#and my irritation about this is completely pointless i think but it's just so very incorrect

[anime-academia]

Okay, look. I get it. You wanna combine the things that are meaningful to you and that you find cool. Don't fuck with me, i have the power of God and anime on my side. HOWEVER, Gojo Satoru and this verse ?! It's literally not compatible. Please, I am begging. Gojo's whole thing is that HE is the strongest. Yes, we have the whole "are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest". But the point is he is the strongest because he is him. Gojo is very much not the character for this verse. Use William G Maryblood for this instead.

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 2x04, "TB or not TB"

house versus altruism. unclear victor.

we are so in classic house md territory now. this episode is also another installment of the characters, house included, dancing around a vital revelation about his innerworkings that the audience is only privy to. this time, it's house's altruism. it's baked in there, i swear, and reaffirms my blanket belief that he cannot be a doctor that's so undone by failure without caring. again, he's such a failed misanthrope.

lots of me diagnosing house as an undercover good person below...

my leading question for 2x04 is why can't house contend with "good" people? and my answer is that he cannot find meaning in suffering, so he doesn't see bravery, or guilt, or outward altruism as meaningful. to house, these are words, but he's not introspective enough to realize that he's practicing the actions that make up love by saving patients. this says nothing of his interpersonal relationships. that's a different, bigger fish.

i think i've said this before, but if house hated people so much, he would have holed himself up in a research lab. he can't fool me. his belief that we have an "evolutionary imperative" to only care about those closest to our inner circle is completely defeated by his career choice. he simply wouldn't be a doctor if that were true. and when the patient, dr. charles park, a TB expert stationed in africa, asks if house "just has a problem with hope?" that hits the nail on the head. house fears hope because it could lead him, and others, astray; it prompts people to look for pointless meaning in suffering, suffering that a doctor ought to prevent (in his opinion).

of course, this manifests in him chewing out charles and all he stands for. charles campaigns to pharmaceutical companies, begging them to send the drugs to the populations in dire need, and has become a medical celebrity as a result.

when charles does, in fact, get diagnosed with TB, he decides he won't take any treatment to make a point. naturally, house finds this absolutely insane, and decides to make charles' experience with TB as "authentic" as possible - raising the temperature of his room, taking his cellphone and tv, etc. house is daring charles to find meaning in this excessive suffering. he cannot accept that this is an act of self-sacrifice and altruism and wants to reach charles' limit.

but this is where the brilliance of the episode title and premise come into play! both charles and house are practicing altruism here; both versions are flawed. if charles doesn't take the treatment, he dies, house fails, and the cycle that plagues house repeats. if charles does take the treatment, he risks failing the underprivileged TB patients in africa.

but house is still being selfish, especially when he reveals to wilson later that what seriously bothered him off about charles were the "adulations" he received for his work. and when house threatens to expose charles' underlying, non-TB diagnosis after he dies of TB, charles folds. he prioritizes his image over the moral stance he claims he's willing to die for.

both charles and house are very uncompromising people, however, so neither realizes this about themselves or the other person.

the only person who intuitively comes closest to this realization is cameron, who has been honing her ability to see through house. while chase is irritated and vehemently ant-charles' altruism, cameron is clearly drawn to it (but within reason; this is season 2 cameron, after all). they could not have understood the "TB or not TB" of it all without her help, since she understood that, if charles was positive, it would inhibit their diagnostic process. in a way, she represents the grey area between charles and house's altruisms. brilliant of her, as always.

at the base level, however, it's image that gets house down. again, he admits to wilson that it's the attention that charles gets that pisses him off, it's an alarming moment of shortsightedness on house's part, but it's very honest. it's also rich because he's demanding sincerity after saying over and over again that he finds it annoying...and because wilson is the only one to hear it. that's probably why he looks at him Like This:

this is also a nice season 1 throwback to how house used to use wilson as a confession soundboard. i love their vulernability.

in keeping with house's distaste for concerns over image, i think a lot of this episode amounts to more association with house and god. for one thing, house's inability to find meaning in suffering implies that he is a kind god-figure. very NOT catholic, which, the most i watch, the more significant that feels to his relationship with chase. despite the superfluous pain he puts patients through to arrive at their diagnosis, he thinks that to suffer under a mystery diagnosis is cruel. his own diagnosis was a mystery, and it has brought him suffering ever since. this is also why he has a problem with self-sacrificing tendencies. see, it fits!

but there's a brief conversation in the elevator between house and the fellows that takes this a step farther. charles is concerned with the optics/visuals of his work - he has to be, to an extent - which is solely TB (earlier in the episode, house makes a slight at medical specialists). house's work is more all-encompassing, and it's this broad-spectrum outlook that allows the team to discover the microscopic tumor, the not TB lurking under the real TB.

when the fellows resist this diagnosis at first, house asks them: "how do you prove something exists if you can't see it? does god exist? does the wind blow?"

foreman's reply: "we know because the leaves move."

they have been relying on the optics/visuals/image of this case that it's impeded their ability to find the root cause. daringly, it seems like 2x04 is somewhat discrediting what charles does. in this association, house works invisibly; in this ongoing characterization of house as god that takes us all the way to the series finale, house is god and wields god's invisible hand. they remove the "invisible" tumor.

if you wanna get really into the house-as-god weeds (my favorite weeds), the fact that chase is the one to remove the tumor, with his religious history and habit of "kissing house's ass," feels very significant. there's something worship-esque about his specialty, being the most hands-on and Doing The Work whereas house avoids directly interfacing with patients at all costs.

so, when we see charles receive the adoration of all the camera flashes, and house observing from above, we can extrapolate that charles' insistence on image (however necessary to his altruism), is textually lesser than house's. god works invisibly.

my last point is about how house then undercuts his own anti-image manifesto by being at least a little jealous of charles and by insisting on image's impact in the world. he tells cameron, through some clinic patient shenanigans, that "we are who people think we are." he demonstrates that he gets special, sympathetic treatment because of his disability by stepping on a stranger's toe with his cane (i won't get into who that stranger was lol this post is too long).

this is, of course, superficially true, that our assumptions, stereotypes, and image-obsessed minds create narratives about people (except they don't often end in sympathy, unfortunately). but this is another example of how black and white house is - when people get to know you, after you let them get to know you, then that image becomes full and true.

house almost never does this. i can't remember exactly when (though i think it's in season 2), but wilson makes the damning and hurtful accusation that house hides behind his disability and chronic pain to avoid any truth and sincerity. harsh as this might be, it's not untrue. house's defenses are so tall and unyielding that he can't see an alternative, however.

this one went a bit off the rails!! there's even more to say, i'm sure, but more than anything this episode really reminded me of why i came to love this show so much. it's so layered and full of it's titular character in the best way possible. i love shoving the fact that house does have a capacity for love right back in his obstinate face.

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Spring 1916

~an excerpt from Elsie Sewell's private diary~

Spring has arrived! The calendar has been saying it had been here for weeks, but today it really and truly made its presence known. The east field is awash with flowers and I simply had to stop and pick a bouquet, they had the sweetest scent and the most delicate yellow petals. Mamma was rather irritated that it made me a bit late coming home, but I can't very much see why. I was back with plenty of time to prepare supper (she had an Aide Society meeting) and the house smelled ever so sweet as I did. No one complained about my victual offerings either.

I am quite pleased to be done with the schoolhouse; sums and grammar were always ever so boring and pointless. It is ever so much better to spend the day with work that actually has to be done, rather than made up to torture us. I enjoy most housework, cooking and sewing in particular, but laundry... There's something about that specific task I have not yet resigned myself too.

I think we all have that particular chore that we dislike more than the others, though none of the adults will admit so to my face. Laundry is a necessary evil though, or we should all go around naked, as Adam and Eve did in the garden of Eden, and the climate her could never allow such an indulgence, so laundry we must do. 

It does feel good to be helping around the house more and take some of the burden off Mamma; I can't imagine how she did all this work on her own for years, it's quite a lot between the two of us. Despite my continued propensity to "dawdle" as Mamma puts it, she still sends me on all the errands, I think she likes having the house to herself just as much I like the walk into town. Sometimes Lydia accompanies me if her mother also needs something fetched.

The general store is the best store in town, it's filled floor to ceiling with everything you could ever need. Dottie's always mighty pleased to see us and if she's busy Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield are always so sweet to me. Sometimes Mr. Greenfield slips me penny candy in with my orders with a little wink.

Dottie, Lydia and I don't see each other as much as when we were in school, but now that we're older when we're finished with chores and housework we have so much more freedom to go on walks or sit down by the inlet. The sun hits the old dock down there in the afternoon and it's so pleasant, especially if there's a breeze coming off the water.

We chat about anything and everything; Dottie always has all the news of the town since she talks to just about everyone at the general store. Mamma says it's wrong to gossip, but she always says that after I've given her all the news. Lydia is such a hoot, she has the strongest opinions on everything and everyone. Just the other day she was informing (lecturing one might say) us on the proper etiquette for accepting a proposal; according to Mrs. Parr proper young ladies should never accept their first proposal, they must refuse and wait for the man to ask again, that's how she'll know he's serious and will make a good husband. Apparently she turned Mr. Parr down thrice. Dottie and I both thought that was completely silly. Mamma said yes to her first proposal and she seems quite content with her lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

[ambyandony]

Giorno Giovanna - Monster AU Profile

(hopefully screen-reader-friendly edition with detailed image descriptions)

Giorno Giovanna, part vampire, part... human..? and part... something else.

guest appearance from limbo because she's the only lycanthrope who was applicable to use

Preface about species type:

In the Monster AU, 'standard' vampires are a little more like traditional European folklore / pop-culture vampires. While some JoJo vampire rules still apply, so do many traditional vampire rules. Being only part-vampire also changes the rules somewhat. Usually to his benefit, making his vampirism-related weaknesses less potent against him. And there’s something else about him… he doesn’t seem to be a full 50% vampire and 50%…human.

His other behaviours seem consistent with a somewhat rare, rather misrepresented species… The Gentry.

Details related to Part-Vampirism:

Sunlight will not burn Giorno. It may slightly irritate his skin and eyes and will diminish a majority of his vampiric abilities when he is directly in it for too long, but it will not burn him.

He has little to no reaction to garlic. He’s just not that into it. This isn’t to say garlic necessarily has 0 effect on vampires (it’s mostly just an extreme irritant and deterrent, really), but it’s only about half as effective on him, and he’s lived in Italy since age four so he’s built up a tolerance.

Heightened sense of perception, especially in the presence of blood. In the presence of fresh blood, he becomes hyperaware.

Craves blood but probably can survive just fine without consuming it (he just won’t).

Automatic boost to charisma. Everybody agrees vampirism does this

Excellent regeneration ability. Stop cutting off your arms.

Has to stop to count spilt rice.

Can be around and make some contact with holy objects, but prolonged contact with them will cause him harm. He can be inside a church, but he tends to be inflicted with great discomfort or sometimes pain simply from stepping inside one.

Can be seen in mirrors! But only in some mirrors so he has to be careful. If it’s silver-backed, he can’t be seen. Silver-backed mirrors are less common nowadays (and by nowadays I mean also in 2001) but they’re still around so he has to be careful about mirrors in public places lest he out himself as a vampire.

Often has to be invited into a house. Or… perhaps just prefers to be?

Popular to contrary belief, he does have blood. His own blood usually doesn’t make him hyperaware though, as drinking his own blood would be completely pointless.

Details related to Faehood:

Seems very intent on people giving him their Names…

Occasionally steals your gender

Takes promises very seriously… and never breaks one. If he appears to do so, that’s on you. That’s something you did. You know who you are.

Sometimes looks a little… different. In a way you can’t quite place…

Seems to have an iron allergy. Which may be part of the reason he doesn’t presently drink blood despite his craving for it.

Details about Giorno:

Smug, pretentious, and a little bitch.

Snakey with wording and finds amusement when others are loose with theirs.

Is generally just proudly unfazed in most situations. He knows he’s powerful and thinks he’s invincible, in a perhaps rather childlike way.

Acts ominous, vague and mysterious but do keep in mind he is a 15 year old and a idiot

Very interested in Fugo because of the sheer audacity.

