#it's why he made the choices he did in the story

[palindrome-mystery]

After the ending of The Sunshine Court Neil is 100% on Jeremy's hate list.

The others don't understand why Captain Sunshine and Smiles who gets along with everyone absolutely hates Neil Josten and will scowl whenever his name is brought up.

Laila and Cat are just like, yeah he's a weird guy but he was on the run for 8 years from his mafioso father who tortured him and tried to kill him. Gonna be a little weird after something like that. But he seemed like a good sport when we played against his team last season.

But to Jeremy, Neil flew in from South Carolina to California with no warning, just texted Jean when he landed in CA that he was in LA and they needed to talk. The timing was already awful because Jean had just been attacked and Jeremy wanted Jean to stay home where he could keep an eye on him but Jean insisted that if Neil was here it was because Neil had no choice and Jean had to go with him. And Neil wouldn't step inside the house, just spoke to Jean in French so Jeremy couldn't understand and then they were off and Jean was gone for like 6 hours.

Jeremy was probably staring out the living room window for Jean to return. And when he finally saw Neil pull up to the house, Jean slammed the car door shut and ran up the stairs. Jeremy had the front door open for him ready to ask what was wrong and if he was okay but Jean was upset and just stormed past him. Jeremy went to him in their room and asked him what he needed and that's when Jean asked him "If I asked you to kill me, would you?"

And Jeremy is scared for Jean and pleads for him to let him help him. They get through the night, with friends and dinner at midnight, and the promise that Jean is not ready to talk about it yet but one day...

From then on Neil Josten is enemy #1 to Jeremy Knox because whatever Neil and Jean did that day made Jean want to die.

Nearly a year later, when Jean and Jeremy are finally dating, Jean has shared some tidbits about how his family was mafia and he had been sold to the Ravens and why he's scared of water and that he had a sister and that the broken trinkets and postcards he won't throw away had been gifts from Kevin who had tried to show him pieces of the world while he was locked in the Nest...

Jean is informed that it's time for him to testify against his family and soon the world will know that his family was mafia. Neil calls to offer to fly down and go with him in support since he had gone through the same thing.

Jeremy is scowling when he realizes Jean is talking to Neil, and when Jean hangs up he asks Jeremy what's wrong. Jeremy reminds him that the last time he spent time with Neil he came home saying he wanted to die.

And Jean is just, 'oh, that,' and proceeds to finally tell Jeremy that Neil found out Jean's family was going to get taken down. Neil came up with a scheme to get Jean FBI protection so he would be safe when his family was burned. He got his crime-boss uncle involved to get the FBI's attention, came up with a fake story of them being old mafia childhood friends, and got Jean protection from the FBI in exchange for his cooperation.

Jeremy is staring back at Jean slack-jawed because that is absolutely bonkers and how did Neil Josten orchestrate that and oh my gosh Neil had been protecting Jean he totally got it wrong and needed to apologize to Neil for the death glares he had been sending his way at the last banquet.

And then Jean adds, 'and he also put a hit on my rapist.'

[chanafehs]

My Veilguard review:

Note - I will be honest in saying this is very long and very negative. If you enjoy this game please don't let me be the one to ruin that for you and skip on this post. I will be discussing spoilers. This is just my opinion so please don't crucify me for it.

I think my thoughts about this game were shaky to begin with as I had been exposed to different spoilers and information before the launch. I wasn’t actually expecting this game to be amazing but as someone whose favorite Dragon Age game is Dragon Age 2, which is arguably the weakest in the series (until now), I still went in with the impression I would have a good time regardless. I did not have that at all, in fact towards the end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3 all I wanted was for the game to be over. 

The problems for me really started right in the beginning with the Inquisitor character choices and their characterization. No choices for your Warden, no choices for your Hawke, and only three choices for your Inquisitor out of the dozens you made in Inquisition. The romance option just felt like a very polite way of asking if you romanced Solas or not, especially after completing the game where your non-solas romance will only get one letter for you to read, outside of that, the Inquisitor will not even mention them. Disbanding the Inquisition meant basically nothing and vowing to stop Solas felt like it had little bearing on what my Inquisitor said when she showed up. 

The time frame to make Dragon Age 2 was just over a year and somehow included more choices from Origins than Veilguard did with over ten years of production. That is the information that's been banging around in my head throughout this entire game. In Dragon Age 2, we get the consequences of our decisions with Alistair’s fate and we get extra dialogue concerning Isabela/Zevran/Leliana/Anders/Nathaniel + some sidequests. Veilguard couldn’t even give us so much of a mention of our Inquisitor’s friendships and the consequences of those friendships outside of Solas. The Inquisitors themselves are locked into one personality type as well, and regardless if you choose to stop Solas or not, they are very amicable toward him. 

During the second cut scene you get with the Inquisitor in Dock Town, they will go on to ask you about your progress and then go on about Solas. Mind you, my Inquisitor is extremely unsympathetic to Solas and I chose the option to stop him no matter what, so why is it that every time I speak to her, she keeps trying to ask me if Solas is being genuine and that he was her friend? That doesn’t sound like someone who has vowed to stop him. They will also try to draw parallels between you, Rook, and Solas. Even at the end of the game, they will still try to appeal to you to see reason with him. That is essentially all the Inquisitor is there for. Incredibly frustrating. 

Throughout the game you will get missives from the Inquisitor detailing the devastation that is being brought to southern Thedas and every letter feels like more and more of an insult. To keep it short: Southern Thedas as we know it has been essentially wiped out. I think that deserves more than a footnote in some missive most players aren’t even going to see.

So the setting we spent all three games in, that we saved countless times, had our companions and protagonists die for, gets demolished in the background where we cannot see it. Skyhold had to be taken back from demons and whoops, that's not actually something you can do anything about. Nothing the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor ever did mattered at all and it renders everything from the previous games absolutely irrelevant. 

With that aside, the companions are also another issue for me. I found myself having trouble getting attached to any of them and every single time I recruited one I had the internal question “Why are you even here?” None of their companion quests really tie into the story at large, save maybe Harding and Davrin, and they are incredibly boring save for a few cool moments.

The main appeal of Dragon Age for me is the companions, it’s why Dragon Age 2 is my favorite of the series. Despite the overused environments and the rushed production I still had a great time with it because of the companions. I was actually eager to do the companion quests and learn more about them and how they all fit into the main narrative. Even characters I didn’t like, I still understood why they were important to the story. Like I can’t stand Anders but I know why he is there, he has a purpose.

Every companion is painfully amicable towards you even if you decide to be “stern” towards them. I found myself not caring what dialogue option I chose about them because it made absolutely no difference. There is nice, funny nice, and gentle parenting. That is really all you have to work with in terms of the dialogue wheel. It was more difficult to get disapproval than approval and I can probably count on my fingers every time in this game I actually got companion disapproval. There is only one companion in my playthrough that became hardened, Lucanis, and it had virtually no impact on his character other than the fact he leaves for a couple of saves and comes back to kissing your ass. 

Something I actually really liked about BG3 and the previous Dragon Age games was working for your companion approval - this meant actually learning about your companion and what made them tick. If you don't understand them well enough you get disapproval, when you actually listen to their ideas and thoughts you get approval - there is an active effort to get these things. In Veilguard this does not exist and you are essentially promised approval no matter what, meaning there is no encouragement to know who these people are if they're just going to support you regardless.

I have to agree with the Skillup review they made about this game saying that every dialogue option feels like it was made with HR in the room and I one hundred percent agree. This is not how real people talk to each other. This is how teachers talk to toddlers when they want to explain the virtues of sharing toys with their classmates.

It felt honestly insulting at times to be treated like I don’t understand the concept of bigotry, I still have no idea what they were trying to go for with this, like were they trying to appeal to a market of high school boys who hadn’t discovered what empathy was yet? There is zero trust in the player and every dialogue and decision you make in these moments feels handhold-y and preachy. Like Pixar levels of life lessons you learn.

In the moments where I had to settle arguments over coffee and companions not respecting each other's interests, I could not honestly believe this is the same universe with Loghain Mac Tir, Meredith Stannard, fuck even Corypheus. Humor has always existed in Dragon Age and I love the comedic banter between the characters but it was always humor that served as an escape from the oppressive and dark situation around you, here the dark and oppressive situations feel like an escape from the unrelenting friendliness and tone deafness of your companions. 

The companion I probably had the most issue with was Taash and the way they were handled. I’m not going to get too deep into the Bharv scene because even thinking about it makes me cringe but If someone messed up my pronouns and then immediately dropped to do pushups I am most definitely killing us both. Isabela’s explanation is extremely preachy and she proceeds to do the exact thing she says she hates about people messing up pronouns. Anyways. Moving on. 

Taash I think is a good example of how to not write a multiethnic character. I don’t expect a white person like Trick Weekes to understand the first thing that comes with being multiethnic or having strict parents that intersects with that identity but it is most definitely not whatever the hell this is. 

The only thing I can offer here is that as a multiethnic person (my father is Palestinian and my mother is mainly Irish and Seminole) is that there has never been a point in my life where I felt like I had to choose what culture I am let alone give that choice to someone else in my life I just met.

That’s not what being multiethnic is. I do not have to choose between anything - I am whole and I don't need to cut myself into halves and quarters to be accepted.

It also feels subconsciously like you are supposed to choose Rivain as the Qunari are depicted as bigoted and oppressive as they always have been in this game. Knowing all of this really tainted my experiences with them as a character and I understand a lot of other non-binary individuals love the representation they brought on that level but personally, I’m just tired of “queer representation” always coming with racist undertones. Again, this game feels like it always had white queer people in mind, not lgbt poc. 

These kinds of comments are really only made worse knowing what the Qunari take inspiration from - primarily Black and Brown SWANA Muslims. Why should Trick Weekes have any authority over a questline like that is beyond me. 

Also, this sucked. Especially because they said it to Neve too. I don’t really want my non-binary representation sprinkled with Misogyny as well, especially since we can’t really call Taash out on this comment unless you’re playing a woman (as far as I know).

Aside from Taash, I thought the writing around Harding was strange. Don’t me wrong, I love Harding, but I do not remember her being this friendly and people-pleasing in the Inquisition. If you play as a Dalish elf the first thing she says is she’s surprised that you would care about anyone else - there is absolutely no inclination of this kind of perspective in Veilguard. Additionally, despite knowing everything Solas has done and the consequences that had on her ancestors, she still tries to push you to reason with him?

All of her quests about learning about the Titans, experiencing and embracing their anger, and you still want to appeal to Solas? That was another thing I found so weird about this game, throughout the entire story you are being told again and again that Solas cannot be trusted, he is to blame for everything, and will stab you in the back and yet it seems like every companion tries to push back on you if you agree with this viewpoint? 

Also, something I didn't know at this point of the game but I do now is that Solas had killed Varric and she does know this so why is she acting like this knowing Solas had killed her friend who she spent years with?

Genuinely this whole game felt like: Devs: Solas is a villain

Rook: okay understood

Devs: actually nvm you don't understand him if you think he's a villain

The only companion quests I was actually genuinely interested in were Emmrich and his thoughts around death and becoming a lich. Lucanis' quests had the best boss fights for sure. Outside of that, it felt like “Go here with Bellara” or “Go here with Taash” and it got so grating I couldn’t wait for these quests to be over so I could progress with the main story. It felt like an annoying back-and-forth game to finish a main quest just to finish all the companion quests and then go back to the main quest. Like a list of chores to get through before you can have any fun. 

The inclusion of characters like Morrigan and Isabela in this universe was extremely hollow and they do not feel like the Morrigan and Isabela we know at all. With Morrigan there is a bit of an explanation to this with the essence of Mythal however she reiterates that it is still herself and it is only the memories of Mythal that remain inside of her.

In my canon playthroughs of Dragon Age, I romanced both Morrigan and Isabela, so I was curious to see how the developers would address their pasts with our Warden and Hawke. Unfortunately, the answer is that they don’t address it at all. Morrigan hardly mentions her past, leaving us to wonder if Kieran even exists. The game implies that the relationship between Morrigan and the Warden is insignificant; a codex entry oddly suggests, in a very slut-shamey way, that Morrigan had more lovers than there are trees in the forest. Isabela doesn't reference Hawke either, as she fondly remembers Kirkwall for found family and friendship. It seems that if you romanced Isabela or Morrigan, congratulations—your canon doesn’t exist.

I will echo the statement others have made about all the cameos feeling like mascots because that is really what they are. There is no substance to any of them, Isabela only feels like she is there to be a supportive voice for Taash, Morrigan will only really talk about Solas and Mythal-Dorian is the only one who actually gets a substantial quest related to him. I thought he was fine minus the "illegal slavery" bit because what is illegal slavery Dorian. Next up we will discuss legal murder.

