#and less that I want there to be less of him in fandom as another characterization

[heyheydidjaknow]

After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

[skemford]

So far Arcane S2 is looking cool. Almost all characters are complex and it's impossible to look at them through "good vs bad" lenses.

There are certain takes from fandom/community that i don't agree with... but alas, i don't consider my opinions to be 100% correct either.

More thoughts about some characters (Cait, Vi, Isha, Sevika) in Arc 1 under the cut (beware of spoilers):

- Cait loosing herself while going through the grief is written in a realistic way. She's a privileged girl who never experienced major losses, lost an important person (a mother) and she's supposed to keep a facade of a stoic leader for the sake of her community. I felt truly uncomfortable when she decided to use the ventilation system to poison the air of Zaun & her degrading rhetoric (both toward citizens of Zaun and to Vi) was terrible. Her perspective can be understood but it cannot be redeemed with a couple of empty words. I'm curious to see where her dictatorship arc will lead her and how it ends. Honestly a lot of people underplay police brutality that was shown through her.

- Vi taking the role of enforcer was shocking to me considering everything that happened to her in the past. Gassing up her own people while wearing the uniform of her oppressor felt OOC but i can understand that she's motivated by endless grief and her fear of loosing Cait too. At least she did acknowledged that some things are wrong once she's face to face with a child protecting Jinx. Her role was more passive than in S1 so hopefully she'll shine in arc 2 and 3.

- Isha (little girl that follows Jinx) is a plot device that may die sooner or later. I'm not sure what i feel about her but i cannot hate her either, she did nothing wrong. I don't understand those who are mad about the scene where this child is protecting Jinx; Jinx unwillingly saved her life and was a bit soft while Isha saw only brutality from Vi & Cait. This is a matter of perspective, really. Outside of this, i think that some people are forgetting that she's younger than Powder was in S1.

Did she gave Jinx a couple of sympathetic points? Maybe. But Jinx herself was a bit calmer than in S1. A moment before meeting Isha she's walking around the city and reflects on what Silco's death led to.

- Sevika didn't switched her opinion on Jinx "abruptly". She was loyal to Silco and his absence made her acknowledge how much work she was forced to do for him. In her perspective Jinx was a brat who had it easier and created mess that Sevika was supposed to clean... turns out, it wasn't like this. Her "grief talk" with Jinx about Silco shows that Jinx was under the pressure too. Sevika's loyalty lies with her beliefs about what's the best for Zaun and its people and Jinx may be the hope that they'll need (which was shown in Arc 2 teaser). You can argue that she was brutal in S1 but she's not "a villain". Wanting to fight for your freedom from Topsiders is way more complicated.

On less serious note:

- Caitvi hugs and kiss were sweet. Let's hope that it'll happen again. If it's possible after everything :)

- My favourite fight is Sevika vs Smeech. I loved visuals, music and seeing Sevika getting her own screentime.

- Vi vs Jinx fight was on entirely another level in terms of animation, I'm excited to see what's in store for unreleased episodes.

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

okay no offense but i’m not a fan of Five finding his “real life” dolores. like, that diva was literally a coping mechanism for him. a tangible reminder that he was so lonely that he made a literal piece of plastic his companion. i think the idea of it is sweet but at the end of the day i think that if Five did find someone romantically it should be someone that makes him feel silly and carefree, not someone that is a fleshy replica of an Apocalyptic Souvenir

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Why do you think the tides have slightly turned from "Elia deserves better than Rhaegar" to shipping her and Rhaegar together? Like what is the psychology behind these people because I've seen some of them like/reblog anti Rhaegar posts while also shipping Rhaegar x Elia at the same time.