( sort of like "I like this one!"/"I would love to study you.")

When Giorno first met Fugo he was like “May I have your name? :)” and Fugo was like “no you cant have my fucking name you fucking dipshit” and Giorno was so taken aback by the sheer audacity that he just didn’t do anything about it and got attached to him

* and post part he keeps pestering Fugo like “can I have it now” “can I have your name now”

He likes messing with people. Especially Mista because he knows he can get away with it.

Doesn’t need blood but refuses to go without consuming (or complaining about not getting to) because he’s a little bitch.

Can theoretically fuck up technology by his mere presence if he’s not careful enough.

Holds people to their promises, even if they didn’t know they made one.

Good at charming people. Good at tricking people. Likes doing both.

shut up shut up shut up please shut the fuck up

Overdramatic and makes it everyone else’s problem. Occasionally sparkles, not because he’s a vampire, but because he’s a silly dramatic loser. Shimmers in the moonlight but it’s not clear if that’s possibly involuntary.

gender

[wobster109]

Dr. Ratio and Aventurine would have ✨sparkling✨ chemistry

First things first: are they in love? As of Penacony 2.0, no.

(But the potential is there.)

To begin with, what sort of person is our esteemed doctor? Lots of people online say that he'd be angry with someone like March, but in my opinion I can't see it being true. She's no genius, and he probably finds it tiresome to try to teach someone who's just not getting it. But that's an impersonal sort of irritation. She wasn't born a genius, and he wouldn't do something so pointless as to begrudge someone their birth. He wouldn't dislike her for who she is or what she stands for.

I believe that he reserves his scorn for geniuses who fritter away their genius. People like Ruan Mei who have the intellect, and spend it creating cat cakes and Scaracabaz while caring about no one. To some degree, Herta and her Simulated Universe too, researching the Aeons while showing complete disinterest in the humans aboard her space station.

Look at his own research: solving a planet's energy crisis! Curing a previously incurable illness! Teaching! It's all very noblesse oblige of him: a life of service, despite his insufferable attitude.

Aventurine is clearly brilliant, what with having won a gamble against Fate. One does not simply get lucky against Fate—you must engineer your hand to outwit Fate itself. (Those of us who play Genshin—we saw how hard Focalors had to work for it!) Knowing who he is, who he was, where he's come from, and what he's made himself into, Ratio understands that nothing Aventurine does is ever frivolous. It's all deadly serious, and deadly. The foundation for respect is there.

But at the same time, all that gambling and social schmoozing? The risk, reward, and hanging by a thread? It probably baffles our blunt, direct Dr. Ratio. It's completely foreign to him, a way of thinking that he'd never choose and cannot fathom. I imagine they'd be at odds with each other.

So, you've got begrudging respect and a hint of fascination.

All it takes is one breathless, death-defying adventure together to make it kindle.

The more tenuous direction is the other way around: would Aventurine even take notice of Dr. Ratio? Sure, the man's beautiful as a statue with an intellect to match, but Aventurine's surrounded by powerful IPC officials. Probably a bunch of brilliant minds too. Aventurine's a man of many so-called "frrriends" and no friends—perhaps, to him, Ratio is just another useful, but ultimately disposable, tool.

Or perhaps not. There are a few traits that might endear our Doctor to a world-weary gambler.

Sincerity - Ratio is blunt, direct, and cannot be bribed. What he says is what you get. Might be a nice change of pace for Aventurine, who's more used to the kind of conversations he has with Himiko, where they dance around each other and their meanings are implied.

Stability - Aventurine's had to fight for everything he has, including his life. What if he's offered a place to stay (he's already crashing in Ratio's hotel room after giving his own to Trailblazer), or perhaps whatever price of his freedom paid. Perhaps simply the promise of a dependable ally. Would he turn into a puppy, roll over and offer up his loyalty?

Noblesse Oblige - This is a bit of a stretch, but the IPC doesn't really take on projects for the sake of doing good. Ratio's entire modus operandi seems to be for the betterment of all peoples. It's as foreign to Aventurine as social schmoozing is for Ratio. Perhaps Aventurine finds it fascinating, interesting, or even a bit noble.

This is all speculation, but. . . part of me believes that HSR wouldn't make them roommates of happenstance for nothing.

In closing, I leave you with this bizarre consumable—what could it mean? Only time will tell.

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞 (4)

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

She could describe the situation in which she found herself at the moment in several words.

Disastrous.

Humiliating.

Awful

Tragic.

They were only a small percentage of the amount of words Lucy could use to describe the current situation.

Lucy was the last to be summoned into the headmaster's room, ahead of Aemond and Hugh, who were not particularly enthusiastic about their punishments. The secretary had looked at her critically through her glasses, as if she had been to blame for the fight. Okay, part of it was, but Aemond was an asshole, and Hugh had named himself her personal savior. Even though Lucy appreciated his dedication, she didn't need a savior.

Lord Corlys, as the students secretly called him, looked out of the window and looked at her earnestly as she stepped through the door. He pointed to the chair in front of his table and Lucy sat down obediently. He did the same and examined her for a moment.

"What happened last night-"

"It's unforgivable, disgusting, and I understand that I have to leave this school. I've already packed my things," Lucy interrupted him and tried to put on a serious face, but the anticipation grew in her. Wherever she landed after her mother cut her out of her will, it would be better anywhere than near Aemond Targaryen and his uncontrollable lust for murder.

The guy should definitely go to therapy.

Lord Corlys, or Grandpa as she would call him, were the situation not so serious, she looked surprised.

"Leaving school?" He asked, irritated, and Lucy nodded. "That would be the most appropriate punishment, wouldn't it?"

Corlys raised his eyebrow and leaned back into his chair.

"Lucy, Aemond told me you had nothing to do with the fight and were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's no reason to expel you from school."

Lucy's mouth shook and her smile faded.

Lucy would kill Aemond.

Definitely this time.

She wouldn't even think of a plan.

She'd just put her hands around his fake, dirty neck.

She knew what he was up to, she wasn't stupid, wanted to hold her here, torture her and torture her forever.

Lucy forced herself to smile, but she felt the corner of her mouth twitch more and more the longer she tried to maintain the spectacle.

"oh, I'm really grateful that Aemond is trying to help me, but I think you should stand by your actions and face the consequences."

"Hugh said the same thing."

Oh, how nice. They wanted to share a grave.

She was about to reply, tell her grandfather of her great guilt, but at that very moment her completely confused brother seemed to have the witty plan to barge in on a conversation he had no business in.

"Grandfather," he began, inappropriately. "Lucy had nothing to do with the fight."

What the fuck….

Lucy opened her eyes, a miserable attempt to silence her brother.

Why was he here?

Wasn't there any security?

"My sister, your granddaughter, by the way, is often off track."

Okay, the grave got bigger and bigger.

Jacaerys threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. The last time she had been so close to his brother was when they were almost in a fight, when Jacaerys kept coming into their rooms, exemplary as any brother did to annoy her, only to leave her door open.

She hoped he'd never come so close to her again.

"Mum thought about sending her to Pentos," Jacaerys confessed, raising his hand next to his face so that he blocked Lucy's view of his mouth, which was completely pointless and idiotic, for Lucy could hear him clearly and clearly. "You know, because she isn’t okay…there," he snapped his tongue twice as he drew his finger in circles next to his temple. Lucy looked at him indignantly.

Did he just present her as mentally confused?

"In the Middle Ages, madmen were not allowed to be executed."

But he was the one who was crazy.

Corlys looked at Jacaerys like it was the biggest bullshit he'd ever heard, and Lucy didn't resent him. It was hardly to be surpassed in stupidity.

"Jacaerys, I find it admirable how you stand up for your sister, and although I don't think she's crazy or we're in the Middle Ages, I have no intention of punishing your sister."

Jacaerys looked at him in surprise.

"No?"He said of himself in amazement and looked at Lucy, radiant with joy at his success.

"That's wonderful news," he shouted, opening his arms wide and Lucy wondered if he really expected her to hug him. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms in front of her chest. Jacaerys seemed to notice his mistake, quickly withdrew his arms and cleared himself briefly.

"Well, then, maybe I should go again," Jacaerys suggested, and Corlys nodded with a smile.

"You should."

Jacaerys raised her hand apologetically and winked at her.

Lucy wondered if, in honor of the day, she should also pull his eye out, as a kind of peace offer to Aemond, so that he would finally leave her alone.

When Jacaerys left the room, Corlys saw Lucy again.

"That was a very... interesting performance."

"Yes, he loves to be dramatic."

"I can't imagine," Corlys replied, but she heard the irony in his voice and grinned briefly.

"The reason I let you come here is more serious. I wanted to know if what Mr. Hammer told me was true."

Lucy pulled her eyebrows together.

"What did he say?"

"Is it true that Aemond is harassing you?"

Suddenly, a thousand thoughts came crashing down on Lucy. It would probably have been the easiest thing to just say yes, to confirm what was true anyway. So she might get rid of her problems sooner than she expected. All she had to do was say Aemond was harassing her and she was sure her grandfather would take care of it right away. And if he didn't, her grandmother Rhaenys. But something in her refused. It was foolish not to accept help when it was offered to her, but no matter how much she forced herself to tell Lord Corly everything, to confirm to him that Aemond was tormenting her, not a word came from her lips.

Instead, she said:

"Hugh must have misunderstood. Aemond and I have always been annoyed since we were kids, but it's not of a malicious nature."

She forced herself to smile and felt her heart beat faster as Corlys looked at her, making it clear he didn't believe a word she said.

But he just nodded and intertwined his fingers.

"Thank you, Lucy. You can go, that's all."

Lucy had not expected him to let her go so quickly, but apparently he had no further need to question her. She nodded, thanked her and left the room with a gloomy feeling.

She knew it was a mistake not to tell her grandfather the truth, but what had happened had happened. She had to live with her decision.

When Lucy ran back to her room, she didn't let go of the bad feeling of having made a mistake. She would now be completely on her own. Of course, she could go back and confess to Corlys that she lied out of fear, but she didn't. Besides, it would be pathetic. She'd live with her decision. Maybe Aemond didn't need to torment her either.

Lucy was about to walk up the stairs to hers and Rhaena and Baela's room when she suddenly heard a soft cry and inappropriate giggling. Both feelings were in complete contrast and Lucy had the feeling that something was wrong. She turned around and walked a few steps further, where she suspected the origin of the noise.

"Pssst, be quiet, or someone else will hear us," she heard a female voice giggling and other voices agreed.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" She knew that voice from somewhere.

"She is Aegon's and Aemond's sister."

"Aegon doesn't like her and Aemond would believe me more than her."

Lucy went around the corner. A spectacle was presented before her, which she had already expected by the last words. On the floor sat a crying and frightened Helaena, who tried to catch the beetles that had crawled out of the overturned cage.

Above her stood Alys Rivers, looking down on her, laughing at the pathetic attempt.

Lucy felt anger coming in.

"It's by just beetles, Helaena," she mocked and stepped forward. "They're just petty little creatures, worthless." Then she stepped on a beetle and Helaena snapped. She tried to push Alys down from it, but Alys turned her foot from left to right to push the beetle even more flat.

"By the gods, she's so strange," one of the girls said disparagingly, laughing as Helaena cried even more when Alys presented her with the trampled beetle. She seemed completely disturbed and trembled all over her body. Helaena was one of the nicest people on the planet and Alys showed her true face at that moment. Not that Lucy expected anything different from her.

"Maybe we should tread the others as a precaution," Alys suggested laughing, and Lucy knew it was time to step in.

"Or we'll step on you for a change," Lucy said, standing in front of Helaena.

"What are you thinking, you stupid cunt?"

Normally, her vocabulary wasn't so obscene, but she adapted to the person in front of her.

Alys looked at her disgusted before she regained control of her face.

"You," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"The question is what are you doing here," Lucy replied, stretching her chin forward. She folded her arms in front of her chest.

"I own this school, darling," Alys sighed and came closer. "You'd think Aemond already showed you your place, but it seems like I'm not the stupid cunt."

"Aemond always has an eye on goal, always on goal," Helaena whispered behind them, and Lucy looked confused at her aunt. What was she talking about?