Another thing that genuinely broke the immersion for me in this game is how awful the armor is. It is a Dragon Age game so I wasn't expecting Haute Couture but the design is all over the place and nothing looks right. Not to mention the extremely weird orientalist undertones that follow the Lords of Fortune everywhere. The outfit Isabela is wearing is even worse in person and I tried to give this game the benefit of the doubt by thinking we would be getting some underwater mission with her and that would be the explanation behind her bikini outfit - this did not happen.

The belly dancer-esque outfits with the coin-bedazzled turbans were pretty egregious and made me want to limit my time in Rivain as much as possible. For a game released in 2024, I am disappointed we are still dealing with the same Orientalist fantasy tropes. Even the Qunari are more naked in this game than I had ever seen previously. At least DA2 and DAI gave them pants. But hey the Antaam are all blighted and evil so who cares right.

Speaking of the Antaam, a lot of the antagonist motivations for this game genuinely did not make sense to me. The Antaam are suddenly giving up their fear of magic to pair up with...the Venatori? To fight for the elven gods? It honestly felt like they had no idea who to make fight for the Evanuris so they just pulled two of the baddies from the Inquisition and went "We can just use them and call it done". When you press for information on why this is the answer is always a mustache-twirling dialogue about power. Nothing much deeper from that than any of the villains besides Solas. All of the villains, especially Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, are extremely one-dimensional and have no motivations other than being evil and striving for power. At least Corypheus had cool lines.

I'm not going to get too deep into lore changes since I know a lot of things happened in the comics, books, and TV show (all of which I did not read or watch) but I honestly do think it's a bad idea to have a "soft reboot" while needing to read several books to understand everything. That's not being welcoming to new players that's homework. If you wanted a soft reboot probably don't start off with half your plot and characters coming from various comics and novels people need to catch up on.

The portrayal of the Dalish in this game is inconsistent. When we inform them that their gods are evil and planning to overthrow the world, they respond, "Okay, heard you." How can they accept this explanation so readily? In previous interactions, Solas shared that the Dalish did not listen to him and even threatened him when he revealed this truth. Yet, when we present the same information, they believe us almost immediately. Is there no pushback or skepticism? The Dalish accept everything about the evil elven gods meanwhile Andraste’s followers remain completely unaffected by these revelations.

I think what frustrated me even more was watching our elven companions express grief and regret over the actions of the elven gods like they had something to do with it, painting the Dalish as adjacent to oppressors when they themselves are oppressed in every way. The only thing that remains consistent is the sad boy Solas act about it.

At the end of the game, two of my companions - Harding and Emmrich- were killed. Emmrich's death was unfortunately overshadowed by a zoom-in on a rock and I had no idea he had died until I got the popup. Still, all I can think about is just going "Rock moment" when he died. I don't really have anything negative to say about Harding's death other than the way she went out was fitting for her narrative. Bellara got blighted and there were no consequences for this and she walked away from it - forgive me but I am still under the DAO impression that if you get blighted that's game over but all the rules about the Blight have been changed in this.

I decided to trick Solas, and honestly, I don’t have anything negative to say about it, except that Solas should have noticed me holding the fake dagger since it was clearly in his line of sight. I liked the idea of outsmarting the god of trickery. While it wasn’t extremely satisfying, but I’m okay with how it turned out.

Even as the credits began rolling I still have trouble believing rook's role in any of this. Just the persistent nagging idea that they really just have no place in this story at all. In the beginning I wanted to see how Rook is looped into all of this and how they become central to the fight against Solas but just like with most of the companions, I have no idea why they are here. This should've been the Inquisitor's story to finish.

I'm not going to pretend that everything about this game was irredeemable and terrible. There were genuinely parts I enjoyed and had a good time with. The romance ending scene with Neve was fantastic, even though it took a long time to get there. Davrin was an unexpected aspect of the game that I actually liked, as I never cared much for Grey Wardens before, but he changed my perspective. Harding's mention of the Inquisition was also very sweet. Although I wasn't particularly invested in Emmrich, I loved the conclusion to his quest when he became a lich lord.

While I'm not the biggest Solas fan, I actually really enjoyed the cutscenes between him and Rook because one of my aims with this game was the ability to be mean to Solas and kick him while he was down. They definitely delivered there even though everyone else kept disagreeing with me.

The worlds are beautiful and the CC is definitely the best we've gotten in any Dragon Age game, I spent probably a solid hour in there. The hairstyles are great and the four unibrow choices? Bioware you shouldn't have <3.

Overall I definitely didn't have the best time with this game and towards the end of act 2 I was incredibly bored and the combat became repetitive and stagnant enough that I turned down the difficulty to get through it faster. I can't see myself replaying this any time soon and I am unsure what my stance on Dragon Age is now, do I Ignore this game ever existed or do I carve out everything I liked and pretend this is the Dragon Age I love? I have no idea, I am disappointed at how this game leaves us off and I really wanted to sit here and say It's good but I can't.

I think this game will reach out to and resonate with a different group of Dragon Age fans than me, I just wish I could enjoy it as much as I see other people doing. I was originally going to give this game a 3/10 but knowing you can pet the cats I will give it a very generous 3.5/10.

[storywriter007]

Hi I recently found your page and fell in love with your stories!! I was just wondering if I could request a Percy x reader (maybe Hera’s forbidden child if that's ok) they got together after Percy and Anabeth broke up. And they fight because of Anabeth and how Percy and her are still really close even after the breakup. And reader feels like a second choice and a replacement that can’t compare to the original. something like that but I was hoping that we could get jealous and regretful Percy to

I Needed You - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: ooooh ofc i hope you like this!!

warnings: cursing, toxic relationships

genre: angst

word count: 1k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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requests are closed

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"you're a disgrace to my name and everything i stand for!"

for years, y/n had tried so hard to gain her mother's approval. she had done everything: she studied until dawn, trained like no tomorrow, sacrificed her life and sanity, and defended this wicked woman to her peers.

but it wasn't enough. it was never enough. because to hera, y/n was only her forbidden child. the mistake, the accident, the thing that was never supposed to happen.

"you are the worst thing that's ever happened to me! i didn't want you, i didn't want you to be here!" the angry goddess boomed.

"yeah? well, i didn't want to be here either!" y/n yelled back, tears welling up in her eyes.

"everyday, i ask the fates why the hell did luke castellan die when it should've been you! it should've been you who didn't make it out! it should've been you!" she screamed

y/n went quiet; she could feel the eyes on her. she could see zeus next to hera, looking down at the marble floors with sincerity.

she knew it was low when zeus empathized with her.

"i ask them the same thing mom." y/n said softly, a tear spilling out of her eye.

she took a few steps backward, before turning around to walk away.

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the cruel words of her mother replayed in her head as she made her way to percy's apartment. she was minutes away from a breakdown as she knocked on his door.

no answer.

she knocked again, this time, percy quietly opened the door. his eyes were flooded with sympathy, but it wasn't for y/n. she looked past his shoulder to see annabeth on his couch, her face in her hands.

"sorry y/n, can you come back later?" he whispered. "annie's going through something right now."

"yeah, sure." y/n said calmly, feeling her heart shatter.

what could be so important?

"is she okay?" y/n asked.

"yeah, she's fine." percy continued. "she just got a bad grade on her test, and she's really upset about it. y'know how much this stuff means to her."

"aw, i understand." she lied.

no she didn't. a test grade? seriously? y/n had just had the fallout of the lifetime with her mother, and she had told percy about having to talk to her mother beforehand. but of course, when it came to annabeth, he had to drop everything.

"thanks." he smiled before shutting the door quickly.

y/n walked back to her own apartment, fingers pressed against her mouth to block the violent sobs. as soon as she got home, she collapsed on the floor and cried.

she wondered the same thing she had wondered her whole life: why wasn't she good enough?

was this a curse her mother had placed on her? the overwhelming feeling of inferiority that would follow her everywhere. she hated herself, she hated everything about herself, and everybody returned the sentiment. from her mother to her boyfriend, she was just unlovable.

and the one time she needed percy, he wasn't there for her.

hours passed by as y/n wept, and once it struck midnight, she had run out of tears. she steadily got up and drank a sip of water before sitting on her couch. she brought her knees to her chest as she looked out to the city.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door. she didn't have energy to talk to anyone right now.

the knock persisted and she opened the door to see sea green eyes staring at her. she defeatedly opened the door and let him in.

"sorry it took me so long, annie was really upset-"

"shut up, percy. just shut up!" she snapped.

he paused.

"what? are you okay?"

"no! i'm not okay! i told you that i had to go talk to hera today!"

"oh shit, y/n, i'm sorry, i completely forgot!"

his face changed as the realization hit his face.

"i don't give a fuck! you dropped everything as soon as annabeth showed up, didn't you?" she asked, angrily. "i-i mean i get it, okay? you forgot, that's fine. but i came to your door, barely keeping it together, you could see the tears in my eyes and hear my shaky voice, but you just shut the door and acted like i didn't exist until now!"

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." he apologized, coming closer to her.

"i don't care that you're sorry! i'm sick of you always prioritizing annabeth over me!"

"i'm sorry, i got caught up-"

"i don't care! stop telling me you're sorry if you're not going to change!"

"y/n, please. i'm sorry i wasn't here before, but i'm here now." he pleaded.

"you should've been here before!" she said. "you should've been here when i needed you to be!" her voice cracked.

"don't cry, please, please don't cry."

"but instead, you were with annabeth. comforting her, choosing her, like you always do!"

"i'm sorry, she was hur-"

"she was hurt? i was hurt when my own fucking mother told me she wished i was dead!"

"oh my gods, y/n, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

"stop saying sorry like you care!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "our entire relationship, you've just treated me like the next best thing. the girl you took because annabeth didn't want you anymore. i'm your second choice."

"y/n." he said softly, walking over to her.

"go home percy. i'm sure there's someone who needs you more than i do right now."

"y/n, i'm sorry." he pleaded.

"no, i've had one of the worst days of my life, and i needed you. and you chose to be with someone else." she said through tears. "so now, you're going to chose to be without me."

"y/n."

she didn't say anything. he quietly began making his way to the door, but she didn't spare him a look. she looked outside the window, at the city lights. in the reflection, she could see him. she could see the regret and pain in his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. his eyes filled with water as he quietly shut the door and left.

[the-badger-mole]

I've seen people criticize Zuko for not taking the opportunity to kill Ozai during the eclipse but expecting Aang, a 12 y.o. pacific monk to do that instead. He was called hypocritical for being unsympathetic towards his unwillingness to take a life when he himself couldn't. I do like Zuko and tend to side with him ( post redemption ofc ) over Aang, but that seems like a valid take, I don't think I have a counter-argument to that.What is your opinion on It ? Also, what do you think was the in-universe reason for Zuko to make such a decision? He said that It's not his destiny, do you think there was any other reason for It? Is he not wrong for not doing It just bc of destiny since It's just an abstract concept and the stakes were really high ( plus It's against the show's message about shaping your own destiny) ?

Maybe I'm reading this wrong, but it sounds like the people criticizing Zuko for not killing Ozai when he had the chance wanted Aang to do it? That doesn't sound like a contradiction, so I'm not sure if that's how you meant it?

Aside from that, I can only speak for myself. I understand why Zuko didn't kill Ozai. I also understand why Aang didn't want to. What my problem with the resolution for that was that it was the first time Aang seems to have even thought about what ending the war would entail. It doesn't make him look noble, or idealistic. It just makes him look stupid. What do you mean? What do you mean that he took this entire journey to get him to master all the elements on a deadline so he can end the war, and he had no idea what ending the war would even look like? He didn't even consider it? It had to be told to him. He really goofed off this entire series and didn't think about his project until the night before it was due. And don't anyone try to use his age to excuse this to me. First of all, Aang isn't a 12 year old. He's a fictional character who was created by writers. Writers who were telling a story. THEY are the ones who didn't consider how Aang would end the war. Second, within the story, Aang's age is never used as an excuse for why he did this. In fact, not only is an excuse not given, it's treated like a virtue on his end and not a lack of forethought on his part. He's rewarded for it.

Listen, I hate the Lionturtle/Rock of Destiny double deus ex machina, and I have made no secret of it. It was a cop out. It cheapened the finale. It made everything Aang was supposed to learn irrelevant, because no, he didn't have to make sacrifices and hard choices for his victory. He won because he was supposed to win (and how's that for shaping your own destiny?). Here's the thing, though. The Lionturtle, at least, could have worked. If Aang had to come up with the solution himself, go find the Lionturtle and ask for help (and maybe have to perform some challenge to earn it), then it would've been a satisfying ending while still not making Aang himself have to shed blood (nevermind that keeping his hands clean was a privilege most of the heroes in this story couldn't have).

