#a sincere one but a punk all the same

[ratatatastic]

finnish cats shenanigans are always my favourite but especially on sasha cup day with the cup involved the hijinks ramp up to 100 lmaooo

"wheres my- (realising sasha is in front of him and quickly stutters to change it to our so he doesnt get wacked over the head) wheres our names?"

(luosty proceeds to cackle in the bg like the shit stirrer he is realising lundys slip of the tongue and if he noticed sasha definitely noticed)

"wheres my name? wheres my name ☺️?" and it was at that moment lundy knew he fucked up

it never ceases to endlessly entertain me how much of a punk lundy can be and im so glad sasha is here to put him in his place because sheesh this kid sometimes XD

"and then luosty but i didnt want to give it to him but he took it" eh? is that so? who couldve guessed???

environmental storytelling, captain said haha okay mine now its mine let go ☺️💢

Sasha Cup Day | 7.31.24 (x)

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (gold wedding)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: dragon bride

- Next part: aftermath

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

As you walked through the grand gates of Casterly Rock, your arm reluctantly linked with Jason’s, the hum of the gathered crowd and the clamor of the procession began to fade. The towering stone walls of the keep seemed to envelop you, their grandeur and weight pressing down like the responsibility you were about to take on.

But it wasn’t the castle’s imposing beauty that caught your attention—it was the sight of Rhaenyra standing near the steps to the great hall, her crimson gown a vibrant contrast against the gray stone. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her face was lit with a grin that made you immediately suspicious.

Rhaenyra had cut her tour of the realm short, it seemed, and her arrival was timed almost too perfectly. She raised an eyebrow as her gaze flicked from you to Jason, then to the necklace around your neck—the same golden piece with the lion and dragon entwined that you had once called "atrocious."

You stiffened, your free hand instinctively brushing against the pendant, the ruby eyes of the lion gleaming in the sunlight. Jason, of course, noticed the movement, and when he followed your gaze to Rhaenyra, his grin widened.

“Well, Princess,” Jason murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “it seems your sister approves of my gift. And of us.”

You shot him a sharp look, but before you could retort, Rhaenyra called out, her tone dripping with amusement. “My dear sister! I hadn’t expected to find you looking so… regal.”

Your eyes narrowed at her, but her grin only widened as she descended the steps, her gaze pointedly lingering on the necklace. “And here I thought you’d never let him near you with that piece of jewelry, let alone wear it.”

“Rhaenyra,” you said warningly, your voice low.

Jason, clearly enjoying the exchange, chuckled softly beside you. “Ah, Princess Rhaenyra,” he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. “It seems you’ve arrived just in time to witness the union of the dragon and a lion.”

“And what a sight it is,” Rhaenyra replied, her grin sharpening as her eyes met yours. “Tell me, sister, does the necklace feel lighter now that you’re wearing it for all to see?”

You ignored her, your cheeks warming slightly as you turned back toward the great hall. Jason, still holding your arm, leaned in closer, his lips brushing just below your ear as he whispered, “She’s not wrong, you know. You wear it beautifully. Though,” his voice dropped further, “I’d rather see you wearing nothing but this.”

Your step faltered, and you shot him a glare, hissing under your breath, “Jason.”

He grinned unabashedly, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? I’m simply stating a truth, my dear wife-to-be.”

“You’re being childish,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing as you quickened your pace, determined to outdistance him.

Jason matched your stride easily, his amusement undeterred. “And yet, here you are, on my arm, wearing my necklace.”

“Don’t push me,” you warned, though the heat in your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“Oh, Princess,” he said softly, his voice tinged with mock innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As you reached the entrance of the great hall, the sound of the gathered nobles’ chatter echoed out to greet you. Jason paused, his hand tightening on your arm just slightly as he leaned in one last time.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone quieter but sincere, “you’ve never looked more radiant.”

You didn’t reply, though your flush deepened as you turned your attention to the hall ahead. Jason’s grin remained firmly in place as he escorted you inside, his confidence bolstered by the sight of you at his side—and the knowledge that, despite your protests, you wore the symbol of your union proudly for all to see.

The grand doors of the great hall swung open, revealing a breathtaking scene that seemed to encapsulate the wealth and power of House Lannister. The vast chamber was adorned with golden drapes and crimson banners bearing the lion sigil, their rich hues glowing in the light of the massive chandeliers above. Rows of Westerlands nobility and prominent lords and ladies from across Westeros were seated in their finest attire, their eyes immediately drawn to you and Jason as you stepped into the hall.

Jason’s grip on your arm tightened slightly, a gesture meant to be reassuring—or possessive, depending on how you looked at it. His green eyes swept over the hall with barely concealed pride before flicking back to you. Your face was composed, regal even, but there was a faint tension in your jaw and a certain stiffness in your movements that he hadn’t expected.

“Careful, Princess,” Jason murmured softly as you walked side by side down the aisle toward the Septon. “Your mask is slipping.”

You shot him a glance, but it lacked its usual fire. “Jason, don’t.”

The sharpness in your tone was muted, almost distracted, and it only deepened his curiosity. He studied you closely as you both approached the front of the hall, where the Septon stood waiting beneath a large arch adorned with roses and lion motifs. The royal family had already taken their seats nearby, King Viserys looking particularly pleased as he exchanged a few words with Alicent. Rhaenyra, seated beside them, caught your eye and offered a sly, encouraging grin.

Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re usually sharper than this, Y/N. What’s troubling you?”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, your words clipped. “Focus on your grand day.”

Jason smirked, though his concern lingered as he noted the slight tremor in your hand when you adjusted your gown. “You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think, Princess.”

You didn’t reply, your gaze fixed ahead as you reached the Septon. He waited patiently, his hands folded and his expression serene, while the murmurs of the gathered guests faded into expectant silence. Jason guided you to stand before the Septon, his hand resting lightly on yours as he turned to face you.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Jason remarked under his breath, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Should I be worried?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, he saw something he didn’t recognize—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked. “Jason,” you said softly, your voice carrying a rare note of sincerity, “just… let’s get through this.”

His grin faltered slightly, and his hand tightened over yours. “If you’re trying to unsettle me, it’s working.”

Before you could respond, the Septon began the ceremony, his voice ringing out over the silent hall. Jason turned his attention forward, though his focus remained divided, his thoughts lingering on you. Whatever worry you carried, you clearly had no intention of sharing it—not here, not now.

As the ceremony progressed, the formal words of the Septon echoed through the hall, but Jason couldn’t help stealing glances at you. Your posture was perfect, your expression poised, but your responses were quieter than he’d expected, your usual sharpness dulled.

When the time came for you to clasp hands and repeat your vows, Jason held your gaze steadily, his voice steady and confident as he spoke. But as you recited your own vows, he noted the faint hesitation in your voice, the slight pause that wouldn’t have been noticed by anyone who didn’t know you as well as he did.

As the Septon concluded the vows, the great hall was cloaked in an anticipatory silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Jason retrieved the ceremonial cloak. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship: deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold, the lion of House Lannister embroidered in thread so fine it seemed to gleam in the light. He draped it over your shoulders with a flourish, the weight of it settling heavily against your back, a tangible symbol of the bond that now tied you to him and to Casterly Rock.

Jason stepped back slightly, his green eyes locking onto yours as the Septon announced, “By the old gods and the new, I declare this union sealed. You may kiss the bride.”

The faintest smirk curled Jason’s lips as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest lightly against your cheek. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and you could feel the heat of his breath as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was softer, more deliberate than you expected. His touch lingered, just enough to make you aware of the significance of the moment.

The hall erupted into cheers and applause as the kiss ended, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Jason straightened, his grin widening as he turned to face the crowd, one hand resting possessively on your lower back as he guided you forward. The royal family stood with smiles—Viserys, beaming with pride; Alicent, offering a graceful nod of approval; and Rhaenyra, her sly grin unmistakable.

The feast that followed was a spectacle of opulence, the great hall transformed into a scene of unparalleled grandeur. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted boars, gilded platters of exotic fruits, and pies filled with rich meats. Goblets of fine Arbor wine were raised in toasts, and musicians played lively tunes that filled the air with a sense of celebration.

Jason led you to the head table, his arm still firmly at your back as he basked in the attention of the gathered lords and ladies. His charm was on full display, his laughter ringing out as he exchanged pleasantries and accepted congratulations with the ease of a man completely at home in the spotlight.

“You see, Princess,” he murmured as he pulled your chair out for you, his voice low and smooth, “our union has already made me the envy of every man in this room.”

You settled into your seat, your expression carefully neutral as you glanced over the hall. “I didn’t realize you needed me to boost your already inflated ego.”

Jason laughed, taking the seat beside you. “Ah, but a man can never have too much of a good thing. And now, I have the very best.”

As the courses were served, Jason leaned toward you, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. “Now that you’re officially mine,” he began, his tone light but carrying an edge of possessiveness, “I’ve been thinking about how we should spend our honeymoon.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your wine. “Should I be one concerned now?”

“Not at all,” he said, grinning. “I thought we’d spend most of it in our chambers, enjoying the comforts of married life. After all, a union like ours deserves a proper celebration, wouldn’t you agree?”

You snorted softly, setting your goblet down. “Of course you’d want to stay in the chambers. You’re too lazy to do anything else.”

Jason laughed, undeterred. “And after that,” he continued, leaning closer, “we’ll tour the Westerlands. I’ll show you the beauty of my lands, from the Golden Tooth to Fair Isle. My bannermen will line the roads to greet us.”

“Ah,” you said, catching on, your lips curling into a wry smile. “So it’s not about showing me the Westerlands—it’s about showing me off to your bannermen.”

Jason didn’t deny it, his grin only widening. “Can you blame me? My wife is a Targaryen princess, bonded to a dragon no less. I’d be a fool not to show you off.”

You shook your head, but despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said softly, his voice dropping just enough to be intimate, “you’re still here. My fierce wife.”

The feast was in full swing, the hall filled with the hum of lively conversation, the clinking of goblets, and the occasional burst of laughter. Lords and ladies from every corner of the realm approached you and Jason, offering their congratulations and well-wishes for your union. At the moment, you were in polite conversation with Lord Jasper Wylde and Lady Redwyne.

Lord Wylde was recounting some tale about a particularly challenging trial of strength in his youth, gesturing grandly, while Lady Redwyne commented on the excellence of the Arbor red being served. Jason, ever the charming host, kept the conversation flowing smoothly, his grin widening at every flattering remark.

You nodded along, offering a courteous smile, though your mind wandered as the weight of the day began to settle. It wasn’t until you caught movement near the entrance of the hall that your attention snapped back into focus.

A figure clad in dark leather and crimson strode through the open doors, his silver hair unmistakable even in the dim light of the hall. Daemon Targaryen had arrived.

The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. Conversations faltered, and the lively music seemed to soften as heads turned to take in the unexpected guest. At the high table, King Viserys stiffened, his expression flickering between alarm and annoyance. Rhaenyra, seated beside him, leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on her uncle with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Is that—?” Jason began, following your gaze. His words trailed off as Daemon made his way through the crowd, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jason.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason said smoothly as Daemon approached, standing with an air of confidence that betrayed no sign of unease. “We weren’t expecting you.”

Daemon stopped a few steps away, his lips curling into a faint, sardonic smile. “Clearly,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. His eyes flicked to you, lingering for a moment before turning back to Jason. “Imagine my surprise when I returned from the Stepstones, only to hear that my brother had given one of his daughters to a Lannister.”

You tense, but Jason remained calm, inclining his head slightly. “No one gave me anything, my prince,” Jason said, his tone measured but firm. “I won her favor, as any husband should.”

Daemon scoffed, his sharp laugh cutting through the murmurs of the surrounding crowd. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you won her favor?” His eyes shifted back to you, glinting with a challenge. “Tell me, niece, did he win you, or were you merely playing along?”

You narrowed your eyes, your patience thinning. “Enough, Daemon.”

Daemon’s gaze lingered on you, his smirk softening into something more inscrutable. “Protective already, are you? How charming.”

Jason straightened slightly, his grin cooling as he watched the prince with careful eyes. “This is a day of celebration, Prince Daemon. Surely even you wouldn’t ruin that.”

Daemon’s smirk widened, his sharp teeth flashing briefly. “Don’t worry, Lord Lannister,” he said lightly, his tone laced with mockery. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining such a grand affair. Besides, I was curious to see this union for myself.”

“Then perhaps you’d care to enjoy the feast,” Jason replied, his tone cordial but edged with steel.

For a moment, the tension was palpable, a crackling energy that seemed to freeze the air between them. Finally, Daemon’s smirk faded, and he inclined his head slightly, as if conceding the point.

“Very well,” he said, stepping back slightly. “Enjoy your moment, Lannister. I’ll be watching.”

With that, Daemon turned and made his way toward the high table. Viserys shifted uncomfortably as Daemon approached, but the prince simply slid into a seat at the far end, offering Rhaenyra a sly smile as he reached for a goblet of wine.

Jason exhaled quietly, his posture relaxing slightly as the tension eased. He turned back to you, his grin returning as he leaned closer. “Your family certainly knows how to make an impression.”

You shot him a look, your irritation clear. “You handled that better than I expected.”

“I’m full of surprises, my lady,” Jason said, his tone light but his gaze lingering on Daemon at the far end of the table. “But don’t worry—I don’t scare easily.”

The music shifted, a lively tune softening into a graceful melody as the musicians signaled the start of the bride and groom's first dance. The murmurs of the gathered guests hushed, all eyes turning toward you and Jason. You barely had time to steady yourself before Jason stepped forward, his hand extended toward you with a dramatic flourish.

"Shall we, Princess?" he asked, his grin as confident as ever, the gleam in his eyes daring you to refuse.

You sighed softly, taking his hand. "Must you make everything into a spectacle?"

Jason chuckled, leading you toward the center of the hall where the dance floor was cleared. "Of course. What's the point of being married to a Targaryen princess if I can't bask in the envy of the entire realm?"

As you reached the center, Jason pulled you close, one hand resting firmly on your waist while the other clasped your hand. The music swelled, and he guided you into the first steps of the dance with practiced ease. His movements were smooth, confident, and precise, his natural charisma radiating as the gathered lords and ladies watched with admiration.

"You’re enjoying this far too much," you muttered under your breath, your lips barely moving as the two of you began to twirl gracefully.

Jason leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. "And why shouldn’t I? The finest woman in Westeros is in my arms, and the entire hall is watching as I claim her."

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth of his gaze made it hard to maintain your irritation. "You’re incorrigible."

"And you love it," he replied smoothly, spinning you gently before pulling you back into his arms, closer this time. His hand at your waist tightened slightly as he bent his head to whisper in your ear. "Later, when we're alone and naked, I’ll find out what’s really bothering you."

Your steps faltered slightly, and you shot him a sharp look, your cheeks flushing. "Do you ever think about anything else?"

Jason grinned, unrepentant. "It’s been some time since our last encounter, my dear wife. Can you blame me for missing you?"

"Jason," you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one could hear. "Focus on the dance."

He chuckled softly, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he effortlessly guided you through another turn. "I am focusing. You, however, seem... distracted. Is something troubling you? Perhaps you didn’t like the preparations I made for the ceremony?"

You shook your head, your tone curt but not unkind. "It’s nothing like that. The ceremony was... perfect."

Jason arched a brow, clearly intrigued by your choice of words. "Then what is it, Princess? I’ve seen you mask your emotions before, but tonight, you’re slipping. Tell me."

"I said it’s nothing," you replied firmly, though your voice softened slightly as you added, "Just focus on your steps, Jason. This is our first dance as husband and wife, and I’d rather not trip because of your incessant questions."

