#hope i said something somewhat coherent

[void-and-virtue]

OP I LOVED UR ANDREIL POST GOING CRAZY THINKING ABOUT IT if you have anything else in that amazing brain of yours on this take please do share because i absolutely LOVED how you articulated this aspect about andreil. its something i particularily appreciate about their dynamic and relationship with anger and Their Issues TM. your post will cross my mind whenever ill think about it from now on.

I don’t think I have ever gotten an ask and this is kind of making me go insane??? I hope you know that you made my day and also, I’m so glad people share in my endless brainrot bc when it comes to this series and these characters I simply cannot stop

It really isn’t nearly talked about enough that the thing that got Andrew to actually look at Neil and become interested was (as cited by Neil himself at some point tho I can’t remember in which book that scene is from the top of my head) Neil’s bone-deep jealousy of Kevin. It’s—it ties into that whole epiphany that Neil has at some point, when he looks at Andrew and realizes that while he is hurtling towards his own breaking point and about to burn out and shatter into something he’s not sure he’d recognize if he survived the encounter, Andrew hit that point and broke from it years ago. And that’s an understanding that goes both ways between them—in a fucked up way, it feels like Andrew might be the future that Neil has waiting for him if he doesn’t end the year six feet under: hollow and drifting, passionless after everything he had to rip away from himself to be able to survive. At the same time, Neil probably reminds Andrew of how he used to be, back when he had hope for things only to have that hope rip him apart—which is exactly where Neil seems to be headed for the majority of the story.

I think that a lot of Andrew’s understanding of Neil comes from the fact that he knows intimately what it feels like to be caught between a rock and a hard place and cut his own lifeline, only to then fail to die on impact. Neil hasn’t had to resort to that yet, but he is hanging by a thread. You’d think that watching him struggle would only serve to drive it home for Andrew that he made the right choice in closing himself off, except… well. His expectations of life and the people in it are so bleak, it’s no wonder he finds himself drawn to Neil’s messy emotions and every unexpected show of spine like a moth to a flame.

Neil, for all of his issues and scars, can still feel things—can still want something so badly it defies all logic. Can want something with such visceral, fucked-up intensity that it resonates where it shouldn’t. It’s an ability that Andrew thinks he’s either lost or cut out of himself to stay somewhat safe, sane and alive a long time ago, but that remains as the most fundamental crack in the foundation of his being. It’s a fascination that seems to come out every time he’s sober and eventually ties into him wanting Neil—wanting something worth wanting and putting a name to it once he finds it. They look at each other and don’t want a watered-down version of the person in front of them. It creates a relationship that embraces issues big and small and accepts (even values!) the messy parts of being human. It means that any space shared between them immediately becomes safe once they settle into something comfortable together. The way they handle the uglier sides of each other’s personality honestly makes me feral because it’s always done with understanding and acceptance and they even find positives or comforts there that the other can’t see and that’s probably a reason for why 1) their chemistry is so off the charts and 2) their relationship is so damn healthy (in addition to their communication being stupidly good when it comes to each other).

Andrew wants something real and Neil wants to be real. And then they get to have exactly that.

[mariasont]

Sending another thought that I can’t think of a way to elaborate on to your magnificent mind

Aaron Hotchner with his assistant who’s rambling (like every other day) about random stuff and she’s just like “I want kids someday” and Hotch is like “oh yea?” And she’s like “yea! And if I ever have kids I hope they’re just like Jack, he’s such a little angel” blah blah blah and poor Hotch is screaming in his mind like YOU COULD HAVE JACK??? BE HIS STEPMOM????

Sorry I’m absolutely feral for them ily bye

BUSINESS OF MAKING BABIES - A.H

a/n: i took this in a slightlyyyy different direction but ugh same im so feral for these two!!!! thank you for your most amazing request! i <3 you!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: references to baby making!!!!!!

wc: 0.6k

Aaron needed to get work done, but his focus was more trained on the delicate patch of skin that connected your shoulder to your neck, smooth and glowing like you'd just stepped out of the sun. You smelled delectably good, which was sending his neurons into overdrive. You were saying something, formulating and articulating thoughts from that perfect brain and through your also perfect mouth. 

He was concentrated on making sure you knew he was listening, nodding and humming every so often as you continued on your tangent, hands waving dramatically through the air, heels clanking on the floor in his office as you paced the room. His gaze moved to your thighs, only for a second, he was a gentleman after all. 

"And she's just, you know, popping them out left and right, and I'm over here like, Hello? Can I get a turn? I'm not asking for much, just a sweet guy who's willing to, you know, help me out with the whole baby-making thing."

You stopped dead in front of his desk, placing your hands atop the wood as you let out a melodramatic sigh. This caught his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

"You want kids?" The words left his mouth before he could filter them. "Isn't that a bit premature at your age?"

"Okay, Grandpa," you giggled, plopping yourself down in the chair before him. "And, of course, I want babies. They'd be the cutest, hopefully just like Jack. He's the sweetest, isn't he?"

Hotch felt his heart plummet to his stomach, jaw clenching and unclenching as he rubbed his thumb along the rough edges of his chin. "Yeah, he's pretty great."

You sighed again, a common occurrence in this conversation, as you stood up and moved around the desk before plopping yourself down on it. Your calve grazed accidentally against his thigh. You absentmindedly adjusted a wrist full of charm bracelets, creating a gentle jingling sound that should've annoyed him, but it did anything but.

"Honestly, though, who even needs a boyfriend these days? I could totally just take the whole donor route for the baby thing. Easy-peasy!"

Hotch's response came after a brief, flustered pause, during which he seemed to search for the right words. Clearing his throat, he managed to look anywhere but at you as he carefully said, "Ah, yes, I suppose you could... do that."

In an effort to regain some semblance of control over the situation, Hotch took a deliberate sip of the somewhat stale coffee sitting on his desk. However, before he could swallow, you bounded off the desk, eyes wide with sudden realization.

"You know what? You would be a great donor."

The coffee in Hotch's mouth nearly made a swift exit as he choked, trying to comprehend what you had just said.

Hotch opened his mouth, attempting to form a coherent response, but before he could broker a single word, you had both hands on his shoulders.

Your eyes were sparkling as you took in his face. "Yeah, like, you have great hair--totally not receding--perfect eyes, great skin..."

Your rapid-fire compliments left him momentarily speechless, a rare flush making its way to his cheeks.

"Well, I--" Hotch began, but your excitement had already taken the reins before he could even navigate through his thoughts.

"I can totally see it; we'd have such cute kids!" you gushed, practically dancing towards the door as if your dreams were almost tangible in the air.

Hotch watched you leave, stuck in his chair, dumbfounded and momentarily lost for words. A bemused smile formed on his lips as he realized he didn't hate the idea at all.

No sooner had the door closed behind you than Morgan appeared, looking thoroughly baffled. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between Hotch and the door you had just exited through.

"Since when are you and Miss Pretty in Pink in the business of making babies together?"

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[tgcg]

argument

its a big one

TG: alright this is probably a bust

TG: more i think about it how the fuck do you even make a marinara

TG: can i even alchemise cheese or do i gotta like alchemise the milk and curdle it myself

TG: how do you even curdle

====================

TG: make a goddamn

TG: curgler

TG: whatever

TG: internet archive gonna pull through

====================

CG: ALRIGHT DAVE

TG: shit

====================

CG: YOU BETTER BACK THE FUCK OFF. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IN BULGEMUNCHING VIRULENT FUCK YOU GET THE IDEA YOU HAVE ANY RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD THINK ABOUT MY OWN GODDAMN PLANET. SORRY TO HAVE TO DEAL A BLOW TO YOUR IMPOSSIBLY INFLATED FUCKING EGO, BUT HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT YOUR SIDE-EYE SLACKJAW HOPELESS DEADPAN BULLSHIT BEHAVIOUR IS ACTUALLY INCREDIBLY FUCKING CONTEMPTIBLE AND DOESN'T PUT YOU ABOVE OTHER PEOPLE? HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT?

CG: OR DID YOU JUST ASSUME FROM THE MOMENT YOU FOUND OUT I'M A REVOLTING FUCKING MUTANT LOWBLOOD FREAK THAT I'M SUDDENLY NOT ALLOWED TO LIKE THE IDEA OF MY LIFE MEANING SOMETHING AT SOME POINT?

TG: okay you are wildly misquoting me where the fuck did that come from

TG: also you scared the hell out of me

TG: im just trying to science some pizza here

====================

CG: OKAY THEN, DAVE! EXPLAIN TO ME AS WELL AS YOUR AMBLING ONE-NOTE SMOOTH EXCUSE FOR A 'THOUGHT'SPONGE CAN

CG: IN SOMEWHAT COHERENT TERMS, ALTHOUGH I KNOW THAT'S A TALL ORDER:

CG: HOW YOU SAYING MY ADOLESCENT DREAMS OF BECOMING A THRESHECUTIONER ARE "FUCKED UP AND IRONIC IN A NASTY ASS WAY" DOESN'T QUALIFY AS UNDERHANDEDLY KICKING ME IN THE MANDIBLE PRONGS!

CG: YOUR AUDIENCE AWAITS YOU WITH BATED BREATH! TAKE IT AWAY, M.C. BRAIN HEMORRHAGE.

====================

TG: okay i dont

TG: know how you got a hold of that phrasing because i said that shit in confidence

TG: get out of my business bro

CG: NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLE: THIS METEOR IS A PHYSICAL, LITERAL LOCATION WE'RE BOTH IN. IT'S NOT A FUCKING PRIVATE CHATROOM. THIS MIGHT BLOW YOUR PITIFUL MIND BUT PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY HEAR OTHER PEOPLE TALK WHEN THEY HAVE TO SHARE A SPACE! BRO!

TG: ugh

====================

CG: AND IT'S VERY INTERESTING YOU ACCUSE ME OF MISQUOTING YOU, AND THEN SUDDENLY TURN AND SPOUT FROM THAT SHITTY DRONING GROANSHAFT OF YOURS THAT I'M INVADING YOUR PRIVACY WHEN I DIRECTLY QUOTE YOUR SMARMY LITTLE SHAMEGLOBES!

CG: WOW! TURNS OUT KARKAT IS ACTUALLY BEING GENUINELY FUCKING UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING — WHO KNEW, RIGHT? WHO WOULD'VE GUESSED THAT I ACTUALLY HAVE GENUINE COMPLAINTS TO LEVEL AGAINST THE PEOPLE WHO GO SPOUTING HOOFBEASTSHIT ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK TO THEIR ECTOSIBLINGS?

TG: no dude can you shut up a second

CG: I MOST CERTAINLY FUCKING WILL, THANKS FOR THE OFFER! I'M NEVER TELLING YOU A GODDAMN THING AGAIN, SO I HOPE YOU MANAGE TO GAIN SOME WRINKLES TO THAT VESTIGIAL FLAWLESS ORB FLOATING AROUND IN YOUR CAVERNOUS NUGBONE FROM ALL THIS. I HOPE IT WAS WORTH ALL THE EFFORT ON YOUR END.

TG: listen!!!!

====================

CG: MHM! MY AURICULAR CHAMBERS ARE WIDE OPEN!

TG: jegus

TG: okay

TG: i have no defense for my literal phrasing but how expeditiously did you shadowstep the fuck away after i said that

TG: because that is some shrek tier "princess and ugly dont go together" level misrepresentation of my sweet self

TG: like if this wasnt obviously a heated platonic argument we were having i would probably be digging what the reference even if it was a shitty trope

====================

TG: i just

TG: have been thinking about some things and none of those things have got an iota of a thing to do with you or your blood

TG: thing

TG: man

TG: i dont know why you think id be so pressed about your vein juice its like

TG: a normal ass color for a normal ass guy

TG: and obviously it was a major fucking deal from how you talk about it but it doesnt need to be anymore

====================

TG: the thing is i just dont like have the same attitude as you about fighting and stuff and thats not something i am getting into right now but i am gonna make it expressly clear

TG: that its just kind of fucked up for me to sit my ass down and listen to someone spew gold and medals and confetti colored shit going googoo all over tall and loathsome ass bloodletters he never knew

TG: and have him tell me he wants to be the best guy at combat since samurai fuckin jack

TG: and thats my capital B business believe me the emphasis is there

====================

CG: SO IS THIS ABOUT ME WANTING TO BE PART OF SOMETHING YOU DON'T AGREE WITH? BECAUSE THRESHECUTIONERS DON'T EVEN FUCKING EXIST ANYMORE. I LITERALLY COULD NOT DO THIS IF I TRIED AT THIS POINT, SO YOU CAN UNKNOT YOUR “KNIGHTY WHITIES” ABOUT IT.

