriate in each context.

There was an eye for why the character is saying something - “Am I supposed to tell the Queen her son died, and on his birthday?”; “A shipwreck brought you to us, and now a shipwreck almost took you away, I can’t stand this anymore!”

I didn’t fee like making Eric an adopted orphan of the royal family was necessary, but I loved both Jonah’s and Noma Dumezweni’s performances enough that I accept the filmmakers wanting to justify things and they do tie it in to Eric’s expanded character.

And that is 👌👌👌 he’s so sweet and adorkable and they manage to make his longing to see the world beyond his island mesh with Ariel’s longing for the surface world without it feeling forced.

You see them shyly come together over their shared feelings of isolation and longing for something they’ve only been able to glimpse, not experience.

Turning the ideas that Ursula is King Triton’s sister and Ariel’s mother was killed by humans into not just canon, but pertinent plot points, was excellent.

I wish we could have known more about her mother, but can I say I’m glad it was never revealed Ursula was actually responsible? I suspected that when it was clear Ursula had been banished around the time of the death, but it works so much better than it really was just one human that traumatized King Triton, and him having to overcome his hatred of humanity as a whole despite his lose.

Ursula pulling out the “I’m your Aunt, ‘Daddy’ has hurt me so much by refusing to understand me, too” was genius.

It especially helped with the fact that Ariel was going to refuse to sacrifice her entire life (realism!!) only to give in because of her anger in a moment of spite towards her father (realism!!!), especially with seeing their relationship and knowing that Ariel’s fear of being enclosed under her father’s constant watch was probably accurate.

As a song, “For the First Time” isn’t particularly special.

Including Ariel actively doubting her decision to come to land? Brilliant.

The entire day out and “Kiss the Girl” sequence is perfection, fight me.

Grimsby being an active shipper on deck?? 😍

I personally prefer Eric being the one to steer the ship in the climatic fight, but the detail of Ariel steering it because she’d witnessed him trying to save the ship in the beginning was nice symmetry.

The animal companions were done very well in my opinion: Scuttle was better handled than in the animation to me, Sebastian was perfect and they did a great job humanizing his design with his eyes compared to previous outings, and Flounder was - there. With Max.

Almost feel you could have cut the last two out and lost nothing except babbling to Triton at the beginning, Eric coulda saved the shipboy at the beginning…

(And yes Flounder’s “realistic” design does not improve in context, fortunately he’s on screen less than the animated characters with charisma)

I love the expansion of the prejudices on both sides; I wish it had been better explored at the end, but Queen Selina’s speech to her son about how his feelings for Ariel despite her being a “sea creature” (her initial fearful reaction) was beautiful.

Brain’s trickling down, it was an early showing, but you get the point.

It’s well worth watching the movie, and I’m up for rambling if anyone else is! 😊

[kitgundy]

hey darling omg!!! *squeezes you*

im so curious about your pokemon series!! youve got me hooked! a couple questions for ya.

1) fave character headcanons and why??

2) any top-tier whump tropes you absolutely adore??

3) currently so into enyo's storyline!! what are some things youve truly enjoyed writing throughout it and some things you found a little trickier??

4) a certain evil researcher;)))) never ceases to amaze me with her simultaneous wickedness and complexity. is there truly hope for her?? are there any peculiar motives that you want to talk about regarding the direction her character has taken??

5) overall, what would you say keeps enyo going and persevering through so much??

6) are there any future pokemon species you plan on writing for?? why??

no pressure to answer all of these!! just poppin' by to ask for whenever you've got time.

enjoy the rest of your day!! a heart for you in our colors!! hehe💙💕✨love you.

-lina!!

Hellooo!! *squeezes you back*

1) Enyo liking the smell of Lavender. You suggested it at some point and it’s been in the back of my head ever since. Also Olivia/Lidia/Sarah is autistic and she and her brother got really into this one show about a mad scientist (it doesn’t actually exist I made it up) and to this day she has a tendency to copy the mannerisms of the main character in that show. The Trio (Keyo, Ana, and Cheri, for those who don’t know) collecting moms is also pretty funny. As for canon character headcanon favorites, Cyllene (Pokémon legends arceus) is such a mom figure and I love her so much.