I didn't necessarily want Aang to kill Ozai, and definitely didn't want him to kill Ozai just because it would look cool (although...). I would have been fine with a no-kill ending, if it had been set up right. I just think having Aang kill Ozai given the set up of the rest of the story would've been more satisfying than the cop-out ex machina double team. Or someone else could've faced Ozai, because he was never the main villain of the series. Azula was. And that fight was both satisfying and didn't end with her death, either (because it's a kids' show). It wouldn't even have to change. Aang was not the real hero of this story. Katara was the hero of the first half, and Zuko was the hero of the second. Aang was just the McGuffin. He could've sat this one out and been the one to make the "Real Hero" speech instead of Zuko. That would have been a good ending.

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 5) (Interactive Story)

Despite him being our protagonists murderer, there may be no one eyes who can help Macaque in this moment.

Lets continue this tragic story, shall we~?

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The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal

Ships: Shadowpeach

Angst: You betcha

Fluff: With enough choices, maybe we'll get there.

“'Wukong!” The name tumbled from Macaque’s lips, a desperate plea that sliced through the haze of mist and shadows. It rippled in the air, echoing through the void that separated them.

The moment lingered, the air thick with tension as silence engulfed the realm. And then, Wukong stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, golden irises shimmering with an unmistakable awareness. His ears straightened to attention, startled and alert. His eyes looked wildly left and right, swearing for a moment he heard his name being called.

Heard… his mate call for him.

That couldn’t be….

As he searched, the two Diyu collectors froze. As they stumbled back and into each other, clear fear in their actions, they squabbled, “I thought you said he would never be able to see us?!” one shrieked. There wasn’t a soul alive who didn’t fear Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

Especially after his recent visit to the Diyu a year prior…. (Though that, was a story for another time.)

“He can’t! He shouldn’t!” the second quickly corrected.

“Then how—”

Wukong’s gaze landed on the figures with an intensity that seemed to burn through the suffocating shadows. For a moment it seemed like he could see them.

“…Is someone there?” Wukong mumbled. His heart raced as he sensed something was wrong. There was something in the air- it tickled the back of his neck. The air crackled with tension, a fight brewing just beyond his immediate perception. He was not in the mood for some demons games.

The two Diyu collectors shrieked and huddled together at his words, daring not to move in case Wukong did truly peer beyond the veil and see them. It was for his exact senses that most opted not to collect the dying souls of Flower Fruit Mountain. Even with the best intentions, the good natured collectors still cowered in the presence of this man.

Macaque panted quietly, angling his head to peer up at Wukong. Despite his hands tied, they itched to reach out. For a moment he wondered if Wukong could see him- yet the King’s ever scanning gaze made it clear he could not.

But he had heard him.

For the briefest second he had heard the cry of his mate. Of his Moon.

Wukong touched his temple, wondering if it had just been the wind. The echoing mountains still holding the essence of the Moon. “…Fool,” he mumbled to himself, “He isn’t here.”

But even as he muttered, the air continued to vibrate with that same uncanny sense. Wukong’s instincts were honed, sharp and unyielding—he could not ignore this. A cold knot formed in his stomach. Something was amiss, he was sure. Of course, it could just be the lingering effects of the alcohol stupor he had tossed himself into the night before. He was home.

It was time for celebration! Of course it was. Which is why he gladly took every glass of alcohol the monkeys tossed his way. In the ruse of celebration, and the turmoil of his agony.

As the King turned, searching behind him as well, the two Diyu collectors inched closer, quietly hissing to Macaque. “He can’t help you..!” They insist. Yet despite this insistence, they kept their voices hushed. “This is the way of it. A soul isn’t intended to linger after death. You can’t use that Monkey to shield you from the cycle of life-”

Macaque felt their whispers like fiery embers against his skin. “Shut up!” he snarled, the bravery fluttering within him. He wanted to insist he wasn’t using Wukong for anything of the sort. He didn’t need a protector, nor did he want it to be Wukong. He didn’t need him either! Now that he was out of that blasted Staff, he wasn’t going to let anyone boss him around.

He just- couldn’t deny the usefulness of Wukong at this time. Like a scarecrow scaring off crows.

Now that he was dead, he was free. No more needing to manage Wukong’s actions. No more needing to protect the tribe or lead in Wukong’s absence. He could… do what he wanted.

He didn’t need Wukong-

He shrieked when Wukong started to walk away.

The nerve of the man! A scarecrow wasn’t supposed to move!

The Diyu collectors were grinning as he did so, already inching closer the more Wukong got further away.

Unable to get a full grasp of the land, it seemed Wukong intended to take to the sky. It was best to look up there-, the King figured. To make sure no one was slinking around his home.

With a call to his cloud he was shooting upward, Macaque’s voice dying out behind him. “Wukong you idiot-!” of course.

OF COURSE!

The one thing he needed Wukong to do and he couldn’t even do that right!

As Wukong ascended, leaving the earthy scents of the mountain behind, the rush of wind whipped against his golden fur, filling him with a momentary sense of freedom. But that knot in his stomach tightened further.

With the King drifting away, the cowering Diyu collectors straightened their attires.

They cleared their throats, finding their confidence, “Ah, see?” they jeered. “Can’t get away that easily! Now-” as they got closer, Macaque kicked his legs feebly to try and put some distance, crawling against the ground.

He wrestled against the restraints around his torso and limbs, biting his lower lip harshly. If he was alive, he was sure it would be bleeding.

“Stop making this difficult-” as one of the collectors grasped his arm, looking intent to just toss the Moon Monkey over his shoulder to get this over with, all present were stunned when something odd occurred.

The Six Eared Macaque was bodily dragged, rather sharply and suddenly, to the right.

Macaque himself had gagged at the sensation, feeling something tight against his chest.

When he looked back at the Diyu collectors they were just as stunned, going pale. “…Huh?” They rushed to grab him again, but Macaque was only forcifully tugged rightward again- in the direction of Wukong’s retreating form.

At Macaque’s waist, below the black tendrils that binded him, a golden light began to shine. It wrapped around his waist and up his spin, coiling to his chest. Like a string it pulled outward, dragging itself back to Wukong; like a string of fate.

Macaque eyes the thing, having never seen something like this before.

"W-What the-??" he followed the trail of it, finding it was coming from Wukong. It was like this etheral string was coming from Wukong's soul it self. The farther Wukong got away the more it dragged Macaque, keeping them at a 50 foot distance to eachother at any given time.

“What?” Macaque murmured, feeling the Doty’s collectors magic loosen from their shock. A chance to escape.

"Oooh," The Diyu collectors winced, smacking their own foreheads. They seemed to recognize this phenominon, and were not pleased, "Well that ain't good." One grumbled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the other hissed

[buddiebeginz]

I'm really happy that Buck and Tommy are finally over (thank god) but there was so much I didn't like about this episode. Not only does Tommy have a history of racism, homophobia, misogyny, etc but he was simply not a good boyfriend. And like not just not a good boyfriend to Buck (which he was that) but like not a good boyfriend in general. Like look at how he talked about Abby (and I'm no fan of hers).

I know some of the stuff with Tommy was probably due to Lou's terrible acting but some of it was definitely writing choices. I don't get the point of writing a character to be a lackluster love interest at best and dismissive patronizing jerk of a boyfriend at worst if it's not leading somewhere in the story. It just feels like bad writing. A lot of the stuff with Tommy does. It's why I'm still amazed at how much that fandom acts like they're the greatest romance of all time.

There's also all that stuff that happened in 7x04 that I fear is never going to get brought back up again. I mean it might when Buddie goes canon (which I still believe will happen) but it might not just because if Tommy's gone they might not feel the need to address it again. But it was clearly Eddie's attention that Buck wanted in that ep (I wrote a whole thing about it here). You also have the fact that Tommy was showering Eddie was all this attention and gifts and the only time we saw him do anything remotely like that for Buck was in tonight's ep on their anniversary and it was tickets for a game Buck didn't even like so clearly Tommy wasn't that invested.

It's just this show has a habit of Buck staying in these relationships where he's not happy. Not knowing his worth and not speaking up to people who hurt him all so he can feel like he's loved. And I know a lot of that goes back to the stuff he dealt with as a kid but I'm just really sad they did this to him again. I get that Tim probably wanted Buck's first relationship with a guy to end on a positive note but then like I said why write Tommy the way they did since s7? If you take Buck and Tommy's relationship just as it played out on screen then Buck definitely should have been the one to break up with Tommy.

They wouldn't have even needed it to turn into a fight or this bitter angry thing it could have been a matter of Buck realizing that him and Tommy were just too different. That Tommy didn't really get him as a person and that could have been further made clear by having a moment where Buck calls Tommy out on always calling him Evan. I also don't get why they decided to have Tommy call him Buck in the breakup scene but then never address it any other time. Like they never really explained why he only ever called Evan and then didn't explain why he switched it up.

Like I said I'm happy they broke up but I just feel like in some ways I can't enjoy it. In both this ep and 805 there was scenes like at the graveyard where Buck acts like Tommy is this amazing important person in his life and I get that some of that is Buck trying to make his relationship with Tommy into something more than that is. And really connecting his excitement and newness of coming out with Tommy. But it still hurt to see him asking Tommy about moving in when I know Buck deserves so much better. He deserves a partner who will love him and see him for exactly who he is.

Connected to all of this I didn't like the scene with Josh, Maddie, and Buck either. I know some of that was probably the shows way of trying to make us think about Eddie and his coming out in the future but they were also talking about Tommy. Tommy doesn't get a pass for being a misogynist or racist or a homophobe just because he was in the closet. Also whatever happened with him and Abby in the past he was still talking shitty about her when he was on the date with Buck (in present day) so clearly his attitudes towards women haven't changed.

I like a lot about Josh as a character and he doesn't even know Tommy or about his past so I feel like he was just trying to educate Buck on some queer history. I don't entirely blame him for that speech he gave. I do blame Tim and the writers though. If they wanted Tommy to be seen as a guy who made mistakes in the past and had grown they should have put the work in to show him as such. The couldn't be bothered to do that even in his relationship with Buck. Truly hoping this is the last we'll see of him and also that not much time is spent having Buck mourn that awful relationship.

[mythalism]

more me verbally processing my feelings on this game and it's story that i sent in discord but i know reading these things can be helpful to others processing so im sharing them here <3

even though i think i personally am able to find coherent meaning in solas's ending, specifically the status of the veil, and i do think its good and i like it, i really have to work to do it. the way its written is kind of confusing because the message is like ok. let go of your regrets. but you also have to atone for your mistakes. but solas believes he is atoning by taking the veil back down and bringing immortality back and making sure more spirits are not turned into demons? but the story tells us that version of atonement is Wrong, but why is it wrong? because people will die? but people also die because of the veil? mages are mass incarcerated and lobotimized bc of the veil, elves have been enslaved for millenia, PEOPLE AGE AND DIE, BECAUSE OF THE VEIL? so he isnt supposed to atone for that mistake by fixing it he's just supposed to accept it and let go? so are we supposed to atone for our mistakes or not? what determines whether or not we need to atone? he has to atone for what he did to the titans but not what he did by accident to his own people i guess? and he is going to atone by maintaining the status quo that he created because people have gotten used to it?

i think the answer based on the regret prison scene with rook escaping with varric's help and that banger line of varric's is to take accountability and own up to your choices, they are yours and no one can take them from you. rook says something to one of the regret statues (for me it was harding) thats like "i made a choice and so did you and you knew the risks" or something so i think that is the key. solas cannot accept his choices and so he is desperate to undo them no matter what kind of harm it may do. he is trapped in regret and the past to the point that he cant accept them and move forward, and varric is the perfect contrast of this with how readily he accepts his death as a consequence of his love and hope for his friend. even mythal accepts her own choices when she tells solas that she turned him from his purpose. and she doesnt apologize or even express regret at all, partly because shes a crazy bitch (affectionate) but partly because i think her quiet, cold acceptance is part of the lesson solas needs to learn in that moment. solas is constantly saying, "im sorry, but", "ir abelas, vhenan, but i cannot". mythal just states her actions plainly; i forced you to take a body, i brought you into war, these burdens are ours to bear together, i release you. no apology, no rumination, she is at peace with her decision even though it is wrong. i think this works wonderfully on a personal individual level of personal regrets. it is a good lesson; regret does not serve any purpose other than to hurt you. it brings no one back, it helps nothing, it does not make the world a better place. solas has to let go of his regrets so that he can become the hero that varric sees deep down in him. it is an essential part of his personal journey as a character... but it gets stickier when we are talking about systemic change. obvi a lot of dragon age's modern, young audience is very much in favor of "tear it all down!!" and i am too but i think with solas they are trying to tell a very personal and individual story of a man and his regrets rather than make a social commentary on radical change, but they also dont make that clear enough, so the two get muddied together when it comes to the question of the veil in a way that feels like they are advocating for maintaining the status quo, which i dont think was their intention.

