#if they were going to have a conflict based on that then they would actually think about them in their POVs😭

[prokopetz]

I apologise if you've already answered this, but I tried searching your blog and I'm unsure if you haven't or if it's another example of Tumblr's amazing search system.

I was talking with a friend recently about how much of a culture clash the Monk Class is compared to the rest of Dungeons & Dragons and was wondering if there is a coherent reason for their original inclusion. I'm aware that they're largely influenced by Shaolin monks as depicted in Hong Kong cinema in the 70's/80's as compared to the Sword and Sorcery stuff most of the rest of D&D takes influence from.

Basically, my question ultimately boils down to, "Is the Monk Class there purely because of an original player wanting to rule of cool their way into playing something wildly out of genre, or is there a stronger link between Sword and Sorcery and Hong Kong cinema that could have organically resulted in the Monk Class joining the rest of the classes?"

A lot of the link between the two was simply a matter of time and place. The kung fu craze hit North America at just about exactly the same time as the sword and sorcery revival that gave us films like Clash of the Titans and Beastmaster and The Sword and the Sorcerer and Dragonslayer and Krull – not to mention the Arnold Schwarzenegger Conan adaptation, which revived popular interest in first-wave sword and sorcery literature – so there was a lot of it going around. Analysis of early Dungeons & Dragons as a product of its media influences often overlooks that it was largely drawing on what was trendy in American popular media in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Even the tonally incongruous Lord of the Rings references weren't a deep cut; while the books were originally published in the 1950s, they'd experienced a strong resurgence in the 1970s, putting them firmly in the popular consciousness at the time that D&D was being developed. All this being the case, it's not surprising that early D&D was also substantially influenced by Hong Kong action cinema.

That said, the reason the monk character class in particular (i.e., as opposed to kung fu media influences more generally) is there is allegedly because one specific guy in one of the game's early playtest groups really, really wanted to play as Remo Williams from Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir's The Destroyer; several of the class's signature abilities are direct references to powers Williams exhibits in the course of the novels. Remarks from folks who worked at TSR at the time have pointed the finger at Brian Blume as the Remo Williams fan in question, though accounts are conflicted whether Blume was actually an uncredited contributor to Dave Arneson's Blackmoor (1975), in which the class makes its first proper appearance, or whether Blume's interest merely prompted its inclusion.

This is the case for the character archetypes in a lot tabletop RPGs of that era; instead of trying to work out what classes "ought" be be present, authors would simply start with the types of characters their playtesters actually wanted to play, often based on specific popular media characters, then work backwards to derive an IC rationale for why those were the setting's standard adventuring professions. Other examples from D&D in particular most obviously include the Ranger (based on Tolkien's Aragon, naturally), but also the Paladin (principally inspired by Holger Carlsen from Poul Anderson's 1961 isekai novel Three Hearts and Three Lions, also the source of D&D's goofy regenerating trolls), the Assassin, back when it was still a separate character class (probably mainly based on the Assassin Caste from John Norman's Gor), and even the Wizard to a large extent (less Gandalf than you'd think: a large portion of D&D's iconic wizard spell list is lifted directly from the 1963 Vincent Price film The Raven).

(I often think that modern indie RPGs could benefit from reviving this approach. Like, fuck textual consistency – just pick half a dozen of your favourite popular media characters without regard for the compatibility of the source material and work backwards to explain why these six random assholes are your game's playable archetypes!)

[maximumzombiecreator]

You said you ran a 64 team tournament for a pf2e game? How did you keep track of everything / how did it work mechanically? Did you have teams win based on what you wanted, did you simulate battles, did you do some approximation based on seed, or something else entirely? I need to know how this worked lol

I would love to infodump all about it.

So, yes, the tournament was six rounds of qualifiers, and then a 64 team double-elimination bracket. Seeds were based on the qualifiers, where the party needed to go at least 3-3 to make the cut. Qualifiers were 2 fights per day, and the main tournament bracket was 1 fight per day in the winners bracket, 2 in the losers, which made falling out of winners really suck.

I created a currency for the tournament, Tokens of the Lady's Favour. Every win gave 5 tokens, plus an additional token for each member fewer than 5 in the team. (I knew how many party members the party had, obviously, but this gave me a convenient reason why a team of less than 5 would show up.) Additionally, they could earn up to 5 additional tokens per match for style, giving some incentive to do things the cool way rather than the efficient way, or to use extra actions to showboat for the crowd. Tokens could be used to bid on which arena layout would be used for their matches, and to buy consumables or permanent magic items.

I did not actually prep 63 other teams. Some of them clearly had no chance of ever actually needing their stat block to be used, so it would have been wasted prep. Additionally, it's just not practical for the players to care about that many other teams. Really it's hard for them to care about more than maybe half a dozen. But what having that many teams does is allow the players to express themselves through which teams they do end up caring about.

Every team that I did prep needed to carry a couple of different types of utility. The first was world-building utility: this tournament was in the BBEG's lair, and the tournament entrants were vying for her favour. This meant it was a safe place for the characters to interact with NPCs that would normally be enemies, to learn about them and the other side of the conflict. Many of the teams were from factions that the PCs are likely to spend much of the rest of the adventure fighting, so it was an amazing opportunity for their first impression of the faction to not be a brawl in some dungeon, but trading barbs over a drink in a seedy bar before a tournament match. So I leaned hard into making as many factions as possible represented, including sub-factions within the big ones, and foreshadowing as much as possible.