"Shut up, Helaena," Alys barked and Lucy looked at her angrily.

"Don't talk to her like that!"

"I'll talk to her any way I want, girl." Alys was now close in front of her. She was slightly taller than Lucy, which gave her a small advantage in her power struggle.

"Does Aemond know how you treat his sister?"

Alys snorted.

She'd like to slap the arrogance out of her face.

"Aemond doesn't care. I mean more to him than the little misery on the ground."

"Mom says you can't lie," Helaena hissed behind her and Alys angrily opened her eyes.

"I told you to shut up or I'll-!"She groaned and stepped aside to approach Helaena, but before she got even a step too close, Lucy grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, and took a spoon from an abandoned yogurt mug off the table.

Alys looked at her disgusted as she held the spoon in her face threateningly.

"Come too close to her again, threaten or insult her, and I'll give you a nice partner look with your beloved Aemond," Lucy hissed, pointing the spoon at Aly's eye.

The girl looked at her anxiously and panicked.

"You're crazy," she breathed and Lucy smiled.

"Of course, or have you ever heard of a niece who cut out her uncle's eye because she was bored?"

Of course, she didn't cut out his eye because she was bored, but Alys didn't need to know. The worse the rumors, the more afraid she was of her. And it seemed to work. Alys began to tremble.

"You'll never bother Helaena again, you understand?"

Alys didn't need a second to nod. She nodded several times and the moment Lucy let go of her, she jumped towards her friends, who hurriedly threw themselves in front of her. Ironically, they now symbolized strength, yet none of their friends had taken a step forward to help her.

"You'll regret this," Alys hissed and ran out of the room. Her friends looked at Lucy warning, but none said anything. Then they chased after Alys.

Lucy snorted sneezing. It was the same thing over and over again. These girls felt strong only in one group, but each one of them was miserable and more fearful than any beetle they had crushed under the sole of their feet.

She looked to her aunt, who was always looking at her dead bugs crying.

Helaena seemed to be completely somewhere else and Lucy approached her cautiously so as not to frighten her. She bent down slightly and tried to touch her aunt on the shoulder, but Helaena frightened the movement and gave a loud scream. She pressed her hands against her ears and shook her head.

"No more, stop, no more," she repeated over and over, and a wave of pain and pity ran through Lucy when she saw her aunt like that. Nobody deserved that.

"What did you do?"

She felt her being pushed aside, and before she could react, she hit the ground and a dull pain went through her wrist. Lucy squeezed her eyes before she saw Aemond leaning over to Helaena and trying to calm his distracted sister. Helaena seemed to calm his presence and she sat down in his arms, pressing her little body against her little brother, who protected her.

For a moment, Lucy felt a feeling of jealousy build up inside her.

Then Aemond's gaze turned to her and the hatred in his remaining eye, chased goosebumps over her body, and for the first time in her life, she believed Aemond was really capable of killing her.

Helaena cried in his arms, Aemond pressed her closer.

"If you get too close to her again, you'll wish you were never born, bastard. I'll make your life a living hell."

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @launotfound @ladylyanna91 @queenofthekeep @nina2697

[js-a-writer]

First of all how is ur day/ night going, hope it's going well if not I hope it gets better. But I was wondering if u could make like an angst or fluff or both story for Jimmy Palmer of NCIS based off of "Darling...you can't just say things like that." Or "Come on, you know you can't hide forever." Where the reader may be having a rough time or maybe there is a lot of teasing going on? With the second one it can be a little flirty just nothing like too much if u can. Of course u don't have to do this request but if u do take as much time as you need and remember to drink lots of fluid and eat food and prioritize more important things in life and get to this whenever have a lovely day/night!

So I did see your requests, but I came up with another idea for one of the prompts and did that instead. I'll do your requests exactly how you wanted them, but I just had to get this out first. I actually had a plan figured out for yours, but my brain did not follow that. Again sorry, I will still make your other request(s) if you want. Just message me privately!

Summary: You and Jimmy get into a petty argument and end up healing it in the cutest, most romantic way possible.

Warnings: Angst (to fluff)

Petty Arguments

You and Jimmy had been working very hard on this case spending endless days, working long hours to find out what had happened to this poor Naval Officer.

You both had been so stressed out, with him spending forever in Autopsy with Ducky's long and pointless stories, and you with piles of research and investigation runs, along with the constant nagging from Tony for the both of you.

You had started to become easily irritable with the lack of sleep; every little thing seemed to set you off. You and Jimmy had walked into your small apartment with dark circles under your eyes, shoulders slumped, kicking off your shoes before collapsing on the couch.

Jimmy was heading to the kitchen, putting the keys on the counter and searching the cabinets for something to eat for dinner. "Don't bother. You won't find anything. I'll just order something." you triedly stated, rubbing at your eyes. "But we haven't had a decent, home-cooked meal together in what feels like forever." Jimmy says coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"Jimmy, I'm tired. Let's just order something and head to bed, yeah?" Jimmy sighs. He hasn't spent quality time with you in weeks it feels like. "I just wanted to spend time with you." Jimmy muttered under his breath. "Look, I'm sorry that we haven't had much quality time together later, but this case is different. It requires long hours and lots of focus. I'm exhausted and just want to eat and go. To. Sleep." you said harshly.

You were growing increasingly frustrated and Jimmy could tell. You continue to order somethig knowing he was done with the argument. "I ordered a pizza. It should be here in about 30 minutes." you say walking off. He sighs again.

"Whatever Jimmy, I'm done with this. Eat, don't eat. I. Don't. Care!" you say storming into the bedroom. You decide to take a bath, to try and relax yourself. Turning on the water, you began to strip, until you were completely naked, stepping into the tub.

Jimmy started to overthink (as he usually did) and he went to the bedroom to look for you, but you weren't there. He started panicking, thinking you had left but when he heard a soft spalsh come from the bathroom he knew you were in there. He stepped in an saw you in the tub relaxing with your eyes shut. A book was on the table next to you, as were a few candles and your phone.

You had your head leaned back, your hair thrown up in a loose bun, some of your curls/fly aways falling out of it, onto your beautiful face. Jimmy couldn't help but to admire you as he took a few steps closer to take your hand in his. You opened your eyes to see him sitting next to the tub, his head resting on the rim, with his hand in yours.

"Hi," he quietly says, testing the waters before actually talking to you about what had happened. "Hi." you say in a whisper, fearing your voice would betray you if you spoke any louder. Jimmy was about to say something when he saw your slightly bloodshot eyes looking into is, and the candles illuminating the tear stains on our cheeks.

"Oh, my darling, have you been crying?" he said tears forming in his own eyes at the thought of you crying because of some stupid, pointless agrument between the two of you. You looked down and he lifted your chin for you to look at him again. "Did you not think I would notice?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"I thought I could hide in here and you wouldn't notice." you say tears forming in your shiny, glittering eyes, again. "Come on, you know you can't hide forver." he says half serious. "I know, I'm so sorry. I've just been so stressed with work, and I know you have too! I've just been so frustraed and took it out on you, I'm so sorry, Baby." you confessed, tears spilling out of your eyes.

Jimmy got up from the floor and you feared he was leaving you. But instead he started to strip, gesturing for you to move up so he could slide in behind you. When the two of you got comfortable, you resting your back against his chest, and him leaning back on the tub, with you in his arms.

He kisses your head in reassurance, "Baby, you don't have to appologise. I know you've been stressed, and I know you've been trying so hard and putting your all into this case." "But that's no excuse, you've been working just as hard as I have down in Autopsy with Ducky. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you, and for that I am truly sorry."

"Appology accepted!" he smiles as he pulls you impossibly closer and squeezing you in a tight bear hug. "I love you, Darling," "I love you more!" "Not possible my love." you blushed at the nickname. "Fine, you win! But just this once." you exclaim, making watching motions with your poiinter and middle fingers. You both giggled and spent the rest of your night just like that; cuddled up together giggling and holding eachother close.

@kxge0

[fallenwhumpee]

Empty

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Permanent injury, character death, sabotage, blood, injection, medical settings(?)

They wished that someone had prevented them from taking this mission. They wished that someone had called out how much time was to pass before even they opened their eyes. They wished that someone had cared about them enough to tell that a thousand year they were going to spend in space was a huge loss to them and their loved ones. But all of their friend has been out in space, and they had nothing left to tie them to the earth since their admiration for nature wasn't enough.

Space, unlike nature, felt empty. Despite the crew of a thousand and ten times of it as passengers, the emptiness led to a bone deep ache they couldn't name. The emptiness was comforting in a sense, with the absence of responsibilities and worries, but it was also letting the thoughts they desperately tried to bury to creep up.

Captain sighed as they realised that they were brooding yet again. This was the fifth time this month. Or the week. Their awareness of time was not very trustable.

[A familiar, comforting smile appeared on the hologram. There's a moment of silence as the person struggles to find the right words.

You've always been too gloomy, cap. Sometimes, I couldn't believe how you motivated us but failed to see something to motivate yourself. But getting the rank, I began to understand. It was never about motivation. Now I know why you sacrificed your nights and chances of raise for us. Now I understand. And I understand how... lonely this is, how lonely to stare at the deck and know all those lives look up to a word between your two lips.

The smile turns bitter.]

A cough began to bubble up in their throat again. They eyed the crew, who were doing the routine checkup before the breakfast. They couldn't just cough here, knowing that it would draw attention. They stood slowly, ignoring the stiffness, and relieved the crew from the final tasks. First Officer glared at them, probably thinking that they were being too soft.

Captain ignored the look. They just needed to be alone, and they didn't think they could make it to their room at that moment. Also, they could complete the checkup themselves, so it was pointless to keep the crew around.

The crew emptied the deck slowly, their chatter growing more faint as Captain is left alone.

[And I truly don't know how you survived without going mad. I will go mad if I go through this without talking to someone. I'm glad you offered me to call when I need... though I was surprised to hear you took another mission.

The figure chuckled, breathing in. The camera angle shifted, and revealed a drained face, smiling with a hint of sadness.

Captain coughed harshly, blood spluttering to their black uniform. When the chest pain faded, they were only glad that this wasn't the ceremonial one— the plain white one that they were supposed to wear at the landing day. They wheezed a few times as they struggled to catch their breath, leaning to the helm to keep themselves stable. They could feel their body breaking down day by day, their facade beginning to crack.

I was expecting you to retire, you know. Find a beach planet and take a vacation. If that was the situation, then you could answer me before it's too late, but perhaps it's for the best. Now, it'll take some time for you to get these messages, but knowing you'll see those is somehow soothing. Anyway, skipping my usual blabber, I...

The figure shifted uneasily, preparing themselves about what they were going to say.

I woke up before the time. It's only one week, but knowing the high tech stuff we work with, it's truly concerning...]

"When's the medicine?" They asked the computer. They cleared their voice and asked again when it didn't answer. "When is the next dose?"

"It is recommended..."

"It is recommended for a medical personnel to oversee the procedure, I know." They cut in with the irritation of hearing the same sentence for the tenth time today. "But I ordered you to shut up about it and just answer the questions."

If it was a crew member, they wouldn't use that tone unless it was a life and death situation. But with a very irritating computer, they didnt know how to restrain it.

"Your next dose of medicine is in two hours." The computer talked in its annoyingly flat tone. "The medicine can be taken in cafeteria."

"No." Captain almost snarled. They ignored this was basically arguing with a bunch of wires. "In the medbay reserved for the command crew."

"Your preference is noted."

Captain sighed. The computer was noting this every day, yet forgetting. They had tried to fix it multiple times, but because of an unknown software in the ship, some minor things like that was getting deleted from the ship's memory. They hoped no one else noticed it, at least until Captain found a way to crack the software. The technicians could look at it after that.

A sudden wave of dizziness caused them to slip. They gripped the console not to fall with a sudden panic, a whimper escaping as their chest ached with the strain. They held their hand to their nose, expecting it to begin bleeding soon. This was becoming more and more frequent ever since...

[I didn't realise it at first, but after two days, I noticed that I got tired easily. And not only me. Everyone was tiring out easily. So, I ordered a full checkup on my crew—

The figure chuckled weairly.