2) Burns. Fire. You probably have already realized this but burns. Also it’s less fun for me if whumpee’s on their own, I like character interactions. Defiant whumpee. Make em angry. Make em spiteful. It’s very fun to write And to read.

3) It took me a while to get her backstory worked out. Also it took me a hot minute to figure out whether Whisper (her wife basically) was dead or not

4) At this point, she’s so far gone that Rewriting Time’s the only way to really. Fix it. When the thing with Enyo and the group happens, Lidia had been in jail for like 18 years for being Literally Horrible during the Hisuian story. She had been spiraling deeper and deeper into rage, and there was no coming back from that for her without something big happening to shake her worldview and change her mindset. (Currently debating which should be the catalyst for rewriting time, either Enyo has enough and starts illusioning to look like her brother to make her feel bad or she gets what she wants, kills her parents, and then realizes it wasn’t worth it because she hurt so many people and Pokémon that she’s become just as bad as her parents. Maybe both?) As for the direction she’s taken, she started out as “ooh scary scientist lady I need for plot in Hisuian”, became “scary scientist lady who’s trying to copy the moves of Pokémon with technology”, and then I was like “Why is she like this? What happened to make her act like this? Why isn’t she nice? Why does she do these things? Something in her past made her think it was okay, so what was it?” And then her parents came to mind, and I realized she hates them so much she wants to use the copied moves to kill them. And she wants the hisuian zoro’s malice-fueled attacks for that. And that’s when she became a complex character. She hated her parents so much that she decided to destroy them, but on her way to doing so, she became them. She wasn’t meant to be this complex, she wasn’t meant to be a tragic character, but one thing led to another, and she became my greatest fear: turning into the people you hate the most. Every character I have comes from a piece of me. Lidia is my rage, my thirst for vengeance, and my fear of what will happen if I let that consume me. And to think she started out as just some random evil scientist! It’s fascinating to reflect on.

5) She needs to protect her family- she knows if she gives up, Lidia will end up going after.. probably Cheri first, and she can’t let that happen. She’s fiercely loyal to them, and she would die to make sure they were safe. Or stay alive in the face of impossible odds, like what’s going on with Lidia.

6) Mmmmmaybe? I know in any Pokémon story I write, there’s always gonna be at least one zoro involved, it’s happened since I was little haha. Zoro are the best Pokémon in my opinion. But I do have this one story on the back burner about a girl who rescues Pokémon from bad trainers, there’s only One zoro in that one so far hsjddjkf

Love youuuu ❤️🥰😊

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (18/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

“Are you serious?!” Tani burst out, setting her bowl of noodle soup down with a sloshy thump. “We’ve got to walk back to the Heartlands again?!”

Evan nodded, setting his own bowl down much more gently. In the wake of the trial, Goldpaw hadn’t been left unscathed. Almost the entire square had burned to the ground by the time the group had returned from calming Longfang, leaving a ruined husk and scorched statue behind. They had found a weakened Master Pugnacius standing in the smoking ruin of his home, but in spite of the damage he had been grateful it hadn’t been worse.

They had lost the square, but saved the city, saved its people. He was content with that.

Content enough, and grateful enough, that he had answered the questions Evan had asked him. He had explained that he didn’t truly know who the Mandarin had been, only that he had appeared from nowhere one evening and given Master Pugnacius a way to secure his citizen’s happiness and safety through the die manipulation. It had been a well-intended lie, he had said without saying, but Roland knew that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

And this road nearly led them straight to hell and back again. Obviously, the Darkness had spiraled things far out of control. Roland contemplated his tea for a long moment. Who was the Mandarin to offer such power, even if it was for his own gains? And why come to Goldpaw in hiding like that? Every question spun off a thousand more.

But they wouldn’t find answers here. They had all agreed that it would be best to return to the camp as soon as possible, but no one had been able to say no to the idea of one more Goldpaw meal.

Despite it being a stool, Tani somehow managed to slump in her seat.

“Blimey,” She groaned, “My feet are gonna fall off like this. Hang on—” She looked up at Evan again, “Didn’t Niall teach you that fancy spell we used to get back here? Why can’t we use that?!”

Evan made a pensive expression, tapping his chin as he spoke. “Niall said there were rules to it. There had to be a certain number of people where you’re trying to go, and something about it being protected, too.”