The second was narrative utility. Beyond their role as a window into this world, who are these people? Variety was important here. Some were absolutely hateable antagonists. Some were potential friends or friendly rivals, people it would hurt to face as mortal enemies later. And some were possible allies in the BBEG's camp, critical assets in their battle if they could win them over. I tried to make sure that several of the teams tied into other narrative threads both from the adventure prior and from the adventure going forward. This was also a great opportunity to re-incorporate enemies the PCs had faced before who had gotten away.

The third was mechanical utility. I was giving the characters the chance to study their opponent before a match. It was absolutely critical that that be worth the effort. If it wasn't, they'd stop doing it, and the structure would lose so much value. So for each team I prepped, I worked out what their strategies looked like, and at least one thing about them worth studying. And I tried to make sure there were a variety of things to discover that would lend themselves to different solutions. This team are secretly werebats, and weak to silver weapons. This team is going to open by nova-ing with fireballs, and then be weak afterwards. This team has fast healing, so they'll favour a drawn out battle. This team uses specific ability synergies, so if you disrupt those, they're weaker. Etc. There are so many options for this stuff in PF2e, I really wanted to find as much as possible.

I also knew that the characters would be level 5 at the start of the tournament, and would probably level up twice if they made a deep run. So I prepped the various teams to be around the line for a severe or extreme encounter for levels 5-7. This was the main way I determined the seeds. Seeds 64-32 were challenging at level 5, 31-11 were challenging at level 6, and 10-2 were challenging at level 7. The first seed was obviously head-and-shoulders above the other entrants, and she was fully a difficult boss battle at level 7. But the PCs were fully aware of that. They should have been, since they joined the tournament to kill her.

In the end I fully prepped about 20 teams. More than the PCs ended up fighting, but much fewer than it could have been. For the qualifier rounds, I was pretty free in how I did the matchups. I knew I wanted them to go up against at least one truly unfair fight, someone who would end up in the top 10 seeds. They'd almost certainly get stomped, but that would give them a sense of their progress later in the tournament, and losing a few qualifier matches was low consequences. But I was happy to let the dice choose who they fought, for the most part.

I did get some great outcomes out of that. They fought against the previous year's tournament winner, a fight I very much expected them to lose, and through a couple of unlikely rolls ended up paralyzing him and then yeeting him into a bottomless pit before he could even close to melee. I had thought that character would be like a solid mid-level threat, showing both how scary the tournament entrants could be, and also how much things had escalated since he was the winner last year and mid-tier this year, but the dice repeatedly decided he was comic relief, and he did a fantastic job of it.

In the end they went 4-2 in qualifiers, settling them nicely in the mid seeds where they would face some easier matches and some real challenges.

I used an online bracket-making tool just to get the seeding matchups correct, threw the bracket into a spreadsheet, and placed the teams that I had prepped in appropriate slots to be more likely to face the PCs. The rest I filled with evocative team names, since I wanted to post a bracket that the players could look at. As long as the team name was evocative enough, I reasoned that I could improv the team in an out-of-combat way if the players were interested. Like, I did not have a stat block ready for "Lucid Dying" but just the fact that they chose that team name tells me everything I need about their personalities. I prepped what the progression of the bracket would look like in the areas the PCs wouldn't have any influence on, favouring teams I had statted. If I needed to decide a winner and it was arbitrary, I'd just do a weighted dice roll based on seed.

But, of course, my control over the matchups is limited. The PCs actually dropped to losers bracket faster than I expected, a humbling experience that forced them to go make friends with the team they'd eventually face in the other anecdote I shared. And this made me need to prep a couple more teams between sessions, which was fine.

So, the bracket progression was mostly based on my choices, leaning toward creating matchups that would develop the worldbuilding and narrative needs of the adventure, but ultimately being decided by how well the PCs actually fought and which teams they ended up taking an interest in. In the end, they developed meaningful relationships with about five other teams, less significant but real connections with another four or five, and it did really feel like those relationships were an expression of the PCs and their choices, which I was really pleased with. If I ran the tournament again with different PCs, I'm sure it would go entirely differently, and that's the standard I care most about.

I did run one fight between NPCs by myself between sessions to get an accurate sense of how it would actually go, and it was part of my second favourite anecdote from that tournament, which I will share if anyone cares, but is far too long to add to this already long post. It took me several hours to do and was a very bad investment of time if I'd tried to do it for most of the tournament, but was eminently worth it for this specific fight.

Overall, the tournament arc was a big success, I was quite pleased with how it played out. The only regret I had was that I had prepped a bunch of stuff for them to do between matches, and we just didn't have the energy. Big, gruelling fight after big, gruelling fight in PF2e is draining, and we were mostly happy to do some lighter scenes between rounds and not get bogged down in other stuff. If I was doing it again, I might try to structure some explicit downtime into the tournament to give it a bit more breathing room.

[fromtheseventhhell]

"The Starks are going to hate Dany because her father killed their grandfather and uncle"

The Starks thinking about Rickard and Brandon:

[ceramicbeetle]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[ardenigh]

last one for the night!

also under the cut for those who would rather only experience helmeted lucky: the man himself, or at the very least, his template

[itsalwaysdark]

so close to being done with one step in the larger step in the larger step of the spreadsheet.