Don't scold me so soon, I got myself too, but I followed your footsteps and had to be dragged first... anyway, we are all damaged. The cryopods were sabotaged and... and...

Slowly, tears begun to fall from the figure's eyes. They sobbed a few times to get themselves together, but their voice was thick with emotion.

This damage is irreversible. It seems like I had the worst blow... I... I'm dying. The ship is also falling apart and I don't know if we can make it... ]

They slowly lowered themselves, breathing heavily to build their composure back. Their knees felt weak as the last medicine began to wear off. But they knew their crew expected to see them in the cafeteria. There weren't many people to cover their absence. Only fifteen of their crew was awake since they had to keep an eye on everyone.

Slowly but carefully, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They coughed again and commanded the computer to run a final checkup as they manually checked some of the instruments. They were glad that they had swallowed most of the information to run a ship alone in theory. It would be impossible to run a vast ship like that all by themselves, but with the information they had, they could at least give people some break or see their own needs.

Making sure that everything was in place and then checking after the computer, they forced themselves to walk to the cafeteria. It was a gruelling walk with their every muscle rebelling against themselves, but they kept their usual stoic look until they sat down with their tray. Unsurprisingly, their second in command slid their tray and sat right in front of them.

"You're distant."

[I'm growing distant, with the neverending suspicion of my own crew, with the neverending paranoia of alarms wailing...

The figure wiped their tears.

Sorry. I didn't intend my... farewell message to turn to a breakdown. But... someone is doing those and I can't find it. We all pay the price. And I'm coming to the only place, you, for the advice but...]

Captain ignored. It had been only a month awake. They couldn't ve held responsible for acting like this, after considering.

"Were your former crew's lying, or you just got old and grumpier with time?"

Captain didn't have the energy to deal with First Officer's suspicions. They bit from their meal slowly, not having much appetite. "Perhaps the news exaggerated, and my former crew decided not to mention that I'm not a morning person."

"There's no morning in space," First Officer chuckled.

"And there's no coffee in this ship too. Stop circling around what you want to say. I'm sure my former helmsman said that if I hadn't been so straightforward, I'd be in the command centre, not stuck in a long-distance spaceship," Captain returned.

There had been many interviews about them, and it was strange to think that many of those could be considered antiques. The people, their former crews, were either dead - a thousand year was too long even with the increased average lifespan - or in other ships, sleeping under freezing temperatures just like Captain was until a month ago. They briefly wondered if pulling away from them was the right choice, but after what they lived through... Captain didn't have the heart to make their workplace their family again. It was better to put some distance between, at least after making sure everyone was going to be fine.

Captain's attention snapped back when First Officer finally built up the courage to talk. "You're hiding something, and I don't like it."

"And what's it, since you are so perceiving?"

First Officer frowned. "You wouldn't be hiding if I knew."

"Maybe," Captain swallowed their last bite, realising that they rushed their meal to get out of this place, "there's nothing to hide, and you are just reading too much into people's behaviour."

"You are lying."

"I am not obligated to earn your—"

A sharp, stab like pain (they had been stabbed before, but this actually felt worse) cut their sentence. They coughed, covering their mouth with a tissue. They could feel it get wet and a faint smell of blood irritated their nose, so they didn't let go of the tissue. They wrinkled it into their palm after making sure there's no blood present on their face.

First Officer's expression softened. "Are you okay?"

Captain considered the change of tune for a moment. Perhaps First Officer was just searching their mouth. Coughing a few more times, they cleared their voice, purging their voice of emotions.

"Went down to the wrong way."

First Officer looked unconvinced for a moment, but Captain wasn't going to deal with it. "Well, if you are so curious about everything, you can go and check everyone's schedules and report back to me for any inconvenience you find," they said with a playful tone, standing up. Their vision blurred for a moment, but they managed not to falter.

[But perhaps advice is not the best course of action. I need you to be okay. I need you to be safe from this conspiracy.]

With quick steps, they made their way to the living quarters. Their chest was squeezing, their head beginning to throb again. Eating too fast was catching up. They doubled over after making the turn, their knees wobbling. They leaned to the wall for a moment, closing their eyes. They didn't let the dread come and dictate them again. They were going to be alright, they murmured to themselves.

They dragged their feet to the second medbay of the ship, which was not used due to numbered awake medics. "Open the cot." They gasped as they fell to the floor, the hiss of the cot coming from close. They whimpered on the cold floor, their vision darkening for a moment.

[I...I feel my end is near, my dear friend. I will call you that, after a long time under you, as your loyal first officer. My end is near, and I... I have no worries left behind other than you. Someone wants this interstellar route to fail. I'm afraid you're one of the next targets. I don't want your end to be like mine...]

"I'm afraid," Captain murmured themselves as they slowly rose to their knees, breathing heavily, "we are destined to live the same thing regardless of distance and time."

There was no room for pride as they crawled to the cot, the glass hatch closing over them.

[Scanning...]

Captain tried to calm their breaths, laying flat relieving some dizziness. They tried not to think much. They tried not to think at all. The hum of the medical equipment echoed through the small room. They clenched their jaw, fingers gripping the edge of the cot. It was a desperaye attempt to anchor themselves as the machine got louder, revealing what they already knew too well.

Captain's gaze fixated on the sterile ceiling, the rhythmic whirr of the machinery getting into their nerves.

The cold, clinical announcement pulled Captain back to the present. The holographic display flickered to life, revealing a detailed map of internal damage, highlighted in stark red. But it didn't need to be, as another coughing fit took over and Captain failed to cover their mouth, the glass painting with red almost in an instant.

[Internal damage detected. There are no available treatments, but medicine could be administered to relieve symptoms. For further instructions, please consult the medical personnel.]

"Just give the medicine." Captain gasped. A needle tied to a canal came out from the cot, piercing their skin and bumping a clear liquid into them. The pain dulled instantly, Captain growing limp. They swore, groaning as they opened the cot.

Captain took a deep breath, determined to regain composure. They wiped away the remaining traces of blood on their lips with the back of their hand, their gaze fixed on the holographic display showing the internal damage. The sterile hum of the medbay equipment seemed to echo the silence of their situation.

"Captain, the report is—" First Officer's mouth dropped open at Captain's dishevelled look. Their expression was horrified. And the swearing they used was the only word they could express the situation.

After a moment, Captain straightened up, shoulders squared, and a mask of authority settled on their face. It was a practiced facade, a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to consume them. They stood shakily, getting out of the medbay with faltering space. When they opened the door of their own room, a voice behind them called.

[galaxythreads]

I do feel very irritated with the ending of season 2 to be honest. like understand, just because it wasn't bad doesn't mean it's my beloved. I liked a lot of it, but there are parts that just rubbed me the wrong way, like:

Feeling the "Where is John Watson in Sherlock's Mind Palace thing". Where it's like, why didn't Loki talk to Thor, or Frigga, or anyone about the timeline problem?

Loki being alone on a throne, sitting there forever, a - completely stops MCU the Kang saga unless someone shoves him off the throne, and b - is one of the most depressing endings I have seen in a marvel project to date. Loki is terrified of being alone and now he is. permanently. forever. He doesn't get to live out a life on the timeline, he has to sit there, and listen to his friends move on and live their lives and then die. Like to me this feels like Loki being tied up by the snake and then left with a pool of acid to drip on his face forever. Like it's more of a punishment. Yes, I understand that narratively it had to end this way but I'm still :(

Loki's shoes. I can't. I know it's minor but WHY IS HE WEARING SLIPPERS?

No one making any effort to find him or go sit at the end of time with him. No one cares??

Ravonna just randomly dying at the end by what I presume is Aloith. Okay. Thanks for giving us a conclusive end to her story! :)

We do not know what Sylvie's nexus event is and now we never will

We spent so much time worldbuilding the TVA and then it's pointless. We don't know if they consented to being agents, we don't know how their minds were mass wiped, we don't know what's up with the pie. Why do they have an entire room of pie? That's so weird. The pie clearly meant SOMETHING

So many people in the TVA died for nothing. Brad's team is dead and it didn't DO anything.

I STILL FEEL CONFUSED ABOUT WHY THEY WERE TRYING TO SAVE THE LOOM BECAUSE WHY DID THEY THINK THEY NEEDED IT? DID NO ONE THINK ABOUT WHY IT WAS THERE? No one gave an explanation for why the TVA though it was there and i'm aflksjdlsf

Loki's time slipping started because of kang..........?????????????? how????????????????????????

sylvie's entire character has been muddled down to kang killer and that makes me sad. she had so much more to tell and they just didn't know what to DO with her in season 2.

WHY was the scene with Ravonna and HWR recording there? It didn't mean ANYTHING

I just. I don't know. There's more but I'm tired and can't think of it. I'm just. Irritated. Like I enjoyed this season a lot more than season 1, I genuinely had fun and I am actually sad it's over rather than relieved, but the finale was just bleh to me.

[skyfallscotland]

Powerful, by Lauren Roberts 🪡

The stars wink at me, welcoming me home.

Who cares, really? 😭

That was my general feeling reading this book, and that's not all because of the predetermined ending. I just don't think it adds anything to the series for me. Adena is just...a character I find it difficult to care about. I know I'm supposed to find her charming, but I actually just find her irritating. She's so naive it hurts.

The romance didn't really feel compelling to me. It was obviously very insta-love and I didn't like the way he set out to use her, or the way she immediately trusted him when she shouldn't have. Honestly, maybe that's also what rubbed me the wrong way about it all—Adena comes off like a child she's that naive, not someone who is seventeen or eighteen years old and by all accounts, should be street-smart and have life experience? Like...what the fuck?

‘Shh.’ I run a hand down the length of her curls, feeling a hiccup jostle her body. ‘You did the right thing. Run to me. Always run to me.’

I'm so sorry, but Mak just gave me the ick so severely 😭 The manipulative vibe added to her whole childlike demeanour just...no 😭

It’s completely ridiculous, really. I’ve only known this man a handful of days and am already absurdly affected by his every move.

Thank you, I'm so glad you agree???

It's just a shame because I went into it obviously knowing Adena was going to die, but I was still open to getting a bit of insight into her character, some political intrigue maybe? But it just didn't hit for me. Which is unfortunate because as always, there are some beautiful lines in there:

She looks over at me, and I look over at her. Something like understanding seems to settle between us. As though loneliness has found its equal.

My favourite parts were when Adena was with Paedyn 💔

I think seeing that same ending from the other side of things was truly the best way to end the book. It was a beautiful closing out of Adena's story, even if the story itself was kind of pointless in my opinion 🖤

I look up into the sky, seeing stars swim in my vision. What a beautiful night in the Fort. Four, five, six… I’m counting the seconds until I see her next.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

A bond between dragon and rider is close. Some would say, too close.

Fandom: The Empyrean/Fourth Wing

Pairing: Violet/Tairn

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Monsterfucking

Length: 3,558 words

Read on AO3 or below the cut

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Part One

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

She’d known from the first moment she saw him that this was the one.

Her dragon.

The way he’d towered over her like a mountain and incinerated Tynan like the ant he was. He was powerful and vicious and hers.

She’d never seen him before that moment. Barely known of his existence outside that one lecture in Professor Kaori’s class. And yet bonding with him had felt like a piece of her soul, one she hadn’t realized was missing, suddenly slotting into place. A strange sort of kinship she’d never experienced with anyone else. Not even her beloved dead father.

My name is Taireanach, he had told her. And the name has seared itself into her heart like the mark he later branded onto her back.

“I’m Violet,” she had said.

I know.

And that had been that.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Tairn, she later learns, was a bit of an overprotective old man.

“I’ll never learn if you keep using magic to hold me here,” she’d said one afternoon, during flight maneuvers after he had locked her into her seat.

You can’t learn if you’re dead. He had groused back, his voice ringing through her head and into her bones.

A part of her still marveled over that. Of having someone else inside her head…all the time.

All the time.

It certainly took some getting used to. In some ways it felt a little like talking to herself…if she was a forever grumpy, yet doting, giant lizard.

I am not a lizard.

“But you are doting?” Violet said wryly.