Jason laughed quietly, the sound warm and rich, his grip on you steady as he pulled you even closer. "As you command, my lady. But don’t think for a moment that I’m letting this go."

The music swelled, the melody wrapping around you both as the dance carried on. Jason’s charm and confidence remained unwavering, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and something deeper. For all his teasing, there was a genuine curiosity and concern in his eyes—a determination to understand you, even if he masked it with his usual arrogance.

As the song drew to a close, Jason spun you one final time, his movements graceful and deliberate before pulling you back into his arms. The crowd erupted into applause, and Jason’s grin widened as he leaned down to murmur, "You danced beautifully, my wife. Perhaps we should practice more often."

The celebrations carried on with unrelenting vigor. The great hall of Casterly Rock had transformed into a living tapestry of merriment, with laughter, music, and clinking goblets reverberating off the high stone walls. Plates were scraped clean of rich venison and seasoned boar, goblets were refilled endlessly with wine from the Arbor, and dancers spun across the floor in dizzying displays of grace and joy. Jason had spared no expense for this night—it was a feast that would live on in Westerlands lore.

At the head table, Jason was unmistakably in his element, basking in the energy of the room, the center of attention without ever appearing to demand it. Lords and ladies clustered near to exchange pleasantries and sing their praises of the match. Jason, seated beside you, answered every word with wit and charm, his golden presence infectious.

You sat poised, regal as always, though a touch of weariness pressed at your edges, masked behind a polite smile. You sipped at your watered wine, letting the hum of voices wash over you, until Jason’s hand suddenly covered yours on the table.

“Now, now, Princess,” Jason murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear, though the glimmer in his green eyes betrayed something mischievous. “I see that look in your eye. You’re not allowed to disappear into your head—not tonight.”

Before you could respond, he shot up to his feet, goblet in hand, his golden tunic catching the light of the chandeliers. The music softened, and all attention swung to him as he raised his arms dramatically.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. “It’s not a Lannister feast without something to make you remember it! I would have you all witness a show of true Westerlands tradition.”

A small entourage of Lannister retainers stepped into the hall, carrying with them what looked like an enormous gilded chest, its hinges and seams glinting in the candlelight. Whispers rose as the retainers carefully placed the chest near the center of the hall, before stepping back and bowing deeply. Jason, his grin irrepressible, glanced down at you with a sparkle of mischief.

“You’re going to love this, wife,” he murmured, clearly pleased with himself.

You arched an eyebrow, wary. “Or regret marrying you.”

Jason chuckled, raising his goblet again for the room. “As a gift to celebrate my new bride—who carries fire in her veins, a dragon at her command, and the patience to endure me—I offer a piece of Casterly Rock itself. A token of what it means to be Lady of the Rock.”

With an exaggerated flourish, Jason stepped toward the chest and opened it with both hands. The hall gasped as the lid swung back to reveal a cascade of treasure—gold coins, ornate jewelry, goblets adorned with rubies, and what looked like a crown carefully nestled atop it all.

“The finest spoils of the Westerlands,” Jason declared, spreading his arms theatrically. “Gold from the depths of the Rock itself! A Lannister’s pride to share with his Targaryen princess.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, the nobles clearly entertained by Jason’s grand gesture. From where you sat, the display seemed impossibly extravagant, even for him. You gave him a pointed look as he returned to your side, his grin sharp and triumphant.

“You brought out an entire chest of treasure?” you asked, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into your tone. “Are you expecting me to melt it down for Morrath to nest in?”

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Hardly. I just wanted everyone here to know that no expense will be spared for you. Lady Lannister deserves nothing but the very best.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as his gaze met yours. “Admit it, you’re impressed.”

You shook your head, though the edges of your mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “You’re a fool, Jason Lannister.”

“Ah,” he replied smoothly, raising his goblet to you, “but I’m your fool now, am I not?”

The crowd, still caught up in the excitement, had begun to chant: “To the Lady of the Rock! To House Lannister! To fire and gold!”

King Viserys beamed from his seat, clearly pleased with the display, and even Rhaenyra, her arms crossed as she watched, seemed to be struggling to suppress a grin.

Jason stood again, pulling you up with him as the cheers grew louder. “Come now, Princess,” he said, his tone teasing but warm. “You cannot scowl at me forever. Smile for your subjects.”

You shot him a narrowed look but allowed him to keep your hand in his as the crowd roared its approval. Jason lifted your joined hands into the air, his voice cutting above the noise. “To my wife! May this union bring fire to the Rock and gold to the dragon!”

The room erupted once more, goblets raised high in a raucous cheer. Jason turned to you, his voice low and smug. “There. Now they’ll speak of us for decades.”

You tilted your head, your eyes meeting his with quiet amusement. “And you couldn’t resist showing off, could you?”

Jason smirked, unrepentant. “Never. Not when it’s you I’m showing off for.”

You sighed, though you couldn’t hide the faint blush at the sincerity lacing his words. The music swelled again, the revelry continuing in full force as Jason guided you back to your seat, satisfied with yet another dramatic display. He basked in the admiration, but his gaze rarely left you, his expression one of undeniable pride.

For all his bravado, there was something deeply genuine in the way he looked at you tonight—as though he’d truly won his greatest treasure of all.

Jason, ever the showman, looked entirely at ease, grinning as he accepted praise from every corner of the room. But amidst the revelry, something shifted—a sharp, guttural sound that did not belong in the din of celebration.

The hall fell into a slow, uneasy hush as a deep growl echoed across the stone walls.

You turned your head sharply, your heart dropping as you realized where the sound had come from. One of the gilded cages in the far corner of the hall—housing a live lion, one of Jason’s “grand Lannister touches” for the evening—sat disturbingly empty. The latch dangled open, and the heavy bars were swung wide. A ripple of dread spread through the gathered crowd as the lion, a massive beast, prowled into view, its eyes fixed on the nearest cluster of nobles.

“Jason,” you hissed, your voice sharp and low, though panic was creeping into it. “What have you done?”

Jason’s smirk dropped instantly, his eyes snapping to the freed lion. “Gods,” he muttered, his hand shooting to your wrist. “Stay close.”

The lion let out a thunderous roar, its voice vibrating through the very air. Screams erupted as guests stumbled back, goblets crashing to the floor as chaos took hold. Some fled the tables while others froze, paralyzed by fear as the great beast stepped forward, its claws clicking ominously on the polished stone.

Jason wasted no time. He yanked you against his chest, his arm coming around you in a protective hold. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice sharp with authority.

“What were you thinking, caging that thing here?” you demanded breathlessly, though the accusation was muffled against his chest as he shielded you.

Jason shot a frantic glance to the guards, barking orders over the noise. “Get it back in the cage! Now!”

The lion, however, was beyond anyone’s control. It snarled, baring teeth longer than daggers as it stalked toward the nearest table, upending platters of food and scattering nobles in its path. The crowd surged, bodies pressing together in a desperate attempt to get clear.

At the far end of the hall, Daemon Targaryen stood, untouched by the chaos, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. While others screamed and cowered, Daemon watched the scene as if it were a farcical play for his amusement.

“Of course,” Daemon drawled loudly, stepping forward, his tone carrying across the hall. “Leave it to the Lannisters to let their pride run wild.”

The lion turned sharply at the sound of his voice, growling deep in its throat. Daemon’s smirk only widened. He unsheathed his sword, Dark Sister, the Valyrian steel catching the light of the chandeliers.

Jason swore under his breath, still holding you firmly. “That madman is going to get himself killed.”

But Daemon didn’t flinch. He stepped calmly into the lion’s path, the blade gleaming in his hand. The lion roared again, lunging toward him with terrifying speed.

It happened in the blink of an eye. Daemon sidestepped effortlessly, his sword flashing through the air in a deadly arc. The sound of steel slicing flesh was unmistakable, followed by the dull thud of the lion collapsing to the floor. Blood pooled around the beast, its golden coat marred by a fatal gash across its neck.

For a moment, the hall was utterly still. Then, Daemon turned to the crowd, wiping the blood from Dark Sister with a calm, casual flick of his wrist. “You’re welcome,” he said dryly, his voice ringing out.

Jason exhaled sharply, his arm loosening around you as the tension broke. “Seven hells,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That man’s either a lunatic or a hero.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Jason with narrowed eyes. “You brought a lion into a hall full of people.”

Jason glanced at you, offering a weak but charming grin. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Did it?” you shot back, incredulous. “You’re lucky we’re still alive.”

Daemon approached then, his expression one of smug amusement as he sheathed his sword. “Quite the spectacle, Lannister,” he said, his gaze flicking to Jason. “I didn’t realize you intended to turn your own wedding into a bloodsport.”

Jason straightened, regaining some of his composure. “I’ll admit, Prince Daemon, that was... unexpected.”

Daemon snorted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unexpected? Next time, try to avoid showcasing live beasts unless you’re willing to handle them yourself.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but you cut in, shooting Daemon a sharp look. “Thank you for dealing with it, uncle.”

Daemon inclined his head slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “Anything for family,” he replied smoothly before turning back toward his seat, leaving the hall abuzz with murmurs and shaken laughter.

Jason turned to you, his grin sheepish but unrepentant. “Well,” he said, his tone light despite the chaos. “At least it’s a wedding they’ll never forget.”

You glared at him, though a reluctant smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. 

He brushed his knuckles against yours with infuriating confidence. “Don’t worry, wife. I’ll make sure the next lion stays firmly in its cage.”

“You had better,” you muttered, though as Jason leaned closer, his grin returned in full force.

“Besides,” he added with a smirk, his voice low, “it would not be the first beast you’ve tamed in this hall.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t fully suppress the faint laugh that escaped you. Even amidst chaos, Jason Lannister found a way to make himself insufferably charming.

The aftermath of the lion’s attack settled slowly, though the great hall was still buzzing with excited chatter and shaken laughter. Servants worked quickly to clean up the mess left in the beast’s wake, while the musicians began to play once more, their lively notes attempting to restore some semblance of calm.

King Viserys, seated at the high table, appeared determined to let nothing sour the celebrations. He raised his goblet high, a broad grin spreading across his face. “To the bride and groom!” he cheered, his voice booming through the hall. “And to the bedding! A fine tradition to end a fine day!”

The lords and ladies took up the chant eagerly, clapping and calling out with crude suggestions and raucous laughter. “To the bedding! Strip the bride and groom!”

Jason glanced at you with a smug grin, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. “It seems the king has spoken.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “Absolutely not,” you hissed under your breath.

Jason chuckled, rising from his seat with a smooth confidence that commanded the room’s attention. “Very well, very well,” he said aloud, spreading his arms in mock surrender to the roaring crowd. “But allow us some dignity, at least.”

The lords and ladies laughed, but they were not deterred. A group of eager young knights and drunken bannermen surged forward, intent on escorting you both out of the hall amidst jeers, cheers, and laughter.

Jason caught your hand firmly as he stood, helping you up from your seat. “Come along, wife,” he murmured softly, his tone carrying just enough authority to let you know he wouldn’t let the situation get out of control. “Let’s allow them their fun—for now.”

Your glare could have cut through Valyrian steel, but there was no stopping it now. The crowd cheered as you were both swept along, Jason’s protective hold never faltering as hands reached playfully to tug at ribbons and unlace cloaks. Your face burned as the chorus of taunts and cheers followed you all the way to the chambers Jason had prepared.

The moment the doors shut behind you with a heavy thud, Jason barked sharply, “Out. All of you.”

The crowd of attendants and bannermen faltered, startled by the sudden sternness in his voice. He turned, fixing them with a look that brooked no argument. “You’ve had your fun. Now leave us.”

The door guards hastily ushered everyone back out, the protests quieted by Jason’s firm glare. Within moments, the chambers were silent, and you exhaled slowly, your cheeks still flushed from the ridiculousness of it all.

“If you had let them tear off my dress entirely,” you said, turning toward him with a scowl, “I’d be a widow by morning.”

Jason turned to face you, his grin lazy and amused as he unpinned his cloak and let it drop to the floor. “A widow? Already? How cruel of you, wife.”

“I mean it,” you snapped, though your irritation only made his grin widen. “I would’ve strangled you with that damned cloak.”

He chuckled, closing the distance between you in a few unhurried steps. “As tempting as that would’ve been to see, I rather prefer you angry and clothed—though not for much longer.”

Before you could respond, his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed or forceful but deliberate and slow, his lips warm and coaxing as they moved against yours. Your protest faltered, swallowed by the kiss as his hands moved up to cup your face.

When he pulled back, he looked down at you with that same smug confidence you had come to both despise and… tolerate. “Don’t look at me like that,” he teased softly, his voice dropping into something far smoother. “You knew exactly what would happen once we were alone.”

Your breath hitched slightly as his hands found the ties of your dress, working them loose with frustrating ease. “If you ruin this gown more—”

“I’ve no need to ruin it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he slipped the dress from your shoulders. “I’ve every intention of taking my time.”

You shivered, though you glared up at him. “I hate how always smug you are.”

“And yet,” he replied, his hands continuing their work, “here you are, letting me have my way again.”

Jason stripped the gown carefully, leaving it pooled around your feet, though he paused when his eyes landed on the necklace he had gifted you—the lion and dragon entwined, resting against your bare skin. He grinned faintly as he traced his finger along its chain. “This stays on,” he said softly. “A symbol, I think, of my victory.”

“You think far too highly of yourself,” you muttered, though your voice was breathless.

Jason smirked, beginning to strip away his own tunic and belt with the same deliberate ease. “Perhaps. But I’ll have all the time I need to convince you otherwise.”

He stepped closer again, guiding you gently back toward the enormous bed that dominated the chambers. The room was beautifully reimagined—rich Lannister reds mingling with touches of dragon-inspired gold and black. A fire roared in the massive hearth. The warmth of it seemed to mirror the heat in Jason’s gaze as he looked at you.

“You’ve made your point,” you muttered, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on him as he finally shed the last of his clothing.

Jason smirked, closing the final distance between you as he kissed you again—slower this time, deeper. When he finally pulled back, his hands sliding around your waist, his voice was low and rough with intent.

“I don’t plan to let you leave this chamber for a week,” he murmured against your lips. “Not until I’ve proven just how pleased I am to call you mine.”

Jason guided you back until your knees met the edge of the bed, his hands warm and steady as they roamed your body with slow purpose. The crimson and gold canopy of the bed loomed above, its sheer curtains shifting gently in the firelit room. He kissed you deeply as he lowered you onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the plush bedding, his weight pressing into you with a mix of possession and reverence. His mouth traced a path along your neck, his breath hot against your skin, leaving behind a trail of shivers.

His voice, deep and ragged, broke the silence as he leaned over you. “You’re mine now, Princess. Every inch of you.”

There was something different in his touch tonight—something softer but no less intense. Jason moved deliberately, parting your legs and positioning himself with a grace that belied the hunger in his gaze. His green eyes searched yours for the briefest moment, as if ensuring you were here, present, and his. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he sank into you.

The joining was as familiar as it was consuming, your bodies falling into an easy, practiced rhythm that spoke of all the times he had learned the shape of you. The heat between you grew quickly, building with each movement as Jason set a pace that was confident and commanding but filled with something deeper—a tenderness that had not been there before.

But as the passion burned, his gaze lingered on you, and that familiar sharpness returned to his voice as he murmured against your ear. “Something’s been troubling you, Y/N. Since the moment you stepped through the gates of the Rock.”

You tried to ignore the question, arching your back as his movements sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, but Jason was relentless. His hand brushed down your side, gripping your hip firmly as his thrusts slowed to match his words. “Tell me,” he insisted softly. “What is it?”