hey anon! my thoughts are a bit messy, but i’ve done my best to explain them coherently :)

so, rhaegar was the best man anyone could have when elia was alive, and most people want the best for their favs. he was considered the most handsome, didn’t have a bad personality, and he was crown prince—meaning elia was almost queen, which is often seen as the greatest role a woman can have. the narrative also treats rhaegar as a beautiful, tragic, haunting figure, and elia actually had this very aesthetically pleasing man all to herself at one point! she was married to him, had children with him, and her life was so close to perfect! but rhaegar just had to go and ruin it. 😠

for many elia stans, if rhaegar hadn’t fallen in love with another woman (they want him to have been a completely different character), then everything would’ve been perfect, and elia would’ve had the best, most desirable life. however, that’s not what happened—elia met a very tragic end, and as a result, these stans feel double the bitterness. because of this bitterness, they blame rhaegar for everything (even though it’s not logical to do so), but he’s just too ‘perfect’ to let go of. so, for years these stans have made rhaegar revolve around elia, filling his tag with posts about her out of bitterness. so, i do believe that this obsession with rhaegar x elia has always been there, but i think it’s become a more favorable stance on the elia stan side of the fandom because of a mix of reasons.

plus, rhaegar is one of the few canon relationships we know elia had, since she’s not much of a character. because of this, and the fact that most people don’t like to stray too far from canon, most elia stans are forced to focus on rhaegar, which has created an echo chamber. basically, if a sentiment about elia and rhaegar’s relationship becomes popular, then the whole elia stan side of the fandom will likely regurgitate the sentiment. (also, this desire to stick close to canon is likely why the elia x arthur ship was so popular. while it’s a total crack ship, it had good aesthetics, and since elia and arthur at least knew each other, it allowed the stans to create their perfect fanfiction whilst sticking it to rhaegar. but remember, elia was actually married to rhaegar and had children with him, so while arthur is cool, rhaegar was always ‘top dog,’ meaning arthur would never be able to match up to rhaegar to most elia stans. also, the arthur x elia crack ship is likely her second most popular ship, which just shows how little elia stans have to work with, so they’re always forced to eventually return back to rhaegar for a lot of things.)

however, even if the elia x rhaegar ship gains more popularity, these stans will never stop hating rhaegar because he wasn’t ‘perfect’—and he wasn’t perfect because he didn’t love elia. plus, rhaegar loving another woman and supposedly kidnapping her is what began the war that led to elia’s tragic death. that’s bitterness times 1000. and while i don’t actually blame rhaegar for the war, i do think that this is how an elia stan sees it. i also don’t view rhaegar’s complex relationship with elia as a bad thing—it’s actually a very realistic take on an arranged marriage between two decent people. but most elia stans will never be able to get over the fact that they almost had everything, which is why many have it out for lyanna, as they consider her a thief who ruined their ‘perfection.’

tbh, that might be why so many elia stans are so obsessed with the idea that rhaegar only got with lyanna because of the prophecy—they don’t want to believe that rhaegar actually loved a different woman and not their perfect self insert elia. that’s a bit mean of me… but i don’t know what else one would call the ‘elia’ elia stans have created.

now that i’ve laid all those thoughts out, i’ll try to explain why the tides seem to be turning… i think it may have something to do with the ‘targaryens are all evil and bad’ sentiment losing popularity. i think this shift has occurred due to a mix of factors, such as years of fandom fights and fandom cycles leading to the targs being more liked now than before. it helps that canon doesn’t actually condemn the targs/favors them quite a bit, and the influx of new targ fans from HOTD has also contributed. this combination of reasons seems to have shifted the way the mainstream fandom discusses all the targaryen characters, including rhaegar. so, with this shift, it’s only natural that some elia stans/elia x rhaegar shippers—who’ve always been there—are using this opportunity to push their agenda. while these stans still hate rhaegar and see him as the bad guy, they just can’t let go of him. and as the mainstream fandom moves away from the anti targaryen sentiment, these smaller corners of the fandom, which tend to be echo chambers, are also affected, which has therefore led to a rise in rhaegar x elia shippers and the ‘shifting tide’ that you’ve also noticed.

