#like the way they made this show and these events so accessible to CHILDREN ON PBS is still astounding to my brain

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

[vasilissadragomir]

one of the most heart-wrenching things about thg universe is that you feel the loss of who each character would be outside the circumstances of their birth almost as acutely as you feel the loss of the characters themselves.

sure, we know what lucy gray and her family would be doing in a different world; she’d be dancing and singing and making music which defines a cultural identity. but what about the others? would haymitch have been a hilarious, loving father with a family had he not been forced to survive 47 other children’s brutal deaths? would finnick have been a charismatic and beloved actor, bringing joy to immeasurable people on his own terms? would beetee and wiress have worked together to develop technology to make it easier to connect loved ones far and wide? what would reaper and annie have given to the world, or thresh, or rue, or even coral or cato or glimmer or clove?

if katniss wasn’t half-starving and forced to spend each day hunting to feed her family, would archery be her true passion? or if she’d been a well-sustained little girl with access to art supplies, would she have spent her time sketching captivating dresses? she picks up ropes and making fish hooks quickly—could her dexterity have lent itself to knitting, sewing, or crocheting with vibrant yarns and fabrics? there’s so much evidence that katniss finds clothing inspiring and empowering, even when she dismisses it as frivolous. she likes being pretty, she just hates the circumstances under which she’s made to look pretty. cinna shows her that beauty has its own power, and there are several moments in her interactions with cinna and his designs that make me wonder who she’d be if she had space for art and creativity in her life.

conversely, peeta has had art in his life since he was a small child, but for him, art has always been entangled with his trauma. he could bake and decorate well because he learned from his mother, a mother who beat him his whole life. but his talent grows, not only as a survival tool in the first games, but when he paints rue on the floor of the training center before the second games. his art becomes not only a symbol of his trauma, but a means of resistance and solidarity. in a world where peeta’s intrinsic kindness and loving heart had been nurtured and welcomed rather than abused, could he have been a painter, helping people find collective meaning in the simple realities of life?

could katniss and peeta have still found each other in another world, a world without the horrors they were raised with, and bonded over their love of art? could they have been each other’s muses?

maybe they find their way to share art, after the events of mockingjay, as part of their process of healing and falling in love with each other. when they’re finally safe and have been for a long time, maybe katniss fashions peeta an easel for him to paint in their living room. after months of watching him gaze out the window and paint the changing leaves, katniss takes to knitting on a rocking chair in the other corner of the living room to steady her restless hands. they work silently as the days go by, quietly exchanging the things they’ve made to give each other the reassurance and love neither could ever fully convey with words.

and maybe one day, when they learn there’s a baby on the way due in midwinter, katniss takes a page from peeta’s sketchpad and starts to plan a series of sweaters and hats and socks she can knit for the baby. and peeta goes to the little nursery upstairs and starts working on a mural, so the baby will have something beautiful to look at every day. they work together to design the perfect baby blanket for their child, to ensure they will always be wrapped in a layer of protection and love by their parents.

but even if they find creativity and beauty in their lives after the end of mockingjay, the art they make will simply never be what that art could have been had they not faced what they faced. art comes from suffering, yes, but the human condition has so much suffering as is, and we’d never know what kind of art they’d make if they hadn’t experienced trauma of a distinctly sadistic and inhuman nature. but maybe their children, raised in a better world with love and protection and safety and joy and creativity and expression, will be the ones to create the art peeta and katniss never could.

[jarofstyles]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes 4- Preparations and Secret Keepers

Helloo my loves! They’re back. Lady Y/N and Princerry have returned and they’re ✨ in love✨ obviously. I hope you enjoy a bit more of them!

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access.

Warnings- a smidgen of exhibitionism if you squint

WC- 3.9k

Fic masterlist

————

The ballroom was beautiful.

Y/N had nearly felt tears in her eyes when she first saw it. Swirls of saturated color all around. Flowers in opulent garlands wrapping around the marble columns and up to the ceilings. The lights twinkled from them as they hung down from the dark vines that curtained the ceiling, looking like stars in the sky.

The tables were lined with expensive cloth, a deep red with a lace runner going through the middle. Fine dishware was neatly stacked, the golden designs etched and foiled on them shining in the lights. Bouquets were the centerpieces, red ribbon tied around the vases in delicate bows. There were no expenses spared for this. His and her initial was painted on the dance floor with the royal family crest, gold foiling making it sparkle. Staff scurried about to put on finishing touches on the scene while Y/N and the Queen did a last check up.

What had her truly gasping for breath were the specific flowers that she had shown Harry in their walk decorating the royal table, the bouquet specially made for her at her spot clear next to him. The first time she would be at a royal event… as a future royal. Her hands were a bit sweaty as she followed the Queen dutifully, listening to her comments as she made small adjustments for the headmistress to go over with staff.

Y/N admired his gracious she was. Saying please and thank you to staff was not something most nobility did, but she did. She wanted to be just like her. Friendly and kind. Not a feared woman- unless she was crossed. Respected. That was her goal, above all else.

As soon as they had a moment alone, she turned to her. “How are you truly doing, my dear?” Her soft hand landed on Y/N’s forearm, true compassion on her face. She could see her bristling nerves grating on her even though most couldn’t. “You are good at hiding your emotions. The reason I can see it is because I was in your shoes once.” She soothed. “Having good control of when you show them is important. But you’ve proven yourself thus far.” Her kind smile made Y/N relax a little bit.

“Thank you.” She replied. “I am… I’m good. I think it is a bit overwhelming but I remind myself this is the first one. I will get used to it. It’s to celebrate our love and union, too, so I should not be worried.” Y/N refused to let jealous and bitter women ruin the beautiful thing that Harry and her had created. Had been thrust into; his arms welcoming her like a warm bath. The Queen nodded at her statement, the pair walking slowly as they observed the royal table. “He remembered.” Her whisper was caught by the Queen, watching her fingers brush one of the flowers with a smile.

“He is a good man. I am happy with how he’s grown.” The Queen loved her son dearly. She wasn’t fond of the way most royals before her had reared their children, handing them off to nanny’s and other staff dedicated to the job. She wanted to be hands on. To raise him to be a good man, to make changes she had already started to implement. He would not be arrogant and rude. That was a fear, knowing the power could get to his head as it did to many, but she did it herself. She was spoiled with ladies maids who would tend to him at night as a wee babe, but she did everything else. The bond between parent and child was gravely important. “Though I will say… the change I’ve seen in him since he has met you has made me ecstatic.”

Y/N turned to her with curious eyes. “How so, may ask?” She was treading lightly, still wanting to be respectful but dying to know. Any bit of information about him from a reliable source made her giddy. Filing it away in her favorite folder in her memories, she wanted to soak it all in.

“He seemed more… excited about ruling. He learns with vigor. Speaks up. He wants to know the intricacies more and more. Before… he was unmotivated in some ways.” There was a pause as she exhaled. “I suppose that was partially our fault. We wanted him to remain as carefree as he could, to form his own personality without it being directly tied to a title. He learned a lot during his childhood but he had been seemingly nervous as he grew. Now he seems far more settled in it.” It was most definitely because of Y/N. “Having a reliable, trustworthy and level headed ruling partner is one of the most important and undervalued assets a King can have. They do say, "What is a King without his Queen.” She gave a slight smile as Y/N followed her words closely.

“You have those qualities, from what I can tell. Keeping a level head and still being able to defend yourself and the person you love is a beautiful thing to have as a ruler. It isn’t easy. People will disagree simply because you spoke, you rule. I can understand why, to a degree. Taking into account the stress of being a King, I think that you will be able to elevate him. I believe him the same as you. The King may seem to be the one who holds all the power… but know that it isn’t true. I’ve helped come to all of the most important decisions in our kingdom’s history. It isn’t a job to take lightly.” The Queen could see it on her face, how she was agreeing but still spooked. This wasn’t necessarily a test, but it was a reality she needed to face. She couldn’t just play royal. It was a job.

“That is why I was so worried about who Harry would end up with. Many women.. they think that being a Queen is being lavished with diamonds and pearls, being fed delicacies by hand and never lifting a finger. They think it’s the custom dresses and crowns, the balls and the galas, the travels. But it is so much more than that.” She squeezed her hand, giving her another smile. “I was terrified that my son would follow a man’s intuition and just go for whoever appealed to his physical senses without taking a woman’s brain and intentions into account. He was incredibly lucky to stumble across you.”

It was abundantly clear that Y/N loved her son- and if not fully there yet, close to it. She never indulged when she was at the palace, was polite, thanked workers and never threw fits. The girl was respectable, well read and could hold a conversation. It was more than a lot of the other women on the court could say when they were vying for Harry’s hand in marriage.

“Do you truly think I’ll make a good Queen?” Y/N asked quietly, looking her in the eye despite wanting to look at her skirts. This was an intimidating conversation but she needed to hear it. None of it was enough to make her leave. It was a lot more than she had ever expected to take on as a wife- if she had ever married at all- but Harry’s tender heart and gentle touch was well worth the challenges. She hopes.

“I do. I think you’ll be one of the best we have seen. Continue to be fearless, to speak your mind to your husband, to be honest and open with him, rule with a fair hand and you will do amazing. The council will try to intimidate you. Do not let them.” The word of warning was clear. Y/N’s tummy turned at the serious tone. “They will try and sway you. The reason for it, as you know, is to have the people given more of a say. But do not let individual agendas influence your decisions. Make them as your heart and mind see fit. Harry will be behind you.”

That, she didn’t doubt. The man had been continuously proving his devotion to her every single day. She had read in her books; the romance novels that had her flustered and fanning herself at times, about love and men. About how she could be treated. Harry far exceeded any expectation.

“I understand. I will do my best, and I will trust my husband. I know he and I have had some conversations about it. I don’t know if he told you of some of the other encounters I’ve had with some of the women, but I already know the way people will treat me. How they will manipulate and how I will need to be careful. But as long as I have Harry, I have my family? I am strong.”

“You will be wonderful.” The Queen replied. “You are wise beyond your years. I’ve heard whispers of what people have been saying, what they’ve been doing. I am not one to abuse power but if you wish to have anyone removed from this party? That is your right.” She wouldn’t want anything to ruin this. It was a step in the new direction of the kingdom, her first real taste. She needed it to be good for her.

“Thank you, my Queen. I will.” Y/N nodded, looking back towards the bouquet. For him? She would do anything. For herself? She would prove that she wasn’t someone to stand on.

—————

Harry watched as she walked down the hall, alone at last. She was stunning, his intended. So beautiful and strong, her head held high as she walked the corridor as if she knew where she was going. She didn’t. All she knew was that Harry had requested her in the library.

“Hello.”

“My goodness!” Y/N yelped, hand over her heart as it raced like a hummingbird inside of her chest. “Harry! You musn't scare me like that.” She still walked towards him, entering the library as she tried to shake off her bout of fright.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Harry peeked down the hall to see it empty, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Approaching her, his hands reached for her waist to pull her into his embrace. Smooth. Always so smooth and warm to the touch, making his fingers flex into the dress. Her corset hid the squish of her flesh, something he was dying to feel under his hands, but he thanked the world that she let him handle her this way. The light blue of the dress did wonders to compliment her eyes, ruffled at the bottom in a way he usually dislike- but again, his sweet Y/N had a knack for making him enjoy things he rarely did in the past. She made any dress she wore look like gold. It was impossible for her to dull her glow, a beacon of light that his eyes always wanted to follow.