Your movements faltered, your body tensing slightly as you bit down on your lower lip. Jason’s gaze never left yours, his eyes holding a patient, unyielding demand for the truth.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, but your voice trembled slightly, betraying you.

Jason tilted his head, a small smile ghosting his lips as his hand slid up to rest gently against your cheek. “You’re not a very good liar, wife. Out with it.”

His tone was softer than you expected, and the warmth of his touch paired with the intimacy of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer. You swallowed, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your chest. Finally, you whispered, “I’m with child.”

Jason froze, his movements halting entirely. His gaze sharpened, eyes flickering between your face and the slight swell of your abdomen, as if seeing it for the first time. Slowly, he moved his hand from your cheek down to rest against your lower belly. His palm pressed there gently, reverently, feeling for something that could not yet fully be seen.

There was a moment of stillness, broken only by the sound of your breathing and the crackle of the fire. “You’re certain?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though he were struggling to comprehend it.

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jason’s hand lingered there for a moment longer, his thumb brushing faint circles against your skin. Then, to your shock, his other hand slid lower, down between your bodies where you were still joined. His fingers moved deftly, pressing and teasing at the place where his body met yours, the sensation sending a sudden jolt of pleasure through you.

You gasped, your back arching as the tension in your body returned with a vengeance. “Jason—”

He didn’t stop. Instead, his eyes met yours again, filled with a new intensity, a new fire. “You’re carrying my child,” he said softly, his voice laced with wonder and pride. “My child.”

His hips began to move again, his thrusts deeper and more purposeful, matched by the way his fingers teased you, heightening every sensation. The pleasure that had dulled for a moment roared back with new fervor, your gasps turning into cries as he moved with deliberate skill.

“You’ve given me more than I ever dared ask for,” Jason whispered against your ear, his breath ragged as he picked up his pace. “And now I’ll give you everything.”

Your body responded to him instinctively, every nerve alight as the tension coiled inside you. The slow, deliberate rhythm he set combined with his touch to unravel you entirely. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure began to crest.

Jason watched you, his green eyes alight with a new sense of purpose, his movements never faltering. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and possession. “You, and the child you carry—you are everything.”

You cried out, your body shuddering beneath him as the release crashed over you, sharp and blinding. Jason followed moments later, his own groan rumbling low in his chest as he stilled against you, his body trembling with the force of it.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of your breathing, both of you gasping as the aftershocks rippled through you. Jason’s weight pressed against you, but his touch remained gentle as he kissed your temple, your jaw, your lips.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand returning to rest protectively against your lower abdomen. “You won’t leave this room for a week,” he declared, his voice husky but teasing now. “I mean it.”

You managed a breathless laugh, brushing your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Is that so?”

Jason grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips again. “You’re mine, Princess,” he murmured. “And I don’t plan to let you out of my sight.”

For once, you had no retort. You simply closed your eyes and let yourself melt into his embrace, the weight of his words and the reality of your future settling around you like a promise.

The morning light crept through the curtains of the newly appointed chambers at Casterly Rock, casting a soft glow over the expansive room. The crackling fire in the hearth had dimmed to embers, and the air still held the faint scent of roses and candle smoke from the previous night’s celebrations. Jason Lannister stirred, his gaze falling immediately to where you still lay beside him, wrapped in silk sheets that barely covered the curves of your bare form.

A rare softness crossed his features as he watched you sleep, your breathing deep and steady. The golden necklace—the one he had placed around your neck moons ago—rested against your skin, catching the sunlight. It made him grin, the sight of you wearing his colors so naturally. His wife.

There was a soft knock on the door, breaking the peaceful quiet. Jason scowled, running a hand through his tousled golden hair. “What?” he called, his voice low but sharp.

The door creaked open, and one of the servants poked his head inside nervously. “My lord, Ser Harrold is here to see you. He insists it is urgent.”

Jason muttered a curse under his breath, reluctantly rising from the bed. He grabbed his trousers from the nearby chair, pulling them on as he strode toward the door, his bare feet padding across the cold stone floor. He cast one final glance over his shoulder at you, still lost to sleep, your hair spread across the pillow like a halo. A smug satisfaction curled in his chest—he’d left you exhausted, exactly as he intended.

Jason cracked the door open, stepping out just far enough to face Ser Harrold, one of his more steadfast knights. The man was already clad in his armor, his stern expression giving no hint of hesitation as he bowed his head slightly.

“My lord,” Ser Harrold said, his tone clipped, “King Viserys requests your presence. Immediately.”

Jason sighed, clearly annoyed, running a hand along his jaw. “The king? Does it have to be this morning?”

Ser Harrold gave him an apologetic look. “It does, my lord. He is with his advisors, and it seems they wish to finalize matters regarding the marriage alliance.”

Jason glanced back into the room. Through the crack of the door, he caught a glimpse of you stirring slightly beneath the sheets before settling once more. He exhaled heavily, clearly reluctant to leave but already sorting his thoughts. “Fine,” he muttered, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll go see the king—but I won’t be gone long.”

Ser Harrold nodded, stepping aside as Jason ducked back into the chambers. He grabbed his tunic and cloak from where they had been carelessly discarded the night before, throwing them on hastily as the servants entered quietly. Jason shot the closest one a pointed glare. “Keep her undisturbed. She needs her rest.”

The servants bowed silently, bustling about the room as Jason tugged on his boots. He stole one last look at you before stepping out, muttering under his breath, “The king has terrible timing.”

The throne room at Casterly Rock had been transformed into an informal council chamber for King Viserys during his stay. The king sat comfortably at the head of a table, goblet in hand, his expression still jubilant from the previous night’s events. Several of his advisors were seated alongside him, including Otto Hightower, who sat with his usual cool composure, and Tyland Lannister, who appeared deep in quiet thought.

Jason entered the room with his typical swagger, bowing politely but not without a touch of impatience. “Your Grace,” he greeted, straightening. “I trust you slept as well as I did.”

Viserys laughed heartily, slapping the table with one hand. “Ah, Jason! You never fail to amuse. A fine feast, a magnificent wedding—what more could a king ask for?”

Jason smiled smoothly, stepping closer. “I’m pleased you think so, Your Grace. I take pride in making certain my guests are well cared for.”

Otto Hightower’s sharp voice cut through the pleasantries. “And so we turn to the matter of ensuring this marriage alliance benefits the realm as well as the Rock.”

Jason inclined his head, taking the seat offered to him. “Of course. My lady wife and I understand the significance of this union. House Lannister stands ready to fulfill its part.”

Viserys beamed, clearly still in high spirits. “Good, good! I have no doubt that this match will strengthen the bonds of the realm. After all, a Lannister with Targaryen blood—what could be a more fitting alliance?”

Jason nodded, though his gaze flicked to Otto for a moment, noting the man’s ever-watchful stare. “And what of the matters we discussed earlier, Your Grace? The arrangements for Morrath, the Dragonkeepers, and other logistics?”

Otto Hightower’s voice remained level. “The Dragonkeepers who arrived days ago will remain stationed here for the time being to oversee the care of the princess’s dragon. King Viserys has also decided that we shall remain in Casterly Rock for several more days to ensure everything proceeds smoothly.”

Jason blinked, surprise flickering briefly across his face. “Several more days?”

Viserys chuckled. “Yes, Jason! Do you not enjoy my company? I have no desire to rush back to the capital. Besides, Alicent enjoys the comforts of the Rock, and young Aegon seems enamored with the place.”

Jason recovered quickly, his smile returning as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “You honor me, Your Grace. Stay as long as you please—Casterly Rock is yours.”

Tyland Lannister, seated nearby, raised a brow but said nothing, clearly observing his brother’s quick adjustment.

Jason’s thoughts, however, were already elsewhere—specifically back in the chambers he’d left behind. He had little doubt you would wake soon, and the prospect of leaving you unattended for long didn’t sit well with him.

Viserys, oblivious to Jason’s wandering thoughts, lifted his goblet with a broad smile. “To House Lannister and House Targaryen—fire and gold, united at last!”

Jason raised his own goblet as the room echoed the toast. His smile was charming as ever, though in the back of his mind, he was already planning his escape from the council.

He had a princess to return to.

[bogleech]

Seeing how people argue over music is so funny to me. What the hell do you mean this one is sincere and honest but this one is a pretentious sellout. They are both about the same thing and they are both just strings of sounds. Imagine you were talking about different kinds of sandwich and some guy was like "uggh eewww you still like pastrami?! Dont you know pastrami is soulless pandering to obnoxious scene kids?!"

I like how the noises go up and down a fun way. that's what music is. Music can also have powerful messages and symbolic meaning and all but it doesn't have to, either. You can like listening to heartfelt punk that speaks to you or nintendo chiptunes if you want. You can enjoy listening to audio recordings of bird songs or train crashes, who cares

[zapreportsblog]

Concert

➥ summary: Hobie’s just getting ready for the concert he’s having tonight but his girlfriend can’t stop admiring him

➥ one shot

Hobie Brown, also known as Spider Punk, had a concert scheduled for tonight. As he sat in front of the mirror, delicately applying his eyeliner, his girlfriend (Y/n) watched him with a lovesick smile. The room was filled with anticipation and a sense of excitement as they prepared for the evening ahead.

(Y/n) couldn't help but marvel at Hobie's skillful hands, which moved with precision as he enhanced his features. She admired his dedication to his craft and the way he effortlessly transformed into his onstage persona. As she watched him, a wave of affection washed over her, filling her heart with gratitude.

"How did I get so lucky?" (Y/n) whispered, her voice filled with admiration.

Hobie turned to her, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Luck has nothing to do with it, love. It's all about being in the right place at the right time," he replied, his voice laced with affection.

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Well, I must have done something right to have you in my life," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Hobie's chuckle rumbled lowly in his chest as he finished his makeup and turned to face (Y/n). He gently cupped her face in his hands, his eyes locked with hers. "I should be asking you the same thing, my love. You're the one who brings light into my world," he expressed, his voice filled with tenderness.

(Y/n)'s heart fluttered at his words, and she leaned into his touch. "We're both lucky to have found each other," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

They shared a moment of silence, basking in the love that enveloped them. The room was filled with a mix of excitement and nervous energy as Hobie prepared to take the stage. He glanced at the clock, realizing that they needed to make their way to the concert venue soon.

As they got ready to leave, Hobie turned to (Y/n) with a mischievous grin. "You're coming with me, right?" he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

(Y/n) smiled, her eyes shining with excitement. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll be there, cheering you on," she replied, her voice filled with unwavering support.

Hobie pulled (Y/n) into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped around her protectively. "Having you in the audience means everything to me. Your presence is my greatest source of strength," he confessed, his voice filled with gratitude.

“Of course I’ll be there Hobie!”

•••

The underground concert hall was filled with the electrifying energy of anticipation as Hobie took the stage. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as he stepped forward, the spotlight casting a mesmerizing glow around him. But amidst the sea of faces, his eyes were drawn to one person—the love of his life, (Y/n), standing in the front row.

(Y/n) couldn't contain her excitement as the music filled the air. She rocked out to the rhythm, her eyes locked with Hobie's, a love-struck expression on her face. The lyrics and melodies seemed to resonate deeply within her, each note carrying a message of their love and connection.

As Hobie began to sing, his voice filled the hall, his words pouring out with raw emotion. The crowd swayed to the music, but for Hobie, (Y/n) was the center of his universe. He sang directly to her, his voice filled with passion and tenderness. With each line, he locked eyes with her, their connection intensifying with every beat.

In the midst of the song, as the music swelled and the crowd cheered, Hobie couldn't resist the overwhelming surge of love within him. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and planted a quick but tender kiss on (Y/n)'s lips. It was a moment filled with raw affection, their love palpable to everyone in the room.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their voices blending harmoniously with the music. Hobie pulled away, a wide grin stretching across his face, and continued singing. The energy in the room soared as the music filled every corner, and (Y/n) swayed to the rhythm, her heart overflowing with love and adoration.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Hobie took a moment to soak in the energy, basking in the love and appreciation pouring from the audience. But his gaze never wavered from (Y/n), who stood in the front row, a beaming smile on her face.

Feeling invigorated by the audience's response, Hobie moved seamlessly into the next song. The music pulsed through his veins, filling him with an infectious energy. He continued to perform with passion and fervor, his voice resonating through the hall.

Throughout the concert, (Y/n) remained in the front row, completely immersed in the music and the love she felt for Hobie. She danced, sang along, and reveled in the electrifying atmosphere surrounding them. Their connection was palpable, and every note he sang felt like a love letter written just for her.

As the concert came to a close, the final chords reverberated through the hall, leaving an indelible mark on the audience's hearts. Hobie stood on the stage, his breath ragged, his heart pounding with the thrill of the performance. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, showing their appreciation for the musical journey they had experienced.

Amidst the cheers and the fading sound of applause, Hobie descended from the stage, his eyes locked on (Y/n). She rushed forward, her arms outstretched, and they embraced in a tight, passionate hug. It was a moment of pure euphoria, the culmination of their love and the power of music.

Hobie held (Y/n) close, his heart racing with a mixture of adrenaline and pure bliss. He whispered in her ear, his voice filled with gratitude, "Thank you for being my inspiration, my rock. I love you more than words can express."

(Y/n) pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. "I love you too, Hobie. That was the most incredible experience, and I'm so proud of you," she replied, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them seemed to fade away. The applause and cheers were merely background noise compared to the love they shared. In that moment, their connection was unbreakable, and they knew that their journey, both in music and in love, was just beginning.

[softambrollins]

the seth/punk parallels are crazy though!! everything he said about punk can be applied to himself a couple years ago. it's like looking in a mirror and seeing everything he doesn't want to be anymore.

'mr centre of attention' that's why seth broke up the shield and that's all he craved for so long. 'it's all about you' it's almost like dean told seth this same thing once and it smarted because it was true. 'gaslighting' is there anyone more proficient at gaslighting than seth rollins lol. 'you've probably never in your life sincerely apologised for anything' and that's where they differ. we know seth has apologised for his faults very publicly in the past. 'you're the king of propaganda' that's exactly what authority seth was. 'except for the one thing that would actually make you the hero that you think you are' seth was always scared that he'd never actually be the hero he wanted to be. because he was too selfish. but he's sacrificed everything for the greater good before. and punk doesn't know what that's like. 'actions have consequences' oh seth knows about that for sure.

punk did say he and seth are too similar and that's why seth doesn't like him. the difference is seth grew up and grew out of that and genuinely changed and became the 'hero' punk thinks he is and punk never did. he's still stuck back in 2014, almost in arrested development, too consumed by his own pride and ego and the perceived slights by everyone around him, while seth who used to look up to him and want to be like him changed into someone better. he really is above him now.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 17

It’s Emily Axford’s World, We’re Just Living in It

Welcome back to Fantasy High where this monster 3+ hour bombshell of an episode is dropping during one of the busiest weeks of my life! There is SO much going on in this episode that I’m absolutely going to have to speed through things to get this out before the next episode but I’ll try to hit on all of the most important points. OK, ready, set, let’s go!

We closed out last ep in the middle of downtime where we learned that Jace had a scar from being infected with a rage crystal shatter star and from there we still have a bunch more downtime to get through. Highlights!

Riz investigates the footage from the crystal cam and again has the feeling that he needs to go back to his office and check out any open-ended clues because he’s missing something. 

Gorgug tries to work on a way to harness the power of the Night Yorb’s darkness since it’s trapped in his van since they’ll probably be fighting a solar deity soon. He does mention it to Henry but not why he’s doing it. He also looks into the Cloud Rider and confirms with the Aviation Club goblin kid that it would be powerful enough to lift the Hangman (referring not to the motorcycle, but to Bill’s ship which is now Seacaster manor). 