Tairn’s only reply was a feeling of exasperation.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It’s Tairn who saves her from her would-be assassins.

His voice that rings through her dreams and wakes her just in time to avoid the sword meant for her neck. His quick thinking and sharp senses that help her prevail against her attackers and gain the upper hand.

And, later, it will be he who burns her last assassin without hesitation or mercy.

I will not lose another. He tells her afterwards.

She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

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“Stop fussing.”

I am not fussing. Tairn growled. I am irritated that my human will not listen to reason.

“Your human is fine.”

You are not fine.

They’d been having this argument all day. Ever since Violet had awoken in agony Tairn had made his displeasure with her stubborn refusal to rest all too clear. He’d spent the better part of the day mentally harassing her over her life decisions as she went from class to class.

“Can we please not do this?” Violet sighed. Gods, she was tired. She’d barely slept what with the pain waking her up far too early. The sun hadn’t even been up yet. “I’m exhausted enough as it is.”

Which is why you should be resting.

Arguing with Tairn was often akin to punching a brick wall. Pointless, and left one questioning why they’d even bothered in the first place.

Your ridiculous human classes can wait. Go to sleep. Now. His voice rolled through her head with the sort of authority that demanded complete obedience. Violet shivered.

“…Fine. But not because you said so.” She groused, not wanting to admit defeat.

Whatever you say Silver One.

She went to bed.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Violet learns many things about her dragon.

Some of them surprising.

Like just how much he loves when she strokes his scales and scratches under his great chin like an indolent cat.

Or how in the winter he will hover over her like a mother hen, pressing close to warm her with the heat of his body.

Or the way he fusses over her constantly. He is so very protective, her dragon. Always concerned with her safety. Her well-being.

He cares.

He cares so much.

Sometimes, in her guiltiest moments, she thinks he even cares for her more than her own family.

And in her even guiltier moments, she thinks perhaps she feels the same.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The realization didn’t happen all at once.

Violet wasn’t an idiot. The signs had always been there. In hindsight, she had probably always known she had felt this way but had refused to linger on it lest she give it form. A name.

Like infatuation.

Or love.

Whatever it was, it was wildly inappropriate. Unnatural. Wrong. Whenever these thoughts or feelings surfaced she’d hastily stuff them back down out of shame and embarrassment.

Why did she feel this way? Was there something wrong with her?

Probably, she thought to herself once, thinking about the way Tairn would loom protectively over her on the flight field, snapping at anyone who dared venture too close. The way he, this giant, powerful creature that could crush her like an ant, would lower his head to let her (and only her) stroke the scales on his nose. The way his rumbling, assertive voice would ring through her head and make her heart beat faster. He, at once, made her feel powerful and protected. Cherished and supported.

No one else had ever made her feel that way. Not even her family. Not even her father.

Of course all of these thoughts were only ones she let herself linger on when she was sure the subject in question had already gone to sleep. Better he didn’t know the depths of the depravity she indulged in during the darkest parts of the night. He didn’t need to know his rider was a degenerate who was more attracted to the sound of his voice in her head than any man she’d ever fucked.

The mere thought he might find out made her break out into a cold sweat. What would happen if he found out? It’s not like they could break the bond and he could find a new, less fucked up rider. Violet supposed he could just kill her out of disgust. Had dragons ever done that to their riders?

Well, there was a first time for everything.

Needless to say, she’d gotten very good at her mental shielding.

He could never know.

Never.

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Things finally came to a head when her signet manifested.

Violet tried to think straight, she really did, but she was just so…worked up. Her power skittered under her skin like the very lightning she could now call upon. It made her restless, jittery…

Reckless.

And when she’d gone down to the local tavern to celebrate with her friends, well, who was she to turn down the advances of some random infantryman? It had been so very long since she’d gotten to blow off some steam. Certainly long before she’d ever bonded with Tairn. Before she’d crossed the parapet even.

She wished she could’ve said she remembered the boy’s name but…well.

He might as well have been a glorified living doll for the way that she used him. A doll whose dick she made use of to rid herself of that creeping restlessness crawling under her skin. Poor whatever his name was. Perhaps she should’ve felt guilty for so blatantly taking advantage of him, but he seemed so happy about his predicament that she didn’t let herself feel too bad.

Besides, wasn’t it basically expected of her to sleep her way through the ranks? She was only doing what everyone else expected of her. Expected of all of them.

Now If only she could focus on the human being underneath her and not…others things.

Like how riding this infantryman was so very similar to riding something else…like the heat of Tairn’s body beneath hers. Or the smoothness of his scales against her palms. Or the shocking sensation of a dive mid-flight.

And with thoughts of riding Tairn came more, like his (rightly earned) arrogance. His ever looming presence in her mind, always there to aid or comfort her. His deep, rumbling voice that always felt like it vibrated through her bones.

Violet couldn’t help the way her breath quickened as her thoughts took a decidedly…intimate turn. Pleasure skittered up her spine as the boy underneath her was almost entirely forgotten.

When she came, it was with with her dragon’s name echoing in her mind.

Tairn!

Before she had time to realize her mistake, the all too familiar specter of her dragon’s mind slipped right past her wards and nudged curiously at her own.

Silver One?

She knew he had seen too much even before she managed to slam her shields closed. She felt his surprise. His confusion.

Suddenly her orgasm made her feel dirty. As if she had done something wrong. Something shameful. And why shouldn’t she feel that way? She’d orgasmed while thinking of her dragon! And in a decidedly un-platonic sort of way.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

She didn’t even have the wherewithal to bid the infantryman goodbye before she was pulling on her clothes and storming out of the room he had rented for the night.

Gods…what was she supposed to do now?

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She didn’t speak to him for days.

Silver One…

Her shields meant nothing to him. Every time she tried to put them up, he’d slip past them as if there were made of smoke. So she’d just resorted to ignoring him.

Which, unsurprisingly, was a very hard thing to do when a giant lizard lived inside one’s head.

You can’t avoid me forever. Flight Maneuvers are today.

Shit. Fuck. He was right.

Only a couple hours later, she found herself walking out onto the flight field as if she were trudging to her own execution. Tairn loomed large over every other dragon on the field, those golden eyes riveted to her.

She braced herself for what he would say…but nothing came.

Violet stared up at him warily.

Waiting.

He only lowered himself further to the ground so she could climb up and into place. As if this were just another flight lesson. As if nothing unusual had occurred just a few days before.

He was quiet for the rest of Flight Maneuvers.

She would’ve thought, after all the constant nagging and mental harassment that he’d be the same here (worse even). But instead there was an ominous silence from her dragon as they flew through the sky. They touched. They moved as one. But they said nothing.

It probably should’ve clued her in to what would happen next.

As soon as they landed Violet was ready to dismount and put as much distance between she and her dragon as humanly possible. However, just as her boots hit solid ground, he spoke.

Enough of this.

The finality of the words was all the warning she got before a very large scaled leg blocked her escape. A couple other riders cast nervous, confused glances their way, but otherwise kept walking back towards the school as their dragons took off into the sky…leaving her alone with her own dragon for the first time in days.

Fuck.

He’d planned this.

You left me no other choice. Tairn agreed unrepentantly.

“I’m going to be late for dinner,” she said loudly, as if there were anyone else here to hear her but the obnoxiously large dragon holding her captive.

You can eat once we’ve spoken.

Panic crawled up her spine and into her throat, choking her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This was it. He was going to eat her. Maybe even tell her what a freak she was first. Somehow she was more terrified of the latter.

Stop that, Tairn growled. I am not going to eat you. In fact, I am insulted that you would think so little of me. I only eat those who deserve it.

And I don’t?

No. His reply was swift and vicious. Angry. Listen to me Silver One. I chose you for your bravery. Because you had the heart of a dragon…but you are not being brave now. You are being a coward.

“I’m not a coward!” Violet snapped aloud. It wasn’t like anyone else was here to witness her humiliation anyway.

What else do you call avoiding speaking to me out of fear? Out of shame? Dragons do not feel shame.

“But I’m not a dragon!”

Aren’t you? You behaved more like a dragon than those pathetic humans who attacked Andarna.

“That was different-”

It was not. I have seen much of humanity in my time and few have ever risked themselves to save a creature who looks nothing like them. You are a rarity even amongst your fellow riders. So why then should you care what your fellow man thinks? You are above them.

I’m not though, she thought. How could she be above her fellow man when there was something so clearly aberrant about her?

Tairn huffed in frustration.

Tell me, Silver One, do you think just any dragon bonds with a human?

“What does that have to do with this?”

Everything. The bond between dragon and rider is closer than any other. Closer than kin. Closer than mates. We live your lives. We hear your thoughts. We mourn your loss like the death of our own hatchling. It is the sweetest of loves. And the most painful of tragedies. Not just any dragon is willing to live such a life. Just as not just any human is willing to live it alongside them. It takes a very particular kind of dragon and a very particular kind of human to consent to that sort of partnership.

“So, what, we’re all freaks then?” Violet scowled. She was behaving like a cornered animal. In many ways, she was a cornered animal. She would rather cross the parapet again a hundred times than have this conversation.

Freaks who love too deeply perhaps, Tairn agreed, refusing to take the bait. Those who wish to share themselves in whole with another. Share their hopes. Their fears. Even their desires.

That last word made Violet’s stomach squirm and gooseflesh break out over her arms. Oh gods. He really was going to go there.

I see you Violet Sorrengail. I see every piece of you. Even the parts you don’t wish for me to see. And I accept them. I love them. So do not insult me by being ashamed of them.

“But it’s wrong,” she whispered.

And who decided that? You?

“No, but-”

I thought we agreed that you are above other humans. Their opinions are of no concern to me. To us.

“Why are you so fucking calm about this?!” She finally snapped.

Why wouldn’t I be? Dragons care little for human morals. We do as we like. You would do well to follow our example.

It was clear she wasn’t going to win this argument. Tairn was as stubborn as he was patient. And for some bizarre reason he seemed completely unconcerned over the fact that she’d fucked a man while thinking about him. Sexually. If anything, he seemed more upset over the fact that she’d been avoiding him. If he were human he would be the one avoiding her.

But I am not human. Tairn said patiently. I never will be. And I refuse to turn away from you when you show me your true self.

Violet went silent.

What could she say to that? ‘You’re wrong’? ‘You’re being a lot more understanding about this than even my own family would’?

The sun was beginning to set. She hadn’t lied before. Dinner really would be served soon. She should’ve gone back inside ages ago, but here she was stuck outside, arguing with her behemoth of a dragon about the morality of her being…attracted to him? In love with him?

“I just don’t…I don’t understand why you’re okay with this.”

You don’t need to. You just need to know that I am.

He said it like it was so simple. And, perhaps, for him it was.

She sighed. “Okay.” She was so tired.

Go rest. He nudged her towards the school as if he hadn’t been holding her hostage for the past hour. We will speak more later.

“Okay,” she said again, and left.

He didn’t take back to the sky until she was safely ensconced back within the college walls.

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He didn’t push.

She didn’t bring it up either.

They fell so easily back into the routine of life at Basgiath that one could almost believe that their conversation from before had just…never happened.

But it had though.

And Violet couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How could she not? It wasn’t every day that a rider had weird fantasies abut their dragon and then discovered that said dragon was…fine with it? Possibly even reciprocated???

She could hardly keep her head on straight in her lessons.

“Are you alright?” Rhiannon whispered to her in Battle Brief. It had only been two days since her confrontation with Tairn but even her best friend could tell that something was…off.

“Oh, you know,” Violet said cagily. “A lot on my mind…”

Tairn snorted.

Quiet you, she hissed.

Rhiannon dropped the subject, but Violet knew for a fact that this wasn’t the end of it. Just a reprieve until she could properly corner her somewhere private.

Great.

It is no business of hers, Tairn rumbled dismissively.

Sure, but that’s not how friendship works.

This is the problem with you humans. He countered. You’re too nosey.

And you aren’t? Violet said, amused.

You are mine. She is not.

She shivered.

“Right…” she murmured under her breath.

“What was that?” Rhiannon asked, brows pinched together.

“Nothing.”

They turned back to class.

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Something occurred to her later.