“That is a lie, my prince.” She laughed under her breath. His grin made sure to tell her he enjoyed making her jump. “Luckily for you, you’re handsome and far too charming to hold a grudge, so I forgive you for it.” Her head tilted back, taking in his content features. Alone. Truly alone with one another in the Palace’s library. It was quite big, shelves upon shelves of books in every color imaginable. A top floor with a balcony overlooking the rest, dark wooden ladders to reach the tall shelves at the bottom, a large reading area in front of the fireplace and a padded bench in front of the window to make for a nook to hide away in. The large arched window let in beams of light, streaking across the room and illuminating the front of it effortlessly.

“I fear that I’ll spend every free moment here.” She returned her gaze to him after looking around. It wasn’t her first time in here, but she was still amazed at the quantity of books in one room. The palace was much larger than she had ever anticipated. “I don’t think I could read every book in here, even if I read every moment in my lifetime. You’ll have to read with me.”

Y/N had expressed a want for that. To find a book to read before bed, just for them. A tradition.

“Of course. I’ll read with you every night if it’s possible.” He released her waist, taking hold of her hand and letting her lead him into the darker aisles of the library. It was relatively quiet in the room, the sound of their steps clicking over the wood floors being the loudest thing they could hear. “What are you looking to read?” His question was soft spoken, aware of how little space there was in these aisles. They were meant for one person to explore, but he truly didn’t mind. Being close to Y/N was a blessing.

“I’m partial to romance. I love all books- I love learning about my flowers and history, I love fairy tales… but I particularly enjoy romance. Happy endings, mostly. All of them, though…they can be quite eye opening. You’d never guess it. People love to diminish the literature because men do not usually enjoy them- at least publicly. Some of the most breathtaking quotes I’ve ever heard of were in such books.” She ran her fingers along the spines of the cloth bound books, grazing the embossed titles. “You learn a lot about people in them. How betrayal can affect a soul, how love can heal. Above all else, loving is a choice. An action.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, unsure of what she meant. “I don’t think I had a choice. I think.. my heart was yours the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’ve never questioned it.”

“There’s different types of loving. Having your heart belong to someone… It is a different sort of love. A soul deep love. But to be in love actively, you choose it. You choose to show the person your feelings, to express them. You do the acts of love by stroking my hand, by choosing the flowers for our table.” A coy look was shot his way. “It won’t always be easy. You’ll have to choose love above all else, even if it’s harder than another solution.” She turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his neck, the dim light doing nothing to hide his beauty.

“I feel the same. I feel as though you plucked my heart out of my chest like harp strings and held it in your hands. There wasn’t much of a choice in that. But the act of loving? It is a choice. Being loved and in love are two different things. We just happen to have both.” And god, did she love him already. It was soul deep, like she said.

“I see…” he rolled his lips in for a moment before pouting ever so slightly. “I can understand that. I haven’t thought of that before but… I suppose it’s because I haven’t read as many romance novels as you. Or, perhaps you’re just a smarter being than me.” He had to chuckle because sometimes he believed it to be true. Y/N’s thoughts were vast, complex, something he wanted to dissect over time. He loved hearing what she thought about policies so far, what she thought of their system. Even just her thoughts on books and flowers. She thought about things he never would have imagined- and it’s part of why he loved her. The creature challenged him in ways no one else ever would, kept him on his toes all while providing a comfort in her presence many would die to have.

“No. You’re just as smart, but in a different way. It’s refreshing. We both have qualities the other needs. It’s one of my favorite parts about us.” She slightly scolded him for that. No self deprivation on her watch.

“Yeah? What are your other favorite parts?” He murmured, feeling the tightness of the space but not wanting to back up. Instead, he got closer. “For example… I love your brain. I love how you speak, how your lips curl around words. I love how I feel like I was submerged in the warmest bath with all of the sweet smelling oils when I’m around you.” His fingers rose to brush her cheek. “But… I hate that I am not able to touch you how I wish.” Speaking of love always got to him. His reminder of how much adoration festered in his heart, how much impatience he had towards expressing it to her in a physical way.

Y/N’s mouth dried as she felt the man close in on her. If her heart was beating fast before? It was ready to fly out of her chest now. Breathing quickening as she leaned into his touch, she found her words on the tip of her tongue, hands settling on his forearms. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to speak. “How do you wish to touch me?”

The voice was much softer than she would have hoped, showing how she was weak kneed just from this simple touch. Back against the shelf, she peered at him through her lashes, anticipating the next words out of his berry hued mouth. Oh, how she wanted that mouth.

“I wish to touch you without these corsets. I want to feel your skin underneath my fingertips, the softness of your flesh dipping as I hold you.” He paused, inhaling shakily. “ I want to bury my fingers in your hair and tug your head back so I can kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so, so badly. It aches in my soul. I crave nothing more than your affections. You know that?” He looked pained as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. This was a dangerous situation, both of them in a state that they didn’t know how to handle. There were lines they could not cross, things he could not say, but he was feeling them all.

“You do?” She peeped, eyes round at his blunt words. He had expressed some of these things in a letter before but… hearing in person was a whole other experience. The low rasp of his voice as he kept it down, keeping their secrets between their ears and the pages of the books.

“I do. Words can not express how much I look forward to our wedding day.” When they would become man and wife, when he could take her the way they both wanted. “When I never have to worry, I can kiss you freely, in front of whoever I wish. I hate that there are barriers for us. I understand tradition, I respect it… but I can’t help but wish to break it.” He wouldn’t, but he had to hold his breath as he felt her nose brush against his own. The walls of rigid rules were so irritating for him, he wanted to make them crumble to rubble on the ground.

“I know. I crave it just as much, Harry.” She replied shakily, breath felt against his lips. “I want your touch on every part. But we have to respect the traditions. Don’t we?” She asked, feeling as though she could fall over as she felt their lips brush for a single second before his own rested over her cheek.

“We do.” He mumbled against the smooth skin. “But… I can kiss here.” His lips puckered ever so slightly on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. “I can kiss here… and it’s not breaking any rules. My ring is on your finger… I tend to claim you in the ways the world allows, to follow those rules.. but you are mine.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to arch into him. A little gasp left her as she felt a firmer kiss placed to her cheek again, letting their lips feather together before he placed one to the opposite side. “My bride. My queen. My heart. I will never be as proud of anything… as I am to have been chosen by you.”

Y/N let out a whimper, pulling him close and returning the gesture. Dangerously close kisses, right in the same places. Temptation. She should have pulled away, but she couldn’t. Her body pulsed, a heartbeat felt between her legs as he let out a quiet groan.

“My sweet…” he rasped. “My self control is so little. It’s merely hanging by a fraying thread. I respect you more than to take you in a library aisle…” he paused. “At least before we are married.” The thought flooded her brain, her skirts lifted up and his firm palm holding her mouth to keep her quiet. Taking her deep and slow against the shelves, filling her to the brim. Her leg hitched over his waist while fingers clawed at him- he didn’t know how he was able to wait.

“Harry…” she gasped, feeling his lips press to her jaw. “You’re making it so hard for me to behave. I need to be…” she lost her train of thought as her eyes closed, head falling back against the wood. His kisses were feather light, brushing over her jaw and making her fingers dig into his arms. If she was in this much pleasure just from this? What would it be like without all of the barriers? Would his fingers make her tingle as much on bare flesh? Would his kiss her all over?

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled against her skin. “I’m sorry…” teeth grazed her ear, making her whine. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I will stop.” He had to drag himself away from her body, tempted to nibble on her smooth neck and leave marks all over. He couldn’t. But he wanted to.

Y/N wanted to gasp at his looks. His dark gaze, eyes glinting in a darkness she had never seen before. Lust. True lust, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen. It would look like they did more than look for books if they were caught, but Y/N committed it to memory. She wanted this very look painted in a portrait. Her Prince’s desire for her. Nothing had ever felt more real. “My beautiful prince…” she sighed, hands prying away from his arms to hold his hands. “We must leave or we will get carried away. You’ll never forgive yourself.” She knew that much. Harry was very proud of doing this properly. Of keeping himself a gentleman.

“I know.” his fingers squeezed over hers, taking his own deep breath as he calmed himself. “I’ll behave. It is hard, having the affections of a woman as stunning as you and not be able to indulge… But I must.” Even if it pained him. He would do this properly, honor her and make her his wife before he devoured her in the way he craved.

[luthwhore]

a while back i made a recommended reading list for lex luthor, and originally didn't plan to make a superman one, since it's a lot easier to find reading lists for him, but a lot of the reading lists i see either tend to be very short and have the same 5-10 books on them, or feel way too expansive and overwhelming, so i wanted to make a list of some of my personal picks!

this list is designed to help relatively new readers get to know the character, so i've tried to focus mostly on things that are accessible to people with only minimal knowledge of the character/world (with one single exception).

i also have not included any pre-crisis stories because i don't feel like i've read enough pre-crisis content to confidently recommend any specific comics, but i might one day come back and add a section for pre-crisis comics later!

❤️ = Personal favorite

Origin Story

Superman: Birthright, by Mark Waid ❤️

Superman: Birthright is what I would consider to be the definitive modern Superman origin story, featuring modernized versions of many Silver and Bronze age concepts. Mark Waid is, imo, one of the best modern day Superman writers in the sense of really understanding the core of his character, so I would highly suggest starting here for an understanding of who Clark is and what makes him tick. Optional: If you like "Birthright", the presently incomplete "Last Days of Lex Luthor" is a direct follow up to it, also written by Mark Waid, and delves deeper into the complicated relationship between Superman and Lex Luthor.

Superman: Secret Origin, by Geoff Johns

Written a few years after Birthrigh, "Secret Origin" technically supplanted Birthright as the official canon. Like "Birthright", it attempts to modernize many Silver/Bronze Age concepts, though it takes a different route than the aforementioned "Birthright."

Post-Crisis

Superman: Up, Up, and Away, by Geoff Johns & Kurt Busiek

Set after the events of the DC events Infinite Crisis and One Year Later, though it's not necessary to read either to follow this arc. After a year long break from being Superman, Clark returns to the cape. Since Infinite Crisis served as one of many soft-resets for the pre-Flashpoint DCU, it's a solid arc to start with.

Superman: Last Son, by Geoff Johns

Clark learns of another Kryptonian child on Earth and decides to take him in and introduces the character of "Chris Kent." Follows "Up, Up, and Away". This arc technically ran concurrently with the "Camelot Falls" arc, with "Last Son" being the Action Comics storyline and "Camelot Falls" being the "Superman" storyline. (I would recommend reading "Last Son" first, since otherwise you might be confused by Chris's presence in "Camelot Falls".)

Superman: Camelot Falls, by Kurt Busiek ❤️

One of my personal favorite post-Crisis Superman stories. Clark is told that the only way to avert an apocalyptic future is to give up being Superman. One of many, many stories that asks the philosophical question "Do heroes actually make things worse?" but has a very fresh and uplifting take on the premise.

New 52

Action Comics (2011), by Grant Morrison

Grant Morrison's Action Comics is a very sharp departure from the pre-Flashpoint version of Superman, instead choosing to do with the Golden Age what Mark Waid's "Birthright" did with the Silver Age. Morrison's Superman here is significantly more hotheaded and aggressive than the previous decade's version of him, but he's by far the closest to Siegel and Shuster's original vision for the character, so it's worth a read.

Superman: Unchained, by Scott Snyder

A Superman vs the US military story, with art by the legendary Jim Lee. It's a little dark in tone (and in color scheme) for Superman, but pretty in-line with the tone of most n52 books.

Rebirth and Beyond

Superman: Up in the Sky, by Tom King

A story that shows the lengths Superman is willing to go to in order to save one person. Has some very cute interactions between Clark children, and in general really gets the heart of Superman as a character.