“Well that’s dumb,” Tani grumbled. “Do you know how many places actually have people in them?” She held up four fingers. “Just the four capitols, and we’re in one of them!”

Evan pouted back at her. “I don’t make the rules!” He said shortly, “I can’t just cast the spell and hope it works!”

“Alright, alright,” Aranella interrupted before the argument could escalate. From her place sitting between them she lay her hands on the countertop. “It won’t be like this forever. Eventually we’ll be able to use the spell and go from kingdom to kingdom, but for now we just have to walk there.” She smiled primly at the pair, causing them both to grimace. “It’s only two weeks. And it’s springtime still! You may as well enjoy the weather while it’s good.”

“You’re not the one still coated in road dust,” Roland said in a quiet aside. Without a word she reached up behind Evan and lightly but not too gently whacked him over the head. He grunted; she had some real kick behind her now that she wasn’t injured! One kick had shattered scales on Longfang’s leg and he didn’t want to see what she could do to someone his size if she wasn’t holding back. Shaking away the thought he said more loudly, “Aranella’s right. Besides, we still need to stop in and let Niall know he’s got his forest back. It’s easier this way.”

Tani heaved a sigh. “I guess,” she said, picking up her bowl again, “But what kinda dumb rule is that? Needing this many people around.” She snorted into her dinner. “Load of hogwash.”

“It used to be that the energy of the land would cause this sort of…doorway to appear near landmarks or well beloved places,” Aranella said with a frown. “But over the past few years the mages had been saying that the magic isn’t responding the way it used to. Almost as if something’s blocking it somehow.”

“Blockin’ magic, ye say?” Batu quirked an eyebrow around his hefty mug of tea. “Just like the magic ‘ere was tainted?” At Aranella’s nod, the big man heaved a grumbling sigh. “What a load of bother. Magic’s never made sense.”

“Pah!” Lofty scoffed, munching his way through a plate of battered shrimp and vegetables. He gestured at Batu with the tail of one such shrimp, and Roland hid his smile behind his tea. “Magic makes plenty of sense if you stop and think ‘bout it!”

“It could also be a place having a Kingmaker,” Aranella spoke over Batu beginning to protest, giving him a firm look. “So if we want to transport ourselves back to the camp with any regularity, we had best leave Lofty behind next time.” She turned on the little Kingmaker, whose mouth had dropped open as he stared at her. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“OI!” Lofty shouted, jumping to his feet. Dinner forgotten he waved a fist at Aranella. “I ‘en’t gonna be stayin’ behind just because you lazy bums don’t feel like tourin’ the countryside! I stay with my king!”

Clearing his throat Roland broke in, “Whatever the reason, we still have to walk back to camp this time. Let’s get a good night’s rest and then head back in the morning.” He looked down the counter at his companions. “Deal?”

“Sounds right to me,” Batu said, downing the last of his soup and thumping the bowl to the counter. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, there’s somethin’ needin’ my attention ‘fore we head home.” Leaving a few guilders behind to pay for his portion of the meal, Batu stepped off his stool and headed back up the road. Tani leaned back on her stool.

“Hang on a second,” She frowned at her father’s quickly disappearing back. “Isn’t that the road to the casino?”

“It is.” Roland and Evan said in unison. Roland quickly looked away from Aranella’s pointed look and continued, “Guess he feels like trying his luck one more time.”

Or he had a death wish. Judging by how fast he was walking, it was probably the former.

“Oi!” Tani shouted after him, “Just because there’s no more Duebills around doesn’t mean you can gamble the night away, you big wally!” When he didn’t so much as slow down Tani let loose a frustrated cry, leaping off her chair and running after Batu. Aranella rolled her eyes and gave Roland another stern look.

“We’ll talk about that later,” She said, slipping off her stool as he grimaced. Oh boy. “Right now I need to deal with this fool before he gambles away her dowry. Excuse me.”

And then she was gone after the pair of pirates, leaving Evan and Roland to finish their own meals in relative peace.

Perhaps too much peace. After a few minutes passed in silence, Roland looked down at the young boy and found Evan staring into what was left of his broth, tail slowly waving behind him.

“Guilder for your thoughts?” He asked. Evan shook his head.