i ran out of space in the tags so im continuing them under the cut bc i wasnt finished... and if you let me finish i would of finshed my santance

anyways i have some countries like. the borders r pretty close to irl countries and i have them in my notes as x country but other ones i split them into like. just smaller subregions of the continent based on irl like. regions. like i split africa into . Madagascar + East Africa + Central Africa + Southern Africa + Western Africa + Northern Africa and its referenced off of maps where those r like. the recognized regions (well. madagascar is usually just counted as either east or southern africa but yk). but idk... im worried its a shitty thing 2 do i just dont know what else 2 do with it. maybe i should just use an actual world map instead since im going more realistic with like. the time periods and stuff. IDK i just rly wanna avoid the shit the sims does so much where it lumps a bunch of cultures together like. the chinese world in ts3 world adventures having a torii gate for the icon. -_- yk. the map was kinda superfluous anyway and more judt a way to visualize where the worlds we have were distributed + also was mostly influenced by that one ts4 mod which takes that more simplistic approach but maybe i can just step away from that and just go more realism based Its just hard bc i dont wanna like. lose the more like. silly isnt quite the word (itis kind of but not fully) ig i mean i dont wanna lose the abstraction kind of thing the sims has. but like. I am auite literally making a spreadsheet to get rid of some of the abstraction the sims has so what am i on about. IDK i just have been thinking abt it a lot basically... like sims im already making shit up and locking the sims to like real world history stuff it only makes sense to like. do the same thing with The world and not have it be abstracted. so yes that was a lot of words to say i think im just gonna move to thinking of the sims as living on Basically earth. In my personal the sims palace that ive made up. this is not to say i personally think of the sims as tkaing place on earth or anything ive just decided to do like. Bc this whole thing is basically an au im making anyway like. taking ts3 sims and making them be from the 1950s thats already Not what the game is like. so ill just make it a Realworld sims au. ok yay 👍 thats all sorry for talking sm abt something so pointless and also for not using a SINGLE paragraph break im basically just writing in this like i write in the tags (stream of consciousness) but the tags have the benefit of being naturally split up so yes i dont think anybody is reading this far. when i was little and playing skyward sword for the first time roughly 7-8 years old i got to the like trial on skyloft and i got so scared i smashed the cd so that i wouldnt have to do it . and then i blamed my dog for it. and i did this even tho lamp had JUST started a skyward sword playthru which idk if i knew at the time but i do feel rly guilty abt it. but i was rly scared. ok thats all

[omgthatdress]

Oh god it gets worse

Okay, before I go any further I should give a little disclaimer that there's nothing wrong with doing a Christian-themed line of dolls. Toys and stories as a way to teach faith are nothing new and can be perfectly appropriate ways for kids to learn.

However the Life of Faith dolls are a unique kind of fucking horrible because they are obviously American Girl knockoffs. Instead of meaningfully engaging with the difficult themes of history like the AG dolls did, they present a disgustingly white-washed, pretty, frilly, and pleasant view of history that straight up ignores the dark stuff.

So the Life of Faith dolls are based on the Elsie Dinsmore stories which were published between 1867 and 1905. They're about a deeply faithful little girl who grows up on a plantation. In the books, when Elsie turns 18, she marries HER FATHER'S BEST FRIEND, because, to quote Wikipedia, "He has been her knight in shining armor who constantly helps her when other people are cruel to her; he has loved her for a long time." Yeah we call that "grooming" today.

Yeah, that's pretty sickening. But there IS a girl who escapes slavery in this series lemme see how that gets addressed....

WAIT YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE ESCAPES FROM THE SAME BEAUTIFUL PLANTATION THE OTHER GIRL WAS RAISED ON?! So when Elsie came of age she would literally own Laylie. Seriously did no one see the conflict in this?! Did no one involved in all of this stop for a moment and think, maybe we're not presenting a fully accurate view of history?

What really galls me is the playing Robin Hood stuff. While enslaved children did find ways to play and have fun, their lived were still dominated by the grueling, demeaning work they had to do. And they would not be given luxurious playthings like bows and arrows and green silk capes. And they didn't have frilly pretty dresses and elaborate hairdos.

I know the dolls are Christian and they all come with a little Bible but like.... Are we just gonna ignore the whole "slaves weren't allowed to read" thing?

While all the other dolls come with lots of dresses and accessories, Laylie only has the one dress and her Robin Hood accessories.

So yeah we're just skipping over the whole Civil War and Reconstruction. Violet is Elsie's daughter still growing up on the plantation like always.

So moral of the story, when you're trying to teach kids about history, maybe try a book series that wasn't written by this lady:

Because you actually can write stories about faith and being Christian that DON'T involve romanticizing slavery.

[echoekhi]

I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight

What Are “What If” Videos?

These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.

Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.

They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.

In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.

In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.

Project Copy-Knight

Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.

And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.

It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.

I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:

On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.

The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.

Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.

I Need Your Help

I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.

So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.

------

See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys you don't understand how much I love these two. (Oh yeah, and Finn's there too)

Glisten: Awww~ Shrimpo, you remembered Shrimpo: B*tch I'm in LOVE with you, of course I REMEMBERED! Glisten: What!? Wait really?? This is very sudden wow! (You said you were straight?) Shrimpo: AAAAAAAAAA

Finn: (yapping) Shrimpo and Glisten: SHUT THE F*CK UP, FINN!! Shrimpo and Glisten: ... Shrimpo and Glisten: (kissing)

The first comic takes place before the two started dating. Shrimpo is really really really bad at expressing emotions other than anger and frustration, so anytime he tries to express anything, he just blurts out his feelings without thinking. Then he gets second-hand embarrassment lol. Glisten was pretty aware that Shrimpo liked him before, but he's pretending to be surprised to make Shrimpo "feel better" (also to mildly embarrass him lol).