Fig writes another Ankarna themed song and rolls an insane 37. That’s powerful enough that she’s able to commune with Ankarna in her dreams. She calms the distressed Ankarana with the paladin spell Atonement and by commiserating that both of their girlfriends are “out of town”. Ankarna calls Fig her hero and says that “She’s always known” before she wakes up. 

Fig keeps haunting Ruben's dreams but they're abjured so she can't straight up talk to him. In his dream, she sees his house in Elmville and feels rage as well as fear. She sees a glade in Far Haven Woods and a scared pre-emo Ruben which makes her think that that's where they did whatever they did to kick things off and that maybe the old Ruben is still trapped somewhere. 

She then goes full Emily Axford and–along with the help of Fabian, British Kristen, Gorgug, and Adaine–goes to Ruben’s house and FAKES THE DEATH OF WANDA CHILDA BY KIPPERLILLY. Once she’s “dead” Adaine casts Enlarge on Gorgug and throws a cloak on him so he can take her away the in the same way Buddy’s body was taken away. It’s the performance of a lifetime with a 34 but the craziest part is they know someone was watching through the window but they have no idea who it was. InSANE. Imagine if it’s just Kipperlilly watching from Ruben’s window like ???????

Finally she gets Eugenia to design a tattoo for Fabian’s bday that will let him cast Ghost Step. She’s gonna secretly tattoo it on him because sure why not. 

Kristen talks to a very stressed Jawbone who has been dealing with a lot of angry kids lately which is, como se dice, troubling considering the whole rage god situation. She downloads him on everything going on and reveals that she was gonna try to have British Kristen steal files so she can see if the addresses of the angry kids form a 24 pointed star but instead she helps Jawbone clean his office and asks if she can have the addresses. He can’t give out student info but he says he’ll check a map and see if they form a star as well as checking on Jace. Kristen tells him to be super careful because the last teacher they talked to was Yolanda, RIP. (He also mentions the Sophomore Year Hotel Cav fight as being a weird thing that happened and the murder attempt of Lydia–things that we’ve already flagged as loose ends. We’ll get back to this).

Bobby Dawn is freaking out because they can’t find Buddy’s soul in corn heaven. Kristen reveals that he’s not in corn heaven and in fact is following a new god (after confirming he doesn’t have a rage crystal). Bobby Dawn thinks he’s being punked–especially once Kristen says the new god is her god’s ex-wife–but Kristen is being pretty sincere (so sincere that Murph is melting into a puddle anticipating she’s about to give the game away to one of their least fave NPCs–imo, she didn’t give away anything game ending but she was def playing with fire). Bobby tells Kristen to call him if there’s anything he can do to help find Buddy and Kristen dips to go talk to “[her] friend Murph.” Not Riz, Murph the irl guy, lol. As that happens, Bobby goes to have a whisper convo with his wife Pam who is also there. Suspicious.  

Riz/Murph makes the connection that Lake Shimmerstone is called that because of the gem filaments that flow from the Mountains of Chaos. It's a classic "no rolls necessary" moment. 

Kristen finally checks the bylaws and sees that the major change made was that there is no longer any inaugural period post election. So once the votes are counted, whoever wins is president right away. It was a change by Mazey requested by a faculty member--they think Jace. 

Kristen checks on her brother finally and it doesn't seem like he has a rage crystal but he's pretty bummed that he hasn't been able to convert any of his friends despite being a good paladin. He's also having a little existential crisis because he has non Helioic friends who don't actually seem like scary heathens. But then he was warned that sin might be tempting. Kristen tells him that she understands and that he has to decide whether he knows himself better than their parents. She says she's always around to talk. She then does a Relaxation roll and loses 3 stress tokens! Brennan also has her roll a d6 for the Relationship track roll with Buddy and on a 6, loses her final stress token!

Like Fig, Kristen also gets to commune with her goddess. Cass says that she's trapped and the king will come to Spyre. She says her wife's "fiery hand" grasps her in death and she has to protect her from the upcoming destruction--but she can't do it as herself. She tells Kristen that Ankarna has a champion as well and when Kristen asks who Cass says she already knows the champion. Finally, she urges her to look into what Kalina said because there was to be a good reason for her saying Ragh’s name. 

I’m going to leave the bullets for a moment (largely because Tumblr gets mad at blocks of text that are too big) to say that Adaine and Fig go to Ayda’s geocache and find an insane amount of spell components which would have been super useful earlier in the year. It also has instruments for Fig including a new bass that Brennan says he’ll get Emily the item card for ASAP. Back to bullets!

In his research, Riz finds the location in the Mountains of Chaos of the Temple of the Fallen Sun where Lydia's party members stopped in their travels. 

Riz looking into the Loam files sees that the person they're after must have had some ability to stun their opponents which is probably the reason for the lack of defensive wounds. He also learns that Ruvina's festival was called the Festival of Frost which sounds a lot like Frosty Fair. 

He finds some text about something called the War of Shattered Stones which apparently took place around when Ankarna's domain changed. 

On a hunch that there is more going on with the rat grinding than meets the eye, the whole gang takes a field trip to Lake Shimmerstone and Riz finds evidence that at some point the Rat Grinders were taken here while a massive giant was fighting deadly monsters. That doesn’t make sense so they call in some rats to question who tell them that there was a giant fighting these monsters and basically leaving the killing blows to the Rat Grinders so they’d get the XP–which is mechanically insane diegetically but we’re gonna ignore that. The rats also confirm that this was when Lucy was still around. The Bad Kids think that the RG’s made a deal with this giant (who the rats say is a guy btw) to get powered up and they got crystals as their end of the bargain. 

OK, that basically wraps up downtime. One more piece of business before we head to the Temple of the Fallen Sun! Zara has a talk with Fig where after heaping praise on her, she passes along a message–the appearance of a surprise meteor shower which was arranged by Ayda and is the most romantic thing ever. I won’t recap it, just watch it yourself. I can’t do it justice. Before Fig leaves for some hot tub time, Zara asks about Fig’s evaluation and Fig assures her she already turned it in. 

Time for a griffon road trip! And strap in because this is a MEATY lore dump. Sandra Lynn brings everyone on griffons to the Temple of The Fallen Sun and Riz brings his files because he can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. 

They find this infernal temple littered with humanoid bones and Fig can tell with her divine sense that it's a temple to Ankarna. There is a place where Ankarna’s name was destroyed and replaced with a Ranger’s symbol that says: Do Not Enter. Fallen Temple. There’s also evidence that someone tried to rewrite Ankarna’s name but it’s not her actual name. It’s the glyph that means her but isn’t her actual name. Which suggests that there’s a group of Ankarna followers that are trying to do stuff involving her but that don’t know her name. 

Everyone who can loads up on Truesight and See Invisibility before they enter the temple. There are a bunch of pretty good Investigation checks but, in particular, Riz gets a 32 and Fig gets a Nat 20.

Fig sees a vision (and Adaine can see it too--I assume as elven oracle she can just piggyback on anyone else having visions lol) of two giantkin wearing robes with a sun emblem being executed by armored individuals wearing robes with a fiery emblem on it. This temple was built right when Ankarna's domain was changing. They’re seeing the old priests of Ankarna being executed by the new ones. 

It's clear that this temple was built as a part of a state religion--the focus on conquest and strength is very empire-y. Adaine sees some writing in Giant and casts Comprehend Language so she can read it. There’s a bunch about the War of Shattered Stone and some new stuff about the temple being built for the glory of the House of Sunstone. They walk through the temple and see all this awful equipment for torture and execution. They get the sense that this is where Ankarna was changed. Her new followers did a bunch of heinous stuff in her name to force her to become infernal. As above, so below and all. 

Adaine casts Legend Lore and Brennan basically salivates. 30 seconds later, Riz rolls a Nat 20 to Investigate his files. So we’re about to crack this whole thing wide open folks. Let’s do this!

Fig and Kristen explore a chamber and Kristen's shards glow so bright she has to wrap fabric around them so they don't hurt peoples' eyes. They realize that their goddesses have been in this room together before. It's where they got divorced. Fig sees a vision of a bunch of Cass's followers dropping their weapons and backing up slowly and then being brutally slaughtered by the new guard of Ankarna. 

Adaine's Legend Lore starts: Sunstone was the top clan of the giants and conquered all the others--Thunderfist, Hornspear, Moonspeak, and Frostblade (Lucy’s ancestors). Ships got better which meant people started mingling and so did their gods. Ankarna and Cassandra got married. Things were good for a while but the leaders of the church of Sol didn't like having two sun gods in their pantheon so they whispered in the ears of some of the Sunstone guys that maybe conquest was the way to go (this was when they started conquering the other clans).  

Clan Frostblade rose up to fight because Ruvina was so concerned with stopping her sister and at the sundering of the Cliff's of Colcath, House Sunstone was destroyed. 

At this point, Riz realizes the thing he was missing in his files and it’s the thing we noticed ages ago. The weird moment in Sophomore Year. How did Ragh get cursed so he could see Kalina in the first place? Brennan plays the clip, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Porter did “Barbarian Healing” on him. That’s not a real thing. Lay on Hands is though. Porter is the one who infected Ragh. Emily, who has hated this man from day one, is LIVING. 

Back to the Legend Lore: The sundering of the Cliffs of Colcath. Sundering as in breaking. As in Cliffbreaker–Porter’s last name. 

They start putting things together. Him telling Fig he's a paladin to his ancestors. Gorgug sees him smite a giant stone with the force that would be needed to fell a bunch of trees in the woods. Disasuding Fig from being a paladin of Cass. His connection to Jace from the start. The large figure healing Buddy? He’s big as hell and Paladins can revivify. And Ankarna telling Fig that she’s known all along. 

The Legend Lore Concludes: After the sundering at the cliffs, the remaining Sunstones changed their names (to Cliffbreaker) and went into hiding. The Frostblades destroyed Ankarna's name to free her from the corruption (but I guess that went a little too far and backfired). The name was lost but a lot of Ankarna's true followers waited for her return. That includes Bakur who the Bad Kids realize was trying to bring back not infernal, ragey Ankarna but sunny justice Ankarna. But he was stopped by her mortal followers. 

Sandra Lynn watching all of this is like, “Well shit,” and points out that if the world isn’t already in chaos they must not have everything they need yet. The Bad Kids figure the opposition must be missing the name and a successful election. The election is in four days so that’s how long they have to stop it. In one final sick fusion of bard and paladin, Fig uses a riff from her base to uncover an older image of Ankarna and Cassandra pre-corruption and then they head back home. 

(Note: This comes up later retroactively but before they leave, they also check for footprints and see recent ones of Porter, Jace, and Buddy. It looks like they teleported in.)

Kristen casts Sending to warn Jawbone that Porter is bad news and then they speculate some more. There was a question in an earlier episode about what does it actually mean that Ankarna died in the Red Waste. They figure out that it means that the last follower who remembered her name was killed there. 

They talk to Bakur who says again that he was betrayed by Ankarna’s mortal followers. He also mentions that even in her infernal state, she would refuse to grant her followers spells when they had plans to hurt her sister or wife (even when Ruvina’s followers were attacking her). 

Bakur realized that Ankarna's followers were interested in her power but not in her. Bakur also overheard conversation from Lydia's party that said that Ankarna needed to be remade in a place where a god has been borne. A god. Any god. Riz flashes back to Kipperlilly Jawbone asking where Yes! was borne. 

Fig with some help from Adaine makes a fake version of Ankarna's name to give to Porter--Bacharath written in Giant. While Fig goes to give this to Porter, Adaine is hiding outside with Detect Thoughts on and Riz is hiding nearby invisible and recording.

Fig finds Porter and tells him and she found a new god and found her name but it’s annoying because she can’t read Giant which she needs to do to rez the god. She does it really casually and acts like it’s no big deal and Porter tries to play it cool but Adaine can tell with her Detect Thoughts that he’s chomping at the bit to get that name. She makes sure that Fig crits on her Deception with a portent. He (not at all) causally offers to help Fig translate and snatches the piece of paper from her. Fig then challenges him to spar and he agrees. Brennan asks for a Con roll and when Porter stomps his foot, everyone is immediately stunned (remember the mention of the stun effect and not defensive wounds earlier). Everyone but Riz who rolled a Nat 20. So he keeps his Invisibility. He also gets a high enough luck check to feel that there is someone else invisible nearby, close to Fig and Porter (note: later, Brennan tells Adaine that while she had Detect Thoughts up, for a moment she could detect the thoughts of an invisible KP). 

The last thought Adaine gets from Porter as her concentration drops on Detect Thoughts is, “Did I lock the office?”

Porter helps Fig up and doesn’t actually fight her but it feels like they just saw Porter do a Legendary Action which is a weird thing for a teacher to do–even a strong one. Fig asks what the hell that was and Porter plays it coy, saying senior year is gonna be really exciting. Riz is absolutely not having that non-answer and Misty Steps into Porter’s office. With his high investigation, he just finds everything so back to bullets:

There’s a note where he’s intimidating Halo St. Croix (the paladin teacher) into letting him teach the multiclass paladins. 

There are MCATs signed for him to teach both Lucy and Buddy paladin lessons. 

There’s an encrypted message between Porter and Bobby Dawn where Bobby is basically saying he’s very happy for Sol to remain the ONLY god of the sun in town but a new war god? That could be OK. He also suggests Porter look into Devil’s Honey for his plan. 

There's medicine to help with a psychosomatic allergic to feline dandruff (prob Kalina related). 

There’s filo dough–the kind you use to make baklava (a honey based dessert). 

There’s a leather cord, probably used in the casting of Spy’s Tongue Curse than smells rank. 

There are tons of blenders full of whey, protein powder, and ambrosia–food of the gods. Together, they piece together that mortals aren’t supposed to eat ambrosia because it kills them. Not in a violent way–they just ascend to the afterlife. They figure that Porter is basically eating god supplements, with the intention of supplanting Ankarna and becoming the new god of rage. Explains why he suddenly has legendary actions. 

There’s some cryptic, vague communication with the Rat Grinders which doesn’t give much away but is enough to tip them off that Ruben’s house is the place where they plan things. 

With that they go to investigate Ruben’s place. Before they go, Riz sets up a dead man’s switch that will release evidence if he doesn’t stop it–just in case they get trapped or held up or something. Adaine also calls her sister so she can cast a bunch of protective wards on Fabian’s place–she’s a master abjuration wizard after all. 

Riza goes in first and disables all the traps in Ruben’s house which means they won’t get caught but the RG’s will know someone was there later. Here’s everything they find and, like the rest of this episode, it’s a lot:

Adaine finds Oisin’s workstation and most notably finds a picture of his dragon ancestor hanging out with Kalvaxus, some notes about the Cloud Rider, and notes about stealing summons from other people (remember Adaine's mephits going haywire at Fabian's party). There's also some notes about a way to write telekinetically on the inside of a sphere. They’re not sure what that means. 

In Ruben's sound studio, they find notes from Porter helping Ruben write the song Get Mad--the song he did at Frosty Fair. 

Gorgug hacks into their private servers and sees all their communications. KP insists that they only call Cass the Nightmare King and (presumably) refers to Porter as the "Big Guy". She says he wants the Nightmare King and should have her locked down sooner rather than later just as soon as she shows herself in the Astral Plane. There's also stuff from last year where KP is really excited. She says the Big Guy has been looking out for them for a while and she's hyping Lucy up saying she gets to be the champion (something we know she didn't want). KP is specifically excited that this will allow them to keep up with the Bad Kids. Jace is also mentioned as a conspirator under the acronym JSD which isn’t slick at all lol.