“I was just thinking about what Master Pugnacious said,” He said softly. “How the Mandarin just showed up some months ago and gave him what he thought he needed? What if that was what happened to Mausinger?”

Roland didn’t know enough to say either way. Tilting his head he asked, “Do you think it’s possible? Did you know Mausinger well?”

“I thought of him like an uncle. He was there since I was born,” Evan replied, “Long before that, even! He and my father were practically brothers, and I just…” He gripped his arms tight. “I just can’t believe that the Mausinger I knew would really want me dead…”

“Family’s complicated,” Roland said, peering into his teacup as if the minty brew held all the answers he needed. Of course, it didn’t even have one. “Even if they’re not blood. There were probably a lot of things that neither your father or Mausinger would have shown to you.”

“I know that,” Evan huffed, laying his head on his crossed arms. He reached out with one hand, tracing a light pattern on the side of his bowl. “But I still think I should have seen something…”

“Sometimes it’s the people closest to us that we understand the least.” Roland said softly, reaching out and laying a hand on Evan’s back. He could feel the tremble in the poor kid’s sigh as Evan hid his face in the crook of his elbow. “Try not to blame yourself. What’s important is that you and Aranella got out with your lives at the end.”

“Thanks to you,” Was Evan’s muffled reply. He turned his head enough to look at Roland with one watery blue eye. “I never thanked you for that,” he said, “You didn’t have to help us. You could have left the castle without getting drawn into any of this.”

Roland snorted in amusement. “I really couldn’t,” he said. Leaving a kid in the lurch like that? He’d have sooner died in the explosion. He’d have sooner wanted to. Closing his eyes, Roland allowed himself a smile. “And I don’t regret staying with you.”

Beneath Roland’s hand, Evan sat up straight again. When he opened his eyes, Roland was relieved to see a soft smile spreading across the boy’s face. He opened his mouth—

“Not the ear, woman! Not the ear!!” Came a shout. The pair turned, Lofty too busy stuffing his face of any leftovers to care, and Roland didn’t bother to hold back his laugh at the sight in front of them.

Despite the more than a foot he had on her, Aranella was dragging Batu back towards the Inn by the ear. Tani trailed in their wake, a proud smirk clear as day across her face. Roland shook his head.

“Though I think Batu might be regretting crossing her right about now.”

Evan giggled. “Everyone does, in the end. That’s Nella for you!”

[lacrimosathedark]

Hey Bat fandom, can we like, stop pushing for BatJokes in mainline comics?

EDIT: DISCLAIMER FOR CLARITY: I am not attempting to criticize people who ship these characters. It is strictly a critique of the concept of a reciprocal romantic relationship between these two characters being canonized and people wanting that specifically. I am not shaming anyone for enjoying or entertaining the idea of this pairing.

Look, I’m far from the last person to say there’s nothing there; I literally have a whole word document dedicated to evidence for the argument that Joker is in love with Batman (which I made out of spite because I mentioned it in passing and my cousin thought I was crazy heck you man I’m right).

And honestly, I love Elseworlds where it could be moderately plausible. The Telltale games, for example, put a truly fascinating spin on their dynamic that makes reciprocation believable, even likely. White Knight does this pretty well too. And Lego Batman makes it fucking adorable.

But here’s the thing, those are Elseworlds. All of them, Joker shows his inherently redeeming qualities. In Telltale he’s basically led astray and you can, in essence save him from becoming a psychotic mass murderer we know the Joker as. In White Knight, he is extremely mentally ill, but is temporarily “cured”, and while still a manipulative bastard, shows a great deal of love and compassion and determination to make things right. These set up Joker to be much more morally gray than he is in most media. Lego Batman is accurate but also cutesy and sanitized, so Joker is very much a precious little bean instead of...y’know...an insane murder clown.

If the Arkham games have one strong point, it’s nailing this relationship. Joker is absolutely in love with and attracted to Batman. And while Bruce is obsessed with Joker to extreme and unhealthy degrees, he feels no affection for him whatsoever. He doesn’t like the Joker.

Which is my point. Joker, while not entirely lacking redeeming qualities, is inherently irredeemable. He’s the definition of a psychotic mass murderer. And everything he’s done to Bruce specifically cannot be ignored.