[thevioletcaptain]

if you as a fic reader ever become possessed by the urge to do a popularity bracket with the fics other people wrote and shared for fun and for free, consider:

don't ❤️ 

[brunhielda]

I am currently watching through The Lord of the Rings again (as you do).

I love these movies. I will show them to my children (or nieces/nephews) and grand children and great grand children. There are quotes from these films that see me through dark days.

(Reason I can accept the flawed Hobbit films is that they too have quotes that stick around)

That said, as I watch with my parents and thier even older friend, I am listening to them react to Boromir the same way I did the first time I watched it. Knowing what I do now about the back ground of canonical Boromir, it hurts a little bit.

If you are a fan who has read the books, or even is involved with the online fandom- you know. Boromir is a good man- the best of men. He is supposed to be a shining example of the best of us, and his fall to the Ring is meant to show that it could happen to ANYONE. It is meant to be a message to us all that you are not your worst moment, or your worst fault.

And yet because of all the foreshadowing and arguing over choices to make during the quest, we the audience of the movie see him as someone just one step away from betraying everyone. His attempt to take the Ring is not a surprise, or even a tragedy, but a confirmation. The surprise is his redemption in death.

I think there is a version of “The Fellowship of the Rings” that I would have liked to see.

Indulge me:

Part of the problem is that Aragorn is falling into the spot Boromir could be filling. He’s just too epic to allow any other man next to him to look impressive. 🤴🏼

This not only does a disservice to Boromir, but to Aragorn himself, who could be having a much richer personal growth.

So, imagine this.

Strider leans more into his “Ranger in the Corner” persona. He is quiet, terse, filthy, mysterious, and comes across more like your traditional rogue than anything approaching Kingly.

Legolas is the only one to call him Aragorn, he does it exactly once when defending him to Boromir, and never again. Legolas himself is a little different- a few more sarcastic quips, more friendly and forward, the sunshine to Strider’s gloom. When they get to Lothlorian, the elves there acknowledge “Strider the Ranger” as someone known to them, but Legolas of the Woodland Realm does the negotiating. The vibe is “ah, yes… that human Elrond adopted. I suppose we should bid him welcome…” 🫤 (Obvious exception of Galadriel. She knows all. It just makes her seem more out there).

There are a couple less references to his lineage, and every time they do, the feeling from the audience should be- “Really? THAT guy?”

Arwen is clearly in a rebellious stage and looking for a bad boy. Him telling her to go very much has that angsty teen feel of “you could do better” and “I am poison to you.”

Elrond is clearly trying to get through to him, but do we think it is going to take? He remains quiet and moody. Was he the first to volunteer to go? Yes. But it was less a declaration and more of an ernest whisper meant for Frodo. Legolas’s immediate follow up is less “I am inspired” and more “My pet introvert will not survive without me, but I am so proud of you for asserting yourself.” 😂

Meanwhile- we have Boromir. Now, I love me some Sean Bean, but I need him at his most joyful. Most jovial. Give him a big old beard. Pad him out with thicker armor to give him a broader chest.

Boromir is supportive. Boromir is playful. Boromir is everyone’s big bro, ESPECIALLY the younger hobbits. I basically want every scene he has with Merry and Pippin expanded to everyone.

I want the sword drop to feel less like a stranger being disrespectful, and more like a himbo being clumsy.

I want him to talk about the path to Mordor of all the concern of the older sibling who has seen and been, and his dismissal of Aragorn to feel justified. “Yeah… sure, put that guy on the throne. Uh huh. I think we dodged an arrow there.” And I want the end of it to be a bit of a laugh and a clap on the back, and “no offense meant, Strider Ol’ chap, but you don’t seem the type!”

I want every disagreement with Gandalf or Gimli about which way to take to feel like him advocating for everyone’s safety.

I want him to slide into the role that Aragorn currently has, protecting everyone, especially Frodo, and to have Strider fall back into a quieter rear guard position, only to really speak up to sharply tell someone “don’t disturb the water” “Hide!” “get them up.”