i think this is so muddied because inquisition very much makes clear commentary on systems and institutions with the chantry, the orlesian empire, ferelden monarchy, mages and templars, and the inquisition itself being all vulnerable to corruption, and solas has a lot to say about all of this and he is very much presented as being right (like when he tells you about the corruption in your own ranks in trespasser and how hes spying on you lol) and then veilguard does not do this AT ALL, all of the issues are very personal ones of people and their identity, people and their family, people and their regrets etc. so i think a lot of us are in this mindset from inquisition of like.... yeah disrupt the status quo install a puppetmaster elf to rule an imperialist empire, make leliana pope and radicalize the chantry even if its bloody, dissolve the inquisition, abolish the circles etc. etc. and the question of the veil is very much an extension of these philosophical questions about systems and organizations. and for those of us who leaned towards dissolution of all of those corrupt structures, dissolution of the veil is the logical conclusion to a story thats sending us that message. but then veilguard just. does not even engage with these topics at all. like its not even a question. it takes the question of the veil and translates it into a personal issue of solas's psyche (which is super interesting, just different) and connects it to his past actions, his relationship with mythal, and his perception of himself, rather than a macro-level question of what is best for the world when pursuing change, and the answer for solas on a personal level ends up being different from the answer that inquisition was asking us, but it feels disjointed as a result.

so the veil staying up was the right decision because it forced solas to let go of his regrets and the game is about him. so it was an exercise in his therapy session with his two ex-gfs and some annoying kid who wont leave him alone. but the problem is it doesn't answer or engage with the greater questions and themes about systemic change that the series has been building up to.

veilguard is interesting because it wants to be dragon age 2 so bad while simultaneously being terrified of dragon age 2. solas bringing down the veil would have been the answer to the question that anders blowing up the chantry asked, but veilguard decided to ask a completely different question instead. and i think it did a good job in that specific goal, but it doesnt satisfy 15 years of build up and instead just throws it out the window in favor of something else.

[redgoldsparks]

October Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Pageboy by Elliot Page

This has been on my to-read list ever since it came out, and I finally picked it up. This book is an honest, sometimes painfully honest, accounting of Elliot Page's life up until his decision to come out as trans. He grew up in Canada, the child of divorced parents, with a hostile step-mother, an emotionally manipulative father, and overworked mother who initially did not accept his queerness. He started acting in elementary school and found it a freeing creative outlet, even when he hated the overly-girly clothing the roles often forced him into. Like many people who start in the film industry very young, he was taken advantage of sexually by adults who should have kept him safe. These experiences are written about less graphically than the blistering gender dysphoria and numbing disassociation that followed Elliot from his teens into his twenties. He threw himself into movie projects and love affairs, running away from a secret that nearly ate him alive. I'm so grateful that was eventually able to come out, because it really sounds like staying in the closet might have killed him. This book is not written chronologically; chapters center on themes, projects, or relationships. I understand that choice while also wishing that more of then teen chapters had been placed earlier in the book- sometimes the way the book kept slipping backwards in time felt a time bit repetitive. But it also felt honest to the experience of someone who kept backsliding in his ability to be honest with himself, until hitting the rock bottom of mental health, when there was no other choice but to be true.

Woe: A Housecat's Story of Despair by Lucy Knisley

Given the square format, I thought this was going to be a picture book but when it arrived from the library it was a full color 200 page collection of all the instagram comics author Lucy Knisley ever drew about her much loved fluffy orange cat, Linney. These comics are deeply relatable for any cat owner. I'd read pretty much all of them online before but I enjoyed seeing them all again in this collection.

The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold read by Lloyd James

Cazaril was once the son of a noble family, entrusted with defending a strategically important castle during one of Chalion's many wars. Then the castle was sold to the enemy, and Caz was not ransomed, but instead forced to serve as a galley slave on an enemy ship. Finally free, he walked across two countries to reach a town where he worked in his youth, and enters the stronghold wearing clothes he took off a corpse. All he wants is a lowly position, maybe in the kitchen or the stables, where he can earn a bit of bread and sleep warm at night. Instead, he is given the position of tutor to the Royesse Iselle, half-sister of the current king of Chalion. He begins the work of teaching her multiple languages, history, geography, politics, and how to tell when a man is lying to her. All of these skills and more are needed when she and her brother, the heir to Chalion's thrown, are called to court. Cazaril is required to travel with them, even though he knows that the man who betrayed him serves there as the king's high chancellor. And worse yet, he discovers that the whole royal family is under a generations-long curse. This was my second read of this book, the first one being back in 2008 so I remembered almost nothing. It's a clever and well constructed fantasy, with the twists and turns I expect and love from a Lois McMaster Bujold novel. This time around, the age gap romance (between a 20 year old and a 35 year old) made me raise my eyebrows. It fits thematically into the story but also, why.

The Ribbon Skirt by Cameron Mukwa

This is a gentle queer comic for younger readers. Ten year old Anang decides they want to make a ribbon skirt to wear to an upcoming powwow. A ribbon skirt is a piece of celebratory clothing typically worn by Anishinaabe women, and Anang isn't entirely sure what their friends or community will think about them wearing one. But the spirit world encourages Anang. The lakes, the crows, turtles, waves, and trees participate in helping Anang gather all of the supplies they need, despite some light resistance from other characters in the story. Short and sweet, this is lovely introduction to two-spirit and nonbinary identities for a kid who hasn't heard of them yet, and an affirming story for a young person who already inhabits a gender-nonconforming space!

Tokyo These Days vol 2 by Taiyo Matsumoto

Shiozawa continues to attempt to build a collection of artists for a new manga magazine. He visits old friends, writers whose talent he's loved for years. Some of them have retired from the business. Some are busier than ever. Some love the direction their work has gone since Shiozawa last saw them; others believe their work has become soulless and commercial. I love how the authors are portrayed as unique, flawed humans with human histories. They have families, disabilities, insecurities, dreams. We meet Chosaku's ex-wife and daughter on a weekend visit. Hayashi continues to struggle with her main artist, Aoki, who struggles with insomnia and flees back to his hometown. Creating manga is depicted as half a calling, half an affliction.

Death At Morning House by Maureen Johnson, read by Katherine Littrell 

This is more of a 3.5 or 3.75 but rounded up because it was queer and out of my extreme affection for Maureen Johnson's murder mysteries. This one introduces a new character, Marlowe, who gets into a spot of trouble with some accidental arson while on a date with the girl of her dreams, and then runs away to an absurd summer job on one of the thousand islands on the St Lawrence River. Marlowe joins a group of five other teens who already all know each other to serve as a tour guide for Morning House, the mansion of a rich doctor and eugenicist who summered with his seven children on the island in the 1920s- that is, until two of them died there. And the island has seen another death, more recently. Marlowe didn't show up to solve crimes, but if she wants to make it home at the end of the summer, she'll have to. Similar in tone to the Truly Devious series, this book was a very easy and fun listen. I wish the eugenics thread had either been cut, or better developed, but Marlowe is a delightful character to follow and if this book gets a sequel I will definitely listen to it.

If You’ll Have Me by Eunnie 

This is an extremely sweet and delightfully illustrated sapphic romance, which only partly hinges on a misunderstanding as the main conflict. Momo is a shy college freshman, a rule follower, a hard worker who didn't date or party at all in high school. She runs into PG, seemingly mid-hookup with a friend of a friend who claimed to be too sick to come to class. After that first encounter, Momo seems to see PG everywhere, and each time with a different girl. Clearly, PG is a player and also in a completely different league than Momo. Except, when a cautious new friendship begins to develop between them, PG seems unfailing chivalrous and polite. Which is the real PG? And how much trouble will Momo get into if she lets her feelings become something more? I really enjoyed the bright color palette and confident line art.

Tokyo These Days vol 3 by Taiyo Matsumoto

I appreciated so deeply how this series represented artists wrestling with their creative practices. Some draw steadily for years, with a similar quality level of work. Others struggle with writers block, family tragedies, self esteem, rough deadlines, with falling out of love with their stories, or their editors, or the time commitment of being a full time author. This series also shows how a patient and support editor can absolutely made an artists career- or how the lack of one can destroy it. This is such a human slice-of-life story, and I liked its open but hopeful ending.

Gay the Pray Away written and read by Natalie Naudus 

Seventeen year old Valerie wishes she could pick up any book at the library without fear, wishes she could pick her own clothes, wishes she was allowed to hang out unsupervised with friends, watch movies, or just spend time on the internet. But her family is part of a very extreme Christian community which home schools their children, limits the media they are allowed to access, controls their movement, wardrobes, and social lives. Valerie is expected to join family Bible studies daily, volunteer at the Church, and marry a boy in the community shortly after her eighteenth birthday. She isn't excited about any of this- in fact, she spends much of her time daydreaming or bored nearly to tears- but what else can she do? Then she finds a queer book with a fairly nondescript cover at the library. And a new girl- a girl with short hair, a girl who wears jeans- joins the Church. Valerie is captivated. The new girl represents a window into freedom and Valerie wants as much of that freedom as she can hold. I have some critiques about how this book ended, but I'm also very aware that I am not part of its target audience. Hopefully this book will find its way into the hands of teens who need it.

Gender Studies by Ajuan Mance

A slim but insightful collection of memoir comics on the intersecting identities of being Black, queer, gender nonconforming, and a nerd. These stories are thought provoking, funny, and delightful well drawn.

Clever Girl: Jurassic Park by Hannah McGregor

McGregor turns the film Jurassic Park over in their hands, like a piece of amber, to examine it from all sides and finds a story packed with possibilities of liberatory, queer, and feminist readings. From thoughts on the monstrous feminine, reproductive control, missing mothers, and found family, this text weaves together a rich tapestry of threads. I completely understand now why this film (which I half-watched once at a distracting party, but now want to revisit) has becomes such an enduring classic. The ending note advocates for the building of networks of mutual aid and care during and after apocalypse, something I need more and more desperately in this damaged world.

House of Women by Sophie Goldstein 

Four women arrive on a jungle planet via spaceship with a mission to create a school and educate/ tame the indigenous species of beings there. Like most colonizers, they think they are doing something good by bringing the light of civilization into the supposed darkness of the wilderness. Like most colonizers, they completely fail to understand the people they have come in contact with the project ends in devastating violence. The art in this book is extremely elegant, with powerful black and white design and pattern work illustrating a believable alien world. If you've ever read The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, this is story has some similarities in tone and theme but much shorter and more condensed, as necessitated by the comics format. It's not a hopeful or kind story, but I thought it was executed extremely well.

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. read by Ashraf Shirazi 

Lamya H weaves together memoir with stories from the Quran, introspection on prophets, myths, histories, and alternate readings, into a compelling whole. As a gender-nonconforming baby queer, Lamya struggled under the oppressive roles and limited options available to them in the Arab speaking country to which their parents moved for work in their childhood. But a lightning strike of realization in a Quran study class- that Maryam could also be read as a depressed lesbian- fed Lamya's imagination with new possibility. Lamya moved to the United States for college and grad school, navigating new friendships with other liberal Muslims and new prejudices against brown bodies, especially bodies wearing hijab. One compelling chapter outlines the nightmare of bureaucratic hoops that need to be jumped through to renew student and work visas; the author compares choosing to stay in the US to staying in an abusive relationship. But Lamya fell for New York City, and for the family, chosen, queer, and blood, that they collected over the years. I really appreciated this book for offering a perspective I'd never read before, and for its fierce insistence that one can absolutely be both Muslim and queer.

Vivian’s Ghost by Hal Schrieve

Holy shit, this comic. I fell head-first into this 350 page scratchy black and white comic and read it all in one wild evening. The story follows a set of very messy trans people, several literally haunted by a violent ghost from their pasts. Collin, Vivian, and Andrew orbited each other as awkward, horny trans teenagers, trying to define the edges of their own identities through sex, alcohol, long tumblr posts, and Rocky Horror shows, mostly without supportive parents. Vivian died at 17. At 26, Collin in a cam boy and weed delivery guy in NYC during the early days of the pandemic; Andrew has de-transitioned, married a man, is trying to get pregnant and has sold quotes to an anti-trans journalist writing opinion pieces about the dangers of minors transitioning. Multiple times while reading this I found myself thinking "a cis person could never have written this;" its so deeply steeped in trans longings, fears, desires, neuroses, rage, yearnings, and hope. It's not an easy or safe story; it doesn't have a fully happy ending. But I consumed it and it consumed me in return. If you are struggling to find this book available in print, it is possible to read the whole story on the author's instagram page.