The biggest things that come to mind are The Killing Joke, A Death in the Family (as well as the N52 shitshow that was Death OF the Family), his BatCat Wedding bullshit, and Joker War. But that’s not even half of the things he’s done to cause him grief.

And look, I’m not saying Bruce doesn’t have a kind of intimate connection with Joker. He most certainly does. But intimate is not inherently loving. Remember, he basically accidentally created Joker when the man tripped or jumped into that vat of acid trying to escape Batman. And Bruce has an extremely severe guilt complex. So Joker is, and always will be, Batman’s responsibility.

Because I cannot see this man loving the guy who paralyzed his almost-daughter, tortured one of his best friends, brutally murdered his son, mind-controlled his eldest son, attacked his entire family, nearly killed his fiancee, and stole pretty much everything from under him while terrorizing his city.

Give them a different history, sure. Find a way to redeem the Joker, even better. I’m a fan of Elseworlds where they can have mutual romantic chemistry.

But it just doesn’t work within main comics. They don’t express mutual interest. And Joker has repeatedly expressed “love” with abuse. It has no potential to be healthy with the canon we currently have.

[dilfdoctordoom]

On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021. 

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that. 

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID:  A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run. 

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

[catiuapavel]

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca for the character ask!!

Why I like them

I am fundamentally opposed to the monarchy as a ruling power. history is a record of their atrocities but i love it when the chosen queen reclaims her country's sovereignty against an imperialistic nation. (Who doesn’t)

What I also love about Ashe is that the writing doesn’t shy away from laying bare her burning desire for revenge and her anger and resentment. It’s almost cathartic to see her lash out and it’s a deeply stimulating experience to see her struggle with her aching to annihilate the empire in its entirety.

Why I don’t

I have many bones to pick with the entire ending segment of Final Fantasy XII and when it comes to Ashe specifically... Crying out Balthier’s name as he remains in the Bahamut? For Balthier? Alone? Anyone in this ship remembers that Fran exists? 

This scene fills me with visceral annoyance every time around. I cringe my teeth in preparation by now.

Favorite line

"Dalmasca does not forget kindness nor ill done. With sword in hand she aids her allies. Sword in hand she lays to rest her foes. This nethicite I hold must be my sword. I will avenge those who have died and the empire will know remorse.”

Ashe likes to convince herself it’s her duty to avenge her kingdom, but there is so much pointing to how personal it actually is, starting with the illusion of her dead husband’s ghost pushing her toward it. And this quote really encompasses this. She’s not just Ashe, a woman seeking vengeance, she’s Dalmasca punishing her foes and yet the spite and emotion with which she swears this oath tells a different tale entirely.

It’s not entirely selfish from her either and she’s completely genuine but eventually she has to ask Rasler’s ghost and herself “You would have me destroy the Empire? Is this my duty? Is this what you want?” (another favourite quote by the way) and it’s painfully obvious she’s not sure who or what she’s doing this for: Dalmasca, her people or herself? That ambiguity and her struggle to differentiate her pain from her duty is so essential to her character and why I like her so much.

Favorite scene

This moral struggle leads to this decision and to her realizing that the path she was walking was taking her way from the person she wanted to be and the ruler she has to become. Seeing Vaan, one of the citizens she swore to retaliate for, mirror her hatred is the last thing she needs to truly understand it so hearing her say “That was the Dalmasca I wanted back.” is a fantastic emotional conclusion to her arc.

Favorite outfit

I like all of Ashe’s outfits (yes even the miniskirt) but you know what’s an underrated outfit? Her mourning gown.

Peak fashion and yet she only wore it in a cutscene for 30 seconds? TRAGIC.

OTP

Ashe/Being dutybound to her responsibilities (you know it’s the only relationship possible with her). Ok I kind of want to humour the whole Al-Cid/Ashe thing but only for about 5 minutes, and they’re just having a drink at a pub but nothing more.

Brotp

Ashe/Basch but I kind of want to say Ashe/Penelo too (but unfortunately I have to use my imagination for this one)

Head Canon

I sometimes think about her credit artwork where she holds a small chocobo and I like to think she’s a bit of a chocobo girl. In general I imagine Ashe must like all manners of birds.