Kristen sees evidence of Buddy helping with a ritual and stuff about where a god was "borne" (spelled correctly) so clearly they know a lot about what's going on. She also finds out what KP wants to do once she's President: she wants to shut down Aguefort as a school forever which will nullify the protections and wards it has centered on it, the big one being that Elmville can't be moved to any other plane of existence while school is in session. They think the Rat Grinders want to teleport the whole town–perhaps to set up a divine domain. Which would need followers–specifically angry followers. IDK about y’all but I feel like being randomly teleported to the Astral Plane would make ME pretty angry. 

There are texts post Lucy but pre Buddy where they're like what are we gonna do now? There's a "We're all in this together now" vibe (like some kind of twisted High School Musical) and they resolve to "talk to the Big Guy"

We learn Buddy was chosen for the same reason Lucy was a good candidate–connection to Ankarna. Lucy because Ruvina was her sister and Buddy because of similar domains (Helio’s domain is a Solar offshoot). Also I didn’t mention this before but Buddy did *not* know what he was doing. Oisin and Ivy are joking about his cluelessness behind his back (Booooo I was rooting for you dude). 

There’s a message from Jace telling them to stop antagonizing the Bad Kids even though they want revenge which leads the Bad Kids to question what they ever did to them. 

In Oisin's room they also find a lot of stuff about dragons and an image of a fetal god being protected by the Nightmare King. Also they remember how cloudy the Nightmare King's realm was (maybe a cloud rider connection?) 

Deep breath, this is a lot of stuff and we’re almost done. 

There's stuff about the Thistulespring tree and Ruben’s song spreading the rage vibes that represent the crystals in the ground. 

They realize that Porter is probably using the Devil's Honey to lie to Ankarna about his intentions as he's communicating with her.

They see that for the ritual they needed a body (Porter), Ankarna's name, the protective storm of the NIghtmare King, and his name inscribed by the champion of the old goddess. They realize that’s why Zara never got her eval. Fig is the champion and she did Porter and Zara’s eval on the same sheet which he swiped for this ritual. He literally made Fig a paladin so he could get what he needed. Diabolical. Aguefort needs better hiring practices. 

OK. Phew. Finally done. They head out and the next day is election day. Porter isn’t at school that day which is not surprising but is concerning. They don’t see the RG’s either. After school it’s time for the big party/election at Fabian’s place. Mazey gets a booth set up and Jawbone is there as faculty to make it legit. Aelwyn has warded up the place. Fig is there as Wanda cause she’s a maniac. Adaine is casting Detect Magic continually at the voting booth to watch for shenanigans. Also Ragh shows up and he aced his tryouts! He’s gonna be a profesh bloodrush player! Hoot growl all around!

But Riz (and honestly Murph) is unsettled. Everyone’s at this party where Fabian’s victory is a sure thing? All in one location together? Rat Grinders nowhere to be seen? This is WAY too easy.  

Which is Brennan’s cure to drop the other shoe. 

Things are just like Adaine's visions...until they're not. The sky was always clear in her visions and now storm clouds are brewing. She gets a Sending spell from someone, "You didn't see the storm coming? Must not be a very good Oracle." Oisin. Suddenly, ping pong balls with runes inside of them start raining down from where they've been stuck in the unkept Seacaster manor for months. From when Oisin "missed" his shots. Telekinetic writing inside a sphere. Runes inside ping pong balls. As they fall, there's a sudden lurch. Winds kick up and Seacaster manor is flying above Elmville. Everyone rolls initiative! 

I’m not doing proper Honor Roll/Detention this week because this was such a long episode and I'm exhausted. Honestly, Honor Roll for me for getting this up in time. Detention for Fabian for not using is 10k gold allowance to have someone clean his house in the past 9 months. 

Random Notes

Gonna just stick to a few plot relevant ones to keep this brief. 

Re: Adaine not seeing the storm in the same way that the previous oracle couldn't. I wonder if that’s just a blanket thing that weather evades predictions or if they did the same thing that was done during Kal’s plan to evade that oracle's sight before Aelwyn sunk her ship.

I don’t think I made it clear but Porter def killed Yolanda according to this ep. 

Porter’s Legendary Action is able to stun someone for multiple rounds which in combat would be devastating. 

I’m shocked they never tried to talk to Ruvina at any point during the campaign. 

I am still VERY concerned about Riz being made staff by Jace and given silver. That feels suspicious given we know he’s on Team Porter Ascension. 

I didn’t get into it because it was nebulous and would have messed with the flow of the recap but there was something there about teleportation circles and the Rat Grinders continually casting teleport to make a circle and maybe that’s how they’re gonna get Elmville into the Astral Plane. Just mentioning it in case it comes up again.

I don’t think we got closure on the “where the god was borne” thing. Because borne means carried, not created, right? I wonder if Seacaster manor would count because the corpse of Yes! Was brought there by Ankarna. 

The Rat Grinders and Porter have at least 2 obstacles they don’t know about. They don’t have the real name (unless they got in since Fig gave Porter the fake one) and Fig is literally domain squatting on Ankarna’s domain. She already called dibs so any claiming will have to go through her. 

I think it’s really nice that Adaine tried to do a relaxation track for Kristen. Handshake meme, her and Riz.

Emily insisting so hard and consistently that Porter was evil that Brennan just made him evil has some real as above/so below energy lol.

[kaurwreck]

the blunt, all or nothing, dichotomous approach to characterizing kunikida as prim and obedient for his probity and obsessive adherence to structure as his means for kettling the parts of himself too untethered to leave unchecked IS very silly and falls apart against canon like an overworked block of dry melamine foam.

but, like, the insistence that he must be punk because he speaks colloquially, brazenly withholds deference to quite literally everyone who isn't capable of either throwing him to the ground or discerning the truth of all matters with preternatural acuity, and disdains authority is also a blunt, all or nothing, dichotomous approach to characterization.

like, punk fanon Kunikida is not a retort to staid fanon Kunikida. they are both package-dealing in the Ayn Rand use of the phrase: whether punk or prep, both fail to discriminate crucial differences between Kunikida's character and the stock characters to which fanon attaches his name.

Kunikida's rigidity in adhering to his self defined, self evaluated, and self-imposed virtues is not remotely the same as legalism. Kunikida fucking anguishes over whether he is sincere and unfaltering in his ideals. (see: Jouno taunting him + his unbridled fear that he is internally hollow and the ideals holding him aloft are not the substance of deeply held convictions but hot air fueled by his loved ones for whom he is only puffing his chest and performing someone capable of carrying them, and without whom he lacks the spirit to fill that space within him where a greater man might have cultivated a spine, such that he will sink, sink, sink to crumple shapelessly to the ground, liberated from artifice only when there isn't anyone there to lighten the weight of his leaden ego, his isolation as common as the dirt coating his tongue, his transcendence precluded by the cruelty with which reality disfigured his instinct for goodness into a desire for power and empty glory until his soul, still gnashing on the rot of those he couldn't save, starved.)

In other words: his ideals can't be performed or externally enforced. They must be internally cultivated, coaxed into bloom through introspection, their flowering petals manifestations of his deepest feelings. otherwise, he is nothing but hot air and tepid flesh.

except he's not! because while his faith is faint and his body easily crushed beneath the weight of external forces with little regard for love, sincerity, and labor; his body can't feed his ideals anymore than his ideals could feed his body. His ideals can't fill his belly like meat and potatoes or expand his hollow heart like a hot air balloon because, unlike matter, his ideals are intangible. They do not occupy any space or time, and reality can't crush or despoil what it can't grasp, and it can't grasp what doesn't exist by its own laws. It's not that Kunikida's ideals grapple with his reality; nor can his reality erode his ideals. There's nothing to contradict everything, so everything persists.

Kunikida can't trust that he isn't empty, but nothing is emptiness, and his ideals are nothing, so absent inherent faith, absent substance in the yawning void within him, Kunikida nevertheless has his ideals. He has courage, sincerity, love, truth, and labor, not despite his emptiness, but because his emptiness is as conceptual as his ideals; he can't eat concepts but nor can concepts ever be rendered inert — inertia relates only to matter and the material world, which emptiness, nothing, ideals, concepts transcend. They can't be stripped of power, and there isn't any power anyone could exert over them because power is a measure of effectiveness that a force producing a physical effect has over time — mathematically, if linear, power is the quotient of force multiplied by the displacement of an object, divided by time. There is no object, there's only nothing, and nothing is mathematically represented by zero, which, when multiplied and then divided, is unchanged. It works if power is rotational instead of linear too; there, it's the quotient of: (force multiplied by the angle of displacement) ÷ time. again, 0, unchanged.

(Keeping in mind that I have dyscalculia and I am shit at mathematical logic, zero can be both a real and imaginary number, Kunikida's skill is batshit and he doesn't really see it as anything other than convenient. He essentially renders concepts into tangible reality. Like, that's his skill: he conceptualizes something that he's seen rendered tangible before, and then by jotting down its name on a page which is matter, he assigns nothing, 0, a finite point in infinity, and it becomes matter that exists within reality. This is why his notebook can be filled and replaced or destroyed or cut to shreds. The physical notebook isn't his ideals, it's just full of ideals, which he manifests by writing down his intangible thoughts and introspection so that he might then assign them a finite point in himself as the tangible embodiment of his ideals.)

(In Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam, Kunikida defines his skill by its limitations, which prevent it from the seemingly undefined, limitless capacity that Dazai possesses. But, like, could Kunikida theoretically create a finite time singularity— which is what happens when time is defined and divided by zero? It's cute that he was studying mathematics and sciences.)

His body can't house his ideals because emptiness, nothing, ideals, concepts, perhaps even faith do not occupy any space. They can't be created or destroyed, only conceptualized, and, when embraced and cultivated by someone grounded enough to recognize that his ideals can't be, manifested in the physical act of jumping out of a helicopter to blow up a militarized cop.

Nothing can't be confronted by everything, and everything can't suffocate nothing. Reality can't erode what its own laws have rendered nothing. his ideals, like he himself, are ungovernable.

but he buys an artisan notebook from a craftsman who only makes 100 each year; he's not punk, he's just abrasive, doesn't extend respect unearned, and his writing was marked in his use of colloquial language. he's also wildly pretentious. he's so patronizing; he is mommy, where's that aesthetic for him. he doesn't need doc martens; he needs multiple child leashes.

anyway. punk fanon Kunikida is the same overworked block of dry melamine foam as staid fanon Kunikida, just flipped over. his apparent contradictions dont need to be reconciled or discarded; nothing and everything are in unity as opposites that overlap and exist/don't exist within him, around him, and through him, regardless of him, and only because of him.

like, obviously, do what you want and have fun. I don't really care; i just like babbling about kunikida, and i crave substance. also like. strip your respect from authority figures who haven't earned it. correct your teachers/professors/mentors. disappoint your parents. contribute to the inherent tension between individual freedom and authority. it's good for you. you don't even have to join a counterculture submovenent to do it, you can argue with your therapist at any time. do it for him.

[paullll-novg]

!!! OC INTRODUCTION!!!! (final Remake)

VOLT! His real name is Blythe Joyson (joy+son)

He has a complex about his small stature and most likely has Napoleon syndrome. By character, he is a cheerful, quirky and rather hypocritical person. He is ready to do anything for the sake of his desires (even the most spontaneous ones).

He loves to communicate very much and suffers from a lack of attention. Volt is very absent-minded and has problems with concentration, he concentrates well when fixing something or listening to someone.

Relations with cliques.

NERDS. He is a nerd himself, but he dislikes nerds very much and often mocks them. Every time he passes by, he won't miss a chance to throw some kind of joke at the nerds.

BULLIES. He is sincerely friends with bullies and trusts them. His best friend is Tom. He likes to listen to his conspiracy conversations and often watches some suspicious teachers or students with Tom in search of the "truth".

GREASERS. In fact, he rarely communicates with the greasers. He has a neutral attitude towards them, although due to the influence of the preppies, he sometimes changes his mind. Lola would sometimes try to talk to him, but too chatty Volt would spoil her playful mood. Volt often look into autoshop for tools.

PREPPIES. He is actually skeptical about the preppies, but he sees profit in them. He fawns over them in all ways: he does not refuse any request (even the dirtiest work), compliments them, expresses fake admiration, pretends to be stupid.

JOCKS. Blythe doesn't like jocks. He believes that all jocks are just on steroids, even if he sees them playing sports, he will stand by his opinion. In fact, he's just jealous of how tall and strong they are and would like to be the same, but he knows he can't. He likes to make pranks on the jocks: replace their sports equipment, replace their shampoos with paint, stuck chewing gum over their lockers, puts in their bags gay-adult-magazines

Dr. Watts' favorite student. Why does he have a B? Because Dr. Watts doesn't remember his name and makes grades at random. Dr. Watts knows Volt well, but he doesn't know "Blythe Joyson." One day, he got sick from Edna's food and almost throwed up in chemistry class. When Watts asked what had happened to him, Volt complained about Edna's food. And then, Watts mentioned this in conversation with Edna. she stopped spitting into his food.

In the "photo" he is together with his roommate in the dorm Mike (my second oc, I'll post him later). Volt will tell everyone that he is friends with Mike and will even defend himself with Mike when the jocks wants to beat him again.

He got his scar from an electric shock when he was fixing the TV in the dorm. But it didn't become a "life lesson" for him.

Volt can skate, but after an electric shock, his vestibular apparatus deteriorated. He is poorly oriented in the dark and easily loses his balance, so he does not like discos. Like, he really falls whenever he doesn't see the floor or support.

His favorite music genre is body-pop and punk rock.

[eldritch-spouse]

You know I think Breg would benefit from having friends, one : to give his drunk father figure some rest and two : to have people  stop or encourage him in his bullshit. Obviously having monster friends would be better for him, so I made a list of the people I think he could along with (and the ones he would chomp without regrets)

Friends :

Santi: this one is easy, Santi seems to be an easygoing person and a good friend to have. When he's not drooling over Breg, I think he'd give some really good tips about life and how to deal with his obsession (after begging for a threesome and getting punched in the face), if they got close enough, Santi could even help Breg forget about some of his insecurities in the way that he would put him at ease.

Grimbly : by association, he'd be intrigued by Breg, for the first few times, their first conversations would be "You're so tall !! No you're like huge" , "Well you're small like a...bean", but they get along just fine.

Fank-E : He's friends with everyone and he'll put a bunch of stickers on Breg and he lowkey annoy the shit of him at certain times but it will end up in this semi-consensual kinda forced friendship (who's more insistant him or Breg ? I guess we'll never know)

Gallon : Him and Egghead would have talks that would leave Eggy scratching his head and staring into the void, but they're nice to each other, Gallon might be a bit condescending in reaction to a how simple Breg's mind seems to be.

Middle ground

Patches : I hesitated as putting him as friend but I think his scientific interests would put Breg off

Belo : Belo is too polite and uptight, and his fixated stare can make Breg feel uneasy, they talk just fine

Sybastian : Syb just kind of mind his bussiness and keep it pushing but there's rare times where he growls a "hello" to Breg and keeps walking

Nebul : Nope, this only reason why they're not enemies is because Nebul is civilized, but the potions and his dominating nature would make Bregory avoid him like the plague

No fucking way :

Morrell : Their interest for the same thing (human) is diverging in two different directions, Breg is like "Humans are friends not food ! 😡" and Morrell is like "yUM sTEaK !", it's their relationship on a very surface level and I think Eggy would leave it at that

Hellion : Nah, they would fight and Breg would just bite that head off his neck 

Vinnel : That punk would try to pull a prank on Breg, he would fall for it, get mad and then catch Vinnel and try to squish him like a stress toy, Vinnel would be in pain for a little while and finally leave Breg alone (or plot a terrible revenge)

Did it actually turned into a scale of friends to archnemesis of TCE? Yes. Am I proud ? Yes.