Breathe: Journeys to Healthy Binding by Maia Kobabe and Sarah Peitzmeier read by Sarah Peitzmeier, Kieran Todd, Blair Baker, Alejandro Antonio Ruiz, Livvie Lin and Kiebpoli Calnek

I finally sat down to listen to the audiobook, which was narrated primarily by my co-author Sarah Peitzmeier along with her research partner Kieran Todd, and the wonderful cast of Blair Baker, Alejandro Antonio Ruiz, Livvie Lin and Kiebpoli Calnek. It was such a pleasure to hear these characters' voices come to life, and see how the workbook and stretching exercise pages were handled! Obviously I am very proud of the print edition which contains my illustrations; but I am so happy that the audiobook exists as well, for anyone who prefers audio (or likes to take in audio and print side by side).

Kochab by Sarah Webb

One day when out skiing, Sonya's scarf is stolen by a flying snow spirit. She chases it deep into the forest and breaks a ski after a reckless jump. Lost without supplies in the dead of winter, Sonya follows the faint trail of light and finds an impossible palace inhabited by one sleeping fire spirit, Kyra. Kyra's home was once bright, full of life and community. Now it is derelict and crumbling, under attack by the forces of ice. This is a slim story, fairy tale-like. I wanted a little more from the plot, given the book's length; but the pages are stunning. Everything from the character movement, background designs, color choices, to dynamic panel layouts impressed me. I know I'll be looking through this book again in the future when I need some visual inspiration.

Buckle Up by Lawrence Lindell

Lonnie's parents are recently divorced, and he's still getting used to splitting time between two different houses- one with his mom and older sister, one with his dad. He's still getting used to being picked up by alternating parents from school, and he's trying to hide these facts from his friends. This short, tender story uses the framing device of these car rides to show Lonnie facing some weighty conversations with his parents. The majority of the book takes place in the car and I really loved seeing how Lonnie learned to speak up for himself, to work through problems, and verbalize his emotions. Highly recommend for elementary school readers, especially ones experiencing big feelings.

How It All Ends by Emma Hunsinger 

Tara was "accelerated" from seventh grade straight into high school at the advice of some of her teachers, but in the first few weeks of school she feels deeply unready. The school is so big, the schedule confusing, the hallways packed, and her end-of-day English class is full of some of the rowdiest, rudest boys she's ever met. Tara would much rather stay at home playing pretend with her baby brother or go back to middle school and take the eighth grade trip to Six Flags that she had to miss. Even with her older sister, already in tenth grade, willing to lend a hand by drawing her school maps, showing her the dating reality TV show everyone is talking about, and taking her to hangouts in the park, Tara is struggling. But there's this girl. A smart, funny, interesting girl, who partners up with Tara for English assignments and laughs at her jokes. Meeting this girl might just be the one thing that makes high school worth it. I had such a fun time with this comic- it's full of whimsical daydream sequences that really show Tara's internal world. I highly recommend this, especially to anyone who felt (or feels) unready to leave childhood and enter teenagerdom.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: Half-dressed parallels

After last night's episode, I realized something that was specific to Buck in 8x5 and Eddie in 8x6. They were both half-dressed in each other’s presence.

8x5 8x6

Buck wasn't wearing a hospital gown in 8x5 and Eddie wasn't wearing pants in 8x6.

After Buck was admitted, he was lying in bed with his bare chest uncovered but with as many times as he's been in the hospital over the years (IIRC it's been four times prior to 8x5), it was the first time he wasn't wearing a gown. Once I watched the episode, I posted about the way he didn't cover his chest while he was alone with Eddie but when T.K. entered, he pulled the sheet and the blanket up.

In 8x6, Eddie was lip syncing and dancing around his living room like Tom Cruise did in the movie "Risky Business" and having fun while wearing nothing but a pink collared shirt and his tighty whities. However, when Buck rang the door bell, he checked the peephole, saw it was him but he never attempted to cover himself before or after he opened the door.

Why is this important?

It's important because it's exactly what the show wanted the audience to see. In both episodes, it was clear that Buck and Eddie are each other's endgame. If 9-1-1 didn't want the audience to believe that then they would have made different choices. Also, most people would cover up in front of their friends and it’s just something that's done for decency reasons. Additionally, some people in Buck's position would have pulled the covers up in front of their friends and most in Eddie’s position would have said, "Hang on, I'll be there in a minute," then they would have gone to grab a pair of shorts or pants. Furthermore, in the 6 months that Buck was with Toy Story, they were never shown in bed not even in 8x5 when Timbuktu spent the night. He slept on the couch Buck's mom purchased while Buck slept in the chair.

This wasn't the case in the past with either Buck or Eddie since they were shown in bed with their previous love interests. During season 1, Buck was shown with Abby and in season 5, he was with Taylor. In season 2, Eddie was with Shannon and during season 7, Eddie was with Marisol.

The point of this post is 9-1-1 made several CHOICES with both Buck and Eddie by showing them to be half-dressed with the other one in the room even though they didn't have to.

Does it mean anything specific? It could mean something or it might not mean anything at all. We'll have to wait and see but IIRC, prior to 8x5, Buck hadn’t been shown shirtless since season 2 and before season 7, Eddie hadn’t been shown shirtless since season 3 when he participated in the illegal fight club. (I'm not counting 4x14 because Buck ripped his shirt open to treat his gunshot wound.)

Just saying.

[fangirl-erdariel]

Sometimes it fucks me up that Túrin was so loved, by so many people. And it didn't save him, and arguably it was Húrin's love for him that doomed him in the first place, given the phrasing of the curse. But he was loved. So many people did their best to ensure that he lived, that he was safe, that he could be happy. I just. aaaaaaaaaaaaa ;_;

I think in some ways it's especially interesting when contrasted with Kullervo, one of the direct inspirations of the character. Because it's maybe in my eyes the single most crucial difference between the characters. Like, both of them are tragic heroes, who are stubborn, and deeply hurt and angry, and make rash choices in the heat of the moment that often end up digging the hole deeper than it had to be. Both also have sisters they don't meet until they're adults, have sex with them, the sister finds out and kills herself by jumping into a river, and the hero asks his sword whether it would like to kill him, the sword is like "yeah sure i've killed innocents too so why wouldn't i kill you", and the hero uses the sword to kill himself near the site where the sister did.

But Kullervo is not loved or cared for, the way Túrin is. Kullervo is left as a baby in the hands of the people who'd attacked his father's lands, and made to work, and when he proves to be more trouble than they bargained for, he is sold as a slave, treated poorly by the lady of the house he's sold to, shit like that. It's... kinda a central point of the story, really. The version Lönnrot put in the Kalevala (which is not the only version of the story that would've existed in oral tradition, but I am really not at all familiar with any other versions of the story that one might still be able to find, and in any case, the version presented in Kalevala was the one Tolkien knew and was inspired by) quite explicitly says that Kullervo couldn't adjust to living a normal life because he was raised by people who didn't care about him, and that children raised without love/by people who are abusive towards them are gonna be messed up and struggle to live and act in society

So, yeah, I don't know, it's really interesting (and also heartbreaking) to me how Morwen and Thingol and Melian and others in Silmarillion seem to almost be specifically making every effort to ensure that Túrin avoids that fate. Obviously Kalevala and the tale of Kullervo doesn't exist in the setting, but you know what I mean. The way they try to make sure that he is not enslaved, that he is not abused, that he is loved and safe. And yet, it fails. Because of the curse (which, as far as it comes from anywhere but Tolkien's mind, comes from inspirations other than Kalevala) he ends up on a path to destruction anyway

and just. yeah. it's interesting, looking at the way Túrin's story is in some ways in conversation with Kullervo's story. and it's also so sad, how much the characters *try* to avoid that path, that fate, with ultimately no success

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

Heyo I was seized by plot bunnies, so have a little DCXDP! Note, this IS heavily inspired by @phantomfen 's ao3 work https://archiveofourown.org/works/57152017

I highly recommend reading that, but this isn't connected, just inspired. This snippet is also inspired by the song "The Tale of The Shadow" by Sail North. I hope you enjoy!

This is Dead on Main because they're my favorite~

The Shadow:

The wooden boards groaned underneath my weight, as I paced in front of the boat I had purchased. I had finally done it. Bruce wasn't going to be happy, but when was he ever happy with what I did? I shook my head, straightening up as I heard several pairs of booted feet. Turning, I saw a gaggle of hardened sailors making their way down the docks towards me.

My own boat bobbed happily in the water next to me. It was smaller than anything that would normally carry cargo. I just hoped we weren't seen as a new rival pirate company. Bruce already dealt with the majority of them, but they always kept breaking out of jail and reclaiming their territory. The idea to claim it for myself was tempting, but that could come after I had found my prize.

For as long as I could remember, Alfred had put me to bed with a variety of stories. Above and beyond my favorite, besides anything set in the regency era, was the tale of The Shadow. A spectral ship, empty of any Captain or crew, but supposedly full of treasure, waiting for the right Captain to claim her. The only person said to be on the ship was some deck boy strung up to be thrown overboard. It wasn't known what the boy could have done to earn eternity on a damned ship, but I hoped I wouldn't find out.

Alfred couldn't tell me where the treasure had come from, but he did tell me of the many times someone tried to claim The Shadow for themselves, but each time, something would go wrong. The weather would turn, the crew would mutiny, a kraken would come and swallow their ship, the ship would come alive and kill the crew, the story would change but stay the same. No one was able to claim her.

The very idea sent me swooning. Tim and Dick both told me not to bother trying to look. Damian thought I was an idiot for believing the ship existed at all. With our nighttime activities of defending Gotham from gangs, pirates, and worse, I didn't know where they got the audacity to be such blatant hypocrites. If someone like Deadman could exist, then so too could The Shadow.

"Ready to go, Captain Jason?" A man I had hired on as First Mate stepped up beside me, a grin twisting his rugged features. He was unshaven, wearing sturdy clothing meant for hard labor. His hair was short and rusty brown, his eyes were a dull green, watering a bit. He slouched, turning to glance back at the men as they loaded themselves on, and began the process of getting the ship ready to sail.

My grin was sharper than his, and I hopped across the gap, landing on the top deck of the ship. Turning back to him, I gestured the man to follow. We toured the ship, and I made sure everything was flowing as it should. I had made sure to do my research on how ships ran, especially old ones, since the legend of The Shadow was as old as seafaring itself, maybe older. I knew how to sail a modern ship as well as, as many of the older versions of ships as I could sink my teeth into. I was ass at canoe, though I had no idea why. Kayaking was fine, and so was a little speed boat, but not a canoe. I kept getting flipped.

…

We cast out to sea, radio on and scanning for any unusual traffic. We were equipped to fish, and that's technically what we would be doing the most of. There was no telling how long it would take to find The Shadow, but I had made a map of where it had been sighted, color-coded by decade. We would find that ship, and I would… I would shove it in Bruce's face to stop doubting me. I would have finally proven myself to him, and he wouldn't have any choice but to pay attention!

Weeks passed, slowly sailing to each spot The Shadow had been spotted. We would occasionally put to port to speak with the ones whom had made the report. The crew was a little irritated with how long that method would take, so currently we were sailing out for our next destination, a series of sightings in the middle of the Atlantic.

"Captain! A storm's on the horizon!" One of the crew called from the crow's nest, sounding really worried.

"Size of the clouds?" I called back, already striding to the back deck to pull out my spyglass and get a better look. We had yet to see a storm yet, but it was sometimes said The Shadow would use them to travel, seemingly popping up once the storm passed and scaring the shit out of people.

"Too big! This storm'll tear us apart!" He called back, the nervous strings of his voice ringing out and alerting the rest of the crew that something wasn't right.

"Captain?" First Mate stepped up, hand reaching out for the spyglass. I handed it over easily, watching him as he held it up to his eye and looked through carefully. Pulling the lens from his eye, he glanced at me, giving a sharp nod.

"This is the best sign we've gotten so far." He announced, getting cheers from the crew. Shouldn't I be the one making that kind of announcement? Oh well. "With any luck, The Shadow is amongst those clouds! The treasure is close!"

The crew crowed in excitement, pumping their fists in the air. I dismissed them back to work, not liking some of the looks they would throw me when they thought I wouldn't notice. This crew wasn't my best idea, but it was almost over, I could almost taste the treasure on the air. We would split our shares, and be on our way.