Unpopular opinion

There is a painfully large amount of people who seem to believe that Balthier is the “driving force behind the story” and therefore deserves the ~main character title~  You are lying to yourself. You’re also lying to yourself if you say it’s Basch.

A wish

I wish she’d have had any kind of interaction with Penelo. Her approach to war and grief is very different from Vaan and it would have benefitted her (and the narrative) to have her perspective as well. It’s kind of a missed opportunity tbh.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

Well hopefully we don’t ever get a revival for Fortress. I don’t know how anyone could read through the synopsis and still thinks this sequel should happen. 

5 words to best describe them

Hot-tempered, sorrowful, dutyful, resentful, bitter (affectionate)

[pupperofdarkness]

Give me a character and I will answer: Griffith

I just remembered that this was in my drafts it’s so old now sorry @bscully 😭😭😭

I’mma still post it tho

————————————-

Lol you have NO idea what you’ve just unleashed

Why I like them

Ngl, I have a fondness for ambitious and cold characters who are willing to achieve their goals by any means necessary…but Griffith stands out in that he serves as an absolutely BRUTAL deconstruction of this trope/archetype, even before the Eclipse. 

Why I don’t

It’s pretty obvious: he r——d Casca into insanity in front of Guts and tainted their child. And bear in mind, unlike sacrificing the Band of the Hawk, this action did nothing to get him closer to his kingdom. It was just an atrocity he committed out of spite and sheer evil. Tbh, that sort of destroyed my ability to see him in a positive light. There are moments where I flat out can’t even LOOK at pictures of him without wanting to cuss him out lol

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

The scene when he’s bathing in the lake after what happened with Gennon. I think it’s a good example of his duality

Favorite season/movie

The Golden Age in the manga (until volume 13. I’m never getting over that.)

Favorite line

During this exchange with Gennon, it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t completely mean what he says. He says he feels nothing towards Gennon, but we as the audience know how his experience with Gennon truly affected him. And I think that highlights a very important aspect of his character: what he says is how he would LIKE to feel but it doesn‘t reflect how he TRULY feels. Ideally, Griffith would like for his emotions and humanity to not have an influence on him as he tries to gain his kingdom. But in the end, he was an emotional person, whether he liked it or not. This desire to completely bury his self-doubt, guilt, trauma, and emotional attachment towards his men (Guts specifically) is part of what led him to becoming Femto.

Favorite outfit

Ngl, the outfit he wears when Guts leaves is pretty nice. Asshole that he is, he looks nice in blue :p

OTP

Griffith/Rickert’s palm

Brotp

It USED to be Guts but then he went and fucked everything up 🤦🏾‍♀️

Head Canon

He’s a polyglot. He‘s got a knack for languages.

Unpopular opinion

I don’t know if this counts but…………..Casca’s prettier than him :p

A wish

I hope that what he did to Casca during the Eclipse comes back to bite him in the ass. I think the Moonlight Child might end up being the key to his downfall.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

If Guts and Casca ever do end up killing Griffith, I hope they don’t lose their son in the process.

5 words to best describe them

Complex, ambitious, possessive, charismatic, hypocritical 

My nickname for them

Everybody’s Favorite Asshole

[t00thpasteface]

Expanding on the ask about the TES fandom having stage IV terminal Hiatus-Brain (paging @allroadsstilllead and @pleasespellchimerical):

It's a blessing and a curse, really. I love that it's become such a close-knit, creative, and supportive community for all sorts of OCs, canon divergence art/fic, speculative worldbuilding, you name it. Honest, it's wonderful!

But (and I don't know how to say this next bit without sounding like a total wet-blanket buzzkill) when you spend far, far more time creating and engaging with completely fanmade fabrications than the actual games/canon, even if it’s beautiful and bespoke and very lovingly crafted, I think there's definitely a line you cross where canon-- the actual thing you claim to like-- is really just holding you back.

And I mean this in a completely 100% affectionate, positive, even admiring way. The TES fandom has the most brilliant, creative, galaxy-brained, and just plain talented artists, writers, and worldbuilders I've ever seen in any fandom in all my years. And I think Todd is holding them back!! I firmly believe they could all easily launch into their own 100% original illustrations, short stories, comics, novels, you name it, to raucous applause. They have the talent, the drive, and the loyal fans!