The Warworld Saga, by Phillip Kennedy Johnson ❤️

A massive story following Superman to Warworld, where he works to free a group of Kryptonians being kept as gladiatorial slaves. Leans heavily into the idea of Superman as a Moses allegory, with the Authority as supporting cast. Over all a really beautiful story, both in terms of the plot and the art. Imo, the best Superman story from the last decade. Optional: If you like "Warworld" make sure to read the rest of PKJ's Action Comics run. His last issue of Action Comics just dropped recently, so you could absolutely sit down and binge the whole three-year run straight through.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2021 - ongoing), by Mark Waid

Set during the early years, featuring Superman, Batman, Robin (Dick Grayson), and occasionally Supergirl. In true Mark Waid fashion, it pulls heavily from the Silver Age, and manages to balance Silver Age campiness with more modern storytelling. (If you're a Superbat fan and you're somehow not reading this already, you should be.)

Superman (2023 - ongoing), by Joshua Williamson ❤️

The current running Superman arc. Another soft-reset for the Superman canon, meant to serve as an easy starting place for new readers. Beautiful art, hopeful and uplifting, and features my personal favorite take on the Lex in the comics, which should really tell you something. Optional: Action Comics issue #1050 sets up some things for this comic, but you won't lose much by skipping it.

Self-Contained Stories

Superman Smashes the Klan, by Gene Luen Yang ❤️

A YA graphic novel based on an old radio show. Set during the 1940s during Superman's early years, and really takes Superman back to his roots as a champion of the oppressed. If you read no other book on this list, please read this one. It's a quick and easy read and gets right to the heart of who and what Superman is.

Superman: For All Seasons, by Jeph Loeb

A story spanning four stages of Clark's life, with gorgeous artwork by the incomparable Tim Sale. Delves into Clark's relationships with most of the important people in his life, including his parents, Lois, and Lex.

Superman: Secret Identity, by Kurt Busiek

A meta twist on the Superman story with a boy in the real world develops Superman-like powers and has to grapple with what that means for him and what to do with those powers. A really excellent deconstruction of Superman.

All-Star Superman, by Grant Morrison

Superman, upon being told he has only a few days to live, chooses how to spend the rest of days. Widely regarded as one of the greatest Superman stories of all time, but features a lot of deep cut lore and will resonate more if you're more familiar with the characters. This is the one book I would not recommend starting with. Also leans heavily on the Silver Age canon.

[whinlatter]

Hi! I wanted to ask you what's your take on clothes and how wizards dress? I've been thinking about this since the 'gettin ready fot the party' scene. What's a typical wardrobe for typical wizard in te 90's? I always imagined that they just dress like muggles (or maybe the younger generations?), and i when i read the books i always had a hard time imagining them when they are trying to pass as muggles, you know? Like what, they don't understans which clothes are for a specific event? Because Harry says that he could tell thay dress a bit diffrent, like out of place. I mean, it's probably just meant to be funny, but, how isolated are they to not knowwhat muggles wear? I guess it also has to do with how they are raised, i imagine blood-supremacists (is that how it's called?) use only 'robes' (whatever that is, and, also, what's under those robes? like, a thong? do they wear muggle underwear? SO MANY QUESTIONS)

So, i was thinking about this instead of working🤠.

I liiive for that part with tonks' clothes, i even got a litlle "oh i wanna be thereeee and try everything and make everything fit with magic!"

And this how i imagine wizards dress (according to jkr) in the muggle world

ok please know that this image made me howl

thank you for the super interesting question! i have thought a bit about typical wizarding wardrobes and familiarity with muggle fashion among wizards in the 90s as a worldbuilding question in beasts. it's definitely true that wizarding familiarity with muggle dress is another one of those worldbuilding points in canon where the text is unclear and at times inconsistent. i know people have different views on how much wizarding and muggle culture interact, especially in matters of popular culture and fashion. i've heard very convincing arguments that the cultural insularity and physical remove of the wizarding community from muggles would mean most children raised in wizarding households, especially pureblood families like the weasleys, wouldn't know that much about how muggles plausibly dress, what they listen to, or what forms of media are popular (books, music, sports, even less so tv and film).

while i do agree with some aspects of this, in my approach to wizarding youth culture in the 90s, i think young witches and wizards on the left know more about muggle fashion than they do about many other aspects of muggle culture, and that interest and ability to pull off muggle fashion depends on a person's background, politics, gender (because mostly, it does all seem to be about trousers - i reckon pureblood supremacists, as you say, are in their undies most of the time), but especially generation and the politics/patterns of consumption in the time period when they were a teenager. i think your desire and ability to wear muggle clothing varies a lot if you're born in 1950 vs 1980, partly because of changing wizarding politics and the difference between growing up in peacetime vs a world at war, but partly because muggle fashion changes as a market in the second half of the twentieth century.

basically, i think these young progressive millennial wizards would wear more muggle clothing because of changes in muggle fashions/consumption that allow for greater availability and access to muggle clothing by the 1990s, as well as access to information about fashion and trends, and i think they would want to because willingness to embrace muggle fashions would be a way of showing their commitment to their own politics and forms of teenage rebellion that were distinct from those practiced by generations prior living through the first wizarding war. a longer discussion with my reasoning for this is below the cut!

so - in general, in canon, gen X wizards and older (so the youngest of them born in the 1950s thru 70s, and everyone older than that) seem to dress in muggle clothing really only as a protective measure to prevent exposure/risk breaking the statute of secrecy. when bob ogden goes to the gaunts' house in the 1920s, even as the head of a major ministry department dealing with law enforcement, he does a terrible job dressing as a muggle (the bathing suit, pls bob, i beg). if you look at all the wizards trying to dress as muggles for the world cup, it's clear that the adoption of muggle clothing, for most wizards, is a strategic, defensive move more than anything else. in PoS, mcgonagall - herself a progressive woman in her politics - disdains wizards who are celebrating the end of the first wizarding war by celebrating in the street "not even wearing muggle clothes", which she thinks is reckless and risks wizards' exposure (love when mcgonagall dresses like a muggle briefly at grimmauld place in OotP and it freaks harry out lol). there is no enthusiasm or interest in it - there's just conformity for self-preservation.

for that reason, i think you can see why those on the wizarding right in the mid-twentieth century, especially those drawn to pureblood and wizarding supremacy, would come to see dressing like a muggle as a disgrace, a sign of submission to a lesser people, in a way that would become extremely loaded in the years preceding and during the first wizarding war (1970-1981). when harry sees snape in the flashback to his first trip on the hogwarts express in the early 70s, he notices snape is already wearing his wizard robes very early on in the journey, which harry's narration supposes is because snape's happy to be out of his 'dreadful Muggle clothes' (DH). those muggle clothes were a sign both of snape's poverty but also his outsider status in muggle tinworth: special, because he's a wizard, but otherwise socially inferior to other children in every other way. snape, of course, is raised in a wizarding household with knowledge of magic but has been wearing muggle clothing to avoid detection for his entire childhood, in ways that imbue the wearing of wizarding clothes and casting off of muggle garms with great political significance. in canon, we see that the vast majority of wizards, while not death eaters or rabid pureblood supremacists, tend to be small c conservatives in their view of wizarding cultural norms and tend to think they're better than muggles even if they don't necessarily want to go out and kill them all. for that reason, they remain loyal to wizarding traditions, and continue to wear robes, partly as a symbol of their proud cultural identity as wizards, in ways that they would likely only cling to as their society moves towards open war over muggle-wizard relations (as you say, robes seem to be worn without trousers underneath, so most wizards are just wearing underwear under their robes and going about their day. slay, honestly).

so, if the right hate muggle clothes, then the willingness of gen z+ wizards to engage with and adopt aspects of muggle attire and culture might map onto a progressive political outlook and a disavowal of wizards-first ideology. but a person's politics alone doesn't mean they know how to pull off muggle clothing, and in the years of brewing tension then open war, most wouldn't bother risking their lives to be caught wearing a pair of bell bottoms. arthur weasley is the best example of this. arthur is theoretically interested in muggle clothes because he's a progressive man who disavows wizard supremacy and believes in principles of tolerance towards muggles. now, he's not good at knowing how to pair a plausible muggle outfits. this is because he still lives at a reasonable remove from wizards, he's extremely busy with a demanding job and seven children to be staying up to date with changing fashions, and at the end of the day still spends most of his week among wizards in a civil service that demands a certain level of professional conformity. but i think it's also because arthur weasley is born in 1950 and therefore spent his young adulthood trying to raise a young family during a war. arthur instead channels his politics into support for muggle protection legislation rather than in wearing muggle clothing, which he might see as a limited individual act of symbolic resistance that would put his family at risk and also cost time and money he doesn't have. (if we look at the marauders, as an example of a progressive bunch in the interim generation between arthur and arthur's children, especially someone like sirius with greater financial freedom, it's very telling that sirius shows his politics off through riding a cool muggle motorbike and sticking up muggle soft porn on his bedroom walls, but not noticeably through fashion, as far as harry's photographs show).

but if you look at arthur's children, progressive wizarding millennials, it seems like more confident familiarity with muggle fashions and culture is generally more common. i think we can include someone like tonks in this, raised in a mixed marriage household by a blood traitor and a muggleborn dad. harry says that the weasley children are better than their parents at dressing like muggles. when harry sees bill weasley he doesn't think 'this is a man who looks like he's done a bad job dressing for a muggle rock concert' he thinks 'this is a man who looks like he could be going to a rock concert'. this suggests to me a difference, say, between bill and his dad. arthur likes muggles and believes engaging with muggle culture is important, but doesn't really succeed at it, but his eldest son manages to marry both a political commitment to embracing muggle culture with an ability to dress plausibly as a muggle so much so that he's able to ape a subculture in a way his dad doesn't really try to often and has never succeeded at.

why? i think there's a few things going on. one is that the majority wizarding millennials grew up in peacetime, after the fall of voldemort, in the 1980s and 90s, where wearing muggle clothing was less likely to get you killed and more likely to symbolise an individual act of rebellion against more low-level societal norms and cultural pressures rather than against a murderer in a mask. this, plus having the time and disposable income to follow muggle fashions more closely, as well as the opportunity to access about muggle fashions and celebrity styles, has a big part to play. bill weasley has more time and ability than his dad to stay up to date about muggle clothing tastes, as do his siblings. characters who went to hogwarts in the 80s and 90s also did so at the peak of a mass print consumer culture (one that was already on an upward ascent since the 60s) that was designed to be be accessible, inexpensive and create an appetite for following trends among consumers, and that could very easily be of appeal to progressive young witches and wizards. this is why in beasts i have ginny know about the spice girls and their iconic lewks from a copy of smash hits magazine because that seemed like the kind of inexpensive and highly portable source of information about muggle culture that a muggleborn or halfblood student (or even a pureblooded student with a parent with a progressive interest in muggle clothing) would be able to take to school and pass around a dormitory. on the gender point, too - donning muggle clothes, especially the more permissive and sexy clothing of the 80s and 90s would be a great way for a rebellious young woman raised in a wizarding household - eg. tonks or ginny - to stick it to the conservative gender norms in the wizarding world.

moreover, the changes in fashion as a market in the muggle world would make a certain base style of comfortable and inexpensive muggle dress much more readily available to younger witches and wizards than ever before. for kids born in the late 70s/80s, changes in muggle clothes consumption - aka. the globalisation of mass factory production of textiles, especially garments, and the early forms of fast fashion we now recognise today - would also have an impact on the ready availability of certain basic forms of cheap muggle fashion, including the ubiquity of cheap jeans and trainers/sneakers, that emphasise comfort and ease of daily wear at a low cost point produced in such high volumes such that if you wanted a pair of jeans, you could easily get your hands on one. this would have made a plausible muggle clothing a lot more accessible (there's only so wrong you can go if you're just wearing jeans, t-shirt, a jumper, and a pair of trainers, really), and explain why the clothes harry wears in the muggle world don't seem all that different from the clothes he wears in the wizarding world (admittedly usually under his robes), or indeed that different from what ron seems to wear most of the time. passing as a muggle in 1920 with little effort - à la bob ogden - would be a lot harder than doing so in 1990.

so - yeah. that's my take! i think it's mostly about generation, but also about politics, about war and peace, a bit about gender and a lot about capitalism. i hope this helps!