This has happened before.

Yes. Tairn confirmed, as if that weren’t world-shattering information to just casually drop in her lap.

Her mind spun. When…how?!

You seem to be laboring under the impression that you are unique. He said, almost amused. I assure you, you are not.

But…how have I never heard of this?!

Because it is no one’s business but that of a dragon and their rider. He dismissed. And, considering how you reacted before, is it any wonder you humans wouldn’t speak of such things to one another?

He had a point.

But…it has happened?

Yes.

And…is that…would you…she couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

Yes.

Violet felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Like her nerve endings had been set aflame.

“…Oh,” she said. And then, again, “Oh.”

Tairn just laughed at her.

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No matter what she did, she couldn’t get it out of her head.

Fucking.

And Tairn.

Obviously he couldn’t fuck her. The idea was beyond laughable. She barely came up to his ankle. For all she knew his dick was the same size as her.

Tairn, because of course he was always listening, seemed to find her thoughts amusing.

Two.

“What?”

I have two.

The answer was so unexpected that she nearly crashed into her bedroom door on the way out of her room.

The rest of her day she could barely concentrate on anything, his words ringing through her head on an endless loop.

“But we can’t actually…do anything…” she finally whispered to him late into the night.

Not in the usual ways, no. Tairn agreed almost immediately. Violet tried not to feel a twinge of disappointment at that. But that does not mean we cannot enjoy each other’s company.

Her face flamed bright red. She knew exactly what he meant, recalling her disastrous tryst with that faceless infantryman. How she had thought, not of him, but of Tairn as she came.

I will hide nothing from you, he said gently. Just so long as you hide nothing from me.

“It…it wouldn’t be weird?” Her voice was so quiet. Terrified someone else would hear her.

We have had this conversation already. I will not repeat myself.

“Okay…okay.”

She didn’t do anything that night. Nor the night after that. Nor even that week. But, as always, Tairn made the decision for her.

She had just lain down for the night after a particularly exhausting day, when she felt it.

Arousal.

And not her own. Instead she felt a pulsing heat across the bond followed by flashes of blue scales and the foreign feeling of sinking into something tight and hot.

Violet stopped breathing.

Tairn was…he was…oh.

Watch. He said. Feel.

And gods help her, she did.

She saw through his eyes, the fierce female who writhed underneath him. She felt the hot, slick slide of her body as he made a home inside of her. She smelled the taste of sulfur and pheromones on the air.

Her breathing sped up. She was hot. Feverish. His pleasure was her own. Heating her skin and making her shiver. Her fingers were already dipping down into her underthings before she could stop herself.

At the first brush of her fingers against her clit, she heard Tairn snarl in her head.

Yes!

He wasn’t touching her…but he might as well have been.

Her fingers circled the slippery flesh at the cleft of her as she watched her dragon fuck his companion with a ferocity and domination that left her warm and wanting.

They came together. His roar ringing through her head as his pleasure raced through her veins like fire. Satisfaction, fierce and amoral, rushed to her brain.

Good. She heard him say, his voice almost a purr. Very good.

She slept like the dead.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

If We Died Tonight

For @mollymarymarie and @imsiriuslyreading a little Wolfstar angst with a happy ending… <33

If we could take a photo

Eternalize this moment

For the days when I don't believe

When our love gets stolen

'Cause there's no exception

And I know time will take you far from me

Let this night invade my lungs

You're all I wanna breathe

Right beside the lake, I burn for you

You burn for me

So kiss me the way that you would

If we died tonight

Hold me the way that you would

For the final time

Whatever may come, somewhere deep inside

There's always this version of you and I

So just kiss me the way that you would

If we died tonight, if we died tonight, yeah

All the deepest secrets

All the darkest moments

Oh, I promise they'll be safe with me

We've all been broken

There's no exception

But you carry it so gracefully

Let this night invade my lungs

You're all I want to breathe

Right beside the lake, I burn for you

You burn for me

(Kiss Me by Dermot Kennedy)

He finds Remus standing beside the edge of the Great Lake. He’s soaking, the rain pelting through his stupid battered jacket, the pointless one – not waterproof, and without a hood – wet curls plastered onto his face. His sodden, frayed jeans already clinging to his too thin frame, wearing his battered canvas shoes, completely useless in this weather, like an idiot. His shoulders hunched forwards – resigned, shivering. His eyes have a far-away, brooding expression, looking out at the grey waters lapping at his feet. It’s not unlike the look on his face before the full moon, except that expression is more resigned in its weariness. This one has more in common with hopelessness, a tiredness that sees no future.

He thinks he knows what that look means.

“What do you think about this whole spy thing?” Peter had asked him a week ago, interrupting Sirius’ thoughts.

“Fuck, Wormy,” Sirius said, putting down his fork with an irritated sigh. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“But who could it possibly be?” said Peter, with terror in his voice.

“No clue, Wormy, no fucking clue!” Sirius said, picking up the fork again and moving food around his plate. “Dedalus Diggle? Seems a bit of an airhead though. Or Elphias Doge? But he’s a good friend of Dumbledore’s for years. It’s none of us, obviously. And it’s not the Prewetts, or Aberforth, or Hagrid, obviously. Not Marlene, the Longbottoms or Moody… I don’t fucking know. Who do you think it is?”

“I’ve no idea!” said Peter, his voice rising by an octave. “I wish I knew.”

“Yeah, listen, Wormy, don’t think about it too much. It’ll just make you paranoid.”

He’s already feeling very fucking paranoid himself.

“Thanks, Pads,” said Peter, with a forced smile. “I’ll try. If anyone had a reason to become the spy it’d be Moony, with all the anti-Werewolf shit that’s happening. But he’d be the last person to join Voldemort’s side. He’d rather die than join them.”

Sirius stared at Peter.

“Remus is literally the very last person I would ever suspect, Pads, don’t worry, I’m not a total moron! I’d sooner think it was me or you than Moony!” Peter laughed, shaking his head as though he had said something funny.

“Yeah, whatever…” Sirius let out a harsh breath.

“I’m joking, I swear!” Peter had squirmed, leaving the newspaper on the table as he left the room.*

Peter may well have been joking, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about this conversation, or that newspaper article, replaying it over and over and over when he lies awake at night, like a faulty record stuck on a groove, unable to sleep.

Remus was due to accompany him tomorrow on an Order mission to Shropshire, just the two of them, but at the last minute he bowed out, some pathetic excuse about having ‘double booked’ himself, about ‘needing to go on a recce for Dumbledore’. Which makes zero sense, because Dumbledore picked them, them specifically, to go to Shropshire. Which, by the way, he rarely does nowadays – not since the time James Fucking Potter told him he’s over-protective of Moony and therefore a liability on joint missions. Prick. He’s probably right, but he’s still a prick, regardless. He’s also his best friend and best brother.

Only brother.

Regulus Arcturus Black is missing, presumed dead, since December 1979, nearly two years ago. The spineless, soft, clueless, poor bastard idiot.

They say he’s dead, Death Eaters and Order members alike; Death Eaters taunting him, gloating, Cousin Bellatrix’s cackling laughter shouting it out with the aid of a Sonorus during battles, knowing he will hear it and how much it hurts him, ‘You betrayed him, disowned him, left him to die!’

Not strictly true, but he may as well have, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his mother tells him. He knows this already. Regulus point blank refused his help. His father made sure of it*. But he knows for a fact that he should have done more, forced Regulus to flee with him, made him renounce his upbringing, maybe even Imperiused him into…

Continue on ao3…

[saiyanandproud]

6 and 8, and 25! :0

Munday Mumbling Asks - send a number for me to talk about one of the following topics!

6. Excessive OOC

I must say I only had a few occasions on this blog where I have witnessed excessive OOC behaviours. Also, it's a bit hard to determine what is 'excessive', it's all very subjective, so I will list a few examples that come to mind and could fit the definition.

First of all, I don't mind OOC posting about a mun's worldbuilding, characters, writing approach, headcanons on their muses and so on. If anything, I really like to read about them, they give me a lot more insight on their creative approach and are a big source of inspiration for threads to suggest them! The only excessive aspect I might think of it is when there is A LOT of that and... None of the actual interactions. Aka: it's great to read about all this stuff, my friend, but if you don't actually offer any chance to put this into practice and roleplay with you, it might feel a bit pointless. I had instances of finding very interesting blogs, but once I scrolled through their posts, it was a lot of OOC talking and... None of the writing. Which makes me a bit suspicious about what to expect from it, so I might choose not to followe because I like to keep my dash focussed on RPing as much as possible. The fact that I live in a GMT zone which is different from most of my mutuals makes it challenging to follow dash activity already, so I'd like not to fill it with content that wouldn't be relevant to my hobby here if possible.

Another instance of excessive OOC that comes to my mind (again, according to my perspective), is toxic OOC. We all get salty, it's human, but if every post a person makes OOC is to throw shade and sourness at others / the dash / anything in a constant manner without ever considering dialoguing, my wish to interact with them will plummet. It's not too different from real life stuff -- no one likes to engage with someone who is constantly negative and criticises everyone and everything, and I personally prefer when issues are discussed (and hopefully fixed) rather than casually dropping complaints and never being proactive in making the situation better (and fixing the issue in private where it's due rather than ranting about it publicly). The odd moment of irritation is fine, but if looking back one realises that they are constantly irritated about anything, well, maybe they should consider if it's not a matter of the way they process stuff, and whether it would be worth changing approach. Again, this is just my two cents on the matter.

8. Reblog karma

I am a fan of reblog karma -- in fact, it's in my rules. This is for a couple of reasons: one, I have been treated as a source of memes by certain blogs that followed me but never cared to interact, write, or even reach out, only reblogged the memes I shared and that was it; as I find it quite rude, I usually give it three strikes until I choose to block the blog because of it. Second, which is kinda linked to the former, because RPing, while being a personal hobby, does happen in a community, hence why I think that, as a common effort to keep the fun going and interactions flowing for everyone's amusement, it's a simple matter of kindness to send an ask to the blog we reblog a meme from -- it takes 0 seconds, it fulfills the purpose that meme was reblogged for by the RPing blog in the first moment, and it enhances the possibilities of more people engaging in the meme/game and make it all more enjoyable for everyone.

I completely understand that sometimes you might not have a way/reason to send a certain ask to said mun, not even on anon. But that's why I think that, in this case, is just better to reblog the meme from the source (that's what memes blogs are there for!). I personally prefer to engage as much as possible, but if people don't, reblogging from meme blogs/sources helps them thrive, takes nothing, takes the burden off your shoulders, and doesn't make the other user feel 'used'. Again, a personal opinion.

25. Your character

Oh boy. What to say about Mariko? I can't believe I have been writing her for... Eight years now. It's sweet to say how she has changed in the meantime, and at the same time, how she hasn't changed at all, which makes me both proud and annoyed about her.

Well, let's start with the positive stuff I guess. I am happy that Mariko seems to draw in sympathy from the crowd. I've had a few people telling me she's well written and feels 'alive', which I'm glad to hear (especially considering that I really could treat her in a way more serious way when I write her). I do my best to make her flawed and as imperfect as possible, not becuase of the 'Mary Sue' complex (we all grew past it I think), but mostly because I think flawed characters are the most intriguing ones, and imperfections are great triggers to spike rich threads.

On the other hand, I wish I could write Mariko in a more 'serious' way sometimes. Part of the reason why it doesn't happen is my own selectivity, both in terms of mutuals (not a massive issue here, I consider myself kinda lucky, it's just that simply I need the right muses sometimes), and in terms of story. There are certain narrative knots in Mariko's storyline which I wish could go in a specific way, but I don't want to force anyone on it. Like, the way she finds out she descends from Goku -- it would really challenge her perspective on her life, her predjudices on his historical figure and so much more, and I would like to dedicate it as much time and introspection as possible, but I know this is my need and mine only.