If nothing else, I think they could benefit from seeking out things that already have what they want. Yes, it's hard to find anything with good, positive representation for all sorts of people and places. But TES, Bethesda, Zenimax, Todd himself... they will never give you any of that representation, either. I'm not going to use the phrase "consuming media" because (I despise it and) I think it waters down the profound experience of engaging with art. You need to engage with new, fresh, vibrant, different art. It’s wonderful to be inspired by art, to let any art move you into creating your own art, but being inspired to expand on something and being compelled to fix something are two completely separate ballgames. And they are not interchangeably constructive. One is buying brand new running-shoes and the other is tying lead weights to your bathing suit.

And, yes, even mass-produced blockbuster AAA games are art. And being inspired by art, creating things derived from the art you love, is a natural and wonderful part of the human experience. And it is because, not in spite, of those facts that I think you should never limit yourself to only the same tired art that ultimately makes you unhappy just because it is comfortable or familiar.  You don't owe Bethesda anything, any loyalty or continued affection, just because you have enjoyed their games in the past. You can shake off that chrysalis and find something that truly makes you happy as it is, without you putting it through the wringer of ten million fix-it fics.

I can’t say I’ve ever felt compelled to get into this degree of speculation and worldbuilding with TES in particular, but goodness knows I’ve gone through this a hundred times myself with my own fandoms. Over the course of only five or so years I went from wearing Eridan’s horns to class and talking everyone’s ears off about my own theories in high school to hardly breathing a word of Homestuck once I started college. My love of Overwatch pulled me out of a catastrophic months-long depressive episode where I didn’t draw from June to September until I just had to sketch McCree again and write pages and pages of fic, but I just flat-out do not play it anymore, and it’s not even installed on my current computer. I wanted them to be things they weren’t and could never be. I wanted the characters to grow and thrive beyond what their creators would ever write for them. And with every new update or lore tidbit I was left bitter and unsatisfied and ultimately resentful that I liked it only for its potential.

As an autistic woman I’ve had a new identity crisis with everything I thought was a crumbling cornerstone of my artistic identity-- I wanted the dopamine to hit in the exact same way forever. Ultimately they sloughed off like dead skin. Even an inferno can cool down to an ember, and they weren’t the only flames in town.

I mean, if you don’t like Picasso, why do you spend your precious time and money seeing Picasso exhibits? If you don’t like the taste of fish or shrimp or crab, why are you eating at the same seafood place every Thursday just to get your unsatisfying bread rolls and hush puppies? If you don't like your boyfriend one bit, you bicker with him all the time, and you wish you could just change everything about him from the ground up, why are you still dating him?

And if you don’t like the game-- the game itself, as the ones and zeros published by Bethesda Softworks, not the game as it exists in the nebulous aether of the fandom’s collective subconscious-- why haven’t you uninstalled it and played/watched/read something you really, truly, genuinely love?

Just sweetrolls for thought, I suppose. Again, I mean all of this affectionately, sincerely, and passionately, with nothing but love and appreciation from the bottom of my heart for all my wonderful artists and writers in the TES fandom. Todd doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him. All of you.

[goldensunset]

imo kairi deserves to go through the mark of mastery exam during her training with aqua and become a master. kh fans would get angry (esp if she becomes master before sora) and say that it came out of nowhere but kairi has fought so hard to prove her strength and went back to training for a second time. i think she is more than qualified.

see i very much agree that it only makes sense for kairi to eventually be acknowledged as a master if she’s training under aqua. i just don’t think it should be rushed. i certainly hope it won’t. the wayfinders were training for so long. sora and riku had been off adventuring for so long. i don’t want her training to be an offscreen timelapse please. but ig if kairi did get recognized as a master before sora at this point, it would honestly make sense, given how she’s actively training while he’s far from everyone and everything he knows rn.