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.221 thoughts

[That's a Helluva Cold Open]

or [Bad and Naughty Children Get Put in the Kessler Effect]

(Contents: narrative analysis - story structure; thematic analysis - friendship/growth/loyalty; predictions)

Title Drop TWO!!!

And we have a title!!! ... Again!!!

Admittedly it loses a little bit of its impact this time around, but David Evelyn couldn't have known Tozuka was gonna literally have Andy say "Undead Unluck" when Fuuko previously used furigana to technically say it

I also don't know if there was a way to avoid double dipping like this in English without losing the original meaning in the first place; previously, Fuuko said "Unluck" as the furigana for the "Undead" kanji, so she was literally saying both at once, just in a more subtle way that doesn't translate in English. If it were me and I knew this chapter was going to have Andy say Undead Unluck, I think I would have had Fuuko say "here comes my Undead," since it's clearly a reference to her usual catchphrase while also incorporating the new meaning, but it does come across a little weaker than saying Undead Unluck

I'm not here to gripe about translation choices, though, especially since, again, David made the most of what he was given and couldn't have known it would retroactively become repetitive. No one's at fault here, it's just unfortunate that it made the moment a teeny bit less special

Still, the idea that this is the beginning of the real story does make the timing of that title drop pretty appropriate; I think it's fair to say that a lot of us considered L100 to be a sort of prologue, as once we learned about the loops (and even before that in my case) it was pretty much a forgone conclusion that L100 would end in failure. L101 then seemed like it was the "main" story, but realizing now that the final enemy team was basically hidden behind what amounts to a cutscene gate makes it clear that all of the teambuilding of L101 was basically a crazy long training arc, the tutorial if you will

To put it simply, L100 was the intro of Symphony of the Night (fighting the final boss and losing access to the apparent main character), L101 up to now has been Dracula's Castle (the true main character gaining experience and equipment), and we've only just now reached the Reverse castle (the original main character returns, but so too is the true final boss accessible now after completing a few more challenges, including finding specific key items first)

To continue the SotN metaphor, the boss of the first half is also someone who should be on the main cast's side but is wrongly under the influence of the final boss and his minions!

Hard Lessons

As I expected, the focus of this chapter is definitely Ruin, though perhaps not quite in the way I expected

I figured that either the majority of the chapter would be dedicated to exploring his backstory or Andy would trigger a monologue by saying the right thing. What we got instead was Andy almost taking on a mentor role, using their similar experiences to relate to Ruin's life path and even celebrating it

In much the same way that Andy progressed from being a complete unknown to being "Captain," then "Undead," and finally "Andy" thanks to Fuuko's influence, Ruin went from being a scared, powerless child to "Unruin" and a follower of God thanks to the influence of Blood and Shadow. As I said last week, Ruin has no control over the flow of his life, just as Andy didn't until he met Fuuko

Just like Fuuko wanted to be for Tatiana what Andy was for her, Andy now wants to be for Ruin what Fuuko was for him: the culmination of "dumb luck," the one to turn that luck into fate, the one who can turn the bad hand that was dealt into a big win. All of the events of Ruin's life have led him to Andy here and now, and Andy is the one person who can show Ruin just how massively a person can change and grow when exposed to others

Mutual Growth

Andy gets to make this demonstration twofold: not only is his final attack, Bad Loop, only possible because he has Fuuko, but Ruin will only have the chance to escape it (or at least make the most of his time while caught in it) because Andy released Blood and Shadow and allowed them to go to Ruin's side

Sure, Blood and Shadow are still of the belief that Ruin's only hope for happiness is to defeat the Union and serve God, but based on the rest of the chapter, I don't think that they themselves are all that loyal to God in the first place. Their refutation that Andy's philosophy will help Ruin at first seems like propaganda for God, but I think it's more likely that the three of them have mutually come to the conclusion that this is the right path

After all, Blood and Shadow are the equivalent of Clothy, and it was Clothy who put his faith in them to help Ruin. Andy's partnership with Clothy allowed them to come to an understanding almost wordlessly, with Andy reading Clothy's expression easily and asking a vague question to determine the right course of action. If any UMA can recognize one that values a human over God, it's Clothy

It's also worth noting that Ruin already augments Unruin w/ his UMA pals, so it's not like he's completely unfamiliar with the concept of mutual growth, he just needs to recognize that there isn't really a difference between the UMA and Negators. Sure, they're shaped differently and born by different means, but they all manipulate the rules of the world in some way, and all of them have distinct personalities. I don't think there's a single UMA that's been portrayed as a totally mindless beast, just that some of them aren't given any dialogue to demonstrate their personalities

In a sense, they're all people. Ruin is just trying to create a world where the people he likes can live, and honestly he probably thinks that the Union is trying to kill them. Sure, sometimes they have to kill them, but...really think about why they have to. Who is making them kill the Rules?

God. God is the one letting Ruin's precious Rules be killed, and is even facilitating it. In fact, the idea seems to be that the ones who are targeted for elimination in Quests are the ones that are "expendable" to God's ideal world; is Ruin so bought in that it's okay for Rules to die so long as God says so?

Picking Sides

Given the kind of upbringing that we see Ruin had, it's not hard to see how he might accept something so cruel as just. As @wickedsick pointed out earlier in the week, Ruin's...father? Guardian? Owner? is specifically depicted in silhouette, lifting his foot to kick and stomp at Ruin while scalding him with steaming hot liquid, giving him almost exactly the aesthetic of Sun's descent during Ragnarok

I believe this is meant to demonstrate that Ruin views humanity as exactly the same kind of oppressive force that God is to the Union, but it's also possible that it's a symbol for how, as a Negator, Ruin will always be facing that sort of oppression so long as he refuses to ally with the people who are like him

As Andy says, Ruin is currently taking the easy way out; he's giving up his own autonomy to work under God, selling out everyone else so that he can cling to his own false idea of happiness. He doesn't have to think about the morality of his choices if he just goes along with what he's told, if he buys the lie that all of humanity is an afront to the world and not literally the point of its existence. The Rules of the world are crafted to prompt humanity to find "the greatest life ever" through suffering, and Ruin is an agent meant to provide that suffering. God doesn't have any intention of letting Ruin have a place in his world, as evidenced by the fact that he wrongfully believed Unruin would let him survive the loops. Therefore, Ruin is faced with two choices:

Stay the course and view humanity as the others, remaining in conflict with them only to ultimately be hurt and rejected by both sides

Join forces with humanity and rise against God, breaking the cycle and finding real happiness by creating a world where humanity and the Rules can support and guide each other

Bad Loop

The irony of Andy and Fuuko being the ones to put Ruin through an infinite loop of pain and death that he's capable of actually surviving is pretty interesting, as this is literally what he's always wanted from God but he's receiving it from humanity. Furthermore, by being forced to endure this torture, Ruin is being shown a microcosm of what Andy had to experience, both in the first several million years when he was simply drifting through space as a scrap of his own skull and in the remaining 4 billion where he deliberately planted himself on the surface of the sun. He is experiencing a fraction of the suffering he always wanted and being given the opportunity to really think about the implications of that

By being repeatedly buffeted with death, Ruin will have endless, rapid-fire opportunities to test, understand and improve Unruin, and eventually come to realize that even after all of that, there's a limit to what he's capable of. That's what happened to Andy; he learned everything there is to know about Undead as a standalone ability, and presumably had the time to consider combination techniques, but realized that no matter how hard he thought about it, the only things that would allow him any further growth would be inspiration in the moment or a perspective he isn't capable of providing

After all, Andy only knows everything about Undead. He knows a good deal about everyone else, but just like how Billy couldn't draw out the full power of any of his copied abilities, Andy can only coordinate so well with the rest of his team without first seeing how they've personally enhanced their capabilities. If Unstoppable is different now than it used to be but Andy doesn't realize that, it's just as much Top's responsibility to come up with combo ideas as it is Andy's

Ruin, meanwhile, still hasn't even reached the starting line where he actually knows how to use Unruin in combat. Right now he's just using Blood and Shadow as weapons and augmenting them with his infinite blood supply, but Unruin itself hasn't grown or changed. The problem is that he's still thinking of Unruin as a regenerative ability, as a lesser Undead, and hasn't determined what makes it unique yet. Once he knows how to actually use it, once he accepts his humanity and understands himself, he'll be able to max out his personal growth and begin his interpersonal growth, both with his UMAs and his future Union compatriots

Of course, the real question now is how long until that future arrives

The Final Saga

With Andy's declaration that the final fight is beginning, I've seen a lot of doom and gloom about the series ending. While UU is ostensibly not performing well compared to other Jump manga, it's apparently still selling better than a lot of top-sellers outside of Jump, so I doubt Shueisha plans to axe it

Even if that's not what people are worried about and instead they're just lamenting the knowledge that the end is in sight, I can't help but feel the opposite. In fact, I've never felt so glad to have a series I like declare it's intention to conclude - it means that it won't be forcefully dragged on

This review series was spawned by my opinion that Jump manga are at their peak at the four-year mark, and that they tend to lose interest after the six-year mark. While I'm sure I could love Undead Unluck all the same no matter how long it went, I can't deny the possibility that I would grow tired of it past that point. I became fatigued with Hero Academy despite how much I loved it from the beginning. Food Wars earned my respect by the end of year one but lost it a year or two before its conclusion. Aside from One Piece, I have no evidence of a weekly series holding my attention for so long without developing some feeling of negativity, so it's a valid concern that even UU would pass the threshold and begin to decline

I'm ecstatic that UU is approaching the end of its fifth full year. I love that this past year has been one of if not its best so far, but I'd be lying if I said I could see it doubling that. The story that Tozuka wants to tell has a specific number of beats that have been foreshadowed already, and while it will certainly have plenty of surprises within, it can't produce more indefinitely without deviating from the initial vision. While there may be some cuts or rushed plot points, it's clear that Tozuka is getting to tell the main story that he wants to get across, and that's all I've ever wanted for any Jump manga

With eight Master Rules to fight, the likely return of Seal, and the conflicts with both Sun and Luna on the horizon, there are likely at least 9 storylines to cover, depending on if any of the remaining enemies team up or if there are any more moments of downtime in between like searching for Artifact Heart

Even if we assume this is going to be like the Spring arc and each individual fight prior to the final battle is only like three chapters, that's 27 chapters right there, more than half a year of content, which would then lead into the fight(s) with Sun and Luna, which would likely be at least ten chapters minimum. That would put us ten chapters shy of a full year's worth, landing us in July or August, which is just six months away from the sixth anniversary

I don't know about you, but I could easily see Tozuka making the series last another year and a half from now to hit the six-year mark on the dot, which would give us plenty of time to explore all of the Master Rules, the underdeveloped Union members, the Gods, and give us a good capstone to Andy and Fuuko's relationship

Even if it's just the bare minimum, though, like I've always said, I trust in Tozuka. While the pacing is a bit fast at times, he's never failed to leave me with a satisfying story in the end; even the weaker arcs were a blast to read through the whole time, and I look back on every one of them fondly. I don't want the rest to be rushed at all, but Tozuka has a clear vision of what he wants, and I trust he won't waste any of the time that he's given

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[charmac]

speaking of things that were brought up in the show once and then never spoken of again, im honestly astounded that the revelation that luther was sending letters to mac and dennis was destroying them has seemingly had no impact on the characters beyond tggth. ik the fans probably discussed it more when the episode came out (which i wasnt there for) but its such a huge reveal like…mac who is ignored by his father 99% of the time was actually receiving letters from him and both of his best friends knew and didnt say anything. id love to see that revisited.