…

Ocean spray blew into the air, flung across achingly familiar wooden planks. I glided across the damp wood, watching the ocean thrown around by my storm. The Shadow slipped across the water, my awareness brushing across something new. The souls wrapped around my throat like pearls shuddered at the foreign feeling, their rest disturbed. Interest piqued my mind however, the beauty of the ocean was unending, but then, so was the loneliness.

It had been a while since someone and tried to take what wasn't their's. My treasure had been safe for generations at this point. It had been so long, I thought the last person to know of my existence had finally died. I shouldn't have been so hopeful though, humans are too tenacious. They think they can just come aboard my ship, and hurt my charges. Maybe this can be the last time I have to defend. Maybe I can leave them with a lesson so harsh, no one else comes looking for me and mine. Maybe I could even keep a few of them for myself.

The wind I had been using to propel myself forward, ceased. I watched, flitting between portholes, flickering behind rigging, swarming the sails, as a boat drew closer. It teemed with people. They so badly wish to join my collection. I fingered my pearls, body clacking whenever I moved. The strings dangled across the ground, creating an eerie symphony.

Orders were shouted across the deck of the nearing ship. One voice stuck out from the rest. A young man with black hair stood at the helm, calling orders. A wild grin was on his face. Despite the distance I could see every detail. This young man looked as if he had found the thing he had been searching his entire life for. The way that emotion lit up his face was almost enough to make me blush.

This young man wanted me this badly? No one had come to purposefully seek me out in so long. Where maybe my heart was at one point, fluttered with emotion. Maybe this one. Maybe I could keep this one.

The boat was now close enough for them to clearly see my deck. Silence reigned as they all stared. Activity exploded, the Captain bursting forward. He stared at The Shadow, my ship, eyes sparkling and wide, his mouth hung open and everything. Tears sparked in the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed them away quickly.

"This is it boys!" The Captain called, grabbing a rope and swinging over to me. His feet thunked on the wood, the first step made on this ship since…

Thunder filled the air as every boot landed on the deck. I flinched, hiding beneath the deck and staring up at them from between the floorboards. It had been so long since the souls around me were in a body. I fingered my string of pearls, the sound of the clattering drawing the attention of several of the sailors. They crossed themselves, glancing around nervously. I had to stifle a giggle. They had sealed their fate by coming after my charges, no amount of prayer could save them now.

My attention moved to the Captain, appearing in his shadow, watching him.

"At last… I've heard more stories about this magnificent beast than I can remember. The captaincy is within my grasp. It's right here." He murmured to himself, inspecting different areas of The Shadow. He opened doors, peaking in at empty rooms, followed closely by a few members of the crew. One of them had a knife in his hand, unsheathed, like he was going to kill the captain.

I frowned at the idea. That wouldn't be ideal. I could speak to a soul I had collected sure, but it was much easier if they had a body to move with. I tossed my head in exasperation, holding back a giggle as more of the vile sailors crossed themselves at the rattling clack that accompanied my every motion.

Pearls dripped down my body, strung across like a tight net. Each pearl was a soul I had collected on the seven seas. I kept them safe from those who might wish them harm. Here, with me, they could sail until time expired, feeling nothing but joy at the freedom bestowed to them. Being able to wander the earth, one with the oceans they had so loved? What more could a sailor want? They felt no hunger, no thirst, nor heat nor cold. I would take them around the world, even beneath the waves sometimes, to see magnificent wrecks.

I hadn't caused all of them.

The captain was stroking the wood of the bannister he leaned against. His thumb was gentle.

"I can't believe it. The Shadow is real, and looks as beautiful as if she had just come off the lot." He grinned, head tilting back to expose his neck. His eyes closed, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't need anything else. I can die happy now, just having found The Shadow." He pulled away from the wood, hands going into his pockets.

"Captain! We've searched most of the hold already, it's just full of moldy rocks and bad water!" One of the sailors stomped up to the Captain, a scowl on his face.

The Captain raised an eyebrow, looking the slightly shorter man up and down. "And? We've definitely found the right ship. What do I care about treasure? You'll still get paid what I promised." The Captain waved away the sailor, running his hands over another section of railing. He was approaching the helm, staring at it like it could answer every question he had ever had.

I wasn't sure how to react to him not caring about the treasure though. No one who sought out my ship knew that I was guarding it. Everyone wanted to find and take the treasure for themselves. The crew didn't seem to like that the captain didn't care about the treasure.

My mind whirled with possibilities as the crew began to tear through the ship, trying to find me. This Captain might really be someone worth keeping around. At least for a little while. I could always collect him after I finished with the crew. It would be nice to have a soul here independent of me. Then I would know his decisions were his own. Not to mention, I can't just let him leave after finding me, and I don’t think his crew will let him leave either. I grinned at the idea that these sailors were now all mine.

The Captain touched the helm, awe on his face.

I plunged into the woodwork of the ship, stretching my senses out through every piece of rigging. Snapping out, I grabbed every throat, wringing them like so much laundry. The crew were dead before a sound could be uttered. Another string of pearls clacked into being, wrapped around my body.

The captain was staring at me, his eyes a startling blue. I hadn't seen a person with such blue eyes before. They were almost as beautifully blue as the ocean in all her moods. They would be perfect to add to my collection of the most precious objects I could find.

In a flash, I revealed myself, watching as the Captain's beautiful eyes widened, showing even more shades of blue within their depths. There was nothing for it, I was utterly besotted. I had to have them. My hand reached out, cupping his face. The man was taller than me, but it didn't mean much when my feet didn't have to touch the floor.

"You–! You're not tangled in rigging! You're the treasure!" The Captain gasped, one hand covering his mouth, while the other carefully reached forward. It was if I hadn't just killed his entire crew before his eyes.

My own hands reached out, I cupped his face, feeling the strong jawline beneath my palms. It was so strange to be touching living flesh. The Shadow had already absorbed the bodies and nutrients of the men, their bodies no longer hanging from the rigging. I hadn't touched skin in so long…

The Captain began to scream, reaching up to try and shove me away. His eyes were so pretty, they would look better as the centerpiece for my favorite necklace. The pearls on that necklace had long gone dormant, but the souls inside had been important. Probably. How long since they last spoke to me? I pushed the thought away, wiping my hand across the empty sockets of my new Captain.

The wounds healed, and the man stopped screaming, his hands slowly lowering.

"Much better. Ahhhh, these are so pretty!" I exclaimed, wanting him to know I hadn't just thrown them out. "It's been so long since someone sought me out. Even longer since I had a Captain… it seems like that was what you were hoping for?" I asked, floating around my Captain, giggling as he spun around to my clacking.

"I…" He wet his bottom lip, head tilting this way and that, probably trying to follow me. "I've dreamt about being the captain of this ship for as long as I can remember." He was even telling the truth, rare that. The emotions bleeding from him were a desperate yearning I hadn't felt in ages. Usually I would only feel them from the terrified sailors that would flee before my storm.

My grin stretched too wide, but that was okay. He couldn't see it anyway. I looped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my flat chest to his own. The sound of the pearls rang across the ship.

"Welcome then, my Captain. Where are we going?" I asked, eager to find the first place I hadn't decided on.

Captain looked like I had dangled something precious in front of his face, only to snatch it away again. He scowled, trying to shove me off. I just clung tighter, phasing through his scrabbling hands so I didn't go anywhere. My grin turned to a bit of a snarl.

"You wanted to be my Captain, didn't you? Did you think there would be no price to pay? Now tell me. Where are we going?" I nuzzled into my Captain's throat, not wanting to scare him too much. It had been millennia since I had been human myself (was I ever actually human? Or did I imagine that?), so I would have to be patient with my Captain. Maybe I wasn't speaking his language?

Captain choked on air, but had stopped trying to push me away. His heart rate had spiked, rushing faster through his body as I stayed snuggled up to him.

This was going to be the start of a beautiful partnership.

[aviiarie]

found family with Giyuu and his tsuguko (platonic ofc). like, imagine eating together, or helping each other with little things (like brushing hair or sharpening swords for the other) or protecting each other in fights.

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ EVERY BREATH; EVERY HEARTBEAT — platonic giyuu & reader !

synopsis. moments with giyuu and his tsuguko. warnings. kny-typical violence. manga spoilers. notes. PLATONIC. reader uses water breathing. gn!reader. headcanons. found family. 1.1k words. i'm so sorry for how late this request is. i went with a headcanon format, i hope you enjoy <33

Giyuu had high expectations of them. He made that very clear from the beginning; if they were to be the next water hashira, they needed to be strong, capable. They needed to be able to match him in skill—and eventually, exceed him.

It's lucky for him that his tsuguko was a quick learner.

“Don't slouch,” Giyuu's face remains expressionless, but there was a slight pinch between his eyebrows that betrayed a barely hidden frown. “Keep your back straight, and your feet shoulder-width apart. If your weight isn't evenly distributed, you'll be knocked over as soon as you swing your sword.”

They quickly adjust their stance, gripping the hilt of their sword tightly. Their feet shift, one pointed forward and the other angled outward, with their body positioned in a slight crouch.

“Better.” Giyuu nod. “In an actual fight, you won't have time to focus on keeping your posture correct. You need to be able to rely on muscle memory, to fall into a fighting stance without even thinking about it.”

“How do I do that?” They ask, still frozen in where they stood. Their arm was beginning to ache from holding up their sword for so long, so they lower it to their side.

“You will learn.” He says simply. “Don't put down the sword just yet. We're not quite done.”

He's patient with his student, but is still as strict on them as he has to be. The last thing he wants is to go too soft on them, because he knows just how dangerous their profession is.

When they're out on missions together, he's very protective. Of course, he lets them fight—they're a capable Demon Slayer, after all—but the second he sees that they're starting to struggle, he steps in and kills the demon before they can blink.

It's just instinct. He'll hang back to let them prove their skills, but when they're hit with a particularly painful blow, his body moves on its own accord. He can't risk losing someone else, not to another demon.

Rather than going to the butterfly house for every injury, Giyuu is most often the one to help patch them up after fights. He isn't as skilled in medical treatment, but he has enough knowledge and is twice as gentle as Shinobu is, so he's their first choice.

While he's cleaning and bandaging their cuts and scrapes, he lets them squeeze his arm as tightly as they need to. He doesn't even complain when their nails dig into his skin.

Afterwards, he'll cook meal for them both—their favourite, if he's able to make it. they eat together, in a comfortable quiet. He's never been much for talk during meals, but he enjoys the company greatly.

For their first few meals together, neither said anything at all. But after a while, after they started to become more comfortable with each other, soon their silence started to be filled with something more.

“Why did you become a Demon Slayer?” The question makes Giyuu falter for a moment. His chopsticks, still raised to his lips, were slowly lowered away from his face.

“Why did I become a Demon Slayer?” He echos the question, making sure he heard them correctly. They nodded, and he sighed. “For no happy reasons.”

They're quiet for a moment, staring down at their food. “...I guess I can say the same.”

“It's quite a popular answer, among Slayers.” Giyuu says bluntly, returning to eating.

Maybe one day, he'll be able to properly explain the story to them without breaking his impassive facade, but even the slight memory is enough to force cracks into his blank expression. He focuses on the food in front of him, inhaling the rich smell and pushing away the clouding thoughts in his mind.

“What would you do if you weren't a Demon Slayer?” The second question almost makes him choke on his mouthful of food.

“Does it matter?” He swallows, staring at them blankly.

“No,” They shrug, not meeting his eye. “Just curious, I guess.”

Conversations were tentative at first, but he slowly opens up to them. They talk about their lives, before and after becoming Demon Slayers. Soon they move to trivial matters as well, favourite colours and favourite foods, random memories and amusing stories.

Then, it's the small moments between fighting and training. Giyuu helps them by sharpening their sword, and they help him with cleaning his after a mission. It all becomes a routine, and they fit into his life like they were always there, as if they've been a part of his family all along.

While he only intended to take on a tsuguko to train a successor, he ends up growing very fond of them. It becomes harder for him to send them out on missions, even they've grown strong enough to be able to fight on their own.

It's during the final battle that his sudden protectiveness towards them is tested, as he is forced to watch them almost die in the fight against Upper Moon Three.

For a moment, Giyuu's heart stops beating. He watches, paralyzed, as the demon—Upper Moon Three, the fourth strongest demon in the world—turns his attention towards his tsuguko. Their sword is raised in defense, lips parted to spit out the words that he taught them.

“Third Form—” The cry is cut off, as a fist is slammed into their stomach with enough force to tear through their skin and leave a mess of blood in its wake.