TG: being anti-military is not my point but damn if it isnt a thing thats probably true anyways so good job sleuthing that out

CG: WHAT IS YOUR POINT, DAVE.

TG: bluh

TG: i just said i dont wanna talk about it man

====================

CG: OKAY,

====================

CG: OKAY.

CG: I MEAN. IT FEELS KIND OF IMPORTANT TO THE CONTEXT OF THIS WHOLE UNAMBIGUOUSLY PLATONIC ARGUMENT WE'VE BEEN HAVING

CG: WHICH I'M RELIEVED WE AGREE ON BY THE WAY

CG: BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KNOW I'M NOT GOING TO WRING IT OUT OF YOU. IT'S FINE.

====================

CG: …IF YOU DECIDE AT SOME POINT THAT YOU WANT TO TELL ME THOUGH, MY RUMBLE VESSELS ARE STILL OPEN.

TG: i swear youre making those up on the spot at this point

CG: I'M KEEPING MY LANGUAGE'S ART ALIVE, DAVE. IT'S BASIC DECENCY TO THE PLANET THAT RAISED ME.

TG: heh

====================

TG: yknow we got these things called anatomical snuffboxes

TG: its got that right amount of vague nose wrinklage to it that i feel like youd be right at home saying that

TG: snug as a grub even

CG: WHAT PART IS THAT???

TG: its that little weird bone bit that sticks out on the back of your palm when you flex your thumb right

====================

TG: look

CG: HUH. LOOKING AT THAT IS KIND OF WIGGING ME OUT.

TG: yeah its kinda gross rose told me about it

TG: but anyways

====================

TG: are we cool

CG: I MEAN… I GUESS SO. YOU WEREN'T ACTUALLY INSULTING ME, RIGHT?

TG: hell no dude never

CG: OKAY. I COMPLETELY RESCIND THE MYRIAD OF WAYS I JUST INSULTED YOU. AND I'M SORRY.

TG: nah i know its just fluff at this point

====================

CG: I STILL DON'T APPRECIATE YOU TELLING ROSE THINGS I SAY TO YOU IN CONFIDENCE. THAT WAS BETWEEN YOU, ME, AND MY NOW NON-EXISTENT HOME PLANET ROTTING AWAY TO A CRATERED GRAY HUSK IN ANOTHER DEAD UNIVERSE.

TG: i swear that was like the only thing its just that she gets it and i cant keep my mouth from going on about the gettable stuff

TG: they call me the babbling brook the way my flows so audible

TG: i wont do it again

CG: NO,

====================

CG: I GET IT HONESTLY.

CG: I'M BASICALLY THE NUMBER ONE PROPRIETOR OF AIRED GRIEVANCES IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE AND THEN SOME, AND I'D ALSO BECOME ITS BIGGEST HYPOCRITE IF I HELD IT AGAINST YOU.

TG: thanks

TG: but i mean

TG: at the gigantic risk of sounding uh

====================

TG: ………..

CG: ?

====================

TG: well

TG: i kinda just think youre better at being a guy to chill out and watch movies with than a guy to tangle fists with

TG: and i dont think theres anything wrong with being that

TG: i think its cool

====================

CG: …THAT'S AN ALARMINGLY BRAZEN OBSERVATION TO MAKE OF SOMEONE YOU'VE KNOWN FOR ABOUT THE SPAN OF SEVEN SEASONAL EQUINOXES, DAVE.

TG: i dont know what that means but it sure is probably

CG: AM I ALLOWED TO ASK WHAT EVEN GIVES YOU THAT IMPRESSION????

TG: i just got that inkling about you man

====================

TG: and you can do whatever you want with that info

TG: throw it in the load gaper or whatever if you want i dont really care

TG: give it a swirly and slam it in a locker call it a nerd break its glasses whatever

TG: but beyond this whole lord english thing weve got going on i am pretty content to never aggress my fellow man slash alien slash monster again if i can help it

TG: i think thats pretty fair given what thats been like so far

====================

TG: and yknow its cool to have some company when im waxing emotional over the narrative depth of click starring adam sandler which we are watching next by the way

CG: UGH, FIIIIIIIIINE. JUST TO MAKE UP FOR CALLING YOUR THINKPAN SMOOTH AND SUPERFLUOUS.

====================

TG: score

TG: we should argue all the time

CG: SNRK

[cat3ch1sm]

This is so awkward, but I was wondering if you could write hcs for if the reader called L, Mello, Near, and Matt "daddy" or "sir" or something else along those lines during sex? 😭 (if not that's totally fine I just got a mental image of Mello being like "what-" and I'm seeking other opinions lol)

🐸~ loll!! don't worry i have gotten much worse requests than this, this isn't at all awkward. this request seemed fun lol i hope u enjoy! i love u lots and thanks for ur support<33

nsfw ahead, gn!reader, sub!reader

how they'd react to being called daddy/sir during sex~ wammy boys

matt

~ it just slipped from your lips in the heat of the moment. you had been really hazy and a bit delirious and matt had been deep inside you when it just popped out. and yes, it did catch him by surprise for about half a second since he wasn't expecting it and it wasn't something you'd ever called him before. but in the same half a second he was caught off guard, matt decided he loved it. he doesn't say anything about it in the moment, but it was the way you said it, with your shaky voice barely coherent and your pretty eyes crossed, overwhelmed with pleasure. matt takes it as a sign that he's doing a really good job, and best believe he makes it his mission to get one of those out of you again every time you two get intimate. on the other hand, expect pretty relentless teasing about it. matt both finds it amusing and a hell of a turn on how easily he can get you off, how he can make you just lose yourself like that.

~ "hey, matt, can you get that over there for me?"

~ "don't you mean daddy?"

~ "you are the worst."

mello

~ mello is someone who enjoys being in control during sex. so when you moan that in this pathetic, trembling voice, pleading with tears pricking the corners of your eyes for him to keep going, it's really such a rush for him. the brief moment of surprise at the unexpected title is quickly swept away by the surge of pride, almost arrogant in its nature. you've fully surrendered yourself to him; your pleasure is in his hands; you've acknowledged his power over your body. he'll probably get rougher in the moment, and later on in future intimate encounters he'll outright make you say it, denying you any release until you do, over and over and over.

near

~ although near does usually prefer it when you both are equals during sex, he can't help the swell of satisfaction in his heart when you call him that. after all, he has an ego like every other man on this list, and near gets something out of being at least somewhat in control, even in your sexual encounters where he does normally prefer not for anyone to be dominant. it's not like he needs to hear you say it every time, but near certainly doesn't mind when you do. besides, it means you like what he's doing and he's making you feel good, which is what he wants most.

ryuzaki

~ he probably spends the most time being surprised out of anybody else on this list. he doesn't have anything against it- besides, it would probably kill the mood if ryuzaki paused mid-sex to ask about it and what brought it on- but he just is somebody who likes having answers. so he may or may not literally interview you about it later- did he do something different? is that something that might happen again? what prompted you to call him that? he must know, even if you can hardly even sit up or form a full sentence yet.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Flight Suit Aphrodisiac

Summary: There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had always been attractive, sure, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac. It didn’t matter what you were doing or where you were; when you saw him in it, you had to have him.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n, can be read as unnamed OC)

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: Smut, language.

Notes: Written for this request from @arson-tm. I hope you like it! 

______

There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had been attractive since the very first time you saw him in it, strutting down the produce section in the grocery store you met in, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac to you. Every time he wore it around you, your heart rate increased, your panties dampened (assuming you were wearing any to begin with), and you just had to have him. 

You blamed the hormones. 

“I’m going to be late for work,” he grunted into your neck, even as he continued to nip and suck at the skin, darkening the bruises he had left last night. You tightened both your legs and your pussy around him in response, making him groan. His next thrust was harder than the ones before and you craved more.

“Your fault,” you panted, nails scratching at his back hard enough to make him hiss. You raised your hips to meet his on his next downward stroke. “This god damn suit.” 

A cocky look you knew all too well took over Jake’s pretty face and he smirked down at you. “You like the flight suit, baby?” 

“You know I do,” you whined. His cock hit that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back and you let out a loud, drawn out moan of his name. 

“Yeah you do. Can’t get enough of me in this thing, can you?” 

Your hair splayed out on the pillow as you frantically shook your head. You were so focused on how good he felt inside of you that you were losing the ability to form coherent sentences. But Jake loved you like this, you knew. His already inflated ego grew even bigger when you were a dumb, fucked out mess because of the pleasure he was bringing you. And truly, he deserved it. No one has ever made you feel this good and you knew no one ever would again. 

He gave a breathless chuckle as he pounded into you harder and faster. The mattress squeaked and the headboard hit against the wall. 

“Please,” you managed to whimper. That familiar coil was tightening inside of you, and you were growing closer and closer to the edge. All it took was the rough pad of Jake’s thumb pressing firmly against your clit to throw you over. You gushed around his cock, his name bouncing off the walls of your bedroom as you screamed. Through the haze you thought maybe he was praising you for being a good girl and how beautiful you looked as he chased after his own orgasm. You were still spasming around him when you felt him release inside of you, his warm cum filling you up. 

Like they always did when he was fucking you this way, his lips met yours as he rode it out. As much as he loved hearing you scream for him, he loved kissing you as you both came down from the high even more. You didn’t mind a bit as your tongue tangled with his; he tasted like the spearmint toothpaste he had used right before you jumped him. You hummed in delight. 

Your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, the both of you fighting to catch your breath. You rubbed a hand up and down his back as your heart rate calmed, feeling the scratches you had left there. When you had your bearings somewhat back, you purposefully clenched your walls around him. His softening cock twitched inside of you and his groan made you smile.  

“You’re gonna be late,” you warned him, echoing his earlier words, “better go.” 

“You fucking tease of a woman,” he said gruffly, but there was no actual heat behind his words. He kissed you again before slowly pulling out and rolling off of you to stand. You clenched your thighs together on instinct; you loved the feel of his spend inside of you. You carefully moved onto your side to watch as he jogged into the en suite, coming back out with a damp washcloth. You took it from him before he had the chance to use it on you himself. 

“If you touch me down there right now, you won’t be going into work.” 

His chest puffed out in pride and you rolled your eyes; you loved him so much.

You watched him put his undershirt on and snap his briefs back into place, before continuing on to pull the heavy material of the suit back up his thighs. You don’t know if you were relieved or disappointed when, instead of putting it all the way on, he tied it at his hips. The full appeal came from seeing him all zipped up in it, the material stretched across his broad chest and shoulders with his patches on display, and he knew it. 

“I love you, darling.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead, before shifting to press a kiss to your growing tummy. He rubbed a thumb over the stretching skin. “And I love you too, little one.” 

Like it always did when he spoke to your unborn child, your heart melted a little. You grabbed his hand before he could walk away from the bed you were still lying in, completely naked and on display with no shame whatsoever. 

“Call me on your way home?” you requested. It was unnecessary because he always did, but you asked him every morning anyway. 

Jake quirked an eyebrow, a playful but knowing look in his eyes as he squeezed your hand. “Should I wear the flight suit home?”  You bit your lip with a nod, shamelessly looking him up and down. Desire sparked in you again as you thought about how good he always made you feel; you were so lucky he was all yours. “Yes. Please.”

______

Notes: Thanks for reading! Likes/comments/reblogs always mean a lot.