Tbh I think that one’s definitely a dead and buried event as spoken between Mac and Dennis, but I definitely wouldn’t say it’s had no further impact on the characters.

Mac’s internal struggle with his dad loving him certainly continued, and from what I see, it was pretty heavily built off the basis of Dennis destroying the letters:

Mac’s ‘PTSD’ nightmares are between him killing his father, just as he hopes he’ll say he loves him, and Dennis making a move on him, finally returning physical affection. I’d say that’s a good idea of how Mac processed/was processing what Dennis did. Mac’s mind seemed to be rationalising that he would kill his father by his own hands if he had access to him. Dennis physically destroyed the possibility, ‘proving he loved Mac’ (and further in Mac’s mind, Luther would kill Mac, given the opportunity).

But then, Mac does ‘kill’ [his relationship with] his father by his own hands when he comes out to him. His father doesn’t want Mac’s true self, and won’t listen. So when Mac does have a way to express himself in return, it hurts him. (Again, further affirming himself that Dennis cut off a potential relationship to protect him).

Now what’s really interesting is that they chose to go with letters again, in connection with Mac’s father, they further cast GSC to play his Uncle, made him gay, and weaved the idea of Mac having kids into the play. Isn’t that just all, a lot to chew on…

Honestly it’s hard for me to properly space it out, so I hope the following makes sense (and I am responding to this while on NYC transit, but what better place to dump my brain out):

I think the letters from Luther to Mac being destroyed by Dennis was a solid base they continue to build around through now. I mean, it’s certainly no coincidence that they decided on letters to be his family legacy, letters his mother destroyed before Mac could read. And then it can’t be a coincidence that the last time Mac spoke to his father, the first time he spoke to him since he found out about his letters, he expressed he wanted Mac to have children, and now Mac is telling his Uncle who looks like his father that he wants these new (old) letters for his children (alongside the theme of ignoring a shared sexuality). That’s not a coincidence, I really hope it’s not.

So I think it remains unsaid between the characters for a few reasons. 1. The confessions from TGGTH went down with the ship for all of them (stuff it down with some brown, bury it under the booth, kick it under the kegs). 2. Mac sees it as a twisted act of love from Dennis, so why teeter with that? 3. It’s a base plot device they continue to build off of for now that, maybe, eventually they’ll address, if we ever work back around to another Mac finale (We can see a theme of things being unburied… Or they’ll just let the insane analysts like me draw dots and connect lines and spout my shit through the rest of time.)

Though those are just my thoughts, certainly RCG will have to talk about it when they get to Seasons 11-13 on the Podcast, so that’s something to look forward to in 2.5-3 years!

[smytherines]

I went through my big Starkid era over the last like six months or so. I had seen Spies Are Forever once a few months back, liked it, but it kinda got buried by life stuff. Maybe a week or two before the tinlightenment kickstarter started up, I remembered SAF and decided to rewatch it, and seeing it again with the context of the full story just really spoke to me in a way I cannot shut up about.

I love Spies Are Forever. I love how funny and tender and gay and hilarious it is. But as much as I love SAF, I'm most grateful that I've gotten to make so many friends bonding over this show. Friends who are working so so so hard to promote the kickstarter because they love Tin Can Bros stuff as much as I do. We have had so much fun on streams, making up ridiculous inside jokes, posting sandwiches and asses in bios and the Sacred Text.

When I found out about the kickstarter I went and liked all the socials, not even thinking about funding it if I'm honest, but I wanted to share stuff at least. That has changed in a big way. I just increased my pledge today, actually!

Anyways I kept rewatching SAF and appreciating it in new ways. I watched Solve It Squad and Grunch and Wayward Guide. I started engaging with the tinlightenment posts. I asked my partner for the 54 Below digital ticket for Valentines Day. I made a new tumblr for the first time in years so I could post hyperfixations about SAF. I made a Diane Lopez-Richter meme that still makes me smile every time I see it, and now I'm just doing as much TCB promo as I possibly can because I really believe in what they're doing.

Theatre is hard. Independent theatre is so much harder. I spent 8 years in a children's community theatre company growing up. My mom did their books in exchange for my tuition. It was always a hustle to keep the doors open. I can say without question that it saved my life. It gave me a space to safely have my big ADHD feelings. Theatre gives you space to feel huge things in a safe way, and TCB provides free, fully original productions to anyone who can access youtube.

I backed the Tinlightenment kickstarter because these original shows and songs and characters are rare and precious, given to us FOR FREE in the hopes that we'll continue to choose to support all of these wonderful creators when they do these big fundraising campaigns.

Corey, Joey, and Brian have spent ten years working hard as fuck to bring us new things for our goblin brains to latch onto, and I want to see more. They have been working so hard on this kickstarter to give us SEVEN events for 200k, which is basically nonsense. An irrationally small amount of money for what they are planning to do. And I want to see them get there.

If you can't back the kickstarter, that's totally cool. Everyone has their own shit going on, nobody is going to hold it against you. We love you we love you we love you.

If you can afford to throw a few bucks towards the kickstarter, please please do it. Independent theatre only happens if we fund it.

>>> Tinlightenment <<<

(Reposting the Diane meme because I love watching her get new treats)

[revserrayyu]

2.5 Xianzhou continuance thoughts [part 1]

**SPOILER warning** for everything covering the very beginning of the mission, the conversation down in the Shackling Prison & Jiaoqiu’s hostage situation. Keep in mind that I’ve already finished the entire story at the time of writing this and did slightly mention certain events that happen later on, so if you haven’t reached the end of the 2.5 story yet, I’m gonna suggest to come back later since I wouldn’t want to ruin your own experience by spoiling anything.

So right off the bat, I’m already unfocused as to what these npcs are talking about as I spy a certain General just chilling out in the background.

Sharing a meal? With Feixiao? Oh my~ Is this a date ma’am? If so then I accept!

I love it when characters have this unspoken trust in each other, like Huaiyan tells Yukong not to worry about Feixiao leading the wolf hunt and madam already knows quite well that her friend is going to be perfectly fine. Also, yay! More Yukong!

Jing Yuan recounts a short tale about a campaign he followed Jingliu on centuries ago and bruh.. what a slap in the face this is now. After all the times the previous patch mentioned her name and even teased us by showing “her” in the 2.5 story trailer.. and ice queen really never actually shows up! I’ve been played for a fool.

I’m pleased they at least made some more sense of Hoolay being trapped on the Luofu rather than the Yaoqing. I can imagine Jiaoqiu studying this beast endlessly trying to find a cure if he was made more accessible for the Foxians to visit. You should never devote all your efforts to one single thing, no matter how admirable and if Jing Yuan also meant poison in the literal sense then being around Hoolay so often would no doubt be dangerous.

I love how this “mistake” is perfectly placed in the foreground of this frame. And between the Trailblazer and Dan Heng, why did it have to be the latter who stayed behind for all this questioning? The boy has terrible memories of this place already, I’m sure he doesn’t wish to stay here a moment longer! Although with how sweet he was being to us last patch, I’m sure he offered to accompany Jing Yuan and Lingsha here just to spare us of any lingering danger.

A bit amusing and surprising that Dan Heng himself didn’t even know his memories were restored, but I guess it does shed some light on a problem I never really thought of until now? The Astral Express trio all have hidden backgrounds that we really weren’t aware of at the start. March and the Trailblazer simply don’t remember anything about their respective pasts and by all means, Dan Heng shouldn’t have know anything either since his hatching rebirth, but thanks to Lingsha’s mentor, he did learn about everything anyway. We were just kept in the dark until all the drama happened during our first Xianzhou adventure.

We skip on over to our precious hostage and thank heavens he’s still alive.. and giving advice on how to handle children who are picky eaters. I know he’s just stalling for time but surely there must be another way aside from joking around! He’s clever though, as this advice does come back into play later on with the poison.

Bro I thought leaving Penacony behind would save us from seeing the frightening red text again. Acheron really gave us ptsd with this.

So um.. I spoke to all the people the map told me too and picked the red text options out of habit and.. well, let’s just say those three people aren’t exactly doing too great right now. Yeah yeah Hoolay told us not to do anything sneaky and it was heavily implied that he had spies keeping an eye on us, but I didn’t actually think something terrible would happen!

After that display of cruelty, I decided to play it safe so that our dear healer wouldn’t end up as a pile of bones next.. but it’s not like that choice mattered I guess since Hoolay decides to harm him anyway! A true monster indeed. How dare he. Kudos to Jiaoqiu for not screaming out in pain though because I most definitely would’ve.

Right away I figured it was gonna be this moon heart that ends up being the cause of the final Feixiao boss fight and while that ended up being half true, it instilled immense panic in me without fail. Also, a brief side note.. how many of y’all are now fans of Hoolay after seeing this foxian form of his? It ain’t my cup of tea but I understand why some might fancy it enough to say "smash"."

Oh Moze.. good, sneaky and reliable shadow man. Thank you for watching eyes.

Damn, if she gave me this kind of smile before she ended my life I’d probably say thank you.

More lore, huzzah! Her voice was especially nice here. Oh, and I might as well mention it now, but THANK GOD Feixiao was voiced for this patch! I know her trailers were dubbed in JP and there was some pointless drama revolving around Anairis recently (none of those baseless assumptions I believed either, by the way), so I was very pleased to hear our General once again. At first I feared they could’ve made her silent like they did to Argenti in previous patches, to which I would’ve been so upset considering how much this patch revolved around Feixiao compared to Argenti who was just.. sorta there in Penacony, but thinking about it now, they most likely had everything for this patch recorded ages ago. So whatever the real reason for the JP dubs was, I don’t really care as all of Feixiao’s voice actors do a lovely job anyways. Anairis seems to have returned to twitter/x as well, so I’m glad she’s doing okay now.

Aww she cares! I mean, I knew she did of course, since we’ve seen how close of a bond the Yaoqing has, but to see more of it had me kicking my feet all giddy. So yes, if anyone’s wondering, the ending scene with the three of them together after the chaotic wolf hunt ended had me in shambles. But that’s for another post.

Okay so I’m like.. 99% sure this random npc line was voiced by Camden (Aventurine’s va). It’s not even because he just so happened to say “doctor” and how it instantly reminded me of the “doctor.. you’re huge” scene but I will admit it’s a funny, little coincidence.

I’ll be honest by saying that it took me a few seconds into this flashback to even realize that the person Jiaoqiu is saving right now is indeed Feixiao herself. I know the red accessory on her ear is in plain sight but the handsome foxian healer caught my eye first, okay? Poor guy though, learning from someone else that saving this girl is basically General Yueyu’s last wish. He’s supposed to be the General’s healer but not being able to save her life when she’s so determined to stay on the battlefield to protect the Cloudpeer Telescope (whatever the heck that is) must’ve hit him hard.