The issue with Mariko is that she isn't born out of a story I had in my mind already; I just wrote down the premises (her life on Earth) but everything about her story from once she arrived in Conton onwards has been litterally shaped by RP interactions. Which has been beautiful, and unexpected, and lots of fun! Some key threads (like the ones with her mentors, with Fu, with Shallot) did a lot to make her grow in Conton, and by accomodating to mutuals turnover and so on, other opportunities to develop her came naturallly -- Mariko's devotion to her mentors, for example. The mutual who wrote both Nappa and Raditz back then is no longer active, which sparked a sense of 'abandonment' in Mariko's character, a nostalgia for her acquired family in Conton, and a need to cling on their figures whenever possible, reflected in later threads with @risingsouls). So yeah, by extension, Mariko's storyline relies a lot on the interactions I get here. Which, while it can be creative and surprising, it can also limit my chances to explore the character because of this approach, based on the availability or people/threads/muses/anything.

Another "issue" (kinda) I have with Mariko is the way she grew. I decided to progressively age her at some point, so each year that passes is a year she gains. Mariko is currently 23 (or 24? Did I update it this last July??), and I might decide to stop at some point, or not. However, not sure if because of her faceclaim appearance, or because of her attitude, or because people first interacted with her when she was younger, I still struggle to make her come across as more mature -- she seems crystallized in a trope that I struggle to free her from, and it can be frustrating because sometimes I feel like it hinders chances of more serious topics and threads involving her. Maybe it's also the way I write her, and the bratty attitude she has at times. Then again, it is really part of her personality, and while she has become more mature over the years, it's hard to picture her without her 'youthful spark' at times. Not sure. Inputs and constructive criticisms are more than welcome, as always.

[thedevillionaire]

So I haven't re-read everything but I was thinking about Cerberus and Lilith vs Cerberus and Kia. And I think Cerberus and Lilith were equal and opposite, constantly tussling and competing for dominance and power in their relationship. She's the ice to his fire, she brings out his power through conflict and it's stressful and tense but passionate and thrilling.

Now Kia and Cerberus are like fire and a redwood forest. The forest is fire’s natural home, feeding and renewing in a cycle that benefits both. She helps him grow in true strength rather than just power. They are still passionate, but Kia sates him in body and soul and Lilith leaves him hungry for something more.

Lilith is the cunning paramor of Cerberus the Conqueror and Kia is the steady partner of Cerberus the King.

Firstly, I am sending a novelty oversize amount of extra-warm fuzzies your way for not only thinking in depth about my OCs in the first place, but for then taking the time to write out and send your thoughts about them to me. 🥹💗💗🥹 A total honour.

Secondly, I love the forest/fire analogy. I may have fixated on it...kind of a lot. And now to the main point! Which I will put under the cut because blah blah blah, talky talky, all that. 😅

You're not far off the mark with Cerberus and Lilith, although one of the main reasons their coupleship lasted as long as it did (slightly over a decade, which is notably longer than most of my various Underworldian pairings tend to last) is that they were both very independent, and Lilith already established as a powerful entity in her own right. But oh, yeah, there were certainly a LOT of ups and downs. Also, back in the early days, Cerberus was somewhere between completely disinterested in and actively against the idea of love or a significant other for most of his life - it was a distraction, a pointlessness, an unnecessary responsibility he had no desire towards - and he just flat-out wasn't interested in anyone. Not long-term, anyway, not as anything...important. He's never been short of hopeful suitors - to put it mildly - but his usual reaction to that sort of thing mostly tended to be somewhere between boredom or irritation about it. Presuming he even noticed, lol. Lilith's independence and (very strong, some would say perhaps a little too strong, heh) self-esteem, her own achievements and intellect, plus the fact she's absolutely stunning, broke this antipathy in him, and in more than a few ways they were a great match. BUT. He was always more detached than she was, and Lilith loves to be openly admired, whereas Cerberus...well, it was never much of a priority for him. In lots of areas they both took a lot for granted, though differently, and you're dead on the money in terms of the balance of power, and where it fell...or appeared to. They exasperated each other regularly. Be that as it may, though, by any measure Lilith was the first person Cerberus ever loved. To the best of his ability at the time, that is. Kia was a revelation for him. He fell for her in a way he did not think was possible. Hell, I didn't think it was possible. You think you know someone, and, uh, well...🤣🤣 Nope. Apparently not. Turns out I can be, in fact, AMAZINGLY way off the mark about my own damn people. Cerberus and Kia's ongoing fascination with one another, both of them genuinely thinking the other is the Best Thing Ever (including the negatives; they're not perfect but they are perfect together), is something truly lasting and complementary, and regenerative - that forest/fire comparison indeed. Exactly. ❤️‍🔥

[invisiblekatanaartwork]

Artist’s Blog #148 – Conan the Barbarian (1982)

Conan the Barbarian: The Ultimate Barbarian Film

Nothing new here but, Conan the Barbarian is one of my all-time favorites. This is another that no matter how many times it comes on tv or has come on tv, I’ve watched it. I remember as a kid picking up the 5 minutes after the hour channel and watching this one over and over. Conan the Barbarian is certainly one of Arnold’s best roles and this is another case where he, Arnold, was this character. He just had to show up and the magic happened, nothing else needed. Conan barely even spoke. I even had a replica sword from this movie which I gave to my brother for his collection. Anyway, let’s hop on our horses, throw on our armor, grab our warrior girl and ride into this adventure from 1982 – but look out for flying snakes!

Sword and Sorcery Unleashed

In the world of sword and sorcery, it doesn’t get any better than Conan the Barbarian. I’ll go ahead and get this out of the way, there was only one Conan and that’s Arnold Schwarzenegger. In this film genre, I would put this movie number 1, Conan the Destroyer number 2, and Deathstalker at number 3. I’ve blogged about Deathstalker too and you can read my thoughts on this classic here. I also blogged on a not so good David Carradine barbarian movie called The Warrior and The Sorceress which you can find here. Another great film in this world, and character for that matter, is Red Sonya. This is another film I will eventually blog on. Anyway, back to the film at hand, Conan the Barbarian. It has all the elements needed for a great barbarian adventure movie in my opinion. There are swords, sword fighting, cool armor, castles, girls, horses, wizards, witches, and magic. We’ll expound upon some of these things in the following paragraphs.

Which Conan Movie is Better?

I don’t want to go too far down this rabbit hole here but, which is better Conan the Barbarian or Conan the Destroyer is a question I was asked recently. I’ll likely blog about the sequel next. I don’t want to write too much on this second Conan film here. Instead, I’ll talk a little more about the plot of this film because it’s the deal breaker. Really, this was more of the Conan story whereas the sequel gets to focus solely on adventure. The answer to the question, I think, lies within this difference. Honestly, I don’t know that I have an opinion. They are both the best in their own way.

Very Little Bad in Conan the Barbarian

I’m a fan so, there’s not a lot of negative for me to discuss. I suppose I need to find something to complain about though. Rewatching this movie presented one that that I think irritated me the most. Some of the pointless waste camera time to zoom in on an actor’s face glares were just outright silly. Two instances come to mind. The first is when Thulsa Doom, played by James Earl Jones, slowly looks away before decapitating Conan’s mother. The second was when Conan emerges from the cave where he finds his sword. The pose with his knew weapon and the 2 second glare into the camera was just silly to me. I didn’t feel that these glances and gazing poses added to the warrior vibe Conan had.

Another thing that I didn’t see a need for was the sword training montage, at least how it was done. Conan the Barbarian was filmed in 1982 which meant that the ninja craze was starting so, anything involving a sword needed to pay homage to the sword masters of the far East. While I can appreciate this, I felt that it really had no place. I’ve blogged on Enter the Ninja and Ninja III, regarding the ninja craze, and you can read each of these at the linked titles. Conan was from Samaria which was in the middle east. It makes no sense that he would be training with Asians. Geography ain’t my thing but, this didn’t make sense. I feel like the directors threw this in for culture. Barbarians had a completely different fighting style than Asian warriors. Now, let’s get to the good about Conan the Barbarian.

Plate Armor and its Art

I’m not sure why but, plate armor has always intrigued me. From my research, armor clearly evolved over time but, I enjoyed the creativity of armor in Conan the Barbarian. Throughout time, there have been famous suits of armor. For instance, King Henry II of France, Emperor Ferdinand I, and George Clifford the 3rd Earl of Cumberland. You can read more about famous armor, if you’d like, here. Even though these suits were unique and sometimes very ornate, they did not have the creativity of armor in Conan the Barbarian. Of course, costume creativity and battlefield functionality are two different necessities. The weapons also were something to see. The double-fanged serpent dagger was an impressive piece of craftsmanship but, the sword that belonged to Conan’s father was the pinnacle. I think this sword was the coolest one I’ve seen on film, period.

The Riddle of Steel: An Epic Theme in Conan the Barbarian

While we’re talking about the sword, let’s reflect on the “Riddle of Steel”, which is a running theme in Conan the Barbarian. So, Conan’s father presents this idea to him as a child and explains that he’ll need to know it basically to access heaven. The answer to the riddle, according to Conan’s father, is that steel is the only thing he can trust. At least, this is my interpretation of what he tells his young son. There are people who have thought more into this than me and you can read about this here. Thulsa Doom too is familiar with the riddle and tells Conan that steel is not strong, only the hand that wields it is strong. In the end, we see Conan’s father's sword break and the broken blade used to decapitate Thulsa Doom. Based on this recap, read on for my thoughts on the riddle.

Conan’s father said steel was the only thing you could trust. Thulsa Doom’s soldier found that the sword would break. Conan later uses the broken sword to decapitate Thulsa Doom. This same sword only took one swing to decapitate Conan’s mother but several good whacks to do the same to Doom. In my opinion, there is more to the riddle, and neither was fully correct. The steel couldn’t be trusted because it broke but, it could be trusted because it still killed. The hand wielding the sword also had duality. Conan ultimately killed Doom but, it took much longer in his hand than it did for his enemy. Perhaps Doom was right. If we lay our car keys and pistol on the counter and never touch them, the pistol nor the vehicle will ever kill anyone – it’s the driver or shooter that will do that.

Magic, Mystics, and Mayhem

The characters in Conan the Barbarian are all unique and very well-developed. Valeria is an awesome warrioress and among the best in the genre. Red Sonya, of course, is the greatest. I do expect, as a side note, to do some Valeria fan art too. Mako plays Conan’s wizard and he’s a great one. There is no cone hat with stars but, he is a wizard, nonetheless. During his adventure, Conan meets a witch as well and the scene is one of the best I’ve ever viewed. It really feels witchy to me. There’s fire, spirits, crawling, and different tongues. This is what I imagine ancient sorcery looked like. Thulsa Doom and his 2 head guards were great villains. I liked that one of the guards, Thorgrim played by Sven-Ole Thorsen, had a huge mallet as a weapon – you don’t see this often.

High Adventure and Biblical References in Conan the Barbarian

Two other things I noticed about this movie, Conan the Barbarian, were some biblical references and the mention of high adventure. We see Conan being crucified on the “Tree of Woe” much like Jesus Christ was crucified on a tree (cross). Also, the arrow being turned into a snake reminded me of the story of Moses and Pharoh’s enchanters doing this with a staff – the weapon becoming a snake. I have always imagined “high adventure” being just like this. Perhaps it’s because this movie set that definition in my mind at a young age. Riding horseback across fields from one castle town to another, sleeping fireside, and hunting your food as you go to the next battle fit perfectly into my idea of adventure. I can only imagine that at some point in history, life was in some ways for some people really like this.

Warriors, Wizards, and Witches

I couldn’t help but laugh in the final scenes. When the group went to rescue the princess, I thought to myself that they were going to an ancient “Diddy Party.” I don’t recall noticing as a kid, but the stew was made of humans and there were human bodies everywhere being processed for food. I don’t think Puff was practicing cannibalism, but the orgy and overindulgence in the pleasures of life was certainly something he was doing. On the silver screen, there are a few things you don’t do. One is killing John Wick’s dog. It’s never a good idea to sleep with the wife of a mafia don and finally, you don’t kill the mother, father, and gf of Conan the Barbarian. So, if you find yourself on a Hollywood movie set, remember this or your character is as good as dead.