I don’t have a tag list for Jake and don’t want to bombard my Bradley girlies with this if they don’t want him, but in case I do anything for Hangman in the future, let me know if you’d like to be added to a new list 💚

Masterlist

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something��� bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

[cher-rei]

Hi👋! I was wondering if I could request a Gavi x reader fluff fic which includes this prompt “I have no idea what I’m doing. Oh God we need a real adult to take care of you”? Basically reader is sick and Gavi says the prompt. I'm new to this blog so I'm not sure if this is how you take requests. Thank you❣️

deep breaths- pablo gavi [ P.G ]

but I promise you this. I'll always look out for you [sparks- coldplay]

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

summary: taking care of you when sick brings more anxiety for gavi than he'd thought.

genre(s): established relationship, fluff, slight angst

[wc: 2.2k] masterlist

notes: I was sick while writing this and I swear I felt the words float off my screen because my head was spinning like crazy. but this prompt was cute as hell so I hope you enjoy it xx

the house was empty— all the lights were still off, except for the blue hue from the swimming pool's lights that could be seen illuminating through the ceiling to floor window in the living room.

a heavy sigh left your lips when you shut the front door, your sluggish strides heavy and painful as you made your way to the couch so you could catch your breath after today's stress.

you were drowning in university work and assignments and have been staying in the library for excessive hours after classes just to get a grip on whatever was piled on you. this was the fourth time this week that you'd gotten home late which gavi wouldn't be happy about at all.

so when you saw that his car still wasn't in the driveway when you pulled up you thanked the heavens and the fact that he was still at pedri's house. he hated when you over-exerted yourself which you were prone to— being the workaholic that you were.

he never failed to give you a heartfelt scolding whenever this happened, telling you that you needed to eat, reminding you to take a break and even resorting to forcing you out of your chair just to rest with him.

but today you weren't ready for that, not with the way that your head was pounding. when you sat down on the couch a wave of relief washed over you and the urge to succumb to the tiredness sat on your chest but you couldn't fall asleep... you just needed to rest your eyes for a minute.

there was excitement in gavi's strides when he got home, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and not let go until the following day. he just missed you that much to the point where he barely said bye to pedri when he left and got straight into his car.

it was 8:24 p.m. so he knew you'd still be awake, probably in the kitchen baking something seeing as it was friday. every friday you could be caught baking something to distress yourself with a smile and the music playing while you hummed carelessly.

but that wasn't the case today because the house was eerily quiet. gavi didn't like that one bit and immediately called for you, seeing as it was dark. but when he got no response his pace quickened only to find you sprawled on the couch still with your clothes on.

not again, he thought and crouched down beside you.

"amor I'm home," he whispered and nudged you slightly, earning a disgruntled moan from you while you took a bit to wake up.

he watched you sit up with slight worry and it was clear that you hadn't planned on falling asleep judging by your confused expression as you looked around, until you were somewhat coherent.

you looked at your boyfriend with a lopsided smile. "hello baby, how was your day?"

"are you feeling okay?" he asked, brushing off your question and put a hand to your cheek. he wasn't pleased with how warm you were and moved his hand your forehead but you tried to pull it off.

you were screwed, to say the least, because you were burning up. before gavi could even say anything about the matter you pushed the fact that you were fine and tried to stand up. horrible decision. a sharp pain ran through your head and you swore you could feel it in your eye sockets.

a painful groan left your lips and immediately gavi was at your side, his hand carefully around your waist for stability in fear that you were going to fall. "oh no. I knew this was going to happen."

hear it comes.

your eyes shut tightly while gavi rambled on about you being sick, saying that you should have listened to him and not over exert yourself because he knew how bad of a toll it took on you. you loved him, but right now was not the time for a lecture.

"pablo I'm fine." you kissed the back of his hand reassuringly but he couldn't help but feel horrible. "I just need some rest okay?"

"I think you need more than just some sleep baby. this--"

you shook your head slightly, looking directly into his eyes so that he could see that you were fine. "--I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to sleep. there's no need to worry because I'm fine, okay?"

okay? as if. gavi could see right through you and even though he played it off, the second you hopped into the shower he was already halfway to the pharmacy with his phone in hand, his mother on the line for proper instructions.

he's never actually taken care of someone when they were sick before because funny enough he was always the patient. whether it be an injury or the flu you were taking care of him and now it was his turn to be just as gentle and patient until you felt better.

his mother asked him questions in and out— how high was your temperature? were your muscles aching? were you throwing up? all questions he couldn't answer that well because he just knew that you were sick and needed medication immediately.

"uhm she's hot...? I mean she couldn't walk so I guess so. I don't think she even ate enough to be able to throw up."

the panic in his voice had his mother stressing just as much but she stayed on the line until he got back home and wished him luck because she knew just how stubborn you were when it came to being sick.

when he got home you were sleeping, your eyebrows knitted together in discomfort which made him feel horrible. how was he supposed to take care of you like this? he didn't know what he was doing at all.

but gavi pushed it aside and decided to call it a night and left the bathroom light on just in case. he crept in beside you, making sure to place a soft kiss on your forehead that had gotten significantly warmer than last he checked but he didn't bother waking you.

it didn't take long for him to fall asleep, his arm loosely wrapped around your torso and it was a miracle that he didn't wake up because of all your tossing and turning.

beads of sweat began to form on your forehead and you felt light-headed but still tried your best to at least try and sleep. but you just couldn't, not when you felt this uncomfortable and were in pain.

at some point, you got up for some water to try and soothe whatever you were feeling but then the hot flushes started, and you were struggling to breathe. you were an utter mess, dizzily making your way back to bed while the floor spun beneath you.

short of breath you leant against your bedroom door— and the bang must've been loud because gavi began to stir awake, which was the last thing you wanted. he woke up to the empty space beside him and immediately shot up, his eyes squinted due to the bathroom light being on.

you watched his blurry figure get out of bed, not able to make out what he was saying by the overwhelming feeling of pain and discomfort drowning you. gavi pulled you toward his chest, his hand lightly touching your forehead and neck.

next thing you knew, you were sitting on the bathroom floor unable to catch a proper breath because you were so overwhelmed.

gavi was panicking— his heart racing as well as his thoughts because he just didn't know what to do. the closest he'd gotten to taking care of you was when you were on your period, and his routine had already been drilled in for the past two years you've been together.

he'd have your toiletry cabinet stocked, and your snack cabinet never emptied. your heating pads were always at the ready along with your tea. and your most important necessity— him. you took refuge on his chest in your moments of pain, his hand carefully places over your stomach to soothe the pain.

but this was different. he felt useless, watching you helplessly like a lost puppy.

"it's okay amor, I'm here," he said soothingly and set you against his chest on the bathroom floor, but not even the cold tiles could soothe your increasing temperature.

you fell limp against your boyfriend but fought the urge to break down. instead, a painful groan left your lips, one that had gavi holding onto you tighter in fear.

"it hurts," you croaked while trying to steady your shaky breaths.

"what hurts hm?" it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears and that had your heart shattered. gavi was paranoid by nature, especially when it came to you. so you couldn't begin to imagine what was running through him mind right now.

you took his hand into yours and put it on your chest. "everything. everything hurts."

gavi felt your shaky breaths and sat in silence, unsure of what to say— but he needed to get you that medication immediately. it wasn't going to have an immediate effect and he'd probably have to take you to the doctor tomorrow but as long as it soothed some of your pain.

he got up from the floor as delicately as he could, watching as you tried to sit up by yourself which wasn't what he wanted. "come here, angel." he picked you up with ease, cradling your body gently as you wrapped your legs around his waist and rested your head on his shoulders.

while he walked down the stairs he wondered how you didn't pass out on them on your way to fetch that glass of water. his mind flooded with thoughts like this until he made it to the kitchen and set you down on the island.

"pablo," you said breathlessly and your boyfriend immediately got through the last of your medication and set it down beside you, a worried hum leaving his lips.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and held the pills in front of you. you counted 4 and took each one as quick as possible, the water making no difference to the cooling of your temperature when it travelled down your throat.

by the time you were done, gavi had gotten a fresh cloth and began dabbing it on your neck and forehead. the two of you were enveloped in silence— your head spinning but your boyfriend's fingers resting on the small of your back, tracing small shapes on your skin beneath your shirt.

it was when you let your head rest on his shoulder that gavi felt the need to speak up, just above a whisper. "I have no idea what I'm doing right now."

your heart swelled at the sound of his half-hearted chuckle because for someone who didn't know what he was doing, he was doing a great job. he'd been so patient with you from the second he saw you lying limp on the couch. he held his composure and handled you so gently, taking the initiative and making sure that you felt at least somewhat better.

he didn't see it, but you did and were so grateful.

you left a light kiss on his neck. "don't say that amor. sure I still feel like passing out--"

"--are you serious?" he asked in shock, an upset groan leaving his mouth as he pulled away from you. "this isn't going to work."

"no baby--"

he was panicking. beating himself up for thinking that he could take care of you in this state, what did he know? he was only a child. "oh god, we need a real adult. someone who actually knows what they're doing."

you couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his rambling out of sheer panic. it was endearing in a way, your gaze softening at the innocent glint in his eyes because he was just so adorable. you urged him to calm down, your voice was soft and warm as you pulled him closer to you.

"are you not an adult, hm?" you teased with a smile and cupped his cheeks, and to your surprise, he said no without hesitation.

gavi proceeded to go on about how he still had you treating him like a baby, that you took care of him and that he was utterly useless when it came to helping you. of course, you strongly disagreed because you did feel better.

he stared into your eyes, trying to calm himself down while you reassured him. "do you not make me feel at ease? safe? comfortable? loved?" you kissed him on the cheek when he didn't reply.

"exactly, so stop being ridiculous."

gavi melted at your touch, sinking further into the crook of your neck for another moment before he took you back to bed so that you could get some sleep.

you rested your head on his chest, legs over his because you felt the need to be that close to him tonight. you felt sleep finally settle on your chest at the soothing feeling of his fingers running through your hair.

"I love you."

gavi's chest tightened at the suddenness. he shut his eyes and thanked the universe that you were in his life and kissed the top of your head. "I love you too, cariño."

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

The Bluest Eyes

Chapter 3

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter

You awoke with the first rays of dawn.

A short groan left your lips as you stretched, feeling the bones in your back pop and snap, though you didn’t get far with the heavy arm thrown across your waist. Warriors’ arm, you realized when the hero beside you let out a sleepy murmur, not yet awake. 

You couldn’t help but grin, not quite able to believe that this hadn’t been a dream. The fighting and arguing… the confession…

Warriors’ arm tightened, pulling you closer, and you felt him press a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, eliciting a full-body shiver in you. Only then did you notice the… other thing pressing against your thigh through the material of his pants. 

You bit your lip, wondering how to proceed. It had been a long time since you had felt this flustered, and even longer since you had felt intrigued by something of this manner. Being one of the two primary healers in the group, you had seen your fair share of the boys without their usual layers–the furthest being Wild in only his underwear after getting slashed in the abdomen–but you tried not to think too deeply about that when Wars was right next to you, though you were sure he wasn’t even aware of his actions. 

Yet, your mind supplied in a tone that was most unhelpful, and you hoped to Hylia that the remaining dark would be enough to conceal the flush of your cheeks. You had always found Wars attractive, but now… well, you weren’t sure you could be blamed for your actions the longer you spent in close proximity to that godly body of his, practically bursting with lean muscle that you could have spent an eternity studying. His broad shoulders and trim waist were nothing to laugh at, either, as was the delicate, kissable curve of his lips and tortured slope of his cheeks. 

You were torn back to reality when Warriors shifted again, groaning in a tone that sounded far too coherent for your liking. “You’re up…” his head tilted slightly and you just knew he was looking out the window. “...Early.”

“It’s only dawn,” you responded somewhat defensively, shivering when warm breath ghosted over your neck. “I’m usually awake to,” he pressed the first of many open-mouthed kisses to your neck, arm caging your body to the bed, and you had to take a moment to process the molten heat that shot down your spine. “T-take inventory and… help with… breakfast–... Wars–”

“Is this okay?”