Here's the thing though.

One of the first things said about Breg is that he dislikes monsters. He glorifies humans and has a general aversion to monsters, finding them generally untrustworthy. This isn't to say there can't be exceptions, like Fasma, but Breg would probably have a much bigger drive to acquire human friends.

The problem with human friends is that it wouldn't take too long for him to cross boundaries if Breg is yet to meet his obsession.

With monster friends, you're also forgetting that Breg refuses to set foot in The Clergy in general. He's been there once with Fasma, didn't like it at all, vowed not to enter it again- He'd have to meet staff outside. I sincerely don't think many of these would work out all that well, certainly not Santi. The incubus' insistence on wanting to fuck him would make Breg really aggressive really fast. Grimbly's manipulation and cute talk would fall on deaf ears and unfortunately things with Gallon would be more akin to one-sided mockery. Fank-E would genuinely irritate Breg, but since he's a machine and not a monster, things might work out given he's moderately quiet.

Belo's aura as an angel might make Breg slightly more at ease, yet somehow hyperaware of the power himself, which would probably confuse the breeder a little. Patches would get himself torn in two horizontally if he doesn't contain his scientific interest around Breg, as it could trigger really intense reactions from the ex-captive. Morell and him would just brawl, correct.

Ironically, I see him as possibly getting along with Glauk, even if there's a barrier there in the sense Breg doesn't know how to swim properly yet. Glauk is relatively small and can't say weird things to him plus seems eager to share all kinds of trinkets people dump in the aquarium. This is a bit of an impossible scenario, unless Glauk is being transported outside for some reason or another.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse: I may have activated my own trap card

Spoilers for a movie that's two months old and also out on home release.

So, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr (Spider-India), and Hobie (Spider-Punk) all seem to have modern left-wing politics, though Gwen's got edited out. Hobie's introduction specifically says he hates "fascists", which carries over from the original comics.

By the time Hobie came around, I assumed he was just another poser, cooler than the hero rival character, expressing generic leftie politics, and his punk ethos wasn't sincere.

Which is exactly what the writers wanted me to think.

Not only is Hobie perfectly sincere about being anti-authoritarian, but he's been helping Miles since before they even met. He's been blatantly stealing junk from the Spider Society to build his own universe-jumping watch, and disguising it as petty vandalism.

He even tries to talk Miles out of trying to join the Spider-Society before the reveal that Miles himself is an anomaly, and the SS (geddit?) tries to detain Miles.

When Hobie says he's against authoritarianism, he really means it.

Speaking of the left-wing politics, Miles has a "#BLM" pin on his bag. It's very visible while he sits next to his dad.

Who's a cop.

(TANGENT: A few years ago, someone drew a stupid, very bad comic where Spider-Man (Peter Parker) was a) black, b) hated cops, and c) assaulted and subdued riot cops when they asked him for help.

That the comic didn't even show the riot cops were wrong. We were just supposed to assume they deserve to be left to the mercy of an angry mob.

Also, in this comic, Uncle Ben was killed by a cop, not a random thug who Spidey could've stopped but chose not to. Which makes me wonder how that would shake out.

It's kind of weird for someone to look at a character who's about personal responsibility to an unhealthy degree, and use him to express their collectivist anti-cop terrorism fantasies. That, or they didn't think through their fantasies.)

During Spider-India's opening, Miles says "I love Chai Tea!" And Pavitr goes on a rant about how "Chai" means "tea". Later on, The Spot says he's been on a "journey of self-discovery", and Pavitr basically says he's racist.

Which is a tad ironic, because Spot is literally white. And also because Pavitr is the one making the racist assumptions.

And I personally go to a church - in England - that has a lot of non-white non-British people. Mostly Africans. And me, of course. I wonder if any Asians ever went on a journey of self discovery to South London.

And I don't just mean as a cab driver.

"Wait, SYABM, didn't you move to the UK for self-discovery?"

W-well, yes, partially.

Aside: I made the mistake of watching a Youtube video with the Chai Tea joke, and then I looked at the comments.

One guy said "tfw when Twitter users write a movie". An idiot (with much more upvotes) said "bro out here wanting blatant racism in movies".

...When the whole point of the joke is that the racism is not blatant.

It's only "blatant" if you're insufferably Twitterized. There are loads of redundant phrasings in English, like "ATM machine", and words often shift when they're adopted from other languages.

Also, "I dislike this joke" is not the same as "I want racism in this movie", when the "racism" in the movie is only there so it could be mocked.

One of the issues with putting real world movements in worlds that are drastically different - it's one of the main selling points of the franchise - is that it may seem odd that those movements exist in very similar form to the IRL version.

For example, Miles supports BLM in both his video game, and this. Which makes me think "did Trayvon Martin get shot in Florida? How about Mike Brown? Wouldn't the existence of supervillains throw things into a new perspective?"

Did I mention the giant George Floyd-style "REST IN POWER" mural to Miles' dead uncle? I cringed at that in the Wakanda Forever trailer, and I rolled my eyes at it here.

Floyd wasn't a saintly martyr, he was an unlucky violent thug.

Also, Aaron was a supervillain killed by another bad guy who nearly destroyed the city, not a cop.

Also, this is at a party to celebrate how Miles' dad is about to be promoted. Assuming Floyd died and the 2020 protests/riots also happened in Miles' universe, then it seems a tad tasteless to have a mural inspired by an anti-cop movement overlooking it, even if the party is not full of cops.

Spider-India lives in "Mumbattan".

The people who settled the Manhattan area were originally Indian. But the other type of Indian. The Indians we're not supposed to call Indians anymore.

The name "Manhattan" is even Native American.

The first permanent settlement was Dutch. Then the English got it. I guess the English could've shipped Indians to the other side of the world and eventually ceded the area to them, or maybe in this world India was a world-conquering superpower and Mumbattan is the result of...importing Native Americans?

Which would make Pavitr's complaint that "the British stole all of our stuff and put it in their museums" seem a tad hypocritical.

Of course, since I wrote all that, someone reminded me that Pavitr explicitly says the joint is in India.

"SYABM," you say, "you're overthinking this."

Yes, I am. Because the filmmakers didn't think it through. If you want to use ha-ha-funny to make a serious point, you invite examination of that point.

Miles (as Spidey) now works with his dad, though he disguises his voice. At one point, Miles tells his father that men bottle up mental health issues.

This is true (and ironic, considering Miles is hiding who he is from Jeff), but it's not the first time I've seen some progressive work try to address men's issues in an very awkward way. At least here, it's played for comedy.

Also, seems a tad hypocritical coming from a guy who wears a "#BLM" pin in the presence of his cop father.

Also, if you work the timeline, that would mean Miles was about 7 or 6 when BLM started. Which means he's gone most of his life knowing nothing else.

There was a controversy over a "protect trans kids" trans flag in Gwen's room, which was apparently edited out.

IMO, it seems a tad strange for a girl who feels estranged from everyone in her world to join a social movement, but what do I know? Maybe it was there before then.

Some people came to the extremely logical conclusion that Gwen herself is trans. Even though she's distinctly physically feminine and possibly too young for puberty blockers depending on Earth 65′s laws.

Like the "oh great, it's Liv" shippers, people are reaching really hard to see what they want to see.

Some people have said that Gwen's issues with her dad and herself seem awfully similar to the issues LGBTQIA2S+ kids go through.

Gee, it's not like, y'know, feeling estranged from one's family is a common theme in fiction about teenagers and superhero, and the whole "superpowers = minority" thing has been done to death for most of the past century.

Perhaps most notably - and clumsily - in X-Men.

I'm not saying this wasn't the intended subtext. I'm saying if it was, it would just be really, really cliche.

There's this recurring theme of people telling miles "how [his] story is supposed to go".

When he's at a meeting with his parents and his guidance counselor, the lady says his story of being a black-Latino son of an immigrant would sound great in the college application letters. His mom is a tad miffed, given that they're a) solidly middle class, and b) as a Puerto Rican, she considers herself American.

Miguel (Spider-Man 2099) doesn't want Miles in the multiversal council of Spiders, because Miles was bitten by the radioactive spider from a different universe. Which is why his local Spider-Man died, and the spider's home dimension has no Spider-Man.

Also, Miguel is fixated on "canon events". The idea that there are certain things, especially tragedies, that have to happen to Spiders, or their entire universe falls apart.

And he knows this, because he tried to take over for a version of him that got shot dead by a thug. Tried to raise his daughter.

And he watched as the universe collapsed in front of him.

So he's projecting his own guilt onto Miles, a tad.

According to TVtropes and other sources, this was actually about the people who didn't accept Miles as a replacement Spidey, possibly out of racism.

Yeah, that's real hard-hitting topical meta-commentary about a character who debuted 12 years ago. 8 years when the first movie came out.

I'd also like to point out that despite stereotypes of comic book fans, certain minority successors to banner superheros have been fairly well-received. Like Jaime Reyes, or Cassandra Cain.

(Note: I wrote that before the Blue Beetle movie came out. And flopped.)

And, of course, loads of people like Miles specifically because he's a minority Spidey, which is also racist, just from the other direction. In fact, a lot of his fans seem to forget the "Latino" part of "Afro-Latino". From what little I've seen of Miles early comics, they did actually put strong emphasis on his race.

I also suspect the filmmakers may be misinterpreting the usual successor knee-jerk reactions

as racism. If you're using an established brand name for your new hero, you're creating some expectations.

Also, you know the most popular meme about regular Spidey that I see? That Marvel's writers just keep making him suffer and don't want him to actually develop. Which would kinda make Marvel closer to Team Miguel than Team Miles.

Miles also gripes that Miguel is letting "some algorithm" tell him what to do. While I agree with the sentiment, I'd like to point out that, again, Miles supports BLM.

A movement popularized by an algorithm.

A movement made up of narratives and assumptions.

A movement which has never proven a single incident was because of racism.

During the big chase scene, we see a Spider girl in a wheelchair, aka Sun-Spider. She's from the comics. Same initiative that gave us "Web-Weaver".

Who is, of course, an extremely effete gay fashion designer Spidey. I kinda like his outfit, though the Spider-eyes with eyelashes is a little too far.

And Sun-Spider seems exactly like a character a stereotypical 90s executive and focus group would come up with. Down to the backward baseball cap.

(Turns out she's Dayn Broder's actual Spider-Sona.)

Also, while I was looking up that one black and white Spider who said "nowhere to run" (Metro-Spider, played by record producer Metro Boomin [/sic]), I found out that Aunt May's full name is "Maybelle", not just "May". TIL.

There's a bit of a double standard with this version of Spider-Woman, who's black and pregnant. -People in the movie - including Peter B - regularly point out how Peter B endangering his infant daughter Mayday by taking her along with him. But for some reason, nobody says a word about Jessica, who's an active-duty stunt-biking superhero.

Even regular motorbiking can be dangerous for pregnant women.

In fact, the movie portrays this as heroic and impressive. When Gwen sees  Jess is preggos, she asks if Jess can adopt her.

Not to mention the whole "afro and hoop earrings" thing, which seem like a bad idea for a type of hero who often gets into melee combat, even with Spider-Sense.

Yes, I'm aware that female heroes, including the Spider-Ladies, often have exposed hair. It's a genre convention. Incidentally, it was nice to see Batwoman wore a detachable decoy wig in the comics. Some bad guy tries to grab it in a fight? It comes right off.

Also, Jess doesn't have much actual character.

Being pregnant is not a character trait. In fact, her only real traits are basically "cool but stern sassy mentor", to contrast with Peter B. -Incidentally, someone on TVtropes pointed out the double standard. And when I saw the page again, a page-camper had deleted it, with no explanation.

Guess they couldn't stand someone pointing out the flaws of their waifu.

(One) Spider-UK in this movie is Muslim. I know she's Muslim because she wears a Spider-themed headdress. Note that regular Marvel 616 has a muslim lady Spider-UK, but her name is Zarina Zahari and she doesn't wear a hijabi.

(Also, she could be mistaken for Ms. Marvel.)

ms marvel.jpg

You might be thinking "wait, isn't a headdress impractical in a melee fight? Doesn't it give your enemy something to grab?" Yes, it is.

But so are Jess's earrings, afro, and being pregnant, so clearly there's a lot of artistic license going on.

Maybe it's partially tearaway, like Batman's cape.

I gotta wonder about the religious rules of wearing a head covering over a mask that *already* covers your entire head. Did she go see her imam and go "Okay, I have a really weird question..."

Come to think, Spidey is usually slim, but a lot of lady Spideys in this movie seemed to have wide hips. Including muscular ladies. Kris Anka's concept art goes really hard on wide hips. I don't know why. Stronger, faster character reads during the big chase?

I guess Spiders could be expected to have strong legs.

BOTTOM LINE:

I liked the movie overall, though the progressive bits made me roll my eyes a little. I...want to see the third one, with reservations.

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Winter 2024 Anime

My feelings on the first anime season of 2024 can be summed up thusly: Most of my favorite shows from winter 2024 were continuations of shows that were already great from last season, not new entries. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and there were plenty of new anime I at least enjoyed watching. But it became clear about halfway through the season that aside from a couple fall 2023 holdovers, there was barely anything truly exciting going on here. Most of the adaptations I watched didn't do much to truly elevate their source material, and most of the few original series we got ended up the worst of the bunch. I can't say nothing good came out of winter 2024, but if this is any sign of how the rest of the year is gonna go, we may be in for a slog. For now, though, let's take stock of the anime I watched this season, and which ones are worth your time.

Metallic Rouge: 3/10

If you asked me what the worst show I finished this season would be at the start, I never would've guessed Metallic Rouge. I mean, it's a cool-ass original sci-fi anime from Bones with slick 2D mecha animation, surely that's gotta be at least a little cool, right? Sadly, no. Because this is, without question, one of the most baffling scripts I've ever seen in anime. Almost every single detail of its world and plot are barely explained, if at all, and the mechanics of what's even supposed to be going on are so nebulous that every attempt at a plot twist feels like a twist on something that never actually existed. Characters are plopped into the story without even an introduction. At times it feels like whole scenes have been cut out entirely. The only thing I can compare it to is the original Suicide Squad movie from 2016: a story so cut to the bone in the editing room that you can barely tell what's supposed to be happening half the time, and yet enough of the original story remains to suggest it was never any good in the first place. The one thing it gets right is the prickly chemistry between its two leads, and then it fucking keeps them separated for like half the damn runtime! How do you even unforced error that badly?

Bucchigiri: 3.5/10

Man, this was not a good season for original anime. Bucchigiri might not have been as staggering a writing trainwreck as Metallic Rouge, but its sin is arguably even worse; it's boring. It's a wacky, colorful high school delinquent romp with rainbow-haired Jojo's punks beating the snot out of each other with genie powers, it's sort of a re-imagining of Aladdin, it's got freaking Hiroko Utsumi at the helm, and it's boring. Why? Because this show gets absolutely stuck in the quicksand of its own status quo and refuses to budge an inch. Character growth is nonexistent, the protagonist is an aggravating loser wimp who never learns his lesson, and nothing of actual meaning happens from the first episode to the end. Literally everything you think is setting up a character arc where someone learns a lesson or grows as a person, all of it amounts to nothing. It's a limp, inert world that perpetuates the same overdone jokes and contrived, misunderstanding-based drama over and over again until all the outsized Utsumi visual personality feels like a tacky coat thrown on top of a lifeless corpse. What an utter waste.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (1st Cours): 5/10

I'm still not quite sure what to make of the Urusei Yatsura remake. is it charmingly dated? Annoyingly dated? A welcome throwback or a sign that some things should stay in the past? If nothing else, it never fails to get at least a couple chuckles out of me every episode. But the more it tries to lean into being actually sincere, the more its inherent cheesiness and lack of depth starts becoming a problem. I'm sorry, this cast of characters is just too abrasive and purposefully insane to take seriously, and none of their relationships are healthy enough to unironically root for. Lum and Ataru are not a couple I want to see actually get together, at least not unless Ataru stops being such a fucking shithead. And if him being a jackass could be charming in season 1, then this season is really starting to test my patience with him. It's one thing to be a serial skirt chaser, but his actions this season regularly cross a line from womanizing to unambiguous sex pest, and there's only so many wooden mallets he can get knocked over the head with before it stops feeling like like he's getting punished as much as he deserves to be.