Closing thoughts on Conan the Barbarian

Conan the Barbarian was quality through and through. Of course, the film had the actors, writers, and backing to do it. According to IMDB, the budget for this film was 20M. With this budget also came some cool effects for the day. For instance, James Earl Jones (Thulsa Doom) transforms into a snake. It’s clearly fake but very well done. Personally, I think Conan the Barbarian, Commando, Terminator, Terminator II, and Predator are Arnold’s best work. In closing, what do you think is Schwarzenegger’s best role? Also, what does the “riddle of steel” mean to you? I’d love to read your thoughts in the comments. Let’s get a conversation started.

Thank you for taking the time to read this artist’s thoughts on Conan the Barbarian. I invite you to follow my art journey on social media, visit my website, and consider supporting and buying my work here. If you liked this blog or the movie, please share. Also, feel free to comment, especially if you are a fan of this one. Keep your eyes on my page, seriously, because there is fan art on deck. I had a great idea – art has spoken to me again – while watching Conan the Barbarian that I plan to make a reality. Peace. 

[psychocharlie]

Electric Dream Machine 2.0

Disclamer: the song I used here is NOT mine. The song is called Kill you by Dethklok. All rights to the song belong to Dethklok and Brendon Small. Please don't throw me in Mordhouse's secret prison for this, I used it just for fun. The post with song lyrics is here and the previous AU post is here.

The day after that conversation about Uncle Jack, Charlie doesn't show up at Paddy’s. Dennis thought he had managed to calm him down and put the matter to rest, but apparently it didn't go as smoothly as he'd hoped.  

When Dee asks about Charlie's absence, Frank shrugs and talks about trying to get him out of bed, but he didn't want to go and said he'd stay home in bed. And in fact, the oldest member of the gang assures him, he's been kind of weird and moody lately, and even stopped playing Nightcrawlers. A heavy sigh completes the last words, and Frank's frustration is visible to the naked eye.

– Anyway, – he continues, – I figured I'd better leave him alone, the guy deserves a day off. 

Mac rushes to go check on his best friend, but Dee stops him: 

– Where the fuck you going, asshole? Frank said our guy's in a bad mood today and you got the empathy of a toothpick.

– YOU THINK YOU BETTER, BITCH?! – Mac is outraged, he immediately turns to yelling, and the usual Gang’s bickering begins. Dee retorts that, unlike Mac, she has no plans to go bothering Charlie, who just needs to be left alone for today.

Dennis watches this silently with his arms crossed over his chest. Yes, he wants to see Charlie. Yes, he needs to find out how he's doing and try to calm him down somehow. But he's already too wary of spending too much time with Charlie, especially for Mac. Mac is possessive and jealous of everyone. He’s jealous of Charlie because he's his best friend; he's jealous of Dennis as his roommate and, almost obviously to Reynolds, as the object of his unrequited crush. And because of his jealousy, he becomes increasingly unstable. So Dennis didn't want to provoke him any further and kept quiet.

– Will you two just shut the hell up for a second?! – Frank didn't often raise his voice, but he was really tired of Dee and Mac's pointless arguments, and his concern for Charlie seemed to get the better of him. – You two are just going to piss him off, so unless you want something thrown at you on the way in, stay out of it. – Frank stops talking for a moment, opens a beer can and turns to Dennis. He takes a big sip and looking at him a little too intently. – If you want to go and check him out, let Dennis go. You have a strange way of calming him down, – the man says that words directly to him, – maybe he'll even want to join us at the bar afterwards.

And that's it. This is exactly what Dennis was waiting for, without interfering in the Gang's arguments. That things would somehow work out so that he would be sent to Charlie's and he wouldn't look suspicious in his concern for the janitor. 

– Yeah, you're right, I'll go see him. 

Only Mac explodes with resentment again, like a kid who's been robbed of his candy.

– But Charlie's my best friend! 

– Nobody takes your best friend away, you prick. - Dennis snorts and heads for the exit, thinking that he should do something to distract Mac before he gets even more irritated.

***

When Charlie hears a knock at the door, he hesitates to open it, and Dennis stands under the door for another five minutes, knocking and begging Charlie to open it. He finally gives up and lets the visitor in, but immediately returns to his couch without even looking at him, muttering «don't bother me» instead of saying hello. 

A very peculiar picture appears before Dennis's eyes: Charlie, wrapped in a blanket, sits on the edge of a couch that looks like a battlefield, with a synthesizer and a coffee table piled high with some junk. On the table are two half-empty cups of what looks like very strong brewed tea, empty beer bottles, an open can of glue, a can of spray paint with a sock on it, and most importantly, a notebook covered with incomprehensible scribbles and crooked drawings. Charlie was writing something down, but no one could make out his notes but himself. Well, maybe Artemis, if she's lucky.

Dennis looked from the messy table to Charlie himself, disheveled, unwashed, with red, watery eyes and a face stained with colored markers. Charlie Kelly had always been known for his disregard for personal hygiene, but now he looked as if he hadn't washed his face since he was born. And he was clearly wasted from the chemicals and alcohol. 

– Hey, buddy, what are you doin–

– Shh! Shut up, and let me work, I told you! – Charlie shushes him and starts tapping his fingers on the table. Not paying any attention to Dennis anymore, he mumbles something to himself, barely audible. – I don't want to...have to...kill you.

Reynolds can barely hear anything, and he moves closer, listening to his friend's faint murmurings. – They'll fnd out... I... feel blue, – Charlie slurring some words and quickly sketches something incomprehensible and schematic in his notebook, lest he forget. 

– Are you writing a song? – Dennis connects the dots, sits down on the couch next to his friend, and gently touches his shoulder. But Charlie, lost in the creative process, seems to have forgotten that he's not alone, because the touch startles him so much that he jumps up, screaming. 

- I'm sorry, man, it's okay, it's me. It’s just me. – Dennis frowns, a little startled by this sudden and intense reaction, and moves away from Charlie so as not to stress him further. The disheveled man still doesn't answer the question, instead he brings the jar of glue to his nose and inhales a few times. He hands the jar to Dennis, grumbling to himself that he can't think of a follow-up. 

Dennis resignedly accepts the glue, closes his eyes and breathes deeply over the jar, trying to ignore the swarm of restless thoughts in his head, mixing with Charlie’s quiet mumbling.

– Like to take all the skin off your face.

Dennis opens his eyes and places the glue on the table. His hands are shaking. He seems to got out of huffing glue, which is why his head starts spinning so quickly after just a few minutes of deep breaths he makes over the glue jar.  And the dizzy head makes the whole thing even more surreal. 

He looks at Charlie: his movements are jerky, sometimes he taps his drunken fingers on the synth keys, playing something, but he's displeased – «no, no, no, not like that, it sounds like shit!» – and he looks like a big sad moth under his old brown blanket. – Like to take all the skin off your face.– He repeats it again, picks up the melody, and finally seems to find the right sound, because a triumphant smile lights up his face. He plays the melody again, repeating the same line a third time, tasting it.

Mesmerized, Dennis watched the process, no longer interfering. There's something beautiful about this spectacular sight. 

– Like to smash all your... brains, – Kelly continues to mumble, scribbling crooked letters in his notebook, but this time he has some difficulty. – Like to smash all your brains... all your brains... Shit! – man slams his fist on the table, unable to find the right words, and the beer bottle falls and breaks. But the sound of breaking glass suddenly evokes some interesting associations in Dennis.

– Like to smash all your brains with a... vase? – Dennis asks quietly, touching Charlie's hand with his fingers to get his attention. His touch is as gently as possible. The janitor's eyes widen, and he stares at Dennis for a few seconds, his pupils so damn dilated that his eyes seem almost black.

– Like to smash all your brains with a vase. – He repeats Dennis' sentence twice, tastes it on his tongue and nods contentedly. – Yeah, yeah, that's good!

After that, Charlie stopped seeing Dennis as a stranger and even perked up a bit, allowing him to join in the creative process. Lines are written, fanciful pictures are drawn in Charlie's imagination, a simple but appropriate melody follows the words, and Dennis feels like he's stuck in one of his strange dreams. The pictures Charlie's imagination paints are both strange and bloody. It's unlikely, Dennis thinks, that he himself could come up with an epithet about a fly laying eggs in a dead body, but Charlie, with his abstract imagination and strange ideas, does, and Dennis really likes these macabre line. 

He gives in to the urge, and during the simple playback between these lines and the next, he jumps off the couch and dances around singing «Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!» like those old glam rock songs he used to listen to in college. Well, not just in college. He still likes to listen to good old Guns n' Roses, Kiss, Mötley Crüe, Queen and of course his main idol since he was a teenager – David Bowie.

And Charlie, unexpectedly, appreciates the impulse, nods enthusiastically and smiles at Dennis, letting him know that he'll leave it in the song. Later, Dennis adds a few more «danceable» moments to Charlie's lyrics in the same way, enlivening them and giving the otherwise somber lyrics some drive. But the author himself doesn't mind, he starts to have fun either, even though he continues to pour his anger into the lyrics. And Dennis belatedly, but still realizes for whom and what about this song is written. 

He does, but he keeps distracting wasted Charlie with more cheerful melodies. Kind of therapeutic, huh? There's a reason Dennis studied psychology. It works.

Charlie's song is creepy and bloody, but not in a realistic body horror way, but in a cartoonish way: absurd in its cruelty and non-obvious methods and instruments of murder. The mere desire to break his face with ice cream cone is worth a lot. Weird, cartoonish, but undeniably violent. For some unknown reason, Reynolds finds Charlie's out-of-the-box thinking very inspiring. And the whole situation - writing a song together, Charlie, gloomy and now cheerful, glue, spray paint, beer, disheveled hair, dancing together – it all seems so vaguely familiar to Dennis, as if it had all happened once before... a very long time ago. But it all feels so pretty familiar. He's sure he's seen it before.

– Oh, that was a great song, man, –Charlie says, almost falling on Dennis due to the amount of inhaled chemicals and beer in his bloodstream. But at least he's quite happy now. – Thanks for helping me out. I like the way it turned out. 

And then Dennis remembers why this moment seemed so familiar. Years ago they had written and even performed Dayman in a similar way. Oh shit. – Yeah, that song is real rock 'n' roll, man, you're a talent! Too bad Electric Dream Machine doesn't exist anymore, we could even play it on stage.

– Noooo, – mooed his friend, already half on his shoulder, shaking his head languidly from side to side. – No one can hear this song. Only you. You know why. You know. – Charlie's voice becomes more and more slurred as he slowly falls into a sleep of exhaustion and glue. 

The smile fades from Dennis's face, erasing any trace of his former mirth. The song, though it was catchy and fun despite its somber lyrics, still reflected real emotion, serious emotion, and was a heartfelt wish from Charlie for Uncle Jack, who totally deserved it. 

When Dennis looks at Charlie again, he is already asleep on the couch, hugging the blanket with a silly smile on his face. At least that makes Dennis happy, at least he's not dreaming about something creepy and bloody. He finds another blanket on the floor, covers Charlie and moves the junk-filled table and the synthesizer away from the bed so that his friend won't knock it all over when he gets up to take a leak. Then he leaves quietly.

***

– Hey, Dennis, did you go see him? How's he doing? Still won’t leave the house?

Of course, Reynolds is greeted with questions when he comes back. He calms everyone down by saying that Charlie is better now, but he fell asleep, which is why he didn't join him at Paddy's. The gang is somehow satisfied with this answer and he's left alone. 

But Dennis still has some lines from Charlie's new song running through his head. And he can still see his friend's sleepy but momentarily serious face repeating «You know why. You know». And then Uncle Jack's face appears. Deep in his thoughts, the man doesn't notice that he's humming.

– I don't want to have to eat you 

   I won't fit into my swimsuit.

– What are you singing there? – he's called out by Dee, who's already slowly getting ready to go home. 

– Mm? – Dennis flinches in surprise and shakes his head. – Nothing, just a song, Dee. Just a song.

Dee shrugs and just walks away while Dennis stares at her leaving for a long time. Then he turns around and goes into Paddy's office, locking the door behind him. There he goes through the drawers for a long time, goes through old newspaper, takes some, also takes scissors, a sheet of printer paper and starts to cut something out. 

After a few minutes, he has a crooked inscription made of different-sized letters  cut from newspaper headlines, which says: «I know what you did».