Strider will speak on historical landmarks or lands we are entering, which always makes Legolas smile in support. “See, he knows cool things. I am telling you, you wanna be friends with my guy.”

Instead of Strider or Gandalf sending Gimli or Legolas chastising looks, we see Boromir, the peace keeper, laughing at both of them. “Come now master dwarf, the Elf will love trees as much as you love Rock, it is to be expected! I myself would be weary of being out in the open so often, and also loathe to spend as much time under ground as your kin, yet I have been known to be grateful for either tree or rock in a rough spot or two (chuckle) As I’m sure you would find the open forest or the dwellings of men far too open for your liking, but would not begrudge shelter in either when when the rain sets in. To each their own way, as my brother would say! You would like him (directed at Legolas) he speaks your poetry much better than I in any rate! (Aside to Gimli) I am more for the drinking songs myself. Speaking of, have you heard the hobbits tell you about their little place? Master Pippin- tell us, how do Hobbits live?” He just keeps cutting off rudeness with rambles about something his brother said or how the hobbits or men are like both of them, and really, do these fights between dwarves and elves matter when they have Sauron to face? Come! We are brothers in arms! There are moments they bask in it, and moments they are bonded by the annoyance of it. Either way he wins.

(In Lothlorien, they are bonded in grief, in appreciation of Galadriel, and in the strangeness of Boromir being too caught up in his own musings to try to fix them)

I want Galadriel’s speech to both Strider and Boromir to feel like a deepening of characters we are already starting to like, not confirmation of things we suspect. I want her to tell Frodo- “You know of who I speak” and have the audience to go “What?! WHO??? Who is this crazy woman talking about? Oh, she has those seer powers- what does she know?!”

I want every reference to Boromir starting to fall to the Ring to be less obvious foreshadowing, and more a sympathetic look behind the jovial curtain.

“What ails you Boromir?” “Oh- never mind me. My mind has gone back to my brother. I was meant to lead the armies you know.” Strained smile. “Now it falls on him. It is a heavy burden, but he is equal to the task. Probably better at it than me!” Laugh. “It will be well. When I see him again I will have to congratulate him on defending our people so well. And he will chastise me for being away so long to leave him to pick up the slack!”

Far away look. Any of the company gives him a questioning look. “We are not far from the borders of Gondor- she is just over that mountain.” Strained smile. “Forgive me, I have not before been so long from home. I did not realize I would yearn for it so. Perhaps that is why I keep trying to turn us that way- feet always point home, do they not?” (This would be poinant with Sam, Legolas, Gimli, or Strider)

At any of these moments, he glances at the ring. A glance. That is it.

If there are obvious moments of temptation, I want one for every single member of the Fellowship (the movie is long enough, there is room). Gimli admires its make, for all that it is wrought with evil. Dwarves know a thing or two about jewelry, you know. Very good craftsmen. Legolas speaks of the rings of the elves, How they never passed to his line- he isn’t surprised. Surprising bitter moment of saying his Father is one of the weakest of Elves. Gandalf interrupts his musing by talking about his ring. (Could be a moment of bonding with Gimli too) Strider tells Frodo he should preserve his strength- can he not put the Ring in a pocket or pass it to another hobbit? (He does not ask to take it, but music implies the question). Merry and Pippin keep talking about “I know it’s evil, but you have to admit, it has a nice shine to it, doesn’t it?” It is playful and flippant, but there none the less. Boromir might ONCE mention it’s use as a weapon, speaking of what Sauron was able to do with it “They say it was the Ring that allowed him to grow in size and strength- he could kill 8 warriors with one blow!” Only to back track when Strider or Gandalf give him a chastising look. “Forgive me,” he says with a laugh, “I am at heart a warrior, and see everything as a possible tactical advantage. Of course it would only do damage should anyone try to use it.” Gandalf turns away, mollified, Boromir whispers conspiratorially to Merry and Pippin “But imagine! Eight feet tall!” (Chuckles all around- foreshadowing to the two growing to be the tallest hobbits) The whole thing should be told around the fire at night like a good story- again, even in his weakness, we see him as an excellent big bro figure.