Undead Unluck (2nd Cours): 5/10

Good news, everyone: Undead Unluck finally gave up on those awful groping gags that were ruining its central romance! Bad news: at the same time, it spontaneously developed one of the worst cases of recap padding I've ever seen! I'm not just talking overlong recap segments at the start of the episode, I'm talking constant flashbacks to events we just saw just moments before, straight up playing the same footage again just minutes apart, all climaxing in a truly unforgivable episode that spends seven goddamn minutes on recycled footage. Not even Tokyo Revengers was this bad with its time-wasting. And to add insult to injury, once it finally gets its feet unstuck and returns to a reasonable amount of recap for the final arc, it's probably the best arc of the entire show! It's some of the most bonkers high-concept emotional storytelling I've ever seen attempted, let alone pulled off so spectacularly. It's proof that there is so much brilliance to Undead Unluck, if it could just get out of its own way. But as long as it continues suffering from such massive systemic flaws, it's only ever going to be an also-ran.

Solo Leveling: 5.5/10

Okay, look; is this show dumb as a bag of rocks? Absolutely. Is it as nakedly an adolescent power fantasy as any anime has ever been? Ditto. Does it solely exist for dweeby incels to feel like swaggering douchebag chads getting revenge on all the normies who looked down on them by becoming The Bestest Strongest Chadliest Awesomest Of All Time? You know it. But god dammit, it's actually fun. I cannot pretend I'm too mature and sophisticated to enjoy a big, helping heaping of dumb edgy schlock when it's actually done well. I'm the one person on the face of the earth who still caries water for Akame ga Kill, for crying out loud. And Solo Leveling makes two really smart storytelling choices that keep it (mostly) on the entertaining side of dumb fun: building a genuinely interesting and intricate world that exists well beyond the scope of the protagonist's actions (for now, at least), and making sure that no matter how stupidly overpowered Jinwoo gets, his opponents are always just a little bit even more stupidly overpowered, so he's still pushed to his absolute breaking point and barely scraping together a win by the skin of his teeth every time. There is an art to edge that's too often taken for granted, and this show is proof that being the living embodiment of a twelve-year-old boy's wet dreams is no excuse not to be at least a decent version of that. That said, let's be real, Jinwoo was so much more attractive before his supposed glow-up. Give my boy back his scraggly rat locks, you cowards.

Bang Brave Bang Bravern: 6/10

What happens when a campy, cartoony 70s-style super robot anime crashes headfirst into a much grittier real robot anime? Well, what happens is Bang Brave Bang Bravern, the latest ten-car pileup of mismatched genres from the Cygames masterminds behind "What if horse racing but idols?" Take a desperate war story of survival against impossible odds, airdrop a skyscraper-sized superhero into the mix, and watch him completely shatter the original tone one cheekily ironic powerup and power-of-friendship speech at a time. It's a beautifully bonkers sendup of mecha tropes that has some of the funniest individual moments in this entire anime season, and the absolutely wild twist it pulls with the titular robot's identity in the back half is more than worth the price of admission on its own. Unfortunately, if it wanted to be as perfect a parody-until-it-isn't mecha series as Akiba Maid War was a parody-until-it-isn't mob flick, it probably should've tried being as long as most mecha series tend to be, i.e. more than just twelve measly episodes. There's just not enough time to develop any of the characters or world beyond the most essential parts, resulting in huge chunks of the supporting cast hanging around with nothing to do but take up space. And it leads to this show, which is trying to be so big and over the top, instead feeling so small and half-formed. Also, the secondary romance is gross. Like, really gross.

A Sign of Affection: 6/10

I think this show has helped clarify something for me: I'm really getting tired of how quickly modern romance anime get their main couple together. As much as we rag on the endless will-they-won't-they of ages past, taking so much time to build up the characters and their relationship before they finally make it official can result in some truly one-of-a-kind storytelling when done right. I might agonize over how long Sawako and Kuronoma take to get together in Kimi ni Todoke, but the payoff is so transcendent that none of those complaints matter. Whereas Yuki and Itsuomi getting together so quickly in A Sign of Affection... I mean, they're cute, I guess? His cool demeanor plays off her sincerity very well? But it feels like the show's in such a rush to get to the good stuff- and so determined to make Istuomi the dreamiest, most perfect boyfriend ever- that it skips over so much of the careful character-building that makes all the best anime romances so special. It's a sugary sweet confection, but wipe the frosting away and there's just not that much cake underneath. Honestly, I find the side characters a lot more interesting because they're allowed to have messy internal conflicts with a bit more meat on their bones. But hey, props for putting a deaf heroine at the center of your shoujo romance and taking so much time to explore how that affects the way she interacts with the world. That's a cause well worth celebrating.

Sengoku Youko: 6.5/10

Rejoice, everyone, we finally have an adaptation of a Satoshi Mizukami work that doesn't look like absolute garbage! After the flaming disaster that was Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer's barely animated hackjob production, Sengoku Youko has arrived to give the cult fave manga artist a chance for his work to actually shine on the silver screen. As someone who only knows him through Planet With, I've always wondered if Mizukami deserved the reputation his manga gets, and with White Fox delivering as tight and intense a production as they gave Re:Zero, I guess it's time to finally find out. And the answer is... mostly? Like, the biggest problems in this sci-fi/feudal fantasy mashup are the characters being a little too eager to state the themes out loud and one pretty crummy death that's about as hamfisted and over-telegraphed as I've seen in a while. But there's a shockingly gripping narrative underlying it all, a story about the scars trauma leaves on people, of characters making bad decisions and facing real consequences for them, of hatred and poisonous ideology forced to reckon with the more complex reality of the world as a whole. And it all climaxes in an absolute barn-burner final episode that knocked my score up a half point all on its own. If future seasons can make good on all the potential this first season has set up, then I may just end up a Mizukami fan myself when all is said and done.

Blue Exorcist Season 3: 6.5/10

I'm of two minds about Blue Exorcist's second return after a six-year gap between seasons. On one hand, it's clear the new staff is just nowhere near as talented as the folks who first brought this series to life at A-1 Pictures. The action is abysmal, the storyboarding is clunky, and the animation feels like it's constantly fighting for its life to maintain a passable standard. And it sucks that a series that once brought such great life to its story is now held back by such a mediocre production. But on the other hand... holy fuck, am I glad Blue Exorcist is back. I once described The Devil is a Part-Timer as the mathematical average of anime as a concept, but if you were to ask me what the best possible version of that mathematical average looks like? It would be Blue Exorcist. This is, hands down, one of the best straightforward shonen action stories in the whole medium, a reminder of why all the most generic and overused tropes were once powerful enough to become generic and overused in the first place. It's proof that even the simplest of "superpowered teens kick demon butt with the power of friendship" concepts can result in a wonderful goddamn series when handled with good old-fashioned storytelling fundamentals. And not even the rough-as-hell production is enough to keep season 3 from delivering on the thrills, tears, laughs, and cheers that make this series so magical. Just, please, give the next season more time in the oven so it doesn't feel like it's wading through molasses to hit those heights. Okay?

Delicious in Dungeon (1st Cours): 7/10

Delicious in Dungeon's biggest problem is that it takes a while to really settle into itself. The opening scene of the protagonist's sister being devoured by a dragon sets the tone for an intense and desperate rescue mission, but the actual series that follows this harrowing opening is as lackadaisical as can be. And it's jarring to be thrust into a gag-filled, character-driven fantasy cooking comedy where the harsh tone of that opening scene and the ticking clock of Falin's digestion completely disappear from the characters' heads in favor of how beast to cook and eat the various fantasy monsters they encounter in the dungeon. Yes, it makes a little more sense once the mechanics of death and resurrection are explained later on, but it's a weird note to start on. Which is a shame, because once Delicious in Dungeon gets a handle on what kind of story it's trying to be, it's really fun! Its sense of deadpan comedy coupled with Trigger's expressive animation makes for some really unexpected gags, and the way it explores its fantasy cuisine is genuinely some of the most creative stuff I've ever seen in the cooking anime genre. Plus, with the dark tone coming back in at the end of the first cours- and landing much more naturally this time- I have high hopes for how this series will marry those two sides of itself moving forward. If the manga fans' reactions are any indication, I think we're in for a damn good time.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (2nd Cours): 8/10

So remember in my last post how I said that it was kind of disappointing whenever Frieren turned into an action show because of how disconnected the fights were from the beating heart that makes this show so special? Well, apparently the writers heard me and decided what I meant was I wanted this peaceful, meditative tale about grief, change and the passage of time to turn into the goddamn Hunter Exams for ten episodes straight. It's one of the most shockingly ill-advised storytelling swerves I've seen in an otherwise good show, discarding all this series' strengths in favor of a half-baked tournament arc with tonally jarring grimdark elements and a bland, overstuffed cast of characters who only start becoming interesting in the rare moments they're allowed to stop slinging spells at each other and just, like, talk about life? You know, the stuff that Frieren's actually good at? Not this brainless slice of shonen envy that only avoids being a complete slog thanks to how spectacular the action is across the board? Ugh. Look, Frieren is officially the most beloved anime on the goddamn planet right now, and its best moments are so incredible that I wish I could join that chorus as well. But it's so disappointing to me that a show this singular and special has so often chosen to be the least interesting version of itself.

The Dangers in My Heart Season 2: 8.5/10

It's official: director Hiroaki Akagi is the master of middle school rom-coms. No other creator so perfectly grasps the specific blend of immaturity, awkwardness, cringe, and heart-on-sleeve sincerity that defines the love stories of early adolescence. That was already clear with his work on Teasing Master Takagi-san, but now that he's pulled it off twice, there's no room left for argument. And just like with Takagi-san, the second season of The Dangers in My Heart takes a show that was already shockingly good and catapults it into all-time greatness. This is a coming-of-age triumph, a soaring tribute to embracing your own cringeworthy self, flaws and all, and sharing that self openly with the people who matter most to you. Ichikawa's journey toward maturity, Yamada's journey toward self-love, and the way their romance sparks the best in both of them is the stuff that dreams are made of. I laughed, I cried, I squealed like a little girl, and I felt my heart grow three sizes by the time it was done. This is a new gold standard for anime rom-coms, and if you can stomach a bit of groanworthy fanservice, it more than deserves your attention.

The Apothecary Diaries (2nd Cours): 8.5/10

Most of the time when I cover a two-cours show on these seasonal reflections, I end up in a pretty different place by the end of the second cours than I did at the first. Either it sort of fell apart in the second half, or found its footing and took it to the next level, or it changed in some interesting way that affects how I view the show as a whole. But The Apothecary Diaries has stayed the course from the first episode all the way to the end. Start to finish, it's remained pretty much the same show, with the same ideas and attitude, exploring the same themes in the same ways. And you know what? When you're as good as The Apothecary Diaries ended up being, there's nothing wrong with that. This is a spectacular historical drama that builds such a rich, compelling world for its equally rich, compelling characters to inhabit. It's a powerful exploration of how old society treated the disadvantaged- women, poor people, people with all severities of disability- and how one deeply abnormal girl carves her way through this viper's den with her body and soul intact. It's the kind of mature, thoughtful series we so rarely seen done this well, and with the announcement of a season 2 already confirmed, we may well end up with close to 50 episodes when all is said and done. That, folks, is what a true shoujo/josei renaissance looks like. And I'm so happy such a deserving series is leading the way in reminding us how damn good women's stories can be when they're given a chance to shine this brightly.

DROPPED

Cherry Magic: Dropped at 2 episodes for looking like butt and the central romance feeling pretty lifeless.

High Card Season 2: Dropped at 1 episode because I realized I didn't care anymore.

Ninja Kamui: Dropped at 2 episodes for being dull tryhard edgy bullshit with overdone fight scenes that are impossible to follow.

[selfshipgushing]

Describing my f/o's! Fun fact, all of them are from the same source- (Mind you this is Host's f/o's, not any of the other sysmates! If I were to include everyone f/o's, this list would be incredibly long.) Oh and one more thing!! Bold descriptions are the ones I talk about the most here :] ---------------------------------- -Purple cat who desperately needs sleep and antidepressants -Leopard print, hip hop, and ADHD if it was a human (I mean, I think she's a human???? It's not confirmed on what she is-) -Stupid ADHD guy that goes zap zap -Strong dude that has ADHD and gives off Pitbull vibes with a side of chocolate chip cookies -Severely anxious punk bisexual spotify girl ---------------------------------- Sincerely, The Creatures

drop the entire super long list I dare you /silly

[sipipu]

"Well, hello there" (Pt.2)

Notes: The way things are tied up helps me a lot to take my mind off what's going on in my life. So, I hope that you like it too and that you too can disconnect a little from external problems by reading this.

It's been a long time since that day. Geno couldn't get the guy who called himself Reaper out of his head. Asking his friends and acquaintances if they knew him, they shook their heads, not inspiring him with any hope. As sad as this situation was, Geno tried not to give up. He bypassed possible places that the guy could go to (namely, all sorts of music stores, or just themed places where punks and rockers usually hang out). There were even a couple of days when he boarded the same bus where they met, but he wasn't there either. But the stupidest thing he probably did was get on the same morning flight on the same bus. Or, when he walked in advance to the stop where Reaper sat down last time, they say, casually. But even then it was all in vain.

Meanwhile, the world's favorite holiday was approaching, and it was Halloween. The most favorite day of the year for many people, in which children and teenagers, and even adults, dressed up in costumes of their favorite characters (or monsters for the atmosphere), went home to collect sweets, or organized themed parties. It is possible that there are people who preferred to celebrate this day sitting at home and arranging a marathon of all sorts of horror movies. All types of Halloween are wonderful, the main thing is that you like what you do and feel comfortable. In addition to collect sweets and parties, this day was also famous for the stories of all sorts of frightening legends and horror stories. Many stories have been passed down from time immemorial, and some were just local tales that were paraphrased 100 times by each person. But stories do not change their essence, the main thing is to inspire fear in a person, and the rest is not so important.

Geno sincerely loved this holiday just because of the scary stories, especially those that were based on real events. He wasn't interested in all sorts of ghosts, demons and monsters, although sometimes it's funny to listen to stories about vampires or werewolves to stretch his brain and relax. He especially enjoyed writing his own horror stories. He remembers with great trepidation how he used to scare his younger brothers with them, especially if he backed up these stories by deliberately turning off the lights or making characteristic noises. Of course, now that his brothers were older, they denied the fact that they were scared, and Geno was very funny from the way they talked about their "fearlessness".

Geno could still tell his author's horror stories to this day, but without such enthusiasm. Agree that now few people can be scared by the fact that, allegedly, "there is a maniac lurking in the next house who is always watching you", or something like that. It's not difficult to scare with this, of course, but not everyone will feel some kind of shock and fear, as it was with his younger brothers, who walked around the neighbor's house for a long time.