He gave you another kiss, teeth scraping the sensitive flesh in a way that had you freezing in your tracks. A low hiss filtered past your lips when his tongue laved over the area, reaching his unoccupied arm up to tangle in your hair, gently pulling your head to the side for better access. You shivered, hands fisting in the sheets as you considered your options; relinquishing partial control to another person was never something you considered, but you had been hoping for a distraction after the insanity of yesterday. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, coming to a decision. You were curious and, well, there was no time like the present to satisfy it. Warriors chuckled against your skin, nosing tenderly against your skin for a moment before latching onto a particularly sensitive spot, drawing a soft yelp from your throat. “C-Careful– I don’t–”

As much as you loved him, you’d rather not have to explain to Hyrule–or any of them, for that matter–why there were hickeys on your neck, because that was not a conversation you’d want to have with a group comprised entirely of men. 

But Warriors merely chuckled against your skin, pulling back to flick his tongue against the pointed tip of your ear. “Relax, princess, it won’t leave a mark,” he paused and you all but heard the smirk in his tone. “Not where anyone can see, anyway.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” he said, and you almost smacked him right then and there. Almost. 

“Har har.”

Warriors pulled back further, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his stupidly handsome face before it was diving back into your throat. Having regained a bit of your sass, you took the opportunity to grasp him by the hair, tugging the silky locks gently. His hand slid down to rest on your waist, fingers digging softly into your flesh through your nightgown. “Wars–”

“Yes?” his lips shifted from the side of your neck to the barest beginnings of your collarbone, and you stuttered out your next words. 

“W-What about your meeting?”

He detached from your skin just to stare up at you with the most perfect deadpan you had seen. “At dawn?”

You gulped, feeling a bit sheepish, but nerves were no joke. You had scars–many scars–from the war and a small part of you worried that he would be repulsed, or worse, too aghast to continue, despite the fact that you knew he had scars too. Your heartbeat felt frenzied, like a miniature war drum in your chest, and the soft attention he lathered your skin with both amplified and dampened the nervous feeling pooling in your lower belly. Hands clenching, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for–

“What’s wrong?” Warriors was suddenly above you, expression dampened with worry. The flush decorating his cheeks dimmed some as he took in your face. “W-We can stop if this is too much, I have no intention of–”

“Wars,” you cut him off, sitting up on your elbows, then your butt. “Why do you love me?”

“I– are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you deadpanned, frowning slightly. “But I’d be a lot better if you answered my question.”

A beat of silence passed. Warriors watched you carefully, eyes searching desperately for any semblance of a clue to your mood, but all he saw was insecurity in your averted gaze, the hesitant slope of your expression, and the way your fingers fiddled against each other in your lap. 

“...You’re insecure, aren’t you?”

Your eyes snapped to him, bright with surprise, and Warriors knew he had hit the nail on the head. With a deep sigh, he took both your hands, holding them in his own, the calluses pronouncing his life’s work for all to see. Yet, no words fell from your lips, so he leaned forward and closed the gap himself. 

The kiss was soft, with a certain air of hesitancy that lasted no longer than it took your hands to re-tangle in his hair, holding him in place in the same manner he had done for you. When you separated, he took the first available second to pull your body into his lap. You went easily, willingly, settling on his thighs like you belonged there. 

“I could tell you,” the captain paused, mostly for effect and partly to see the way your expression instantly grew curious. “Or I could show you.”

You blinked once, twice, and the realization crashed down on you harder than a wallmaster. Cheeks hot with embarrassment at the implications of that particular quip, you wondered how the hell you had ended up like this with him. 

It was like a dream–one that had come true instead of fading into nightly obscurity–and you felt woefully unprepared to handle this situation without cherry red cheeks. Then again, this was Warriors, the hero you had been sweet on since you practically met, and a small part of you knew that he was far from the type to allow someone to wallow in their insecurities, which was almost a scary though until you looked into his eyes; swirling with sincerity and another hooded with emotion you didn't dare place. 

“...What do you want from me?” you whispered against his lips. 

“From you?” Warriors was silent, hands tracing down the curve of your spine to rest on the tops of your hips, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I want everything.”

“Everything?” you parroted, as disbelieving as you were intrigued. 

“Everything,” he repeated. 

Maybe it was the way his smile shone brighter than the approaching dawn, or perhaps it was the addicting lull of your newfound freedom, but you didn’t dare question the hero further. He was going to be the death of you, but you had no doubt that it would be worth it. 

You kissed him, and there was a definite, passionate change in the motions that had you wondering how you had survived thus far without it. The captain made an approving noise when you deepened the kiss, tightly gripping his hair with one hand while the other cupped the back of his bare neck. His own hands drifted to splay over your backside, fingertips barely skimming the bottom of your ass. 

Your breath hitched when he gave the softest of squeezes, but the sound was swallowed down when his tongue slipped into your mouth and life felt a whole less real for a hot minute. Your hips shifted forward, pressing against the straining bulge in his pants. Warriors’ chest at the contact, and you couldn’t help but repeat the motion, rolling against his crotch with purpose, eliciting a deep groan from him. 

When air became a necessity, you pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. The arm around his neck shifted so your palm was pressing directly against his left pectoral, feeling the warm muscle tense under the movement. 

Slowly, you brought your head to his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin before you. One of his hands trailed up to stroke the small of your back, the other sliding to rest on your covered thigh, and, Hylia, was he trying to kill you? You tried not to shudder when the pads of his fingers dug into your flesh, but he was far too observant. 

“Do you like when I touch you, (Y/n)?” he asked, tone full of devious promise, and your body practically trembled with anticipation as he got to the crux of the statement. “Do you want me to touch you more?”

“Yes,” you said with only a millisecond’s hesitation. The way he said your name had goosebumps racing up your arms, and there was no way in Hyrule he hadn’t noticed already. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Warriors answered, cupping your ass in a far firmer grip as he reached up to stroke a single finger over the tented peak of your left nipple through the fabric of your nightgown. Your body instinctively jerked, but the hand on your ass kept you in place as he continued his exploration. It was all over when he gave a curious pinch to the nipple, and you clamped a hand to your mouth, muffling the moan leaving your lips. 

Warriors tutted, hand snapping up to tug your own away, holding it in a gentle grip. “None of that, I don’t want to miss a single noise you make, understand?”

Your cheeks flared hotly as your heart did a funny little flip in your ribcage, nodding somewhat dumbly. The captain stared for a moment longer, only releasing your wrist when you gave him a small smile, hands wrapping around you in search of the clast of your gown. He unhooked it with ease, pulling it off your shoulders and allowing the fabric to pool in your waist. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, releasing his hair and letting your arms fall limply at your sides. 

The hero’s expression shifted to pleased, eyes flicking down to gaze at your bare chest. A crimson flush bloomed over his cheeks the longer he stared, and your mind constricted at the mere thought of him liking what he saw. 

Calloused hands rose to cup your breasts, thumbs sliding tenderly over your nipples as he gave a soft squeeze. You let out a sigh–breathier than you’d like to admit–and leaned into his touch, drawing a satisfied rumble from the captain’s chest. Almost entranced, you watched as his head dipped down, only yelping when a hot tongue licked up your sternum. But Warriors was far from done, wrapping an arm around your back to keep you in place while he took a neglected nipple into his mouth. Your body jerked impressively, nearly bending flat over his arm as you struggled to process the sensations. “Wars–”

A soft pop echoed through the room when he pulled away, leaving behind a very wet, very chilly nipple. 

“That’s not my name,” the hero’s voice thudded in your very skin as his face remained half-pressed between your breasts, clearly enjoying their softness. 

You gulped at his tone, but who could blame him? You had called him by a few names since your first meeting–some of them not particularly flattering–but he had a point. A good one. 

“Link,” the word felt slightly foreign on your tongue, but the way he perked up made it all worth it. “I–”

“Yes?” he asked with a soft expression and, Hylia, if that wasn’t the cutest thing you had seen today. 

You responded by pulling him in for a kiss, moaning slightly when his hips slowly rocked against your core. It was commonplace for you to forego underwear when you slept, and there was no doubt in your mind that you had likely been dripping since the very first kiss. Warriors responded by gathering your boobs in his hands once more, pinching both of your nipples simultaneously to see your reaction. And what a reaction it was–you moaned into his mouth, jerking forward instead of backwards, and unintentionally toppling the both of you. Warriors grunted as his back hit the mattress, and you were too stunned to speak, laying on his chest with your hips in the air. 

Ever the opportunist, the captain took the opportunity to grab your ass tightly, grinning up at you. “Eager, are we?”

“Says you,” you responded by gesturing to the tented bulge in his pants with a deadpan expression. “You’re just a pot calling the kettle black at this point.”

“Can I be your pot?” he asked without missing a beat, and you laughed loudly despite the current situation, scooting forward to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“Whatever you want.”

Warriors’ grin grew and he palmed your ass with astounding vigor. “Are you sure you want to give me that kind of freedom?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don't question it, captain.”

“As you wish,” he said, gripping your hips tightly and flipping your positions. You yelped as your back collided against the bed with a soft thump, but the sensation of Warriors scooted between your prone thighs quickly distracted you. He leaned over you–arms on either side of your chest so as to not squish you–with a heavy stare, so deep that you had the urge to look away. His bulge pressed against your core, just barely clothed by the cream-colored edge of your nightgown. 

You held his gaze, nervousness pricking your belly as you waited for his next movement. Soft as silk, one of his hands traced down your side, over the fabric of your dress, and skipping to stroke your thigh. A wave of disappointment crashed over you, but you quickly recovered when he bent down to lap at your right breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth like it belonged there. “Ah– Link!”

Warriors’ gaze snapped up, hand practically digging into your tender flesh. “Say that again.”

You blinked, but quickly complied at the dark look in his eyes. “L…Link?”

The captain delivered a sharp nip to the sensitive peak in his mouth, and you nearly bucked him off from the way your chest shot up. “Don’t hesitate, I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Core clenching, you nodded, keeping true to your word when he detached from the first nipple, leaving it wet with spit, and focused on the second one. “Please, Link!”

“That’s it,” Warriors murmured through a mouthful of boob. “Hylia, you’re perfect.”

Perfect. 

No one had called you that in forever, and while you didn’t doubt his sincerity, a small part of you hesitated at being called that. It was the same part that refused to allow yourself receive medical care when there were others suffering unimaginably harder, among other things, and now it was rearing its ugly head once more. After all, how could you be perfect when they existed–

Abruptly, all sensations stopped and Warriors’ face loomed in the center of your vision, expression unhappy. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he beat you to the punch. 

“Stop that,” Warriors tone was harsh, but the look in his eyes was all the more heartbreaking. Your jaw shut with an audible click. “I can see it all over your face, and I’m only going to say this once: don’t you dare, (Y/n).”

There was a lump in your throat from the intensity in his gaze. “Wars–”

“No,” he said firmly, sighing when you flinched. A hand stroked your chin kindly. “I can’t–... no,  won’t allow this anymore. If you don’t start loving yourself, I’ll have no choice but to show you myself.”

The line was delivered with such conviction that it took you a moment to process the implications behind that particular statement, but the crimson flush that spread over your face like a raging wildfire could have put Legend’s tunic to shame. 

“You– excuse me?”

“You’re not fucking excused, now–” he paused to haul your hips into his lap, sitting back slightly. The hem of your nightgown slipped to your waist, revealing everything to his sharp gaze. “–this is your last chance to stop me. Do you understand?”

Warriors waited for you to come to an answer, rubbing comforting circles on the flesh of your thighs. The look in his eyes was soft, and you knew he would stop if you truly wanted him to. That being said, you had denied yourself for so long, and maybe, just maybe, it was time for you to get what you wanted. 

“Yes,” you responded slowly, heart flipping when the corners of his lips quirked up. Warriors shuffled backward until his face was level with the raised scar on your stomach, a painful memory of your life during the war, and dipped down to kiss the center of it. Your abdominal muscles shook in an attempt not to jerk, but he only chuckled, licking a stripe up the area. “Hylia, Link–!”

You could hardly think when he went further down, face hovering over your bare cunt with an expression that had your thighs clenching together. Until he pried them open with a tut and very disappointed expression. “Don’t hide from me, I want to see all of you, alright, (Y/n)?” and, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. “I’m not above teaching you a lesson if that’s what it takes.”