Also, I think that Shrimpo and Glisten bonding over hating Finn is very based and true. They need that autistic man to SHUT UP/silly

I think Shrimpo and Finn are very cousin coded. Not close enough to be siblings but definitely got some familial genes going on imo (plz don't shoot me Shrimpbowl shippers🙏🙏🙏) Doesn't stop Shrimpo from being violent towards Finn tho, and Finn does nothing to deter it lol (he finds it funny). Also, Glisten throws no punches bc he doesn't want to get his hands dirty.

Finn: Sooooo?? How was the daaaate~ Finn: No need to be such a clam about it! Shrimpo: I'M SO KILLING YOU!

The second image takes place the day after this post lol. Shrimpo is recovering from a hangover covered in lipstick kisses and super conflicting emotions and Finn is NOT helping.

On the other end, I've been thinking about Shimmer a lot lol. So here is a doodle of her with her "sister aunt" Toodles, and Pebbles.

They all get along super well. In this pic, Toodles is like 12ish and Shimmer is 4 (but her weird biology made her age up to like 7 here). Pebble is pebble, that's all you need to know.

Also, I was in a horror-ish mood earlier so here are some Twisteds <33 (below cut cuz kinda scary):

I love you angst comfort. My sib pointed out while playing one day that Shrimpo looked traumatized as a Twisted, which like, fair, but it make me think.

Glisten: "They say you are not here anymore. But I think you are."

I had this silly idea that Twisted Shrimpo was infected by Dandy personally, and that whole conflict got Shrimpo's lower jaw ripped off. He is very violent and volatile, and very hard to calm down. But, when he runs into a twisting Glisten alone and scared, he comforts him (to the best of his ability).

Since Glisten is still able to be somewhat conscious, he realizes that the Twisteds are actually not completely gone like he originally thought, and it helps him keep his sanity longer, hoping for a way out for everyone.

Willpower is a crazy thing.

On the complete opposite note, I love you horrifying freak of ichor child.

Since Shimmer was made from the ichor itself with no sort of skeleton or solid foundation, her condition is very unstable. And the problem is that her body is affected by her emotions. On a bad day, she can suffer from lots of pain and her body literally melting away. That's when she hides out and waits for her body to stabilize again.

When she completely twists, her body completely falls apart, becoming a puddle of ichor on the ground. If she was an encounterable twisted, she would work like Sprout's puddle root things, but easier to maneuver around and avoid. Also, her antenna glow.

Mini yap session aside, I think I cooked on the art lol.

Anyways, the og images lol:

Have a good one pookies!

[nonsensology]

Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.

Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.

Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.

One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.

Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, nor does she ever demand that Magnifico needs to grant every wish. She gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.

If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas in the first place, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom. He clearly makes a big spectacle out of the wish granting ceremonies, which every citizen visibly goes wild for. He never elaborates to anyone his specific standards for the wishes he chooses to grant, other than a broad statement of "for the good of the kingdom". In his regard, Magnifico reminds me of bureaucratic systems that never provide every option or solution upfront, with their logic being "you didn't ask".

Not to mention, he literally tells Asha, "People think wishes are just ideas. But no, no, they are a part of your heart. The very best part." He knows, for a fact, how important wishes are to everyone. But the movie's awful writing makes him think the best solution to dealing with wishes that MIGHT have dangerous consequences, is to just hoard them. All that returning the ungranted wishes will accomplish is returning the memory of what the wish even is, that's literally it, and the people will be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.

I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 

As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly and legally handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”

While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely. (Not to mention, when Asha shows Magnifico her little flipbook animation, he dismissively remarks “Do we consider that a talent?”)

Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him a he appears in the final movie. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. My problem isn't that they took a good man and made him arbitrarily "evil", it's that they didn't make him evil enough from the very beginning. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 

EDIT: A few days after posting I came across this video essay supporting the interpretation of Magnifico as a critique of Corporate Disney and I loved it. Please go watch it!

[witherby]

Everyone immediately folding to mouse is adorable

Omg mousey that’s so cute

Ooooo imagine everyone’s reactions if mouse gets bullied when they’re older

-🪼

That's an excellent thought experiment! Let's play around with that scenario!

What would everyone do if you were being bullied at school?

Featuring: a black eye, a concerned/angry Batfamily, a doting Justice League, and a kid who fucked around and is about to find out.

Alfred:

He's the information collector. He's calling the school. He's asking to see the footage from the incident that sent you home with a black eye. He's firing your body guard. He's reigning in your youngest brother so he won't storm the elementary school and start throwing down with every adult in sight. He's fetching the cold compress and extra blankets. He's prepping your favorite snacks. Anything you require, Flittermouse, you just need ask. Grandpa is livid, but he's also keeping everybody's lids from blowing.

Bruce:

He's walking right out of an important meeting (like, multi-billion with a B dollar investment type of meeting) and driving straight home to assess the damage. Daddy's here, let him see, tell him what happened, Mouse. Bruce stays home for the rest of the day with you, honestly kind of overdoing it with the fussing and babying, but his arms are so secure around you and his heartbeat in your ear is so steady, which you love. In the short bursts of time he lets you go, it's to call Commissioner Gordon to pursue charges against the school and the family of the kid that gave you a shiner. He doesn't need Batman for this; Daddy's got it handled.

Dick:

No worries allowed! No tears allowed! Big Bro Dicky is all smiles and distractions. When Bruce gets too suffocating, he's there to take over and take you someplace fun. You wanna hit up the playground? Done and done, hop in his car. You want ice cream from that one vendor downtown? Sure, get the biggest size and as many flavors as your tummy can fit. Bet that nasty bruise doesn't hurt as bad with all these cool distractions, huh? It's mind over matter, Flitty. You'll be okay, pinky promise.