“Giyuu!” Their scream feels as heavy as the wounds weighing Giyuu down, but he doesn't stop; not even for a moment. He lunges forward, swinging his blade.

“Second Form, Water Wheel!” Giyuu yells, slashing the sword across the demon's shoulder and slicing his arm clean off. The attack distracts him long enough for [Name] to stumble back and away, pressing against the wound on their stomach to staunch the bleeding.

If there was any reason to keep fighting, even when weariness claws at his lungs and presses tightly against his chest, it was to stop the demons from taking anyone else. Tanjiro is ready beside him, and the grip on his sword is tight.

“Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!”

The aftermath is heavy on them both, but they aren't alone. Together, they begin to rebuild their lives in the wreckage of the Demon Slayer Corps, forging a new future for themselves. And no matter where that future takes them, Giyuu will be there to support them.

They aren't alone. No matter how many people who have been lost, they aren't alone, and as long as he is still alive, he will make sure they never will be.

Family is a difficult subject for Giyuu, but in them, that is exactly what he finds.

🏷️ taglist: @mollzaj, @mitsvriii, @an-angstyteen

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 4

Part 4

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader with a side story of modern!Sigtryggr x reader

Authors note: it's probably a bad idea to post it today, but fuck it ... I'm having too much fun writing this. And don't tell me I didn't warn you - it's gonna be a ride 😅.

Warnings: heartbreak, use of alcohol, very suggestive (lowkey smut)

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 4,1 K

The whispers started small—a passing comment from a mutual acquaintance here, a vague mention in the industry gossip there. Gisela had done her best to shield you, brushing off any mention of Sihtric with a casual dismissal, redirecting your attention to new projects, exciting events, or people who would, in her words, "help you look forward, not back."

But eventually, the whispers grew louder, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t been looking for updates on Sihtric, but it was almost as though the universe itself had decided that you wouldn’t be able to escape his shadow. It started with a model at a shoot, casually mentioning that she’d seen him out one night, barely able to stand, clinging to the arm of someone you didn’t know. The words "worse than I’ve ever seen him" lingered, simmering in your mind.

At first, you ignored it. Sihtric wasn’t your concern anymore, you reminded yourself. He had made his choices, just as you had made yours. But more stories came—different people, different places, each one painting the same picture of a man who was unravelling, barely holding himself together. The Sihtric they described was a stranger to you, and yet those stories struck a painful chord deep in your chest.

One evening, as you sat across from Gisela at your favourite café, her attempts to distract you from the topic finally fell short. You’d reached your limit.

"Gisela," you said, interrupting her as she rambled on about an upcoming exhibition. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Her eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "Tell you what?" she asked, feigning innocence, though you both knew exactly what you meant.

"About Sihtric." Your voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension. "About what’s happening to him."

She sighed, placing her cup down with a slight clunk. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to hear. He’s not your responsibility anymore. You deserve to live your life without his shadow looming over you.”

"But he wasn’t always like this," you replied, voice barely more than a whisper. "I know him, Gisela. Or I thought I did."

Gisela reached across the table, her hand finding yours. "You did know him. But that’s not who he is now. Whatever he’s become, it’s because of his own choices."

“Gisela,” you said, setting down your coffee and looking her in the eye. “Do you think… Maybe my refusal to speak with him made things worse?”

Her brow furrowed, concern and frustration blending in her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“All these stories about him… spiralling,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “He just wanted to talk, you know. And I just showed him away in the worst way possible. I can’t help but feel that maybe, if I’d just been willing to listen to him, he wouldn’t have ended up this way.”

Gisela shook her head, her expression firm. “You can’t think like that. You have every right to protect yourself. Talking to him wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s responsible for his actions, not you.”

You glanced away. “But our last conversation, Gisela. I can’t stop thinking about it. The way I turned him away, how angry and cold I was. Maybe I was… too harsh.”

“You weren’t harsh,” she replied, squeezing your hand. “You were clear about your boundaries. You have every right to those, especially after what he put you through. Don’t start blaming yourself.”

Despite her reassurance, the memory of that day lingered in your mind like a shadow. That look in his eyes, the desperation just beneath the surface, how he had struggled to find the words. And how you had shut him down, leaving him standing alone on that set, without a chance to explain himself. It had felt empowering then, taking control of the situation, reclaiming your peace. But now… now, you weren’t so sure.

“Maybe,” you whispered, almost to yourself, “I should’ve just listened, if only to give us both some closure.”

Gisela’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “Closure doesn’t come from reopening wounds, and that’s all he’d do. He’s gone too far down this path—he’s not the person you knew.” 

Gisela squeezed your hand. “You have every right to protect yourself. You don’t owe him anything—not after what he put you through. He’s doing this to himself, and I don’t want to see you dragged down because of him again.”

You didn’t answer. Wrapping your hands around the warm coffee cup, you stared into the swirling steam rising from the dark liquid. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? 

That night, alone in your apartment, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Every time you closed your eyes, fragments of that last encounter on set replayed in your mind: Sihtric’s hesitant steps, the way his voice had cracked when he’d asked to talk, the look of devastation as you’d turned your back on him. You’d told yourself it was for the best, but was it really?

You picked up your phone, fingers hovering over the screen.

Before you could think it through, you sent a message to Gisela.

"Do you think I should try talking to him? Just once?"

The three dots indicating her reply popped up immediately, and then her response followed, firm and direct.

"No. That chapter is over. Don’t reopen old wounds."

You put the phone down, staring at the empty space in your living room as her words echoed in your mind. Gisela was right, of course. She had been there through it all, had seen you at your lowest, helped you pick up the pieces of your life, reminding you of who you were outside of him. But this wasn’t about reopening wounds. This was about understanding. For your sake, and for his.

With a steadying breath, you made a quiet decision. Tomorrow, you would reach out, you would go to the set and talk to him—not to rekindle what was lost but to speak out, to lay the ghosts of your past to rest. Maybe it would bring peace to both of you, to let you finally close the chapter for good. 

You arrived at the set the next morning with that quiet resolve still fresh on your mind, the familiar hum of voices and equipment doing little to settle your nerves. Today, you would finally speak to Sihtric. 

Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, and maybe it would leave you feeling just as hollow as before, but at the very least, it might ease the nagging feeling that had taken root since your last conversation. There was no script in your mind, no clear sense of what you would say. Just a need for… something. Resolution, maybe. Closure. Or perhaps, deep down, a glimmer of hope. What? No, shut up! You almost slapped yourself in anger. What hope?

As you waited, you glanced at the door every few minutes, each time your heart skipping a beat, only to settle back down when he didn’t appear. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one adding another layer to the knot forming in your stomach. 

You had run through a dozen different ways to start the conversation in your mind, but none of them felt right. How do you confront someone you’d once loved but had shut out entirely? What could you even say that would bridge the distance between you after everything that had happened?

You clenched and unclenched your hands, feeling more foolish with each passing minute. A part of you cursed yourself for not following Gisela’s advice, for not simply letting it go. “Leave it in the past,” she’d said, her voice filled with quiet insistence. And yet, here you were, waiting for a man who’d hurt you, hoping he’d arrive so you could dig into the buried pain between you both.

What was it you expected to hear? A confession, an apology, an explanation? The truth was, you didn’t know. You just felt as though you couldn’t move on with this weight still hanging over you, with the sense that you had played some part in his downward spiral. Was it really closure you were looking for, or did some part of you, a part you’d never admit aloud, still care for him, still believe there was something worth salvaging?

The chatter of the crew buzzed around you, but you barely registered it. Occasionally, you caught snippets of conversation—small whispers about Sihtric, talk of his “new habits” and frequent no-shows. The makeup artist mumbled something under her breath about his inconsistency, a sigh of exasperation barely audible. 

You stayed, doing your best to keep a composed front, pretending to focus on the tasks in front of you. But beneath the calm façade, a familiar ache simmered—a sinking disappointment, perhaps even a touch of anger, that he hadn’t shown up. You tried to tell yourself it was about professionalism, about the wasted time, the disrupted shoot, but deep down, you knew it actually wasn’t. You’d finally been ready to talk, to face the unresolved tension between you, and Sihtric had left you waiting, his absence a silent answer in itself.

As the hours stretched on and the last hopes of his arrival slipped away, the emptiness grew. The loss felt oddly profound, a quiet ache that lingered, as though something vital had slipped through your fingers, even if you couldn’t name what it was.

—--------------------------------------------

Just as you finished slipping on your heels and checking your reflection one last time, a soft knock echoed from the door. You opened it to find Sigtryggr standing there, a calm, admiring smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance. His suit was impeccably tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his tall, lean frame, and his long hair was pulled back in a way that softened his strong features.

“Wow,” he said, his voice warm as his eyes lingered on you. “You look… incredible. Absolutely stunning.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you glanced down, a little flustered by the way he looked at you. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, and his fingers were warm and steady around yours. As you turned to grab your purse, he tilted his head slightly, studying you with gentle curiosity.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “You seem a bit… distracted.”

You took a breath, glancing at him before looking away, feeling the weight of the day’s thoughts pressing down on you. “I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt weak even to your own ears. “It’s just… been a long day.”

Sigtryggr’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he searched your face. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here. No pressure—just… if you want.”

You felt a warm reassurance in his words, his genuine concern like a balm to your lingering unease. You managed a small smile, grateful for his presence. “Thank you. Really. I… I appreciate it.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “No need to thank me,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Tonight’s about enjoying ourselves. Let’s make it a good one.”

You slipped your arm through his and offered him a small smile, feeling a comforting sense of calm settle over you. Sigtryggr’s quiet confidence grounded you, his warm presence lifting your spirits just enough to face the fashion show you’d agreed to attend with him.

The venue buzzed with energy, lights flashing as photographers captured the evening’s best-dressed attendees. You and Sigtryggr moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with designers, editors, and models. 

The night felt almost surreal, as if you were floating through it, your worries temporarily forgotten as you lost yourself in the glamorous whirlwind of conversation and clinking champagne glasses. But then you spotted him.

Across the room, Sihtric was leaning against the bar, a glass dangling from his hand, his face flushed and his eyes somewhat unfocused. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair dishevelled, and his grip on the camera strap on his shoulder was loose, like he had already forgotten that he even had it. 

You froze as he caught sight of you, his gaze narrowing before flickering over to Sigtryggr. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then he began making his way toward you, his movements slightly unsteady.

“Is that him?” Sigtryggr asked, catching your tension. His tone was gentle but alert.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away as Sihtric approached, his expression dark and unreadable. The familiar ache twisted in your chest, but you straightened, bracing yourself for whatever he was about to say or do.

“So,” Sihtric sneered as he stopped before you, eyes flicking dismissively between you and Sigtryggr. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” His voice was laced with bitterness, words slurring slightly as he swayed on his feet.

“Sihtric, don’t do this,” you said softly, hoping to defuse the situation, but he ignored you, his focus shifting fully to Sigtryggr.

“And you…” He tilted his head, eyeing Sigtryggr with disdain. “Think you’re so much better than me, huh? Perfect little prince, sweeping in and saving the day.”

Sigtryggr’s face remained calm, though you could feel the tension in him. “I think it’s best if we all take a step back,” he replied evenly, his hand settling on your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “This isn’t the time or place.”

But Sihtric’s eyes flashed, his face twisting into a sneer. “You think you can just step in like I never meant anything?” His voice grew louder, heads turning as people began to notice the unfolding scene. “She was mine, you know. You’re just a cheap replacement.”

You felt Sigtryggr’s hand tense, but he kept his composure. “You’re drunk, Sihtric,” he said quietly. “Go home. Let’s not make this uglier than it needs to be.”

But Sihtric’s face hardened, his expression an unsettling mix of pain and fury. Before either of you could react, he lunged forward, his fist aimed clumsily at Sigtryggr’s face. His movements were sluggish, heavy with the effects of alcohol, and Sigtryggr sidestepped effortlessly, catching Sihtric’s arm and stopping him in his tracks.

“Enough.” Sigtryggr’s voice was firm, his grip on Sihtric’s arm steady as he pushed him back, keeping his own emotions in check. “Go home. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

The words struck Sihtric like a slap. He staggered, his face flushing with humiliation as he looked between the two of you. For a fleeting moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger—the brokenness and regret lurking behind his bloodshot eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered bitterly, wrenching his arm out of Sigtryggr’s grip. His gaze lingered on you, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. “Enjoy your perfect life,” he spat, his voice cracking slightly as he turned and stumbled away, nearly knocking into a nearby table on his way out.

The crowd, still buzzing with curiosity, watched him go, a hush settling over the room as people exchanged whispers and glances. You stood there, heart pounding, torn between anger, pity, and an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

“Are you alright?” Sigtryggr asked, his voice steady, his hand gentle on your shoulder as he guided you toward a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes.