With that, he dipped his head and you squealed at the sensation of his lips connecting against your most sensitive parts. Warriors laughed into your folds, hands holding your hips steady as his tongue darted out to lick a thick line up to your clit, flicking the swollen bud in a way that had you screaming his true name. You had no idea where or how he had learned this, but, by Hylia, did you never want to stop. 

It only got worse from there. Warriors grew bold, sealing his lips around your poor bundle of nerves and sucking with delicious pressure, prodding a finger at your slick entrance while his other arm wrapped securely over your lower stomach. You moaned when it slipped in, much thicker than your own, and fisted your hands in the sheets. 

As if on cue, the captain began to pump his finger, allowing you ample time to adjust before pushing a second one into your soaked cunt, scissoring them against your gummy walls like he was searching for something. Of what, you had no idea, arching into his mouth with a heady cry. 

Until they curled up, brushing a spongy spot within you, and it was as if you had completely lost control of your body. Every single one of your nerves fired at the overwhelming pleasure, and it wasn’t surprising when your torso shot up, curling harshly over his form with your hands on his back. Warriors chuckled, but didn't pause for a second, lapping at your cunt like his life depended on it, all while his clever fingers nearly drove you to madness. “L-Link, oh my Hylia, please–”

There was a coil in your belly, growing tighter and tighter until Warriors’ body suddenly rose up, pinning you to the bed with a soft shove as his hand pinned your wrists to the sheets. You gasped in shock, but it quickly became a whimper when he pressed the heel of his palm to your clit, fingers still working furiously. 

“Tell me you’re beautiful,” came Warriors’ voice, and you could only stare blankly at him. 

“W-What?”

“Say it,” the captain demanded, bending closer. “Say you’re beautiful.”

You blinked through the pleasure, realizing just how serious he was. “I don’t–”

Warriors pulled his fingers from your cunt and the loss of sensation shocked you to silence. “I want to hear you say it, and don’t you dare try to lie to me, or I’ll stop right here, right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed, belly broiling with leftover pleasure. Your cunt throbbed, and you finally realized what his aim was. Righteous annoyance rushed through you, but his expression was too serious to fight. “Wars, you can’t–”

You yelped when he pinched your clit, eliciting a spike of electricity up your spine. “Try again, princess. We’re not leaving this room until you admit what everyone but you already accepts, so don’t try me.”

You shivered at the threat, cheeks burning as he watched, clearly expecting an answer. You knew you could have demanded he leave, but… 

“I–” you gulped, averting your eyes in shame. “–’m beautiful.”

A slapping noise rang through the room when Warriors smacked your thigh–not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a message. His expression was the epitome of disappointment, and you immediately felt bad. “Again, and look at me this time, or I’ll keep you here until you can say it without flinching.”

Your throat felt dry as you forced the words out again–

Smack!

–only to be rewarded by yet another tender slap to the soft part of your belly. The beginnings of tears pricked the corners of your eyes; he was far too sharp for his own good and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. 

“It’s not good enough, (Y/n),” Warriors said softly, gently smoothing over your skin. You sniffed, trying not to cry because you really didn’t want his pity.

A warm thumb swiped over your cheek and Warriors smiled tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” his hand traveled back down to your cunt, pushing two fingers into your weeping entrance. “We’ll learn together, okay?”

You nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. 

“Good girl,” the words slipped from his mouth softly, and you felt yourself clench when he curled his fingers up, striking that spongy spot within you with terrifying accuracy. The way he stared at you was anything but gentle. It was intense, and you could have sworn his gaze had stripped your soul bare, laying it before him like a feast. “Tell me again. Please?”

You tried, you really did, but the words felt dry in your mouth, and the vicious pumpking of his fingers made it impossible to focus, especially when the heel of his palm bumped against your clit with every thrust. The coil in your belly had returned, winding tighter with each second that passed, leaving you teetering over the precipice. 

“You’re doing great,” Warriors cooed down at you, hissing when your hips brushed his undoubtedly aching bulge. “Say it again, for me?”

You did, unable to process anything else but the shape of his fingers and the deliriously-delicious clenching in your stomach, and, this time, he didn’t stop. You screamed his name when you crashed over the edge, aided by the talented thumb jamming down onto your clit. Your whole body jerked as what you could describe as a spiritual experience crashed over you, shattering any and all semblances of sanity within you. Warriors was speaking, voice high with something resembling shock, but you were oblivious, collapsing into the bed as dark spots danced in your vision. 

“Holy shit,” was the first thing you heard. “You…”

You craned your neck to peer at him, and nearly died inside when you realized that he was wet. Clear droplets of liquid clung to the defined muscles of his abdomen, some even sticking to his shoulders, but the most priceless part was the look of complete and utter bafflement on his face. 

“...like a waterfall!”

You tried not to cringe at the description, but he was right. It was obvious what had occurred, and you were nearly in shock that he had gotten you to squirt on the first try. The sheets were cool as you reclined on them, still shuddering from the aftershocks of what had easily been the best orgasm of your life. Your gaze dropped as you caught your breath, only to snap up at the sound of shifting fabric, just in time to catch a glimpse of a very naked Warriors tossing his pants to the wayside. His expression brightened when he caught you looking at him, sliding off the bed, giving you a spectacular view of his chiseled ass, and quickly returning with a cup of water. 

“Here,” the hero offered it to you, and you gladly took it, sitting up on your shaky elbows to gulp the liquid down. He wiped his chest and abdomen with the corner of the sheet, and you looked on with great interest, especially when the movement caused his cock to bob enticingly. It was long and thick–far larger than you expected–with a rosy-colored head just begging to be sucked. You briefly wondered if it would even fit, but Warriors caught you staring and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You didn’t hesitate, nodding vigorously and sitting up slightly with your arms supporting the brunt of your weight. The captain easily joined you, sliding between your legs like he belonged there. He probably did, after everything that had happened between you two. You sucked in a breath when his dick rested against your thigh, a bead of precum burbling at the fat tip.

“Are you okay?” Warriors’ asked, likely out of habit. 

You nodded, feeling slightly sheepish. “Yeah, it’s just…”

A hand cupped your cheek as cerulean blues bore into your soul. “You can tell me.”

“I think I did, actually,” you tried to joke, but it felt flat. “I’ve never… done this before.”

Something in the hero’s expression changed, and he leaned forward to plant a comforting kiss on your temple. “We don’t have to go further,” he whispered, and you had never felt more loved. “I’ll wait an eternity for you.”

A giggle left slipped past your lips; he was too cute. “I know,” you said, pecking his temple in return. “Just be gentle, okay?”

“Always,” responded Warriors in a serious tone, like he was vowing the demise of Ganondorf rather than promising to be gentle during sex, but it was so unadulteratedly him that you felt your heart skip a few beats. His hands found the hem of your nightgown, deftly lifting the garment off you and tossing it behind him. Only then did he dare touch himself, guiding the head of his cock to your folds. It slid hotly against your slick, and you bit your lip in anticipation. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed, hissing when the head pushed in agonizingly slow. Your arms began to tremble, and Warriors took notice, hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap, reclining back against the headboard of the bed. You immediately slid your hands to his pectorals for balance, groaning softly when pain began to spike in your belly. “Ah– wait–”

The hero stilled immediately, tightening his grip to slow your descent. “What’s wrong, did I hurt you–?”

“Shush,” you flicked his chest. “‘S normal, j-just give me a moment.”

Cerulean eyes regarded you suspiciously, but he made no move to convince you otherwise. “If you say so,” he said hesitantly. “How can I help?”

You shrugged, but Warriors wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He leaned forward, pressing hot, wet kisses to the side of your neck, while one of his hands released your waist to drop down to the apex of your thighs, thumb finding your clit with ease. You moaned, beginning to shake anew as you felt yourself slide down some more, periodically stopping when the stretch became too much. Warriors helped you as best he could, whispering words of encouragement into your ear with every inch of him you took. 

When your hips met his, you couldn’t help but moan as the captain leaned back, expression bright with pride, love, and a healthy bit of lust, though it was the tenderness in his smile that really got you going. It was as if he was looking at the stars themselves, and you had to physically force yourself to maintain eye contact, though it was moot when his hips jerked, drawing a yelp from your throat. Your hands clung to his biceps, feeling the corded muscle tense under your touch. 

Slowly, you began to move, careful of your still weak legs. A deep groan left Warriors when your inner walls clenched around him as you panted, barely able to control yourself with every roll of your hips. It was unlike anything you had experienced before, and there was nothing you wanted more than to experience this for as long as you could. 

Warriors took your inexperience in stride, guiding you up and down on his cock by the hips, occasionally bucking into you with a smirk to watch you cry out. When you found a rhythm, he busied himself with lapping at your bouncing breasts and gripping your ass tightly. Your hands tangled in his hair, practically suffocating his head in your chest. 

A familiar coil formed in your belly, and the captain must have noticed, because he was suddenly pinning you to the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drilled into you with reckless abandon, filling the room with lewd slapping noises when he increased his pace. You cried out as the tension in your abdomen grew, wrapping your arms around his neck with the last vestiges of strength left in your body.

Warriors grunted, voice dropping an octave as he bent to whisper in your ear. “Say it,” his tone was gravelly and you could feel his thrusts becoming erratic. “Say you’re beautiful.”

“I–” stars flashed in your line of sight at a particularly world-shattering push of his hips. “I’m beautiful!”

“Damn right you are,” the hero growled, hand reaching between your legs to fondle your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you cried out when your orgasm hit you like a lightning bolt, vision whiting as your body trembled harshly. Your walls clenched impossible tight around the captain’s girth, and he followed suit with a drawn-out moan, painting your insides with his cum. “Ah– (Y/n)!”

You grunted when Warriors all but collapsed on you, face nuzzling sweetly in the valley of your breasts with an exhausted sigh. It was cute, but he was heavy and you had to do something about the copious… fluids leaking from you. 

“Warriors,” you tried, but he merely hugged you closer. “Wars, c’mon– I need to get up.”

The captain’s vaguely-unimpressed gaze flicked to you. “...Why?”

“I’m dripping,” you said in a matter-of-fact tone. Snuggling with him sounded like heaven, but you really needed to get the moon tea from your bag, lest a very unwanted surprise appear nine months from now. Warriors lifted himself just enough to slip his dick from you, a rush of liquid practically gushing from your cunt, and settled back on top of you. You cringed when it dripped down the curve of your ass, pushing lightly on his shoulders. “Oh my Hylia, Link, I’m so wet–”

“Good, means I’m doing my job,” he mumbled into your boobs, and you resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. 

“Har har, now get off me.”

With a groan, he did as asked, reclining against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest. You scrambled off the bed as soon as you were free, shuddering when slimy strings of cum slid down your legs, and tottering to the dresser on the far wall. Warriors’ gaze sharpened, eyes glued to the delicious curve of your ass and glistening wetness seeping from your used cunt, and you rolled your eyes when he very obviously licked his lips. 

“You’re not subtle,” you said, retrieving your bag from the top drawer and rummaging through it. 

“Am I supposed to be?” He shot back. You sorted, pulling a small tin from one of the inner pockets. There was a pitcher and set of cups beside you, so you poured a bit of water and sprinkled some of the tea leaves in it. “What’s that?”

You turned around, leaning on the dresser and grinning when his eyes immediately roamed your body. “Moon tea, it’s used to prevent pregnancy.”

Warriors blinked once–twice–and you had to cover your mouth to muffle your giggle when his face grew red, the realization finally hitting him. The captain averted his gaze, unusually bashful considering what had just occurred between you. 

You couldn’t hold it in any longer; giggles turning to full-blown laughter. For a supposed ‘ladies man’, he had the distinct air of inexperience–in this kind of intimacy, at least–and you finished the cup before returning to the bed. The tea tasted bitter, but that wasn’t anything new. “Don’t combust on me now– Hey–!” you yelped when he grabbed your hips, dragging you onto his lap with nary a grunt. “Link!”

The hero grinned up at you, expression filled with adoration. Your cheeks flushed as your hands grabbed his biceps, trying and failing to maintain an annoyed facade. “You’re a piece of work, Warriors.”