The point is, I want to get to Galadriel saying someone will take the Ring and the audience is suspicious of EVERYONE.

Then we arrive at the moment. We all have our suspicions. Strider has gone off to find Frodo. There are implications of everyone being out looking. We saw exactly one glance of Boromir’s shield. Out of everyone? The money is on the creepy mysterious Ranger who might have a heart under there but only seems to snap at people.

Then Boromir tries to take the Ring.

From this point on, EVERYTHING Is EXACTLY the AS THE ORIGINAL.

The context is wildly different.

The shock of Boromir taking the Ring has the gasp effect of Hans’ betrayal in Frozen.

Strider turning down the Ring has us all feeling guilty and weepy, because he’s just quiet and concerned damn it! He has always meant well!

Boromir suddenly realizing what he has done has us sobbing “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it! It was the Ring!” And then he immediately turns to defend Merry and Pippin. There are no dry eyes.

We have seen Strider fight- he has precision and skill. But this fight suddenly feels like he is proving something. Like he is standing up for this man who cannot. That is Boromir, Prince of Gondor you struck down, and he is NOT undefended! Something has shifted. Strider is rising, and it shows in this fight against the leader of the Uruki.

Boromir’s final words to Strider, he calls him Aragorn. He calls him brother. He calls him king. It feels less like a shift in view to culminate a redemption, and more like placing a mantle, more like giving final support. Boromir would have been next to lead the people of Gondor- he is giving it to his friend. Vibes of : “You tried to hide, but I saw you. The elf was right. You will be a great King.” Even at the end, he is the Big Brother we all want.

The last moments of the movie when Legolas sees the hobbits across the river is a shift. “Aragorn!” He calls “they have reached the other side…. You mean not to follow them.” We suddenly realize that Legolas was never leading his quiet anxious introvert around, he was always (more subtly) following his lead. Aragorn (as he is called for the rest of the films) is standing tall, and assertive, and making a decision for the group. And they follow.

People rewatch the Fellowship 3 times its first week in theaters, just to catch the moments that warn us that Boromir will fall, and the moments that hint that Aragorn might rise. There are cries of “No spoilers! Let your friends and family find out for themselves!” People break scenes apart to analyze this dynamic for years to come.

Going forward:

Because of this shift in context in Fellowship, the rest of the Trilogy feels more like watching Aragorn come out of his shell and taking on bigger and bigger rolls.

Meeting the Rohiren is suddenly the first time Aragorn speaks for the group. He does so because these are men, and because his friends are being idiots. 😂

The rebuff of Eowyn’s affections feels like more of the same from his relationship with Arwen- he does not feel he deserves it, even now. She is a leader of her people, and he is not yet sure he can say the same. By the time he can, it is clear Arwen’s heart is with him and his with her. It also feels as if he is leaving Eowyn room to pursue her own destiny, to be a leader in her own right. Arwen is supportive, where Eowyn takes charge- perfect for a fully supportive Faramir. 👍

His approach to Theoden feels less like shrinking away, and more like feeling out when he should lead and when he should step back.

Disrespect from any character feels less like a fault of theirs and more like “I mean, I get it, he’s a bit grimy, but he knows what he’s talking about! You don’t know him! He could be a king!” Theoden’s refusal to listen to him feels more like a tragedy, because how else could it have gone?