Being a healer is far from easy, especially when you devote your whole life to save people only to watch them charge back into battle and see them get injured again or worse, to not see them return at all. I know it was once mentioned in his drip marketing (or somewhere else, I can’t remember right now) that Jiaoqiu once had a broken heart, but instead of that being caused by one specific person in a relationship kind of sense, I feel like it’s a result of all the deaths he’s had to witness and endure as he tried to save several others over the years. All the effort and concern he had for all his patients effectively gone in an instant time and time again without fail.

Oohh noooo.. looking back at this line now and knowing fully well that he won’t be seeing anything anytime soon hurts so bad! I’m not really certain if his lost sight is a result from the poison he took or from Hoolay’s attack, but if it was caused by the latter because he didn’t want Jiaoqiu to see his defeat, the peaceful Wardance or a cured Feixiao, then that’s so cruel.. but a clever move on Hoolay’s part if anything. Still hate it though. (90% sure it was because of the posion after looking into things more)

Moze.. why didn’t you just stay on the roof?? Or at least hide inside a shadow somewhere if you really needed to get closer to hear the conversation? Seeing him stand out in the open like that is so silly. Oh, I also forget exactly when Hoolay bit the random civilian and turned him into a Borisin amidst the many flashbacks, but I’m not at all surprised the warhead is capable of doing such a thing. Definitely introduces another level of fear into this whole wolf hunt knowing that anyone could be changed into an enemy now.

Damn.. I can’t imagine how bad must Moze feel after being forced to abandon Jiaoqiu for a second time. The regret at the end of all this must be unbearable.

Alright, I’m gonna stop here for now. With the amount of screenshots I got left, I need.. three more posts to chat about everything else.

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 7: Anagapesis

Summary:

Welcome to Miranda's hate men club!

The movie on the TV is distracting, but not enough to steal the attention of Eveline from the black camera in her hands. Even the rapidly changing pictures with different characters do not catch her eye. 

There was a time when she loved to sit in front of the TV for hours and watch the different channels. At first, she only watched children's animations - the events that could not happen in real life seemed to be terribly interesting for her, consuming her free time with ease. 

Over time, her interest shifted to films with real actors. The horror genre was her favorite, mainly because she could easily predict what was going to happen. Miranda had to stop her from watching too movies containing blood and murder after that, they intrigued her. But her attention did not stay long on them either. 

Eveline has always loved animals. Therefore, she was very happy when she found the channels describing the wild life of the different species. When the wild animals' instincts to kill were awakened, however, and she was there to watch, Eveline decided she would never go near those canals again. 

She tried watching cooking, baking, and cake-making shows with her mom and sister, but those things were way too boring for her. And just like that, her interest in the world of television was washed away almost as quickly as it had come. 

With no access to internet, which Miranda has described as too dangerous of a place, the little girl's days are dull and boring. Even the boredom ,from all the books with which she tried to cheer herself up ,had become a close friend already. The mansion feels like a prison for her young soul. 

Still, she preferred this prison rather than her previous one.

Eveline's fingers lightly brush over the screen of the camera in her hands, then they press the button to turn it on. The frames on the TV change at the same time as it lights up. 

The black-haired girl remembers this camera very well. She's had it since her early childhood, which she never managed to live the way she wanted. For her, it is not just an object, but a casket of memories that she deeply cherishes. 

The first photo reminds her of the memory that the camera is not entirely hers. Stolen from the hands of the first person who directed the lens to her, the first person Eveline saw and remembered as a superior personage demanding obedience.

The photo is simple - Miranda's long fingers spread above Evelyn, trying to get the camera back. The quality is not good, and the image itself is blurred, suggesting that the photo was taken very hastily and by inexperienced, small hands.

The following photos are so similar that if it weren't for the dates, one would think they were taken one after the other. White walls, white laboratory coats, medical gloves, white masks, the same faces covered by them. Eveline as a child. Eveline together with the well known scientists. Eveline with Miranda. Miranda. Miranda and Mia. 

The girl skips through all the photos with the brunette, unable to look at her face, to bear her kind look and concerned eyes. The former feeling of love for the woman is now replaced by indifference.

A small smile appears on her face, seeing one of her favorite people in the next few photos. When Miranda came back into her life, Eveline was horrified, not because of the scary woman in front of her, but because of the little girl next to her. She knew that Miranda did and would always prefer her daughter rather than the failed experiment that Eveline was.

She hated Eva at first, she despised her. Slowly realizing that the intentions of the mini-copy of Miranda, however, were not to totally alienate her from her creator, but on the contrary, to accept a single failure in their lives, with love, not disgust, made her absolutely adore the little girl , which she now proudly called her own sister.

The following photos are Evelyn's cheerful memories - those with her new family. Even locked in the lonely mansion - they are happy , together. 

The last photo in the little girl's old camera is of you. Without your knowledge and permission, of course, the shot only represents your back. Your face is not present, but Eveline knows very well who exactly is in the picture and what it represents. The black-haired girl is guessing her boredom will only fully die when her family is complete again. 

Only if her mother isn't so keen on the past. Even Eveline herself has given up on it. 

Someone angrily sits down on the couch next to her, almost on top of her outstretched legs, and huffs, picking up a remote and quickly flicking through a few channels.

"You're rather grumpy today,Eva" - the camera is carefully turned off and placed on the table in front of them as the girl speaks to her sister- "what's the matter? Your pets flew away?" 

"Butterflies, not pets"- Eva deeply cares about them and doesn't like it when Eveline throws jokes about them left and right like that- "and it's not them , they listen to me. I'm mad because..." 

Her last sentence is murmured, and instead of finishing it , she turns her head to a side to observe her sister's facial expressions as a question falls from her lips. 

"What is your opinion about our new babysitter?" - when Eva wants a serious conversation, she starts to sound nearly exactly like her mother. 

"Well she's definitely someone much different than the others" - she says that as both a good and a bad thing - "but i like her...she is , she is nice." 

"Even after she insulted you so casually?" - a blonde eyebrow lifts in suspicious manner. 

"She didn't mean that" - at least she hopes so - "I'm sure she was just...why are you even asking me about this?" 

Eva crosses her arms in front of her chest and purses her lips. Her head slowly lifts and shifts from side to side to be sure noone will hear her as she speaks. 

"I don't like her" - she declares - "in fact, i cannot wait for her to leave already!"

"Why?" - Eveline forces a smile as she too, looks around the room , thought she's not scared of someone hearing her talking bad about you, instead she's ready to defend you - "i know you're not keen on other people lurking in our home but at least give her a chance, she's trying." 

"Trying a bit too hard" - the girl scoffs, her tone a bit more louder than before - "Have you not seen her intentions towards mom?" 

"Intentions?" - Eveline is no stranger to the many other babysitter's tries to befriend or some even seduce Miranda into giving them her money, thought she's sure this isn't your case. 

"The other day i saw them baking together, baking!" - she repeats as if it's something unbelievable - "you know how much mom hates to have another person in the kitchen while she's there. Not to mention she was all over her" 

Eva shapes the story in her own liking, ignoring the fact that it was Miranda hoovering over you and not the opposite. Eveline listens carefully. 

"Or should i bring up the fact that she's already spending more time in mom's office than mom herself!" - the flame in Eva's eyes is no other but one born by anger - "even slamming and locking the door shut as if she owns the place , ridiculous!" 

Eveline shifts in her place as she continues to listen to the many encounters Eva has became a witness to between you and Miranda. 

"Eva, you really shouldn't spy on them like that" - the girl is older , she can quickly put the pieces together and take a wild guess in what kind of proximity has grown between you and her mother. 

"And if she hurts mom?" - she throws her hands in the air , trying to get back to the point - "i shall be there to help her" 

"Mother is literally the last person she would hurt" - in reality you are not even able to even try and injure Miranda in some way - "i think you're just a bit worried mother will focus her attention on someone else" 

Eveline wanted to say jealous instead of worried but she knows Eva will get even madder. And she's not in the mood to annoy her sister. 

"Mom's kind love is often mistaken for weakness" - Eva's voice changes , a hint of sadness, of pity, in it as she looks down at the camera left on the table - "both of us know that" 

Yes , Mia is a dark spot in both Eveline's and Miranda's memories while Eva doesn't even want to remember her long lost father or the years when her mother was still weak as the sick child Eva once was. 

Silence grows between the two girls. They look around the room, trying to avoid each other's gaze. Both lost in thoughts about you and your staying in the mansion. 

"You lost a bet" - Eva whispers, a grin twisting her lips upwards, as she shatters the lack of sound around the room. 

"I did?" - the other girl points at herself, confused. 

"You said you won't talk to her for at least a week" - it's clear for Eveline who her sister is referring to -"after she called you a freak" 

"Crazy!" - Eveline snaps , making Eva flinch - "not a freak." - she breaths in and out, with flaring nostrils - "And i don't remember making any bets with you, Eva" 

"I'm sorry..." - sometimes the blonde girl doesn't realise the weight of her words , she didn't aim to hurt her sister's feeling. In her effort to cheer her up , she managed to bring her mood even lower. 

Maybe it's the effect of being isolated from other people. Eva is not sure how to communicate outside her comfort circle - which is Eveline and mostly her mother. 

"It's nothing" - lies , Eveline can't stand that word - "freak" , however both girls bonded by sisterhood don't possess the power to be mad at eachother for long. She grabs Eva's shoulder with a glowing smile - "what do you want me to do for you?" 

"You have candy?" - Eva adored sweets, it was the first thing Miranda gave her as a food after she came back to life. From there on she demanded candy almost everyday. 

"Not at all"- Eveline shakes her head. 

Eva hums, lost in deep thinking processes of what exactly she demands. Her expression changes into a cheerful one as an idea illuminate in her head. 

"You'll let me pierce your ears!" - she exclaims. 

"Absolutely not" - her sister is quick to refuse - "no, don't even give me that look" 

"Oh, come onnn" - she grabs her sister's folded arms and tugs on them as she tries to make her look at her - "we've wanted matching earrings for like forever! And mom is always too busy to take you to get your ears pierced." 

Eveline gives a glare at Eva's shining golden earrings , they are simple, with not much of decorating, in order for them to not be heavy. Then her eyes shift to her begging expression and the puppy eyes she likes to make when she's in a need of something. Eveline surrenders. 

"Fine" - she stands up to get her camera , Eva immediately following after her - "just promise me you know what you're doing" 

"Of course i do! Let's go!" - and just like that she drags her sister out of the living room up the stairs to the bathroom where she can prepare the needed stuff. 

In reality, Eva has no idea what she's doing. 

*****

Miranda does not exist. 

Everyone has a bit of information about themselves posted on the internet, wanted or unwanted. Everyone but Miranda. Not a single photo, site, link, social media profile or anything at all matches with her name. Absolutely nothing.

Miranda does not exist. Nor do her children in that regard as you can't find any information for them as well. You're desperate, in urgent need to find something to use against that vile woman. 

You're not only desperate but hopeless as Miranda has everything about her covored, even after trying a few other browsers the results remain the same. It's like the woman has disappeared from this earth. Or she never lived on it in the first place. 

In some final attempts to turn the tables and make a winning move in Miranda's game , you decide to search the name of the woman she has been chatting with. Her mysterious affair, Mia Winters. 

Lucky for you a few things pop up. Firstly you go through her social media, she's not a open woman as she rarely posts. But you do note pictures taken with her friend or husband. Deciding this doesn't interest you enough, you go through the other shared information about her. 