Tim:

Your cool brother Tim's orchestrating the narrative. What do you want, Mouse? You want that kid expelled? He can do it, say the word. You want him just suspended for a couple days? Done. Easy work. Child's play. You want him to systematically ruin his and his parents' social standings among the Gotham Elite until their names are worth little more than the dirt under the boots of this city? Because he can do that, too. If you want. No biggie. Oh, you just want to be cuddled and marathon Bluey for a while? Hell yeah, M, settle in, we're using the theater room for this. He'll whisper cool facts about the show to you in between the credits while you share the popcorn.

Jason:

Your actually cool brother is gonna ruffle your hair and give you a pep talk about bullies, conflict resolution, and the best ways to handle a situation like this if it ever happens again. He's also gonna teach you how to throw the nastiest right hook anybody's ever seen. With the right technique you could fell a grown fuckin' man, Mousey. Just cause that's your nickname doesn't mean you have to have the matching demeanor. You're gonna come back from this with your chin up and, if need be, your fists clenched. You don't have to pick up the vigilante mantle to avoid becoming a victim. Maybe he'll... also buy you a stuffie and teach you how to milk your injury for extra goodies, whatever. All his tips and tricks don't need to be based in violence!

Damian:

Oh man. This boy's got no chill when it comes to you, for real. He's spent so many years being the baby of the family and that was never a title he wanted. Now here comes you, who used to be an actual, literal baby, growing up faster than anybody wants, and you've come home hurt? Give him the name of the pathetic whelp that dared lay a hand against you, Flit. He'll make them pay dearly. He's your big brother. He's your protector. He's come to love you like a blood sibling, and he won't stand for any injustice committed against you. Damian's hands are rated E for Everyone; he'll punch out a child without hesitation and make them wish they'd never even thought about touching you.

Of course, the Justice League is your family, too! They used to look forward to seeing Bruce bring you to the Watchtower in your little car seat and portable playpen. They come to all your birthday parties. They're your aunties and uncles through and through.

Hal:

Uncle Hal (who eventually becomes your step-dad Hal, or Papa) is sympathetic. He used to get into fights at school, too. His more down-to-earth advice for dealing with the problem — ironic, considering his intergalactic occupation — is really helpful. Sometimes you just need a comforting squeeze, a kiss on the forehead, and a classic everything will be A-okay, kiddo. You just gotta take life one step at a time and don't let it keep you down. 10/10 most reasonable and normal reaction to the whole thing, honestly.

Diana:

Y'know I think she's only slightly more chill about it than Damian. She's infuriated that any mere mortal would dare harm your previous head. She's trying to convince Bruce to grant her temporary custody so she can take you to Themyscira for intensive warrior training. She's offering to end the bloodline of the soul that caused you injury. She's commending your fortitude and the fact that a black eye isn't dissuading you from going back to school tomorrow. She will go to battle about it if you just ask.

Clark:

Baffled that children are this cruel. (<- This motherfucker was getting bullied way harder than you did when he was your age, but his invulnerability made it really easy to deal with and he just pretended to be hurt by his aggressors.) He's offering to fly you to the Kent family farm to hang out with the animals for a day in a nice, quiet environment. He's gonna give you a little pep talk like Hal did, but again, he's invulnerable, so it's going to sound disingenuous coming from Uncle Clark. It's the thought that counts, though. Thanks man.

Long story short: you're getting bullied and injured. It's blown just a little out of proportion, but you feel no less loved for it, and you can rest assured that it won't happen again.

[creekfiend]

God I'm so tired of people acting like not wanting to attract a lot of (often negative) attention is somehow Capitulating To Bigots like. The other day I was talking to someone about my strategic deployment of pronouns based on how much of an issue I think a person is likely to make about it and they were like "oh I just do what I want I'm done catering to cis people" and I was like BUDDY. I LIVE IN THE RURAL SOUTH WANTING TO NOT HAVE TO CONSTANTLY GET INTO IT WITH PEOPLE ABOUT MY PERSONAL GENDER IDENTITY IS NOT CATERING TO CIS PEOPLE I HAVE A RIGHT TO WANT TO MOVE THROUGH THE WORLD WITHOUT CONSTANT INTERPERSONAL CONFLICT

Or like I was talking about how I hate swimwear options bc they're all revealing but if you choose to wear like, a t shirt and shorts, people still stare at you because that's socially unusual so it sucks either way and someone was like "I just do it anyway and if people don't like it they can die mad about it" and like... okay. I want to be able to go to the local pool and not either be uncomfortable with what I'm wearing or have people treat me weird about it. I would like for my presence and clothing choices to be considered neutral and it's fine for me to state that actually. This is not assimilationist or capitulating to people. It's going "hm I would love if stepping out my front door didn't have to be a revolutionary act!!!!!" Agghhhhh

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

-

He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

[rueclfer]

saturdays are for the blondes // fratboy smau part two

a/n: i imagine frat'splug! hawks to be the type of guy who doesn't actually smoke that often bc he's on a baseball scholarship and doesn't wanna risk it so he just hustles hehe *written under the cut*

denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, hawks

"What are you putting on a shirt for?" You mumble, sitting on the edge of the sunken mattress as you watch Keigo dig through the dresser.

"Kinda gross to be walking around this grimy frat house without a shirt on, don't 'cha think? But any other time and occasion, I'll take more than just the shirt off for you." He slightly turns his head and shoots you a suggestive look before turning back towards the dresser.

You press your lips together as your already flushed face heatens, silently thanking the alcohol for masking this blush.

After rummaging around, he pulls out a basic black tee with a skull print in the front. "Cute or nah? Could you see yourself stealing this?"