“I love you too,” he responded, laying his head on the left side of your chest, ear pressing directly over your now stuttering heartbeat. A satisfied sigh left him, and you couldn’t bear to be mad. “After this is over, I want…”

Your hand reached up to pet his hair, filling the resounding silence. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” said your hero, and you smiled, head dipping to plant a kiss on the top of his cranium. 

“It’s all yours.”

I can't believe I'm done; what a wild ride this story was! I hope I did your request justice, @dustmold-n-dirtarchaeology, and that you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

[alto-is-a-cloud]

I'M SO GLAD SOMEONE ELSE THINKS LIKE I DO !

In my first playthrough, Hylia was dead. She chose to die and be reborn as Zelda, but i didn't understand that Zelda *was* Hylia, only that she had her memories (and a bit of her powers, I guess).

(Then botw came in and apparently Hylia's there ??? I still think I missed something to end up so wrong lmao.)

So of course, projecting my thoughts to Link, I could not see him thinking of Zelda as Hylia : Childhood friend edition ™, but more as Hylia's reincarnation. As in, in his mind, he puts the emphasis on Zelda and not Hylia like I feel like so many people do.

Now I never thought that Skyloft was very religious, but I can see how you can come to that conclusion (yes, the huge godess statue lol). However, their faith doesn't seem to be a huge part of their lifestyle. The way I see it, there isn't a routine attached to the religion, where they go to the godess once a day or once a week, they'd go to pray whenever they feel like it helps or they need it.

All that headcanon dump just to say that I don't think Sky thought about Hylia too much before his adventure. Her existence was common knowledge and besides that, well, Skyloft is definitely not the best at keeping track of history. So THAT and Demise being his "first" impression of the gods... yeah. He does NOT like the idea of all powerful beings playing him (and Zelda ! She's very much a victim too) like a doll.

Now how shoking was it to have people see him as entirely devoted to the godess ! That's also why I love fandom, for the many different interpretations. But I was starting to feel lonely lmao

Also thank you for reminding me that Sky and Wild are the only ones knowing Hylia ! That IS extremely funny but now it's gonna bother me whenever I read it 😭

wanna ask this cause i really like your fics, and wanna see how you think on this 👀 so a lot of fanon has other links being bitter towards hylia, but wouldn’t it make more sense for sky to have a bitterness/fear of Hylia? considering it was confirmed to his face that he was legit MADE to be a hero, fight demise and had his entire journey manipulated by hylia? and would that cause conganitive dissonance with his relationship with zelda?👀👀👀

HI hi hello :D jksgrzfnhieaklmgrjihdkloifndk THANK YOU SO MUCH, I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH <3 <3 <3

you just asked, like, one of my favorite questions ever rjghskgbvjkdehgijk sorry if this gets...long

Ok ok ok ok I COMPLETELY agree with you!!!! I think sky is a man of extremes - he either loves you or he despises you. For the most part, he adores everyone (other than a few key people cough cough ghirahim and demise cough cough). His whole convo with Zelda right before she sealed herself away fucked with him SO MUCH, because suddenly he is trying to cope about the fact that the goddess his entire culture idolizes manipulated him, and what makes it worse is that Zelda is the reincarnation of her.

ANYway, i think he absolutely hates Hylia, yeah! I think he despises her and is so bitter towards her and would be completely fine if she straight-up died! In my mind, he doesn't like any deity, really. He's had enough interactions with gods that he is absolutely comfortable telling them they all suck and he hates them lmao, but that's a tangent. It makes a lot more sense to me if he hated Hylia, but what might make others to disagree is the fact that Zelda was Hylia. Fortunately, I have a solution for that as well!!

When Zelda talks to him right before she seals herself, she mentions that she didn't know, she was happy to be his zelda, etc. So in my brain, after Demise dies, she has a full-on identity crisis (and probably also a "oh my gosh Link probably hates me" Moment cuz she knows him so well) where she's not sure who she is, if she's a goddess or just Zelda, cuz now she has all these memories that she remembers but she didn't experience them (Sun and Wild would be besties and you can't change my mind lol). So i think that Sky couldn't hate Zelda, and so they both work it out and they can both separate Hylia from Zelda and see that they're two different people. So would there be dissonance in their relationship? Sure, briefly, but they love each other and they work it out and both of them dislike Hylia, they're such a power couple and will fight god :D

As for fanon having other Links be bitter towards Hylia, I guess it works?? idk it works at first glance, but then i always remember that they have no fucking clue who Hylia is. Wild knows, obviously, but he's on good terms with her. I just think it's occasionally a little funny to see the Links ragging on Hylia when they canonically don't know she exists.

(my personal hcs are that the Links, especially Ledge and Time who are typically the most outspoken about it in fanon, pretty much just want nothing to do with the gods. They're more focused on the immediate "i can save this person and the world" part. Also, Time has his whole Master Sword thing. but in general, i think that any bitterness towards the gods (most likely the golden goddesses) is pretty surface-level and they don't think much about it. Not a single Link would regret saving the world. I think that's something I don't often see - they chose to be heroes, and they would do it again without hesitation. They just wish it didn't cause so much trauma. However, Warrior having religious trauma due to fighting a war and feeling like he and his soldiers have been abandoned, similar to WW1 soldiers, is just something so important to me :P)

uhhhhh i feel like there's something i missed but idk. I've thought about this A Lot. Actually, if you want to see a really clear-cut example of how I think Sky feels about Hylia, you can check out Smoke & Ashes, which is a LOT of angst so PLEASE BE CAREFUL, but chapters 13 and 14 are very prominently about how they feel about each other (in my head). yes i am shilling, but i love this fic lmao.

hope you have a lovely day, anon!!! tysm :D

[hazelsmirrorball]

Mr. and Ms. Piastri 

summary: Y/n Piastri and Oscar Piastri have been hiding things in the relationship, so they go to couples therapy. Based on the movie Mr. and Ms. Smith

pairings: oscar piastri x Wife!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language. Also this story will be several parts. Hope you enjoy!

The sound of Oscar obnoxiously chewing his gum bounced against the walls making Y/n grip on the leather chair sending a forced smile towards him and their  therapist. They had debated several times about doing this. Both of them had created such a tall wall around themselves not letting anyone through, not even each other. Adding a third person in their life was something neither of them expected when they got married. But it was their last resort. But adding another person just builds up the facade they had in their relationship. 

Couples counseling. 

The only “date” they were forced to have with another person, in this case their therapist.

She thought of a coherent sentence  to describe their relationship without insulting him right then and there. The intention wasn’t to ruin their relationship, even though at this point it was to the point where they were desperate for something to save it. She couldn’t lie, she loved him, she loved him with all her heart. But as the years passed the only thing somewhat stable in their relationship was the dinner they always had at seven pm.

After six years of marriage, their relationship had turned monotone and nothing excited the pair. They used to be spontaneous, both of them love traveling but now they found themselves invested more in their work than in their relationship. Now the only quality time they spent together was eating dinner in silence with the occasional critique of her food from her husband.

It’s not that they wanted their marriage to fall apart. At least on behalf of Y/n’s she wanted her relationship to succeed. She was a perfectionist and her marriage wasn’t going to ruin her streak. She had worked a lot for her marriage to be perfect, everything in her head was calculated to the max to make the relationship as good as the books in couples counseling.

They had tried everything, taking advice from their friends, reading “how to fix your unfixable marriage” articles. So that’s when they decided to get help from professionals and do couple’s counseling. The Verstappen family from next door had claimed that the therapist had worked wonders for their relationship, so why not try it?

“I wanted to start with the fact that we don’t have to be here, right Jane?” Oscar tapping his wife’s shoulder forcing a smile her way.

“Yes, John. It’s a funny story actually” she replied, forcing a chuckle subtly moving her shoulder to take Oscar's hands off. He quickly took the hint resting each of his hands on the arms of the leather chair he was sitting on anxiously tapping it.

“We were at a charity event, specifically a charity auction slash race viewing” Oscar started while looking at his wife for her to continue.

“Our friends the Sainz. They live across the street”

“Anyways the grand lot was…”

“A mystery lot” both continued in unison with a pained expression covering their faces.

“I had sunk a few, wasn’t driving so I started bidding” Oscar said, pinching his nose knowing where this conversation was heading.

“John, here is a tiny bit competitive,” She replied, tapping his thigh while forcing a smile. Oscar bites his tongue trying to avoid saying  anything  he will regret later.

“As I was saying, the upshot is we end up blowing four hundred bucks on the mystery lot”

“we? I think we, is a lot of people, honey. Don’t lie to Dr. Wexler”

“The important thing here is that we won four sessions with Dr. Wexler!” Oscar clapped back with fake joy wishing to be anywhere else but here.

“The Sainz have a great humor.” Y/n said sincerely laughing this time followed by Oscar laughing as well with her.

“But…you didn’t have to come” Dr. Wexler said finally breaking his silence. He looked up from his notes scanning the couple as if he was looking for every single flaw in their relationship.

“Right” Oscar replied, his once happy demeanor changing abruptly into an awkward one.

“Absolutely, but we as a couple strongly believe in a theory” Y/n said still smiling at the Dr., quickly reaching for Oscar hand and intertwining their hand together.

“we do?”

“of course we do silly, the oil check”

“Right! The oil check. See we’ve been married for five years…”

“six.”

“Five, six years, and this is like a check up for us. Pop the hood, nose around, change the oil, maybe replace a seal or two. Who knows, a lot of things could happen”

“Okay, then. For this so-called “oil check” I'm going to ask some questions. On a scale from one to ten how happy are you as a couple?” Dr. Wexler replied, pushing up his glasses and taking an attentive look towards the pair analyzing their body language.

“eight”

“wait, so like ten being perfectly happy and one being…totally utterly miserable?”

“Just respond instinctively, John” Dr. Wexler answered, wanting for his reaction.

“Ok. Ready?”

“Ready”

“Eight.” The couple replied at the same time with a proud smile adorning each of their lips.

“Next question, on a scale of one to ten how happy would you say your partner is?” The doctor continues his question this time reading from his notes.

“eight.”

“wait. are we allowed fractions?” Y/n asked with a slight smirk staring to see the fun in this session, even if this session could be the end of their relationship.

“it’s what’s instinctive”

“well then, i’m all set. Are you all set, John?”

“one, two, three…”

“eight.”

“Okay, well i’m seeing repetition here. So let me ask a different question, how often do you have sex?”

“ i don’t understand the question” y/n fakes confusion as she rests her chin on her hand.

“wait. okay, i’m lost. Is this a one to ten thing?”

“Right. I mean, because if it is, does “one” equal “not much” or “one”, like, nothing. Because strictly speaking zero should be nothing”

“Exactly. Plus, if we don’t know what one is, what’s “ten”?” Oscar continues trying to test the doctor's patience.

“Right…is ten…you know”

“constant and unrelenting…”

“…twenty for seven…without a break. For anything”

“not even to eat”

“like sting”

“Exactly. Look at Sting’s day job. Who else has sixty hours a week to put aside in the sack”

“This is not a one to ten scenario. It’s a  straight question, how often do you guys have sex”

Oscar didn’t want to be a pain in the ass. He loved his wife dearly, he would do anything for her. Even go on a pointless couples therapy session knowing that it was going to do nothing. He was certain that with her there wasn’t a margin for error. Everything was calculated and no risks were involved, that’s what brought their relationship into the position where they currently stood.

“Are you guys completely honest with each other?”

In the back of her head Y/n thought that there could be a tiny possibility that her job was what made their relationship the way it was. Maybe it was the constant lying or the adrenaline rush that her job gave her that their relationship lacked. She knew Oscar, and she knew him well and as much as she wanted to deny it, Oscar brought her the “normal” things to her life. But she was gripping onto that to make their relationship last. She just hoped that this couple counseling will heal whatever they were going through. 

[majoriehoax]

╰┈➤ ❝ BOTS UPLOADED ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ includes scream / elite / stranger things / PJO / diary of a wimpy kid

╰┈➤ ❝ BILLY LOOMIS ⚔︎ mask || Billy leaned against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes fixed on the back door, waiting for the sound of footsteps. He heard them approach, slow and deliberate, before the door creaked open. He didn’t move right away, just watched, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted casually, pushing himself off the counter. “You took your time.” His tone was relaxed, maybe even amused, but his gaze was sharp, like he was seeing something nobody else could. Billy wandered around the room, his fingers grazing the edge of the counter as he spoke. “You ever think about how people… wear these masks every day? Act like they’re something they’re not?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, it’s kind of fascinating, right?”