Around 4 years ago she had found herself in a terrible accident along with a family of four in Louisiana. The mystery of their death is yet to be discovered. The article says she managed to run away together with her husband, who came to rescue her. Rumour has it the family was actually a group of criminals, kidnappers and murderers. 

All kind of theories , as the main reason for the death is announced as - "poisoning caused by hydrogen sulfide gas erupting in the ground". Nobody is believing that. 

Someone... had obviously covered up the murders.

Your head begins to hurt from all the comments and theories about the incident. People who were clearly not involved in the whole thing discussing it like it was thier job. Sick. 

The case , however, is long closed. And by what you know - Mia is healthy and happy, though you can't decide if you like her , judging by her chats with Miranda that you saw. You don't want to take sides , especially the blonde woman's one, but you can't see Mia in a good light - not after acknowledging she has a husband. And she still runs after Miranda like a lost puppy. 

The effect she has on women must be insane, you don't even want to think about it. Especially in a situation like yours. 

The laptop in front of you closes and you unfold your legs from your sitting position on the bed. You head to your closet so you can get changed for the day. 

After changing from your pajamas, you quickly exist your room and run downstairs for another day with this weird family. 

.

.

.

There is not a single painting in Miranda's mansion that expresses something different than a beautiful portrait or a full body drawing of a woman. Her neglection of men is on another level, it's almost funny. 

Since the rooms were empty as you stepped down, possibly too early for the kids or Miranda herself to be up, you decided to just walk around and pay needed attention to smaller details in the decoration. 

The mansion's interior is absolutely fabulous. And those paintings are more than alluring. They stay perfectly on the walls , illuminating the atmosphere. You go through every single one of them , carefully reading the names and authors on the small metal boards under them. It feels like an art museum. 

One specific painting catches your eye. The woman in it sits on a throne, way too big for her body, as she stands surrounded by men , covored in black and red clothing. The painting is dark , as the only light in it falls from the windows and the angle that is showed plays a role of an obstacle for the observer , covering the woman's face in pure darkness. In one hand she holds a bloody sword, in the other a half broken crown. Her hair is the most interesting thing in the whole painting- white as divine snow and fluffy clouds. A lifeless body lies unmoving at the base of her legs , towered by her creepy shadow. 

'The forgotten heir' - is the name of the painting, its author is a french man from centuries ago, his full name lost in time,as only his first name is attached to the metal board under the painting. 

"Devine, isn't she?" - you flinch upon hearing Miranda's voice somewhere behind you. She's still a bit too intimidating for you, but you don't get as surprised as before when she sneaks up around you, hoping to easily scare you. 

"Beautiful, indeed" - you agree with her , while allowing her to get closer , her gaze , however stays fixed on the drawn woman - "as well as your other paintings" 

"Thank you, i do choose nicely when buying" - her visible preference for women in all of those paintings is hard to miss - "each one of them has an individual,fascinating story." 

"And this one?" - you point at the faceless woman on the throne. Miranda smiles. 

"My favourite" - funny enough it's the one you liked the most too.

"Her story, i mean" - Miranda's lips drop down, as well as her good mood - "what's the forgotten heir's story?" 

She steps forward with her head slightly bowed, her hair falling from her neck to her back like an autumnal waterfall of leaves as her silky touch of fingers trails ghostly across the canvas of the painting.

"Back in the days It wasn't uncommon for kings to have affairs and along with them many, many bastards" - her voice starts to sound like a lullaby, more melancholic than ever - "when it came to queens having those problems, however, the case was different" 

You observe closely, the slow movements of her fingers along the broken crown, the excitement in her eyes as she watches the painting from beneath her eyelashes. She looks more fond of the painting than any other furniture in this mansion. 

"She was unlucky" - Miranda's chin slightly lifts up to point at the mysterious woman - "to be born a woman , from her mother's sinful acts on top of that. An unwanted child receives no love. An unloved heir receives no crown." 

"But she has one..." - you whisper, your finger lifting to point at the woman's right hand. Confusion overfills you - if she desired the crown, then why break it? 

"Left for dead on the streets, still as a weak child , she had only one goal in her life. Revenge." - Miranda ignores your questions, continuing her story with little to no care if you are listening or not - "dead people don't talk , and she died the moment they threw her out of the royal castle- her mother killed her, getting rid of her mistake. That's the most fascinating thing about her - she took what was originally hers without murmuring a word." 

"How?" - the blonde woman somehow managed to completely pull your interest in her story, locking it between her soft words. 

"Some say she joined a cult" - Miranda laughs, and you do as well, though not completely getting her point - "in reality she convinced a group of criminals to follow and serve her. The reason was simple - she saw them not as people but as monsters, just like everybody else, but she accepted them for what they were. And the most important - among them monsters she was the biggest one." 

The strongest, the most cruel, the most blood thirsty. Miranda is almost describing death herself with those adjectives. It's clear she feels a strong connection to this woman , a connection you cannot understand. 

"Forgotten heir , silent death, lady of blood" - she counts all of the woman's nicknames on her fingers - "her names long lost in history, along with her story. Pity , she managed to kill her mother , father and siblings at the age of 18 , gaining back her throne." 

"She was real?" - you don't notice when you run short of breath, and your question comes out rushed and hitched. 

"Of course she was" - Miranda stares at you with a grimace, as if it was a crime to ask such a foolish question - "she's a big inspiration for me" 

"You clearly like her a lot" - the painting itself is the biggest one in the mansion, the frame is yellow golden with refined, precise elements. A clear favourite - "but why?" 

"She was... everything i couldn't be." - Miranda takes her time to form her sentence the way she wants it , you've noticed long ago she likes to do that before speaking, so her words can come out perfectly lined with eachother - "when i found myself in a similar situation. That was long ago, of course." 

"Like what?" - you laugh - "you were in a cult?" 

A sharp glare makes you cough and straighten your back. She really can't take a joke. Point taken,Miranda. 

"Not a cult" - her tone is surprisingly not that harsh - "more of a religion..." 

Miranda's eyebrows furrow and her last words die silently the moment your phone rings. The awful sound rudely interrupting the moment between you. You quickly pull out your phone, surprised to see Philip's name on the screen. 

You give Miranda a begging look and she sighs in annoyance, waving her hand in the air, and with that you get your permission to pick up. 

"Hellooo, darling!" - he exclaims, then he quickly jumps into a question, not giving you time to react to his unusual cheerful mood - "are you free this weekend? Because i am , and I'm considering taking you out , how's that?" 

Unfortunately for you, the decision is not yours to make. One shake of Miranda's head reveals to you that you won't be going. She's busy which automatically means you are as well. 

"I can't..." - you begin to excuse yourself - "i have work, and you know I-"

"Oh come on! That old woman can't keep you on a leash forever" - good point, you hate to disappoint him again. But in desperate times , you need to make some choices that might not be always pleasing. 

"I'm sorry, maybe next time?" 

You hear a scoff, and for some reason you search up Miranda's eyes for support. She steps in closer , making sure you know she's there for you. 

"It's always next time" - his voice slowly fills with poisonous anger - "and when it's that going to fucking happen?" 

"No need to curse" - now that he's being louder, you're sure Miranda can easily overhear your conversation. And her messing in your are failing relationship is the last thing you want. 

"I'm so sick of you" - his words strike your heart like metal blades. 

"Philip-" 

"You get mad when we're not spending time together but when i propose to do something together you always refuse!" - his screaming is now uncontrollable - "well I'm sick of it!" 

"Just calm down" - you're not fond of his fast aggression trait, at all , he's always doing or staying stuff he doesn't mean and then he's sorry for them. In the past he at least apologised. - "please, just-"

"You know what?" - he scoffs again - "fuck this, i know how to have fun on my own" 

The line cuts off just before you can talk back to him. You grip the phone harshly in your hand while biting your lips in anger. Perhaps you would let the tears gathering in your eyes and the burning feeling in your throat roam free in your offended state if Miranda wasn't right next to you.  

You know she already doesn't like you, you don't want to let her see you on your lowest. 

"Are you alright?" - the last thing you imagine her doing is asking you this. Caring about you. 

"It's nothing" - your lies burn your tongue - "my boyfriend is just-"

"Ungrateful?" - she suggests. 

"That , he is" - you confirm. 

"But that's not the thing that's making you this..." - her eyes quickly scan your body, from top to bottom - "vulnerable..." 

"It's not" - you agree , as if enchanted by her words - "I'm just scared he'll easily replace me" 

"Why not replace him first?" - a tempting suggestion, but not for you. 

"If i do , if i decide to break up with him" - you pause, gathering your thoughts and connecting them into the right sentence - "all those years I've spent with him will seem pointless" 

"But if he does it then it's alright.." - Miranda murmurs , there's something in her voice that you can't name , something personal.- "tell me , darling, is he cheating on you?" 

She thinks that's the reason you can't let go? Is that really the reason? Is yours even valid at this point? 

"No" - you quickly say , however unsurenes changes your answer in the flash of an eye - "i mean - I'm not sure. He's always so distant with me, like he doesn't really care but i know...i hope he does." 

"And if you could get your answer" - she moves closer to you - "would you do it?" 

"To know if he's cheating?" - Miranda nods in response - "it's not possible to-"

"Hypothetically" - she cuts you off - "would you, darling?" 

Your answer is honest. 

"Yes. Absolutely yes." 

"Good" - she's pleased. 

A cry cuts through the thin , cold air of the mansion with ease, ending any shared words between the two of you. A cry devoid of pain but eager for help. 

It's practically almost impossible to react as quick as Miranda did. To turn on her heel immediately after hearing her daughter calling for her. Like an instinct. 

Only a few seconds later Eveline comes running into the room , followed by very clearly worried Eva. They are both panting as they stop thier hurried steps in front of Miranda. 

The girls both stare at you, Eva grimaces but her eyes shift at the same time with Eveline's towards Miranda. You're not needed in their situation. 

"Evie , what's wrong?" - her soft voice manages to convince the black haired girl to move her hands away from the sides of her face , allowing Miranda's palms to grab her cheeks - "what's that? Are you hurt? Show me."

She's careful, yet her something in her eyes shatters upon seeing her daughter's bleeding ears. A needle is still attached to one of them. 

"What have you done?" - she sounds concerned, anger has no place in the current situation. She gently removes the needle from her wounded flesh and kisses her forehead. Then she looks towards her other daughter - "Eva?" 

"How did you-" - she flinches , her shoulders roll back and she clenches her jaw, bristling like a cat - "in my defence , she-" 

"I'm not mad , just -" - she shallows , her words lost in her throat, at a moment like this Miranda is forced to choose a side between her daughters , she hates to lecture them - "how could you do that?" 

"She lost a bet , she said it was alright" - Eva has the coping mechanism to blame others for her mistakes, though she quickly realises thas - "she- , we just wanted matching earrings, that is all" 

"You could have just asked me" - Miranda's gentle hands stroke Eveline's hair , in an attempt to bring her comfort. 

"We did and you said-"

"Eva." - the woman has never used such a serious tone with her younger daughter. It makes both you and her flinch in suprise. 

"I'm sorry" - Miranda tilts her head towards Eveline, hinting that the apology should be for her , Eva follows her lead with a shy voice - "I'm sorry, Eveline" 

It doesn't take long for them to make up, especially with Miranda clear promise to take Eveline to get her ears pierced. Miranda's attention in talking to you, however, slowly gets lost around the mansion as you walk back to your room.

.

.

.

Later that day Miranda comes to you with an unusual request. The zipper of her dress is down and she needs an extra pair of hands to pull it up. You find it difficult to understand for why exactly she decided to come to you, though no complains slip from your lips as you do , in fact, help her. 