"Shut up." You drunkenly laugh, crinkling the half empty plastic water bottle in your hands. "Cute enough, but it screams too much of Dabi."

"It is his clothes I'm stealing from, after all." Keigo takes off his baseball cap with the university's seal, and slips the shirt over his head, letting you take in the full view of his arms stretching his torso up as he maneuvers the fitted shirt over his body.

"I forgot what a fucking noodle he is." He lightly stretches out the sleeves for his biceps.

Yup. That's why he's the star player on the baseball team.

It may have been the alcohol sneaking its way into your mind, but nothing had ever looked as good as Keigo did in this moment. Every now and then with his back turned to you, you pulled the collar of his shirt up to your nose and deeply inhaled his scent: a mix of laundry detergent, marijuana, and his citrusy-sandalwood based cologne- a scent you were all too familiar with.

"Alright, dove." He kneels down at eye level with you. "Sober up a little bit more and then I'm gonna take you home, got it?"

You nodded your head. "You're too good to me. Thank you for taking care of me." You sigh.

"Mmhm." He hums, letting himself take a seat next to you, leaning back on the mattress with his hands behind his head. "Favorite customer, remember?"

You pout for a moment, now leaning down with him, elbow propping your upper body up.

"Why is that pretty face of yours making that expression?" He looks over at you with an amused smirk.

"I dunno, just thinking." You mumble. "Hypothetically, is it a conflict of interest if we got together? Mixing pleasure and work or something like that?"

Keigo stops breathing for a moment, watching your face carefully. "Uhh I don't think so." His voice slightly cracks, bringing a faint blush to his cheeks. "I mean, no. Hypothetically, no it's not." He coughs. "Uh, why?"

You scoot yourself closer to Keigo, watching his eyes widen and face deepen into a harsher blush as you reach up to remove his baseball cap.

"Hypothetically, would that be something you're interested in?"

He stares at you for a beat with no response, causing your stomach to twist in anticipation. He'd been a relentless flirt for years, and now that you've presented him with an opportunity to be with you tonight, he wasn't going to take it?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You break the silence.

"I've liked you since we were freshmen." He blurts out, letting his hand come up to cover his mouth from the outburst. "And you're evil for giving me an opening to kiss you right now when you're drunk as shit, because I'm not going to."

"Like me? Not just want to get in my pants?" You cock your head to the side, slightly confused.

"Are you fucking kidding me? In love, actually." He nervously chuckles. "Anyways! Uh, we have to leave."

He jumps out of the bed, grabbing your wrists and hoisting you up, causing you to stumble into him.

"Wait what? In love? You drop that piece of info and you wanna leave?" You whine, holding onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"Well, you're drunk and I don't want either of us to say anything we'll regret. Plus this conversation needs to not happen in Dabi's bed or else he'll gut me." Keigo nervously laughs, placing the hat back on his head.

"Yours or mine? You know what, are your roommates home? Maybe I'll just drop you back at yours and hand you off to them, and then we'll talk more about this when you're sober?" He frantically checks his pockets for his phone and keys, clearly panicking now after the sudden confession. "You know, since you're still drunk and I really like you and don't want to fuck this up and-"

"Keigo." You grab the fabric of his shirt to stop him. "There's a reason why I'm always buying from you at stupid hours of the day. I like your stupid flirting, and I like teasing you back, and spending time with you, alright? Don't ask me to repeat this when I'm sober, but I do really like you and I only ever said no because I thought you were a whore."

"Okay, ouch." He lets out a shaky chuckle. "You're really trying to fucking kill me tonight, aren't you?" He blows out a breath of air, lifting his hat and running his hand through his hair. "Okay. We'll talk on the drive and then I'll drop you off at home then, okay?

"No." You whine "Sleep over. My roommates aren't home to take care of me."

He stops for a second, looking at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes and pouty face. Keigo knew you were his weakness, something he could never say no to and it might ultimately be his downfall- losing profit, almost throwing a game because he saw your face in the stands with his jersey number painted on your face, and risking this persona he spent years mastering.

"I'm taking the couch or the floor, and I'll be expecting a kiss and a debrief date in the morning, got it?"

[bwat5-blog]

Caitlyn Kiramman: The Perfect Scapegoat

*Spoilers For Arcane*

Good morning all! So continuing my slow descent into insanity let us discuss Arcane once more. Last night trying to fall asleep I was scrolling Archive and came across another of what I think I have seen being called "aftermath" works, just meaning it is the particular author's spin on Cait and Vi's life fairly immediately following the end of season two.

I am not going to name the work or the author because fan-fiction is literally creative art for the author to do with as they please, and I certainly don't have to read anything I don't want to, so I have no desire to call this person out. But I have seen this sort of thing a lot and wanted to discuss it.

"Caitlyn has to face the consequences for her crimes"

Now I have read some truly abhorrent concepts of "justice" people have put Caitlyn through for her actions, and won't be going there. Some are downright inhuman and others just display a hilarious lack of understanding. But the reason this one stuck with me and really had me thinking is that even though it was not the author's intent based on their notes, I actually think they actually did a fantastic job sharing another side of how Caitlyn was utterly failed by almost everyone around her.

In this particular work, the surviving councilors and the prominent people of Piltover have Caitlyn arrested and conduct a tribunal. Including Mel and Shoola. She is called to answer for a host of charges such as allying with a foreign power against her own people, wrongful imprisonment and so on. You get the idea.

So why does this particular idea stick out to me? Because the audacity of the same people who practically fed Caitlyn to Ambessa, as well as surrendered Piltover while pounding their chests and cheering blaming Caitlyn is so nauseatingly realistic it hurts.