The entire Two Towers plot becomes a discussion of leadership. Gandalf swoops in and out, and expects people to listen to him. Eomer is direct and aggressive, but only leads warriors, not a kingdom. Theoden has many under his protection, he must weigh risks and lean on older wisdoms. And then there is Aragorn, still figuring himself out, helping Eowyn to do the same. (With every step he takes, we wonder how Boromir would have fit into this discussion- would Eomer have recognized him? Would Theoden have listened more or less to the leader of Gondor’s armies? Would Boromir have stepped back as often? Would he have insisted, in his still jovial way, and would it have caused conflict? Would he inspire men in the same way? Would it have worked as well? We have no idea how he would have handled Eowyn, besides stepping in as a brother since her’s is out fighting. Suddenly this thought of Boromir is on Aragorn’s face with every decision) What Aragorn figures out is that he himself is honest, ernest, and relies on the support and help of others. The conclusion of The Two Towers is the understanding that Aragorn does not need to be a King to be a Leader. That has always been in him. Has he not lead his group this far? Does he not make friends everywhere he goes? Does he not inspire men and elves alike? (Gimli is but one dwarf, and we do not get further examples 😂) He is not Boromir, or Eomer, or Gandalf, or Theoden, but still, he leads.

The Return of the King is an obvious end to his journey, but it feels more fulfilling, since we have seen Aragorn come farther. The moment he claims his birthright with the ghosts under the mountain is a moment that elicits cheers. His speech at the Black Gate brings tears, not just because of his words, but because of how far he has come.

When he is crowned, his reunion with and acceptance of Arwen’s love means more. His moment of humility in front of the Hobbits make us all see how he HAD to be a Ranger to be the Great King he has become. Pride swells.

And we give credit to Aragorn’s growth to the leadership of Boromir in the first film.

We are also struck to the heart when Faramir announces himself as Boromir’s brother. THIS is the brother he spoke so highly of? Did Boromir that bias towards his own flesh and blood, to think THIS man, who captures hobbits and tortures Smeagle, is someone to be proud of? But by the end of Two Towers we are proud too.

At the end of Two Towers, Faramir has seen Frodo nearly fall to the Ring. Did he believe them when they said it drove Boromir mad? Of course not. We didn’t believe it. And we only had one movie with the guy. No one who knew him would buy that. But then there is Frodo, with a sword to Sam’s throat- “Don’t you recognize your Sam?” And there is a horrified recognition on Faramir’s face. Is it what he knows his Father may someday do with or without the Ring? Is it the recognition of how, even in the best of him, his brother could be like his Father? Is it a vision of himself in that position, his brother over him, because he came back with the Ring as their father asked? And does he admire Samwise that much more, because he handled the aftermath of that so much better than Faramir would in his place? (“Something worth fighting for” indeed- Boromir gave the speeches, not him. He must have LOVED this sunshiny little gardener)

When Sam tells him he is of the finest quality- it means more. They are passing on a message after all.

There may be another line from Frodo- “He spoke of you. He knew you would be a good commander. He was anxious to be home and congratulate you. I am sorry it is me here instead of him. He would be so proud.”

Maybe it is Pippin who mentions it. Maybe we get a flashback to another scene between the two of them. “You remind me of my brother- curious, adventurous, but educated, mannered. Much better mannered than I, as it has often been said!” Loud laughter. “The two of you would make for good friends, should you ever meet.”

“Don’t worry for him too much Merry. I have known one as curious as he. He just wanted to understand the world, as does your cousin. It has served him well- he out grew the recklessness of it, and there is no one I trust more.” “Your brother?” Laugh “How did you guess?”

I want us to love Faramir not only because he is good, but because Boromir loved him, and he loved Boromir. I want us to think of Boromir and what he would say to his brother every time he is on screen. I want us to see the love of Boromir direct all his actions.

The parallels of Eowyn and Faramir hint at thier future relationship more clearly in this version, because the connection between Boromir and Aragorn as different leaders of Gondor continues to shine through. Boromir’s brother could not defy his father’s wishes because he loved him and almost died for it. Aragorn’s student (she feels like a sister when he puts her to the side) does defy her father figure, again because she loves him, and is victorious in battle. Both thier fathers die in the battle. When we spot them together in the houses of healing it is not as much of a surprise. It feels right. They have much in common. Also… as Eowyn is seen to grown into a leader as Aragorn does, she also gets her supportive soft romantic partner.