In any case, now Geno is more like those loners who sit at home on Halloween, eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching Tim Burton movies. His brothers had long since left their native home, having moved who where, and came only for birthdays or Christmas. But he wasn't lonely. Sometimes his best friend kept him company. And in rare moments, this very best friend dragged him to a party in honor of such a day, such as now.

Geno didn't mind hanging out, it was just not really his type.He didn't really fit in with the company, and it was very embarrassing for him. More often, he was the friend who could give you a ride home in your own car, or just making sure that everything was fine. Believe me, no one wants to contact a person who does not have one eye, and who looks like he was stuck in a jar with glass and was thoroughly shaken."Scars adorn a man"-that's what someone once told him, and Geno sometimes used it very much.

But in any case, he clearly had nothing to do at this party. He didn't really know people, except for the guys with whom he studies at the university or the same friend and his friends. The music wasn't exactly to his taste, and neither was the booze and snacks. In general, everything looked very rotten and boring, as if everyone had come to an awkward birthday party or something. Anyway, he needed to unwind and take his mind off looking for that guy.

Being a little drunk, Geno went out to the backyard of the house where they were all and decided to light a cigarette. With the cigarette in his mouth, he couldn't find the lighter. Feeling in his pockets and looking inside a half-empty pack of cigarettes, he could not find it anywhere.

- Great, - Geno mumbled, realizing that the search was not a success.

- Need a help?

Geno wanted to say something, turning to the person who spoke to him, but froze in shock. Damn it, it was him! Reaper! And he stands there like nothing fucking happened and hands him a lighter!

Out of surprise, Geno almost dropped his cigarette, but prevented it in time. Reaper looked almost the same as the first time they met, only he was wearing chains and fake cobwebs, as well as the hood of his sweatshirt was, this time, put on his head. The image of a certain ghost was being created, and it clearly suited him.

- Hey, it's you,- Geno replied, trying to be unperturbed - Yes, please.

Reaper lit his cigarette. Thanking him with a nod, Geno began to smoke, feeling relieved.

- What are you doing here? - Reaper asked calmly, leaning against the wall of this house, looking out from under the hood at Geno - I didn't think someone like you liked such events.

- Ouch, - Geno shook the ash from his cigarette- Into the very heart, dude. Actually, I can spend my time like this too. The question for you is, what are YOU doing here?

- As you can see, I dressed up and came to taste the horrors in order to immerse myself in the holiday, but alas, I ran into some boring reality, - Reaper answered him a little upset, sighing - I was expecting a themed party, not a meeting of the nerd interests.

- It was rude.

- I don't care, what's the difference? For that, it's true.

Geno awkwardly shrugged his shoulders, nodding slightly, and continued to smoke his cigarette, looking at the sky, which would soon become dark, and a wonderful magical scattering of stars at the head of the Moon would appear on it. They didn't stand in silence for long, and Reaper soon stretched noisily.

- Well, I'm going to get out of here, do you want to come with me?

- I'd love to, but I think I'd rather stay. My best friend is here, whom I will have to drag home later, and then crawl home myself.

It seemed to Geno that Reaper looked at him in some kind of disappointment. Sighing, he pushed off from the wall a little, went up to Geno and put something in his pocket. Seeing how close Reaper was to him, he involuntarily swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed. Their eyes met for just a second, and for him it clearly lasted longer than a single second. Perhaps those bright blue eyes, which seemed to glow in the dark, would forever be imprinted in his head.

- See you then.

Geno silently followed him with his gaze. When Reaper disappeared inside the house, he seemed stunned and put his hand in his pocket. He felt for something and took it out. In his palm was a small piece of gum, a lighter, as well as a folded note. Holding almost the entire rotted cigarette between his teeth, he put back the gum and lighter, and unfolded the note. Wow. That was his contact number!

Geno looked towards the door behind which Reaper had disappeared and smiled significantly, carefully folding the note so as not to tear it for anything. Putting out his cigarette, he took out the gum he had given him and, unwrapping it, chewed it. It tasted too sweet, but Geno loves it, so he doesn't complain.

Hello, Geno takes back all his words. He definitely doesn't regret that he agreed to come here after all.

[the-kr8tor]

It's my birthday in two days! So, here's a cute little Hobie HC for you💕

Despite how Hobie looks super punk, he didn't always. Especially when he was in high school. The tall, lanky 15 year old shuffled through the halls of the crowded school, thick glasses slipping down his nose every so often. Scuffed and beaten up sneakers on his feet getting stepped on buly several people as he squeezed his way through, pulling the fraying bookbag tighter on his shoulders. He scowled as he was pushed into a nearby locker, the loose button-up he was wearing snagging on the corner. Hobie, now irritated, pushes away from the locker, only to groan with irritation at the small rip he hears from the action. It's times like these where he really hates hand-me-downs.

Hobie whips a glare towards the person who pushed him, only for his mouth to drop open in shock. There you stand before him, all spikes, chains, black leather, and bright colors. The platform boots on your feet make you nearly eye level to him. Hobie can see the sincerity glimmering in your eyes, an apologetic smile on your dark, lipstick stained lips. And now your saying something, your lips moving as you look up at him. He's not sure, unable to register anything except for the fact that you look damn amazing. So unlike anyone he normally sees roaming these hallways.

Shaking his head, Hobie clears his throat, an almost nervous smile on his lips.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't quite catch that.." He says, cursing himself at the small crack of his voice. If you heard it, you don't comment on it, offering him a knowing smile.

"It's alright. Apologies for bumping into you there. I can fix your shirt up for you if you'd like."

Hobie's taken aback, again. You dress like a straight up rockstar and you're nice?? He can feel the way his heartbeat quickens in his ears. It was like he knew then and there, that you were gonna be an important part of his life. And you were. From that moment on, you two were inseparable. You were a breath of fresh air for him, going against society norms and doing your own thing. You became his beacon, his muse, his role model. And, Hobie became the same for you. You admired how he stood up for himself and his beliefs, no matter how hard things got. Hobie was smart, insanely so, and it made you admire him even more.

And when Hobie got bit by that spider, it furthered your adoration for him. Even if he denied it heavily, he was the symbol of hope for many, especially you. For all that you were to each other, it was a wonder why it took so long for him to properly make a move years later when you'd entered college. It was after one of his shows, his chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline from the rush of performing. You were cheering so loud for him and the band, waiting excitedly for him backstage.

And maybe it was because he was still buzzing with energy and confidence from the roaring crowd. Or perhaps it was the way you looked absolutely exquisite wearing the choker he made you and the leather jacket that he'd copped just for you to match his. Whatever it was, it made him rush off the stage towards you, arms circling your waist and pulling you flush to his chest. His lips pressed against yours, soft and gentle despite how hurriedly he'd done so. You gripped his shirt, damp with sweat, as he pulled away in shock of his own actions and pulled him back in for another kiss. Hobie didn't seem to mind, not one bit as he pulled you even closer.

This was partially made cuz I saw someone say something about "Loser Hobie". He'd definitely be a loser in high school😭💕

OMG ADVANCED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU MY AO3 BESTIE ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you have a great one!

AOZBQISJWBDPWQWW LOSER HOBIE!!! he was so scrunkly back then!!! (Literally my type back in hs lmaooooo) I'd like to think this is like a reverse ttn au! R saying that they can mend it for him reminded me of it

Squeaky voice Hobie!! What a cutie!!!

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS!!! THEY GREW UP TOGETHER AND DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER 😍😍😍

The backstage kiss omfg 🥴🥴

[anjelicawrites]

One Modern!Aemond x bff!reader headcanon that ran away and decided to flourish on his own. Just fluff and a smidge of angst.

Modern!Aemond is a loner in school, nobody dares picking on him because he looks scary. You come from a difficult background and are unapologetically yourself, punk to your core and with a mean streak. You two start this friendship that surprises everyone and that goes on for the rest of your lives, even though his family is not very happy about it. Your family’s crammed apartment in the housing project is always open for him and he stays over for dinner more times than not, your weird ass family adopting him the moment he arrives for the first time. You mum adores him, your father loves talking politics with him, he lets your younger siblings use his long limbs as a jungle gym and your grandmas knit and crochet him items of clothing: he’s part of the family and with you weird lot he looks far more relaxed and happy than he does when you stay over at his place. There, he looks like he’s wearing a mask, like he is not truly your nerd friend Aemond. For better an for worse you two grow up, go to different universities (you on a full scholarship) but keep in constant contact (thank you very much technology!), start and end relationships, try different avenues before you both have stable jobs in the same city. You two make a badge of honor on meeting in presence once a week to bitch about your respective lives and lack of suitable people to form a romantic bond with.

It’s the one night when he has had too much to drink and he’s sleeping next to you, that you realize why all your previous partners were always lacking something: they were not Aemond. The revelation hits you like a punch and you need to go to the kitchen and just pace there: you are in love with your best friend, with your brother from another mother, now what? You grab the bottle of whiskey you keep for emergencies and take a swing at it, then another and your feelings for Aemond don't go anywhere.

"What's going on?".

You jump out of your skin, Aemond has scared you. He looks owlishly at you, his hair loose down his back, an old pair of sweats low on his hips, he is adorable and handsome. You can't look into his eye.

"I need water, why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep"

"I figured as much - he takes a swing at the bottle and your eyes focus on the way his Adam's apple moves - why couldn't you sleep?"

"It was nothing".

Aemond eyes you with a raised eyebrow. He's been raised among women: his mum, his beloved sister, you and your own sisters, he just knows that 'nothing' rarely means that. He does a quick mental check to see if he's done anything wrong to warrant you closing up like this, finding nothing; and since when you are not less than sincere with him?

"Is it work? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happen, truly Aemond"

Then why are you avoiding my eye? And why are you drinking?  He wonders.

He consciously blocks your path by standing between you and the door. He has no idea of what is going on, but he will find out before you two go back to bed.

"Aemond? What are you doing? Are you still drunk?" you squeak in surprise

"Never been more sober in my entire life. I want to know why you were normal before and now you are not talking to me".

Ah shit, you think.

"I don't know what are you talking about. I am talking to you"

"Please don't insult my intelligence. You've always looked into my eye, never given me the 'nothing' treatment, you never drink alcohol in the middle of the night alone in the kitchen like a thief and now you act like a completely different person. What is happening?".

The problem with Aemond is that he's far too bright for his own sake. His inquisitive mind has already destroyed many of his relationships, romantic or not, because he can't let go, because he wants the truth, always, at whatever cost.

"Last time I checked this is my house and I do what the hell I want - you slam the whiskey bottle on the counter - now make way!".

You try to push him away from the door frame with zero results, he's far too heavy for you to manhandle. His hands fly to your shoulders, light and warm, causing goosebumps to bloom on your skin and warmth to spread, you have to turn your head or he'll read the truth in your eyes.

"Why are you acting this way? - gently he moves your head to look into your eyes - is it something that I did or say?".  

Your heart breaks at the sadness lacing his voice. You know he's always battled with feeling like a failure and with guilt because of his father's lack of love: of course he thinks he's at fault.

"You did nothing wrong, truly Aemond. Of the two of us it's me who is wrong - gently you remove his hand from your face and hold it tight - I don't want to talk about it because it would destroy our friendship, that's all. Let's go back to bed and call it a day, ok?".

Of course he can't let go, of course he needs to know the truth.

"What is it? What happened? - there's a strain of panic in his voice - Please tell me! Nothing will destroy our friendship, I promise!".

You don't know if it's the panic in his voice or if it is the way his hands shake on your skin or the wild emotions in your heart, your brain acts before any filter can stop it.

"Because I am in love with you Aemond. There! Now I said it and our friendship is gone!".

The tears in your eyes make your vision swim , the only thing you want to do now is curl up and cry with the bottle of whiskey in your hands. You've just lost your best friend, your brother, you want to mourn. You can't see Aemond's expression, you can feel him gently maneuver your face against his naked chest, to let you cry there as he caresses your scalp, soft nothings spilling from his lips, until you are done, eyes red and puffy.

"Why would this ruin our friendship? - his voice is soft - I have always been in love with you, all my life"

"What? - naked surprise in your voice - What do you mean all you life?"

"What it says on the tin. I've tried dating other people but you were always on my mind. No one could even compare to you".

With a flash you remember the handful of girls he dated through the years, only now you realize how similar to you they all were.

"Why did you never say a thing?"

"I was waiting for you to realize".

You look at him with incredulous eyes

"You kept mum for all these years? What if I never did?"

"I always had faith in you".

You think back to the astoundingly amount of failed relationships in your life, how much Aemond coming clear would have saved you from all the heartache. You remember the person you used to be: you wouldn't have loved him back, you were a different before, non capable of truly appreciate what Aemond has to offer as a person.

"Oh Aemond, I am so sorry. You had to live through all my past relationships. It must have hurt like hell".

He hums softly, a soft smile on his face.

"You did the same with me"

"I didn't know that you loved me. I wouldn't have saddled you, otherwise".

His hands gently cup your cheeks, his palms are soft and warm, his touch gentle.

"It's in the past, all gone my love - he cocks his head to the side and hums again - may I do something I always wanted to do?"

"What is that?"

"Give you the best kiss of your entire life"

"Promises, promises. Let me be the judge of that and I might need more samples before I can form my opinion".

Aemond smirks, cocky, his hunger for you burns in his lonely eye.

"You can have all the samples you need, for however long you deem necessary".

He vows to do so for the rest of his life and he manages.

Everything taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty

Aemond taglist : @phantoms-main-blog

[buckevantommy]

▼, ∇, ☮ for Buck? - apartmentsmoke

▼ - childhood headcanon 

(keeping in mind i haven’t yet watched Buck Begins -it’s my next-up episode in my season 4 first time watch- so i feel underqualified to answer this one, but..) 

re: his bisexuality 

i can imagine mini evan ‘admiring’ and wanting to ‘befriend’ boys, wanting to be in their lives and spend time with them bc he thinks they’re cool and wants to be like them or thinks his life will be better if he’s closer to them. 

looking back he realises some if not all of those feelings were mixed up with something he didn’t yet understand. 

(this answer will most likely change drastically once i watch that ep) 

  ∇ - old age/aging headcanon

thinking of that scene with bobby in 7x09 where he tells buck he’s proud of how much he’s grown in seven years. i think buck’s emotional maturity is not lost on him, he’s aware of the differences between the punk kid he once was and the responsible adult he is now and as much as he’s glad he’s not that guy anymore he knows he couldn’t have become the person he is today on his own. 

i think he views getting older with growing up and growing into himself, becoming more aware of who he is and who he wants to be, and that settles something in him where he thought he’d always find fear and dread in the unknowing. the 118 and maddie and now tommy - he no longer fears what’s ahead, knows he’s not alone and knows he’s survived a hell of a lot and come out stronger for it.

he worries about his physical health sometimes - when his leg twinges and aches so bad he can’t move from the pain, when his breath catches and he wonders if the lightning damage is about to finish the job. but when he was younger the job was all he had. he has so much more now - a family, a partner - he’s no longer scared shitless of not being able to do the job in the same way; he’ll adapt, survive, thrive - because he’s proved he can, and because he has one helluva support network. 

 ☮ - friendship headcanon

not to bring everything back to his bisexuality, but i think realising this central thing about himself will open him up to more than just relationship possiblities, it’ll open the doors for friendship outside the firefam; he’ll go to pride or meet tommy’s friends or help organise a lgbtqia+ fundraiser or something and he’ll discover a level of sincerity in the people he meets that he can connect with in a way he always craved but never understood why he couldn’t. i think it will help bridge a gap he didn’t know how to cross. 

ask me stuff