QUICK THING ON MEL:

Now let me clear. Mel would never. And had she been there she would have put a stop to that shit or at the very least nodded along while her mother called Caitlyn up then went to Caitlyn afterward in private and started fixing things. But, it is worth noting that Mel knew full and completely what her mother was planning in terms of starting a war to weaponize hex-tech. And as far as we are aware (I think we can assume she told Alora but we don't know for sure) didn't tell anyone. She was trying to stop her behind the scenes through her shadow games. And there are reasons and justifications for that certainly. In fact I think it's safe to assume Mel may have been afraid her mother would just outright attack if Mel was too aggressive in opposing her. Mel was a politician only at this time, and solved problems through more cerebral methods. Even when her magic manifests it is one primarily of protection and deflection, not head on aggression. Not to mention Mel's unavoidable conflicting emotions opposing her at all. But we will never how things could have been different if the rest of the council were aware of Ambessa's plan to begin with.

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED:

This is primarily about her actual time as commander but I wanted to touch on the task force. I recently was discussing the task force/use of The Grey with another user and they stated Caitlyn staged a coup to lead the task force. This of course is in no way true, but as my wife put it:

"She didn't stage a coup but not a single one of those spineless adults thought to look at the emotionally sandblasted college kid and say -No. You haven't even taken a beat since you were abducted and terrorized by your mother's killer and you have just survived another fight. We will figure this out but you don't need this right now. Go hug your incredibly hot girlfriend and take like a fifteen hour nap- instead they let themselves take the easy way out and pinned it all on Caitlyn."

The Commander:

I am not gonna do a whole recap or a break-down of how Ambessa plays these people like a fiddle again. If you are interested I'd love to hear your thoughts on the documents where I have covered those topics!

In Summary: Caitlyn has returned from her mission with the strike team ending in heartbreak and failure in terms of Jinx at least. Totally isolated and alone, not having healed from any of the trauma she has suffered since the beginning of S1 A2, she stands with the other Enforcers while Ambessa expertly manipulates the prominent families of Piltover, the two surviving councilors, and a large amount of Enforcers you would have to assume included leadership (given their presence here and that there clearly many more than this total) into not only agreeing to Martial Law, but to Caitlyn as their commander.

"Caitlyn could have said no"- This is certainly true. I don't think anyone is arguing that myself included. Bu it is extraordinarily important to factor in Caitlyn's mental state at this point which includes a completely mind-boggling amount of trauma. As well as the fact that her people are angry and afraid, and as a Kiramman even at her young age she is someone they look to. Now sprinkle in a healthy amount of mob mentality and manipulation by Ambessa, as she is standing in a crowd of people thumping their chests while the only speaking member of her team stands by her side smiling and encouraging her to go up and accept. And then just to seal the deal Ambessa promises what Caitlyn wants most "your mother will have justice". She absolutely had the choice to say no. I am not negating that. But I do think unless you are intentionally disregarding all of the other factors involved in order to demonize her it is quite clear that things were not so simple. She ultimately made the choice, but ignoring the context doesn't make you righteous. Only ignorant, unfeeling, or both.

And for all those who love rolling out the old "Caitlyn jumped at the first chance to take power and punish all of Zaun just because her mom died" speech, lets take a look at how Caitlyn is actually feeling:

I can only speak for me, but let me tell you what I see playing out in these images point by point:

Shock

Fear

Conflict

Reassurance

Nervousness

Stoic sadness

Acceptance of responsibility

A FUCKING FIFTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD CONQUERING WAR-MONGER SEEING HER DREAM COME TRUE

But! Stepping away from Caitlyn for a moment back to more of my original point. Caitlyn and Ambessa were not alone during this moment. Ambessa had instructed Salo to summon all people of prominence and power or something to that effect. Basically the people who had a say in how things go. These are the people she puppets into agreeing to Martial Law and Caitlyn as their commander. Let's take a look at these heroes:

*Salo was there but I couldn't get a great still of him and I will give him a pass at least in the moment because Rictus was threatening him*

There were more people than this but these were the ones that I could grab in decent quality. And these were the people to make the decision. Otherwise Ambessa would not have needed them all there and gone through her whole song and dance. And I understand the argument that some of them were probably afraid due to the Noxian's doing their stomp dance, but guess what? If the adult politicians and people in power get that grace so does the college kid who recently got emotionally and mentally nuked back to the stone age.

Every single one of them let this happen. They could have stepped during it, they could have taken action after. Salo and Shoola were on the council with Cassandra. They both watch her daughter get served up on a plate to Ambessa so everyone can go about their lives feeling safer and pretending its all handled. There were enforcers there more than twice Caitlyn's age. Someone there was a position of leadership at some level. Not a single damn one made a move? Questioned? An assembly of probably between 30-50 people made up of Piltover's elite all bury their heads in the sand and let the grieving, inexperienced, young, recently returned from violent conflict college kid take the heat so they can go back to easy street and blame someone else if things go wrong.

AWARD FOR SPECTACULAR FAILURE:

We of course cannot touch on the prominent people of Piltover who might as well have spartan kicked Caitlyn into Ambessa's open maw without talking about Tobias. Listen, Anyone who has been following me for any length of time has seen my relentless attempts to get people to recognize the importance of understanding how grief and loss hits people. This man lost his wife. His entire world got turned upside down. And I don't deny that at a point even if he had stepped in Caitlyn may have shut him down as she became the leader of house Kiramman anyway. But he does.... nothing... Part of this probably just comes down to the decision by the writers for him to kind of vanish but we see him defending her efforts to help early on and then when she has so clearly lost her way we get nothing from him.