(unless one of the lost masters decided to be nice and recognize him as one lol. which could happen. actually that’s what i want to happen tbh. ‘villain shows a hero more respect in some way than the hero gets from even their own allies’ is such a good trope. trying again to convince yen sid that he’s worthy feels like a tiring waste of effort. not as satisfying imo. but it would be really cool to come home newly bearing the title of master from somewhere else just to spite the traditional measure of success that they expected of him.)

anyway. if kairi became a master before sora, it would suck if that plot point primarily served as a cheap shot at sora by having kairi ‘beat’ him at this. (it would be genuinely impressive if the writers found a way to mistreat sora even more than they’ve mistreated kairi. i know they really dunked on sora in kh3 but still that would really be saying something.) because that’s STILL treating kairi as a narrative prop for sora, but in the hashtag feminist way this time.

i’m afraid of kairi getting pushed aside and treated like garbage again but i’m also afraid of them deciding to go the exact opposite route and suddenly girlbossify her overnight. when has she ever been that kinda person? when has anyone ever truly wanted that for her? her struggles and relative weakness have always been a big part of her. that doesn’t have to be written like a bad thing. maybe she’ll overcome it and become a true master. maybe she won’t. either is fine tbh. they just need to address all this stuff in canon, one way or another.

essentially i see no reason to have kairi do this whole keyblade wielder training thing at all unless it’s a character development delivery device for her. she needs her own character arc focusing on her feelings and desires more than anything else. not saying she has to abandon her love for her friends or anything, but she should at least think about what they all mean to her. if they’re not gonna do that for her then there’s legitimately no point to anything they’re doing. all she needs is agency of some kind.

[kaibacorpintern]

please... the jounouchi parents divorce headcanons... [eyes emoji] (if you wanna)

caveat before i dive into this that these are just speculations and given the LACK of information we have about both jounouchi sr and jounouchi's mom, a lot of things are possible! this is all kind of like... how i'd lay out certain relationships and feelings if i ever decide to explore jounouchi's family dynamics in depth in a fic. also this is mostly about jounouchi’s mom because when it comes to my favorite fictional characters, i love building their moms into real people, especially the moms that are offscreen, nameless, or dead; fictional fathers tend to get better development or carry more narrative weight.

but for starters i’ve kind of settled on the idea that jounouchi sr. fought for custody of specifically jounouchi during the divorce. jounouchi has a lot of specific ideas about manliness and what it means to be a man (including some very misogynistic ideas) and given that he's been living with his dad for six years, it makes sense to me that he got these ideas FROM his dad. so i see jounouchi sr. going “boys should be raised by their fathers” 1) because he truly believes this and 2) because he wanted to punish jou’s mom for having the nerve to leave/divorce him. in this context, losing custody over jounouchi is like... the battle his mom lost in the war she won.

i know that this adds some extra villainy/spitefulness to jounouchi sr. and takes some of the blame off mom, but in this situation, she feels guilt and strong regret over having to leave her son with her ex-husband, and tries to do right by him whenever she can. and of course jounouchi is allowed to experience a full range of conflicting emotions towards her, including both love AND anger, resentment AND hope.

it’s canon that jounouchi and shizuka see each other now and then, before he got too busy (i’m assuming with school and work), and that shizuka has some sense of what their dad is like - for example, in the manga, she tells jounouchi NOT to tell their dad about the videotape she sends him. so: i think jounouchi does see his mom now and then, but he struggles with feelings of abandonment and resentment (like, "why didn't you fight harder for me? why did you leave me here?") and at the same time he wants her to like him and be proud of him. 

multiple things can be happening in this relationship: jounouchi wants his mom to see how he's succeeding and know he's doing well both to assuage her guilt - "see, i turned out fine, you don't need to feel bad" - and be a little spiteful about it: "you left me behind, i don't need you. if you don’t want me, then i don’t want you." waffling between rebellious/pushing her away, and having hope for a good relationship with her, while also struggling to understand what IS or ISN’T her fault (as opposed to jou sr.’s fault, for example.) and, of course, at the age of 16, all of these feelings are intense and raw.

AND THEN AT THE HOSPITAL RIGHT BEFORE SHIZUKA’S SURGERY HE LOOKS SO QUIETLY HAPPY WHEN SHE THANKS HIM FOR HELPING WITH SHIZUKA... I DIE <3

lingering questions:

why did his parents divorce?

did jounouchi sr. become an alcoholic with a gambling addiction BEFORE or AFTER the divorce?

who does jounouchi blame for the divorce - both of them? one of them? NEITHER of them?

how much does shizuka know about jounouchi’s life with his dad? do she and his mom know that he was in a gang?