You shook your head, you were far from being alright. Sihtric’s words, his reckless behaviour, the way he’d looked at you—it was like seeing a stranger in the shell of someone you once knew. The man who had stood beside you tonight was unrecognisable, and yet, the guilt still clawed at you, lingering in the pit of your stomach.

Sigtryggr’s arm slipped around you, as he led you toward the exit. “Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, his tone soft and protective. 

You nodded, grateful for his presence  and the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Sigtryggr’s hand lingering at the small of your back, guiding you with an ease that felt natural. 

He turned to you with a soft smile. “It’s still early,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over your face. “Would you like to come to my place for a nightcap?”

As Sigtryggr's question hung in the air, a shiver coursed through you, both from the chill of the night and the deeper question his invitation held. His face, framed by the soft glow of nearby streetlights, showed only openness, yet your mind raced. 

Your heart quickened, battling with the silent questions tumbling in your mind. What did you want this to be? Sigtryggr was unlike anyone you’d ever met—a quiet intensity wrapped in kindness, the kind of person who saw straight through you, not as if judging, but as if he truly understood. A part of you had been starving for this kind of connection, so different from what you’d known before, but was it too soon? Could you let yourself open up to someone again, let him see the parts of you you’d worked so hard to piece back together?

And then, a thought cut through the haze, sharper, clearer: What would Sihtric think if he saw you now? A pang of anger flared beneath your skin, surprising you. Why should it matter? Even more so—why would he care? But the questions lingered, twisting like thorns in your mind. Why did he keep finding his way into your thoughts, haunting you with his absence, even though he was gone from your life for good?

Admitting it hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. He was gone. The reality pressed down like a weight you’d been struggling to lift. This was the perfect moment to close that door, to step into something new, to let someone else in… Or, you could keep waiting, letting the ghost of him drift around you, keeping everyone else at arm’s length, forever just out of reach.

With a soft, steadying breath, you looked back at Sigtryggr and found him still there, watching with a quiet patience, not pressing or urging, but simply waiting. His expression held nothing but warmth, a silent invitation in his eyes that felt as gentle as it was genuine. His presence was calming, without expectation, without judgement. In that instant, the idea of stepping forward didn’t seem so daunting.

Your heart lifted, and you found yourself nodding, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his gaze. “I’d like that.”

—--------------------------------------

Sigtryggr’s apartment was just as you’d expected—filled with art and an understated elegance that spoke to his style. Soft lights cast a warm glow over the room, and as he poured two glasses of wine, you took in the paintings lining the walls, the sketches scattered across his workspace, small glimpses into his creative world.

He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a shiver up your spine. You took a sip, the wine rich and velvety, warming you from the inside. You could feel his gaze on you, intense yet tender, and when you looked up, the air between you grew charged, a subtle current building with each passing second.

“You know,” he began softly, stepping closer, “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight. Or… how beautiful you look now.”

His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering, fingers grazing your cheek. You felt your breath hitch, the gentle way he was looking at you sparking something within. Without overthinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Sigtryggr responded instantly, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and inviting. The wine glass slipped from your hand onto the table as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You melted into him, the heat between you building, his kisses growing hungrier, more insistent.

He led you toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving you, each touch filled with gentle urgency. When you reached the bed, he paused, his eyes searching yours, as if asking for permission, making sure this was what you wanted.

You answered by pulling him down to you, and he responded with a low, pleased hum, his mouth trailing down your neck as his hands found the zipper of your dress, sliding it down slowly, his fingers grazing your bare skin, igniting every nerve.

Clothes were shed, piece by piece, until you were both exposed, bodies pressed together, skin to skin. His touch was tender yet commanding, guiding you with an instinctive rhythm that left you breathless, each kiss and caress drawing you further into the heat of the moment.

Every brush of his fingers felt like fire, igniting sparks across your skin. His hands traced a path over you with a careful, reverent touch, as though he was discovering you piece by piece, memorising every curve and every reaction. His breath mingled with yours, soft and warm, as his lips explored places you hadn’t even known craved attention, gentle but unyielding.

You arched your back against the mattress and moaned loudly as he thrusted into you. Your fingers wove into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded, his mouth tracing a path along your jaw, down your neck, igniting a trail that left you gasping, clutching him as though he were an anchor in a sea of sensation that you thought almost forgotten.

Sigtryggr moved within you with a steady, skillful rhythm, each thrust deliberate yet intense, his gaze locked on yours, simmering with a passion that left you utterly breathless. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, a loud moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you, erasing any lingering hesitation or self-consciousness. Whatever doubt or embarrassment you’d felt about revealing how touch-starved you were melted away, replaced by a powerful wave of heat and sensation that overwhelmed every thought, leaving you lost in the intoxicating bliss he brought with each movement.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his hands roaming over your body, igniting every nerve he touched. His touch was confident, demanding mixed with softness and careful attentiveness, his focus solely on you, on every little reaction he coaxed from you.

The pleasure inside you coiled tightly, building with each movement, each shared breath, and the way breathless moans spilled from your lips only seemed to spur him on. He responded with a low groan, his pace quickening as he drove you both toward the edge, his presence grounding you even as he unravelled you entirely.

When the two of you finally lay together in the quiet aftermath, limbs entwined, Sigtryggr pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his hand tracing soothing patterns along your skin. The silence between you was comfortable, his warmth enveloping you as you nestled into him, feeling safe and content in his embrace. Your breathing slowed, each gentle stroke of his hand pulling you closer to sleep. 

But as your eyes grew heavy, a familiar image intruded—a vision of Sihtric, broken and desperate, his face etched with the same raw pain and bitterness you'd seen at the event. His haunted eyes, full of anger and longing, stared back at you, and his words echoed in your mind, refusing to fade: “She was mine.”

—-----------------------------------------

Morning light filtered softly through the blinds, and you blinked awake, stretching slightly before noticing Sigtryggr’s arm still draped around you, his peaceful face turned toward yours. A small smile tugged at your lips as you remembered the night before, and you let yourself relax, sinking back into the moment. But just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted you both out of the haze.

The door swung open, and a woman’s voice called out, her tone full of urgency and familiarity, sending a chill through you. “Sigtryggr?”

You froze, exchanging a startled look with Sigtryggr, who looked just as caught off guard. She called his name again, her footsteps growing closer as she moved through the apartment and toward the bedroom. Your gaze flew to Sigtryggr, wide-eyed with surprise, but before either of you could speak, a young woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes landing on you in bed with him.

With a yelp, you instinctively wrapped the blanket around yourself, heart racing as the reality of the situation hit you.

“Stiorra,” Sigtryggr started, his tone a mix of apology and guardedness as he sat up, tugging at the blanket to cover himself too.

[siconetribal]

Broken

A/N: Life has been not fun and super stressful. I needed a comfort thingy, so I made one. Hopefully, I'll be able to update my stories soon. I'm sorry, again, for not getting anything out in so long. There are no tags since this is my own little blurb.

Thank you @harlequin-hangout for the banner!

Desicive, hardened, and highly adaptable in volatile situations; Jason Todd was highly capable. He was ready for anything and everything, born in the streets and hardened by life altering experience, or so he thought. He stood there awkwardly and silent, watching his always put together love fall to pieces. The beautiful smile that lit up his world was gone, darkness looming above. The joyous and expressive voice that laughed and held him aloft was broken, grounded and feint. The strong shoulders that helped him carry his burdens were sunken, broken. Were those cracks always there? Had he truly never noticed the door she was desparately holding closed? How did he not know she was not ok? Why did she not come to him?

No, she was silent not by choice. It was what she had grown to be, how she survived since youth. She was let down by those who should have helped her just like he was. Haunted by everyone that failed her, drowning in the tears she held inside. She was minimized to the point of non-existence, and she thought it was deserved.

His jaw ached from how tightly it was cleched, nails digging into his callous palms. It was not that she could not come to him, she did not know how. She did not want to lose him by revealing the skeletons in her closet. No more.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he finally broke what held him frozen and knelt in front of where she sat, head hung, face hidden in her hands. He gently pulled her at her wrists, making her look at him. So broken and hurting, it lanced through his heart in a way he never knew was possible.

"You can talk to me, sweetheart." She began to pull away and open her mouth but he held her close and pressed a finger to her lips. "You don't have to talk now, I'll wait, no matter how much or how little is. You didn't choose this, so let it go. I don't want you hurting anymore. I'll nevee leave you." The tears glittered like precious crystals, each drop cutting into him. Words failed him at the sight of them, hia thumbs endlessly wiping them away. Unable to figure out what to day, he held her tight and let her cry. He only hoped to help her like she always did for him.

[psychicbarbarianinfluencer]

How would you rank every main villain in the movies from favourite to least favourite?

So all of these guys

And before anyone says anything Yes Gristle and Crimp do count as they served as antagonists with a fair share of screen time for the majority of a movie each so they deffo count as main villains.

My ranking would go

Chef. because I loved how sadistic and bitter she acted and how manipulative she could be it made her a very fun villain plus in terms of what was implied her past list of crimes are nightmare fuel ( like the cook book she wrote about trolls )

Barb. even tho I complained about her before I do love her personality wise I just find her forgiveness very forced and unearned in the story.

Gristle. he's a lovable idiot for sure but his heart is in the right place and I feel the first movie did a good job of keeping him in a position where he was technically a villain for most of the movie But there was enough decent sides to him shown that his redemption at the end didn't feel forced or unearned in my opinion unlike barbs, plus him and Bridget are cute af.

Velvet and veneer. I lumped these two together since I see them as a packaged deal lol neither of them would be much if they were a solo villain but together they make a very fun duo.

Crimp. I don't really care for her to be honest personality wise I find her to be self pitying but not really the sort of character I can actually feel any pity for since she's just a villainous henchmen Who goes along with her bosses evil plan and then expects sympathy when they are slightly mean to her like girl you didn't extend the same sympathy to Floyd And he didn't actually have a choice in being around Velvet and veneer unlike you, to be honest her forgiveness at the end is another case where I think its forced and unearned as she deserved punishment. And honestly I don't see why the movie thinks she should be seen as sympathetic? when it seems like she went along with floyd's kidnapping and torture just because she didn't wanna have to find a new job which honestly makes her a pretty crappy person.

Creek. I actually don't hate his character but I don't love him either and I do find him to be the most poorly written out of all of the main villains as he basically feels like he bounces back and fourth between being two different characters As he has the motivations and set up of a sympathetic reluctant villain who would normally feel remorse and undergo a redemption by the end of the film but he has the personality of a sadistic henchmen whose only motivation is that he enjoys hurting people So it just feels like the writing was all over the place for him to be honest.

[galacticsilverplush]

Fuck I'm in a ranty mood again. So, let's (somewhat) add to the last post I made. :)

I hate people who act like Misako left Lloyd 'for the funises' or 'for no reason' NO YOU ARE WRONG, GET OUT. GET THE FUCK OUT.

Misako was a scared MOTHER who felt it would be safer for her son to be without her. Why? Because her husband is evil and destined to fight her son, possibly to the death. She most likely felt she had no other choice!

Have any of you ever thought once, ONCE that Darkleys was her only option? Just once? Maybe she left him there because they put up a good front to trick her, or it was only place she felt he was safe even if it was 'bad'.

"B-but Silver! Wu is right th-" Yes, BUT in the Series when Lloyd was found out to be the green ninja Wu started training him HARD and he was still a kid causinghim to miss out on things kids his age normally do. If Misako had left Lloyd with Wu, this may have happened EARLIER, causing Lloyd to start working the MOMENT he starts walking. So, no, I don't think Wu would've been better. Also, the other elemental masters are GONE at this point in the story, so there's another option gone!

"B-But Silver!! Both parents are b-" Are you fucking serious? May I remind you that Garmadon actively tried to harm Lloyd and his friends? Not once trying to change destiny? May I remind you that when Garmadon found out Lloyd was the green ninja, he just... gave into destiny? He doesn't even TRY to change anything! He just gives in! He doesn't try to prevent the outcome! What did Misako do? Try to prevent the outcome! She was willing to sacrifice her relationship if it meant her son got to live a normal life, one where father and son never have to fight.

But, no. I guess the woman is the villain here and not the man who actively tries to harm the main cast.

Fuck I'm just so mad and sick of this shit. I'm so sick of people acting like Misako is a horrible monster who needs to die, while Garmadon is treated like a perfect angel who can do no wrong.

Misako. Doesn't. Deserve. The. Hate.

End of story, no 'but' this or that.

I don't care if I sound mean, or I worded things poorly. These are my feelings, and they always were.