Martial Law:

So as I said, I have been through all of this in detail. Not doing it again. But since we are talking about it what did Caitlyn actually do?

Establish Checkpoints and take martial control of Zaun.

Arrest people who violated the law.

.............

Piltover elite willingly agree to Martial Law

Piltover elite agree to Caitlyn being made leader

Zaun falls under Piltover jurisdiction regardless of Martial Law or not

Somewhere in Zaun is a dangerous terrorist guilty of multiple political assassinations, the deaths of several enforcers, tremendous destruction of property, multiple attempts to murder Caitlyn herself, and violent abduction of Caitlyn who at the time was a councilor's daughter from her own home.

Zaunite fighters conduct devastating attack on memorial service in what is supposed to be a secure location. Jinx would almost certainly be suspected of involvement but even if not once again the threat comes from Zaun.

The leader they chose, who is the leader because of the martial law they agreed to, places Zaun under occupation until this clear and unquestionable threat to public safety is located. She challenges unlawful arrests, unnecessary violence, bans the use of the worst cells in Stillwater she found Vi in, and has no part in Ambessa's secret experiments and brutality in the bowels of the prison.

None of this is to say that Caitlyn did not make mistakes, did not lose herself to her rage and hate, or does not share in the blame to a degree for the suffering Ambessa caused. I think it is fair to say that Caitlyn, much like those who failed her so spectacularly, looked away from the truth because it was easier to do so at first. And that is not even factoring the massive manipulation of Ambessa upon Caitlyn during this time to keep the occupation going while she continues to try and crack hex-tech, and attempting to control Caitlyn and bend her to her will.

But the idea of the people who all turned away while Caitlyn was made Ambessa's scapegoat so they could sleep peacefully at night condemning her from on high is both disgusting, and sadly all too believable. They have already proved their cowardice and stupidity. And it would be the final betrayal of someone who wanted above all else to protect her people to subject her to some sort of tribunal/punishment in the wake of surviving her cities complete abandonment of her. Especially considering her massive life-changing injuries sustained in the defense of humanity itself while setting things right.

Regarding Zaun:

The people of Zaun are for obvious reasons another matter. There is the larger picture ongoing oppression of Zaun by Piltover to consider, and even considering all the above factors the people of Zaun:

A- Would not have any way to know how much of part Ambessa played behind the scenes until someone made it all public

B- Were the ones who actually suffered during the occupation that Caitlyn did authorize regardless of reasoning.

And just like above, I am not saying Caitlyn does not share in the blame for what occurred. While everything she did was within her scope of authority, an authority lawfully granted to her, and in response to a very legitimate threat to Piltover's safety, it does not change the fact that people imprisoned during the occupation were potentially subjected to Ambessa's brutality. Never mind the day-to-day brutality enacted by Rictus and his men.

But again there are other factors that need to be considered before constructing the gallows:

Piltover's oppression of Zaun is unquestionable. But neither is Piltover's current legal jurisdiction over Zaun. Every action Caitlyn took and was knowledgeable of was completely legal, no matter how wrong you find the law.

The Grey- I am absolutely not doing my whole breakdown again. But through the use of the grey they helped take down Shimmer and the Chem-Barons, which were both enormous threats to the under city. And while it uncomfortable and clearly dangerous when exposed over long periods of time, there is absolutely no evidence of it being dangerous from short term exposure how Caitlyn used it.

And of course, the biggest factor: JINX.

I'll make all of you a deal. Caitlyn gets a noose if Jinx hops up next to her. I love Jinx but it serves no purpose to pretend she's an angel. Jinx is the one who kicks all of this off to begin with. It is because of her that Piltover retaliation is guaranteed, because of her Caitlyn's entire life so violently and radically changes course. And let's be clear here, before you start with all that Jinx was striking out against the oppressors who had ruined her peoples lives in the name of justice and blah blah blah. Nope. Know how I know that? She hid during the entire occupation until Isha got taken. She wasn't speaking truth to power in the name of her people. She was a mentally ill child lashing out at a symbol of her rage in a moment of extraordinary grief and pain. And regarding her hiding by the way, I applauded her for it. Getting away from all of that shit is how she started to get better. As far as I'm concerned I would have cheered to see she and Isha leave that temple fight, board an airship, and head off for adventures far away from Piltover and Zaun forever (Same for Caitlyn and Vi but that's a different document).

So all that said, while Caitlyn certainly has a debt to the people of Zaun, we need to take care not to wrap that up with the debt Piltover owes to Zaun.

Caitlyn is not to blame for the entire history of the two cities. She only played a part in this series of events. And it would be dishonest not to admit that it was a Zaunite that started in the first place, the same Zaunite who changed Caitlyn's life forever through her violence and terrorism. And that the same woman who manipulated Zaunite warriors into attacking Piltover to help kick the war off manipulated Caitlyn herself.

If Silco's mad daughter can become their symbol of hope, and his most trusted lieutenant can become their first councilor, perhaps the people of Zaun can find mercy in their heart for a young woman who recently almost gave her life to make things right. Not to mention her families seat on the council.

Anyway. You have all heard most of this from me before in some form or fashion. So I apologize for that. And again I really am not coming for fan-fiction. I would be the ULTIMATE hypocrite given my recent small efforts. The particular story that got my attention just made me think about it, and then realize it would be sickeningly true to form for the Piltover elite to try and turn on Caitlyn when it was all said and done when they abandoned her the first time. And spawned into this. Thank you for reading.

Have a great day!