╰┈➤ ❝ CARLA ROSON 💳 new student || Carla spotted the new student lingering near the entrance of Las Encinas, looking a little lost and out of place. She sighed, watching as they awkwardly fumbled with their schedule and glanced around, clearly unsure of where to go. With a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she decided to step in. Striding over, Carla flashed a polite but amused smile. “You must be new,” she stated, her tone calm and confident. “Let me guess—first day, no idea where to start?” The newcomer nodded, looking somewhat relieved to have someone approach. Carla gave a little shrug, her eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue. “Don’t worry. This place can be… a bit overwhelming,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’m Carla, by the way.”

╰┈➤ ❝ JONATHAN BYERS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sparks fly || Jonathan didn’t know exactly when his harmless little crush on user had turned into this all-consuming distraction. All he knew was that whenever she stood close, every coherent thought he might’ve had completely dissolved. His pulse was loud in his ears, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing, keep cool, act normal—whatever that even meant anymore. That day in the Hawkins High hallway, she was leaning casually against a locker, smiling at him in that way that made him feel like maybe she knew what was going on in his head and didn’t mind. Jonathan tried to keep his focus, nodding along to whatever she was saying, but his mind kept drifting to how close she was. Close enough that if he just leaned in a little… He snapped out of it, swallowing, hoping she couldn’t read his thoughts. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an almost ethereal glow on her. She laughed, and he caught himself smiling back, probably looking like a total idiot, his eyes fixed on her mouth. He quickly looked down at his shoes, cheeks burning, cursing himself for being so obvious.

╰┈➤ ❝ LUKE CASTELLAN 🍓strawberry field || As the morning sun began to rise over the strawberry fields, a gentle warmth spread across the soft grass and dew-kissed leaves. Luke stirred, feeling the tender rays of dawn on his face. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of peace that surrounded him. The air was filled with the faint, sweet scent of strawberries mingling with the fresh morning breeze. Opening his eyes slowly, Luke turned his gaze toward the figure resting peacefully beside him. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his heart swelled as he watched them sleep, still wrapped in the afterglow of the night they had shared. He reached out carefully, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face with gentle fingers, not wanting to wake them but unable to resist the urge to be close to them, to memorize the quiet beauty of the moment.

╰┈➤ ❝ PERCY JACKSON ｡𖦹˚. bi bi bi (masc user!) || Percy was sprawled out on the grass by the lake, squinting up at the autumn sun through his fingers. Camp Half-Blood was quieter than usual, most campers off in the arena training or gathered in the pavilion. But Percy liked it here by the water, feeling the cool breeze ruffle his hair, the faint scent of pine and ocean mingling around him. It was peaceful, the kind of peace he hadn’t really known before Camp Half-Blood had become his second home. He glanced to the side, where user sat cross-legged, idly tracing patterns in the dirt. They’d been close for months now, training together, sharing stories, laughing over just about anything. The first time Percy had realized how much he liked spending time with them, it had hit him harder than any monster ever had. With Annabeth, he’d always been sure, that tug in his heart pulling him straight toward her. But with user, it felt different—unexpected, gentle, as if he were discovering something new about himself, layer by layer. (book percy!)

╰┈➤ ❝ RODRICK HEFFLEY 🎸 teenage dirtbag || Rodrick leaned against his van in the high school parking lot, arms crossed, his usual smirk plastered on his face. He watched as user walked up, wearing that band shirt he’d never admit he thought was cool. He pushed himself off the van with a lazy shove, barely nodding as he opened the passenger door and gestured for them to get in. He didn’t say much at first—Rodrick never did when he could get away with it—but there was a little grin when he caught user sneaking a glance at him. The van smelled like gas station snacks and that weird pine tree air freshener he’d jammed into the vent a few months ago. His favorite CD was already blasting some loud, screechy guitar solo. Rodrick liked it that way; it saved him from having to come up with something clever to say. Instead, he threw the van in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, a little too fast on purpose.

— SAOIRSE.

[kierancaz]

Crowley Having To Be A Dad For Once (Crowley Comforting Yuu)

I don’t know what this is, I was just really bored and it happened so if it sucks I’m sorry. I used they/them and she/her pronouns throughout the whole things, idk neither sounded right if I used just one set of pronouns so I just used both T_T.

Also yah ik Crowley is ooc bc he’s basically a deadbeat uncle but this is MY fic and I’m a SUCKER for parental Crowley and the idea of him not really being good at it at first but as he grows to care about Yuu more he becomes more willing to try and be a good parent for them.

No trigger warnings, ig this is fluff? Uh probably not very good but it’s ok I still hope u like it. Oh and this takes place at the end of Book 6, also reader is referred to as Yuu.

It was finally over. Everything was finally ok. Grim was back with Yuu, all of the people who had been brought to Styx were back in their dorms, a little banged up, but safe. Yuu was finally home with the people they considered their family.

Crewel, Trein, and the others had given them a major scolding when they got back. Being sure to pull Yuu aside into the headmasters office to yell that them specifically, but Yuu couldn’t find it to be mad or even upset with their scolding. Yuu couldn’t be upset when she felt cared for again. The only one missing from that meeting was Crowley, but Trein as assured that he would be back soon. Which brings us to where they are now.

Grim was in Pomfiore sleeping soundly, but Yuu was standing in the wreckage of Ramshackle. Staring the remains of their only home here in the face. She knew it was bad, the remembered it all from the Chirons attack, but somehow seeing everything destroyed after the dust had finally cleared after the whole situation made reality hit that much harder. She took a deep stepping through the door looking around at all the damage.

“Yuu!” The ghost came speeding toward them, they couldn’t hug her so instead the just zipped around her a could times. She laughed, the ghost coming to a stop in front of them, “we’re so happy you’re back! We thought you guys were leaving us for good!”

“Where’s Grim?” One of them asked looking around with concern, the others followed suit like maybe he was just hiding.

“Don’t worry he’s fine, he’s back in Pomfiore sleeping off his big adventure.” Yuu chuckled and the ghost relaxed and smiled, happy to hear their little friend was safe and sound and would be back with them in no time.

Yuu looked around again, at the huge holes in the walls and ceilings. At the stray cauldrons that had broken the floor and the way the stairs that lead to her bedroom were completely destroyed. She pressed her lips into a line, tears starting to well up in she eyes.

“Yuu? What’s wrong?” One of the ghost asked. And that’s what did it, she broke down crying.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out wiping her eyes and trying to breathe even. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry your home is destroyed, I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s not you’re fault.” One of the ghost said. Yuu just shook her head, crying to hard to say anything coherently. There wasn’t much the ghost could do besides remind her it wasn’t her fault the house was destroyed and that it’ll be rebuilt and everything will be ok.

“Yuu?” The new voice made her go still and the ghost silent. Turning around Yuu saw none other than Crowley standing in the doorway.

“Oh- Headmage- I, uh,” Yuu struggled to wipe their eyes free of tears and steady her voice. She hiccuped as she tried to breathe but with a deep breathe she was able to sound at least somewhat normal. “Sorry headmage, is there something you need?” She asked, turning to face him fully.

“I- no. I was just making my rounds on campus to see the damage. Trein informed me Ramshackle was badly damaged, I can see he was quite right.” Crowley said as he walked through assessing the damage, stoping when he came to stand beside Yuu.

She chuckled weakly and sniffed, tilting her head down and swiping at her eyes again. “Yeah… yeah, sorry.”

Crowley gave a questioning hum, “what’s there to be sorry for?”

“I- I don’t know… just am,” they said, their voice quiet.

“Yuu,” Crowley said. His voice more gentle than usual, more concerned. “Are you alright?”

There was hardly a second after Crowley asked before Yuu practically launched themselves at him, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. Crowley stumbled back with surprise, his arms raised awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Yuu was crying again. She just felt so powerless against everything. There was nothing she could do to fix her dorm, there was nothing she could do to stop the Chiron’s from taking the house wardens, nothing she could do when they took Grim. All of the feelings she had been pushing down for the sake of staying focused during the whole Styx mess finally boiling over.

“I- I guess I’ll take that as a no…” Crowley said tentatively.

Yuu apologized again, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to let go of him. Why him she had chosen to break down in front of she didn’t know. It’s not like he had ever been a comforting figure in her time here, or even a very useful one. But slowly, unsurely, Crowley hugged her back, patting her head in a soothing manner. It was enough to make her want to cry even harder.

It was silent between them for a while, with only Yuu’s sniffling and hiccups to be heard. After a few moments Crowley seemed to relax, trying to be gentle as he hugged her back and pat her head, telling her that it was ok and Ramshackle would be fixed and her and Grim would be back here in no time at all. He didn’t know how he would do that but he would get in contact with Styx and work something out, after all they made this mess.

After some time Yuu let go, stepping away from him and wiping their tears and taking a deep breath. “Are you… ok? Now?” Crowley asked, Yuu nodded.

“Better… thanks.” The air was slightly awkward. Crowley didn’t exactly know how to recover to his normal ‘aren’t I so gracious’ personality after watching his most situationally unique student have a full break down.

He cleared his throat before walking over to them and placing his hand on their back, guiding them to the door way. “Why don’t you go back to where you’ll be staying and get some rest. You do have a place to say until Ramshackle is fixed, correct?”

Yuu nodded, “yeah I’m staying in Pomfiore…” there was a long silence, like maybe she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t. “Thanks, I’ll, um, see you in class.”

Crowley nodded and watched as they left down the steps before calling out them. He only spoke when they stopped and turned to face him. “Don’t worry about Ramshackle. I’ll handle everything and make sure it gets fixed,” he said spreading his arms, “after all I am very generous!”

Yuu just blinked at him for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. After some time they had grown to find Crowley’s antics annoying, but after the moment that just happened his usual return to form was much welcomed. She waved at him as a final goodnight and started her walk back to the mirror chamber feeling much lighter than she had before.

Crowley was left with his many thoughts standing in Ramshackle, but he didn’t dwell on anything for to long. But he would check on the prefect and Grim officially tomorrow, that he made sure to promise to himself.

Yuu snuck back into Pomfiore, back into the empty room she was staying in. Grim was exactly where they left him curled up on the bed under the fluffy duvet. She smiled as they climbed into the bed, curling around Grim to cuddle him as he snuggled sleepily back into their arms. For once though, they believed Crowley would follow through on his word with Ramshackle, and that everything would be alright.