I want Big Bro Boromir to be there in all but flesh throughout the entire thing. I want Boromir’s bracers on Aragorn’s arms to not only be the first thing we notice in Two Towers, but something to feel so right as to be obvious. I want “Then I shall die as one of them!” to feel like a chastisement to Legolas- “Boromir was human too, and he would want us here.” I want “Gondor will answer” to feel like a certainty, because Boromir would. I want Pippin’s rescue of Faramir to feel like a keeping of a promise to love Boromir’s brother as much as a rescue of a new friend. I want us to see the bracer on Aragorn’s arm as much as the sword in his hand when he says “I am Isildur’s Heir.” I want Theoden’s ride to Gondor to tie back not just to Aragorn, but further back to Boromir- a promise has been kept, and inspiration has come to bloom. I want us to see the white tree flags on the battle field of Mordor and feel like Boromir walked in after all. I want us to cry that Boromir is not there to greet Frodo as he wakes, as much as we cry for everyone else’s happy ending.

It’s just an image I had tonight. A beautiful image. Big Bro Jovial Boromir. Laughing down warmly at everyone from heaven. Making us proud to be of the race of men before Aragorn could.

Like I said- I love these movies. But ah, what could have been.

[ozymoron]

i dont think i actually like shipping for like normal shipping reasons im pretty sure i only like ships cause i like seeing boys kiss and girls kiss especially if what they have going on is fucked up and weird

[purplepenntapus]

Im sorry I love the Zoro Mihawk Perona dynamic but the fandom trend of turning it into “Mihawk adopts Zoro and Perona as children and raises them” makes me want to die

[amplexadversary]

.

[juiceicicles]

I don’t think anyone should be not allowed to write something unless it’s actively hurting people, and that’s pretty hard to do in fanfiction. Tag your triggers and do whatever you want.

That’s not to say you can’t express your opinions about writing, I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again, but just because I like or don’t like something or think something should be written about more or less doesn’t mean I think you shouldn’t do it.

Write what makes you happy, and if it’s not my cup of tea than I shouldn’t drink it

[moonmoonthecrabking]

...

[risingsunresistance]

if we're mutuals and i unfollow suddenly and you happen to take notice of it, please do not take it personally i still love my friends n whatnot i am just. getting very tired and need to cut down the mcyt content on my dash

and if i unfollow and refollow a couple times that is just me testing the waters jdhfj idk what i wanna do man i just have to do something for my mental health

[littledead-ridinghood]

I have two Google docs for things I want to write: one for meta and the other is for fic and dumb little art ideas. I also have multiple WIPs as any person should have at any given time.

There are so many nice (adjacent) ideas I want to write but I’m so reactionary to certain fandom takes now that I’ll never do it. I used to be able to swallow certain takes with an “I don’t agree with that but it’s cute right now and I’m also on my period so I want to cry over fluff anyway.” But for my own personal sanity, I don’t want to “endorse” certain fanon things I’ve come to bristle at.

I have seen many others before post about how the deeper they get into their fav media, the more they move away from shrugging and scrolling towards visceral rage. Now, I’m not boiling with rage or whatever but I do know that the emotions I’m feeling means I need to back off for a while which is so disappointing. There’s so many ideas that I fear while never see the light of day because I can’t get behind “feel good family” takes without feeling like I’m declawing characters.

[penname-artist]

.

[theoryofarson]

p'jojo u will PAY

[freebooter4ever]

see that hairline!!!

it has been like this for a while, its just when he has hair it falls over the receding part and disguises it. until the lovely reporters interviewing him get a close up shot of the top of his head when his hair is all greasy and sweaty and clumped into thin curls from the game and the bright overhead lights glint off the bare skin and betray him. If you havent been noticing this during post game videos then you clearly have not been paying as close attention as i have, which is probably a good thing because im weird.

fangirl science