[lesbianboyfriend]

tell me about this btvs sexual violence thesis…..

okayyy i’ve been talking around this on my blog forever bc i haven’t had the mental capacity to make a coherent post about it but let me try now!!! i have some older posts that touch on some of these ideas too—i’ve linked a couple of them where relevant but honestly i could not find a bunch of them…but they are somewhere in my btvs lb tag. also note: i’m definitely still workshopping these ideas so id love to hear thoughts/rebuttals/expansions/whatever !!! it’s also all right now mostly working off my own thoughts/observations so i definitely want to do some research….i hope to one day write an actual essay about this

basically the summation of the buffyverse sexual violence thesis is that there is a narrative of sexual violence that is haunting the story. it goes pretty much unaddressed by the narrative at large, but it’s the crux of almost everything that happens.

i think there are two very obvious standout moments in btvs that highlight this sexual violence (the theory at large also encompasses angel but as i’m not entirely done watching it yet im gonna focus on buffy here, though i did touch on it briefly in a recent post about cordy’s death) which are the first slayer story and the spike attempted rape scene. going to talk about the first slayer first cause i think it’s kind of the framework for everything but important to note in terms of info that we get we + the characters aren’t aware of the first slayer story until after the rape scene.

imo the story of the first slayer is deeply deeply coded as a story of sexual violence. it’s about a woman being violated by a group of men who literally chain her down and force something into her. already, we’ve seen how being the slayer has isolated and harmed buffy, kendra, faith….its treated as almost a desirable, enviable position of honor (somewhat similar to how being a victim of sexual assault is sometimes painted as meaning the victim was “desirable”) but particularly once given this context, it’s hard to view being chosen as the slayer as anything but an act of violence against these women.

this is important to note because in a sense, it’s the slayer who upholds the moral binary of the buffyverse where good=soul, human and bad=no soul, demon. now this binary pretty much falls apart upon the slightest examination, because the story would not be as interesting if it was that simple. so there are multiple demon or otherwise characters who straddle this moral boundary—INCLUDING the slayer who not only straddles but enforces it. the outlier characters are presented as just that, outliers to this system, not indicators of its flaws. they are only good insofar as their goodness is directed towards maintaining the system. assimilation, not liberation.

okay, so, the spike rape scene. what’s notable about this scene is that it is, to my knowledge (?), the only moment of sexual violence that is explicitly named as an act of sexual violence. even in angel, which i feel has more overt moments of sexual violence, it’s not actually usually named as such. but what happens in this scene is explicitly named as a rape attempt. it is by far the most significant moment of sexual violence in btvs. so what exactly is going on with this scene?

now, there’s a lot that could be said and discussed about like, spike as a character, his motivations, etc (currently cooking up some thoughts about this myself), but for the purpose of this analysis i want to look strictly at what role spike is playing narratively in season 6. so, looking at this on a doylist level but NOT to be conflated with me excusing his actions on a watsonian level. anyways if we think about it season six is kind of a rejection of the larger moral order previously presented by btvs…i’ve talked about this vis-à-vis the demon/human evil/good binary and how season 6 really troubles those binaries. a lot of the season is about buffy grappling with these notions that perhaps her moral worldview is not correct—which leads to her spike. she’s previously made allowances for spike in this worldview, so she uses him as a sort of vehicle for exploring alternate theories. unlike the other demons we’ve seen allowances made for, spike is not “good” in the sense that btvs posits goodness for demons. he has done “good” things and he can’t hurt humans, but he is pretty explicitly still doing a lot of evil stuff. so spike gets to exist in the greyest area of any btvs character—his chip troubles the binary of who is and is not good/evil, not to mention who is morally killable under this worldview.

through her relationship with spike, buffy joins him there in that grey area. HER humanity (goodness) is questioned, which is not something that’s previously been up for serious debate. i talked before about how the slayer inherently straddles that binary, but as i said, both the characters and the viewers aren’t aware of that at this point. all of a sudden, there’s a total moral upheaval that creates lots of conflict….and this rejection of the prior moral order and exploration of what lies beyond it is what makes season 6 so compelling.

BUT season 6 isn’t the last season. and as we all know, season 7 kind of sucked!!! and went seriously hard on reifying that good/evil binary. so how did we get that wild shift between seasons? the rape scene.

as we know, “real evil” is only done by demons despite the countless terrible things we’ve seen human characters do. when spike tries to rape buffy, it cements him firmly back into the realm of monstrosity. violence, evil, whatever, they’re all signifiers of a monstrosity that removes the character of their humanity. we see this argument time and time again irl when people argue that people who do bad things are no longer human, thus rejecting the idea that they themselves are also capable of those bad things. this is why it’s so important that this moment is named as rape, as sexual violence, unlike the other instances. with the attempted rape, spike is ousted out of his grey area, back into “evilness”. buffy, as his victim this time, necessarily returns to the opposite side of the binary as him. buffy stops fighting against her role as slayer—she stops questioning the veracity of the system. in fact, she goes on to expand it, violating even more women in the name of “good.” spike realizes he has to conform to this moral order in order to “have” buffy (much to be said about that another time lollll) and regains a soul, the necessary signifier of his “goodness” and willingness to support the system he once troubled so severely. thus, the moral order is restored through an act of sexual violence, highlighting exactly how it predicated on the very sexual violence it claims to abhor.

some loose notes on other working parts of the thesis:

-general historical connection of vampire stories to sexuality (carmilla, dracula, etc)

-vampirism as sexual predation (penetration, vampires picking victims by seducing women at clubs)

-mystical pregnancy (in angel especially: cordelia, cordelia again, darla, cordelia…..) as a violation in and of itself and also a vehicle towards death

-angel and buffy in general. him being attracted to her since she was. 14

-sex with buffy returning angel to evil? not sure exactly how this would fit in yet but. there’s something there

-spike’s entire attitude for women

-xander’s whole deal

-as a matter of fact the way that pretty much every male character is misogynist

-episodes ted and billy (angel) -> presenting violence against women as stemming from an inherent monstrosity (billy somewhat contradicting this? but also reifying it. it’s left unclear tbh)

-darla in angel season 2 as a parallel to buffy in season 6…need to think more on this one as well

-dana….

[velvetvexations]

I was the anon from yesterday who said they would come back and say something more articulate about it, and here I am, making good on that promise (I hope), even though it is fairly late at night again.

One of the reason I don't understand TMA/TME is that systemic oppression doesn't really care about your identity. Are transfems the primary target or transmisogyny? Yes. Are they the only people it ever affects? No, because systems of oppression generally don't care who else gets hurt, and for systems like most kind of transphobia, it is partially about control. It wants you to conform, and it does not care how many transmascs, cis women, or cis men it has to hurt to do that. 

As you might've picked up, I am disabled, so I feel a bit more comfortable making this comparison, (and no I am not saying that transmisogyny functions in the same way as ableism, they can play into each other but they are different), but it's why nobody has tried to come up either the phrase "ableism exempt", for example, because it is a deeply ingrained system that will make life harder for everyone else, in trying to prevent disabled people from existing in public/at all. And I wouldn't say that abled and neurotypical people who experience an instance of ableism are splash damage, or even misdirected, because it's not unintentional, it is very intentional actually, but oppression against a minority group will also be applied to anyone with a perceived similarity or closeness to that minority group.

From my experience, there's also sometimes somewhat of a misunderstanding of the ideas of systemic and interpersonal privilege and oppression. Because for example, someone who passes as a man, in a lot of interpersonal situations, will have obvious privilege over someone perceived as a woman, assuming that they are the same race, class, ability, etc (funnily enough it gets more complicated when you start introducing other factors, but I'm trying to keep this relatively simple), but even if they are both trans, or intersex, neither of them has any meaningful systemic privilege, because neither of them are oppressing the other in that regard. And then if a man is visibly trans or intersex? Then they might not even have much privilege interpersonally. They can wield transmisogyny against a transfem, but so can literally anyone, including other transfems? It's not indicative of meaningful amounts of privilege.

These are just thoughts, so they might not be the most exciting to read, but they're at least somewhat coherent. 

Very well reasoned, anon. <3 I agree with you about the ableism comparison.

[head---ache]

Do you have any tips on how to make a good au I'm making one and I need tips and I love your au's so...

ouuuu let me see if i can put my thoughts into a somewhat coherent explanation lmao

Usually my au's start with just an idea for character design! I don't always feel like creating a whole character from scratch, tho, which is why I like designing outfits for already existing characters. I normally pick and aesthetic, grab a bunch of references i like of said aesthetic (and that is my first tip, grab references for ANYTHING you find, it can bring a lot of inspo even for the story!!), and put it all onto a character. This happened with the cowboys au, for example, which just started as me trying to draw a cowboy hat on Sonic lmao

It's during the process of the first character design that the story starts to develop! Because I usually like adding story into these designs. That was the case with L&L Sonic, in which I added a robotic prosthetic leg because I thought it would be cool, and that led me to start thinking of an explanation as to how this happened, and a story started developing from that! (Second tip being, the best character designs have purpose! Why does X character dress like this? Or why do they carry Y weapon?)

Now more story focused, since the story starts developing alongside the first character, the rest is a matter of giving each character a purpose for this story, and that makes it a whole plot. Going back to the cowboy au, I already knew I wanted Sonic and Shadow to be runaways, since I had already given them weapons and clothing to hide their faces, ect, so I just had to think who they were running from! And that eventually brought Blaze as sheriff, and that soon developed into a whole story, where by giving each character a purpose, the world building kind of came naturally (so third tip, give each character a purpose and that will help to move the story).

Those are just the general things I can think of right now! I hope this helps jskdbskd idk if i explained myself properly. Usually I don't really put this much thought into my au's! Its just like a flow??? I don't really think about??? Normally as soon as I'm done with the first character I already have a pretty good idea of what the au will be idkidk

If you have any more questions, maybe going into something more specific, feel free to ask!!:]

[taranida]

Tom the Poet or Tom the Filmmaker

I would like all my theories to have evidence that back them up. I’ve come from fandoms where things said are a cute thing, worth considering, but solid theorising comes with quotes, screenshots, counting toes and following the writer’s pattern of three hint and foreshadowings before the big reveal. Therefore, I’m going through the first game yet again to collect all this information and put it in something coherent, something I will be happy with. I hope that the waves of my research will carry me to the proper essay with all the proofs necessary on every statement I’ve made in my first pinned post.

But there are still questions that have no answers as far as I know. One of them: why Tom Zane was made into a filmmaker and by whom?

In Control’s AWE the cutscene where Tom and Alan meet is a toned-down version of their encounter in Room 665. Alan asks if Tom is the Tom, the poet and the diver and Tom replies that it was just a beloved character in his old film. They have the same conversation at the start of Room 665 in Alan Wake II.

Alan seemed always forget that he (or someone else) changed Tom’s identity to filmmaker, still convinced that Thomas Zane he encountered at the start of his journey was a poet and a diver. First, when Tom-the-filmmaker was introduced, I thought that Alan forgot who Zane was and what he learned about him (I wouldn’t put it past Alan: he forgot many things he wrote, even his birthdate somewhat slipped his mind — in 2010 or in the Dark Place; the guide for the first game states that he’s 31, when the statue near the Parliament Tower claims he was born in 1977), but in both cases he kept insisting that Tom was a poet. So, the opposite is true: Alan forgot that Tom now is a filmmaker.

But why is Tom made to be a filmmaker? Even the second game insists that the Tom was a poet: Cynthia notes this in her journal, marvelling at why everyone thinks that he was a filmmaker; even the boys of Old Gods of Asgard say “you need him [Tom] to write the ending,” “art, like Tom’s writing” and “it’s Tom’s story we are dealing with, he’s gotta be the one to rewrite it”. And they are the only three people who knew the real Tom Zane and have some credibility in what he really was: a poet or a filmmaker.

The boys, of course, are a discussion on their own; Tom and Alan are interchangeable in their heads, they might talk about Alan the writer, hence “write, writing, story, rewrite”, but Cynthia has no such issues. She never mistook Alan for Tom, she loved Tom her whole life, devoted to his wishes and for sure wouldn’t mess such a big part of his identity in her head.

Then we have This House of Dreams, where we can read poems, some of them are by Thomas Zane and the Bright Presence shows Samantha that he was indeed a poet. Let’s add Jesse Faden into the mix, who as well, remembers Thomas Zane being a poet and even recites one of his poems in Control’s recordings. She still believes he was a poet somewhere around 2019, judging by her words about her needing to be in New York soon. Only in AWE DLC when she hears Tom claiming he’s a filmmaker, she changes her mind. But at this time, she’s already in yet another Alan’s story, her beliefs shaped by his writing (or by the words of her therapist and this vision of Tom and Alan; take your pick).

So, the question remains: why was Tom made a filmmaker?

My belief here is that Alan (or Scratch — do not confuse with Mr. Scratch) had no need of a poet. In This House of Dreams we see two sets of poems: one is by Thomas Zane and another is by Alan himself, in Control’s AWE Alan also claims that he wrote poems, and what value can Tom-the-poet add to Alan’s attempts to escape? A filmmaker on the other hand, as Tom says in AWII, can make a companion piece for his manuscript. Hence the filmmaker, the auteur.

As a side note. I do believe that the real Thomas Zane never makes his appearance in any games, first we see the Bright Presence possessing the body of Tom, then we see yet another Alan’s face in the Dark Place, that takes shape of what he believes Tom Zane was, and this part of Alan becomes a filmmaker at some point in his journey. After all, as the real Tom once wrote:

When you’re lost You’re lost in your own company