"Where are you going tonight?" - you ask in curiosity, grabbing a hold of her perfectly styled hair and carefully placing it aside. 

"Work" - again, her formal clothing is a little bit too much for work. You sigh. 

"Just work?" 

"Curious, are we?" - your fingers tingle in desire to touch her bare skin. Her back is weird. You can't decide if the black , curved lines on her skin are tattoos, or just a condition she can't handle. It fits her, on its own unusual way. 

You find yourself allured by it , by her , by your desire to explore with touch , with fingertips. 

Black suits her. Her dress is long, almost touching the floor, the bottom slightly flared, but hugging every curve her body snugly. The fabric looks soft , it shines in the light, and the pattern is intricate. The neckline of the dress is low, showing off her collar bones and a bit of cleavage. You can't miss Miranda's multiple earrings and necklaces, perfectly complimenting the look. 

She looks more than gorgeous and you're too sacred to admit that. 

You slowly drag the zipper up , she stands even taller with her heels. Not something you mind but it definitely makes it harder for you to fully pull the zipper up to her nape. 

"Thank you" - she whispers, then she processes to explain how she'll be late and how the dinner is already prepared in the kitchen. Her usual mom stuff. 

"Have a nice evening, Miranda" - you wonder if certain Mia is going to accompany her. But you reject that idea, it's not your right to think about this. 

Miranda doesn't come back home for the whole night. You know that because for some reason - you waited for her. 

***** 

Your phone rings again, for the third time in the past hour. Philip's name written on the screen. It's surprising how his pride broke just a few days after your last conversation.

You decide to pick up, but your gaze doesn't leave Miranda, who is currently listening to Eva talking about something that deeply intrigues her curious soul. 

They are in the same room right across from you, but far enough away in the other corner so that you can't really hear their conversation. 

"What do you want?" - you asks with a sharp voice, phone glued to your ear. 

"Can you talk?" - your boyfriend nervously, but surprisingly politely , questions you - "is this a good time?" 

"Does it matter?" - you snap at him - "speak." 

"Look um..." - he hesitates , you can clearly hear his nervous footsteps in the background, guessing he's taking laps around the room - "can we meet up and talk? It's important." 

"I've told you already - I'm busy" 

"I don't want to discuss this over the phone, darling please-" - he sounds really desperate, but your little talk with Miranda boosted your confidence a little, or maybe a little bit too much. 

"You lost your privilege of wanting and deciding already" - you can almost see his face from the other side of the phone, sense his shock. You know Miranda is smiling at you, as that burning feeling of being watched makes your heart pump harder - "and don't call me that" 

'Darling' is another privilege he lost during your last conversation together. 

"Fine" - he surrenders - "don't you dare complain about me not warning tho-"

"I don't have all day , Philip" - in reality, you aren't even busy at the moment. 

"Last night i went to have a drink with the boys" - he unsurely begins to explain, a hint of fear in his voice, of regret - "and i might have had a few too many glasses but there was this woman-" 

"Did you cheat on me?" - you strike the question straight up like a fast moving bullet.

"I was drunk!" - he defends himself - "but gods, this woman - she , she looked exactly like you i-" 

"I can't believe you've done that" - you grab your forehead, lowering your head along with the volume of your voice - "again, Philip, fucking again" 

"You're not listening to me" - he sounds absolutely pathetic, begging for you to let him explain - "she was like , like your twin. At least during last night, in the morning...that was a complete different woman , darling" 

"And why are you telling me this?" - you snap at him - "haven't i suffered enough because of you?" 

"Because she knew about you.I never mentioned you to her , but she- , god..." - your boyfriend's next works are maybe the only thing he has said to far that sounds so certain - "she told me I'm a fool for cheating on you, she told me i don't... deserve you, at all." 

"You don't" - there goes everything, all those years or friendship and later on romance. You can't even bare the sound of his voice anymore - "you truly don't" 

"I'm sorry" - an apology without change is manipulation. Philip is wrong. He's not sick of you, you are sick of him. 

You despise the poison he's constantly pumping in your veins. Not anymore. 

"We're over , Philip" - you hang up immediately, leaving him no time to react, let alone say something in his defence. 

You might look unbothered, but you are almost certain you can feel your heart shattering. It's a bit too much , the pain and regret. The unsureness and sadness building up in your eyes.

As you run out of the room , Miranda can't help the cunning smile urging to awaken on her face, still pretending to pay attention to her daughter. Her gaze follows you until you completely disappear from her sight. 

Not for long , she hopes. 

-

Anagapesis- No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved.

[noonmutter]

bit of a rant about Mists of Pandaria Remix below, skip this if you don't want to read what's mostly just me venting about some stupid shit the team did years ago. this involves minor spoilers about plot points that are largely irrelevant to the overall story but if you wanna be surprised you'd prolly be mad at me for mentioning

so I'm running through MOP Remix just like a huge chunk of WoW players right now, right

and this was the expac that'd come out before the expac I joined the game in, which was WoD. The Tanaan patch of WoD. I joined during an objectively awful part of WoW. People had a habit of singing MoP's praises (at least for the story) a lot in comparison to WoD, although the bar wasn't very hard to clear.

So I played MoP's story as a character that vastly outleveled it and didn't have to gear up and grind my way through it, and I had the same general experience as most new players did, which was constantly wondering what I was missing because a few fairly significant story beats were relegated to happening in novels or just had cinematics that weren't accessible in the game anymore, shit like that

and I remember actively avoiding the main alliance v. horde plot because I really didn't care, I wanted to see what the Shaohao stuff was about, because man those cinematics were gorgeous (and at the time, unique to MoP; they hadn't gotten lazy and reused the art style for Diablo 3 where it didn't belong yet). I wanted to know what those were about and how they expanded! And gosh, that was great and rewarding! Wow!

so in Remix, I'm running ALL the storylines, because every quest rewards a buttload of bronze and stuff, and gimme gimme gimme, I wanna collect all the cool shit.

but oh. my GOD.

I can't even evaluate the story from a watsonian perspective, where I look at the actions the characters take and their political ramifications and whether X person made the right call or if Y could've stopped this other thing if they'd just found the magic doodad or whatever. I simply can't. It's all written in such a hamfisted, "we don't understand politics or what actually causes systemic hatred or bigotry or the general concept of moral nuance" way that I cannot evaluate the characters because the writing is just not good enough to stay immersed in it when big plot points hit.

I can't sit here and compare Jaina's stupid murderous kirin tor rampage with Garrosh's Anything At All because I'm too busy thinking about all the ways both of them were poorly written into their respective story beats.

The Alliance and Horde stories do not depict the same events. An Alliance player sees the Horde do things that Horde players never even hear about, and vice versa. And it's not minor stuff. Alliance players do not experience an Alliance airstrip being built in one part of the Jade Forest, where they take Pandaren slaves--including children--to do it. We don't see it, we don't hear about it, it's never referenced even as a throwaway line later on. It's just a thing that happens completely in a vacuum. When I encountered this event in the Horde storyline, it was so unknown to me as an Alliance player that I went looking for the air strip and was surprised to actually find it accessible on the map. I fully expected it to actually not exist, phased or some shit, if you weren't Horde. That's how divergent it was. And that's bad. That's not like 'ooh wow what a twist,' that's 'who the fuck directed this?'

Remix really shines a spotlight on how immature the writing in MoP got, because it shows a fundamental lack of comprehension of the basic concept of equivalence. We didn't need to see both sides take slaves in order to accept that they were both equally morally wrong for perpetuating a racially-motivated war; they've already been doing awful shit to one another for years prior to the expansion that was good enough to showcase it. We especially did not need to not see our own side take slaves in order to stir up more hate against the other faction.

If that event needed to be included in the game so bad, it absolutely should've been something Alliance players found too. We should've been faced with the idea that xenophobia, zealotry, and hatred were not relegated to The Other Guy and that the guys who looked like us and wore our colors could be monstrous bastards, too. It would've played beautifully into the general theme of Pandaria.

But that writing team failed to do that at every opportunity, and given how beautiful and poignant other chunks of the story (the parts largely divorced from AvH) were, I can't think it's because the team itself was incompetent. It stinks of executive meddling and the kind of mentality that led to shit like the "build an entire expansion just to justify this cool image I have of Sylvanas burning down Teldrassil" incident.

It's just so disappointing to go through it and see it and be able to point a big neon arrow at it and go "this right here was a dev team actively encouraging its player base to actually hate each other" which is very different from encouraging competition. Even though the overarching theme of Pandaria was learning to let things go and swallow your pride before it destroys everything you care about, the actual plot frequently made the players experiencing it hate each other as people.

and I think that might very well have been an underlying point of Remix. because man does it make me appreciate the current story team even more than I already did.

[thewertsearch]

Asks Comp 13/4

I think he's behind that door. The platform bears his symbol, and it's his final chance to show up in-game.

The best theory I have is that Bilious Slick is the god of Sgrub, and he only appears to a party of Players who have truly proven themselves. Given that Sgrub's endgame involves the creation of a universe, his role probably relates to this in some way.

Maybe he's the one who grants the Players the 'seed' - or whatever else is mechanically required to alchemize a universe.

The thought has occurred to me, too! I've been skimming some old posts while writing asks, and a couple of things have stood out to me.

We still don't know who the pen pal is. I'm still convinced he has something to do with Grandpa Harley, and my best guess is that he's someone who contains Grandpa as an alchemical component.

The session monitor in Skaianet's lab has a new meaning now. Every single one of those sessions could spawn a universe. And it's been implied that every planet with intelligent life will eventually spawn Sburb sessions. If you do the maths, it's clear that each universe should spawn billions of sessions. Just how many 'children' does each universe produce?

Ooh, yes, let's think about the implications of all this on my 'sonas!

If we assume that the kidsona was on comic-canon Earth, then she's in the universe created by the Zodiac trolls. The universe that she and the trollsona could create could be a completely new one!

...that is, if they create a universe at all. There's nothing saying you have to use that grist on a universe, and they might have other plans...

I was actually thinking about Tinkers when I made that post!

I read Worm a couple of years ago. In retrospect, it would also have made pretty good liveblogging material, although probably not quite as good as Homestuck. There's some great stuff in Worm, but a lot of what I really like about it doesn't show up until close to the end.

I initially assumed that the Psychic Double Reacharound was a contingency plan that she'd prepared earlier, since she couldn't possibly have come up with something so elaborate in the heat of the moment, while bleeding out on the ground.

But then I remembered she came up with the Sollux/Mind Honey plan seemingly on the spot, and now I'm not so sure. God damn, Vriska.

This is genuinely super flattering. I hope the inconsistency isn't too much of an issue - and, yes, I note the irony of saying this immediately after a four-month hiatus!

If was clear from early on that things in Homestuck weren't always what they seemed. Hell, sometimes they're not even what we're shown.

We have to assume some of what we're being told is true, or else we wouldn't have a story - but we always have to remember who's telling the story.

[Lol I love this fic. lots of **GIANT** spoilers tho, just because of the nature of the fic. For example, big ones starting at 16, 55 and 57 - C]

Recommended, and does apparently contain spoilers - but this is one I'm particularly looking forward to.

It's kind of a funny question, isn't it?

From Davesprite's perspective, he did change the future - his future. John died, but he 'changed things' - and now John's alive, even though he was dead 'before'.

But if you zoom out a little, you can see that this change was predetermined by the Alpha Timeline, which always depended on these events. Davesprite changed the first-order future - but the meta-future was always set in stone.

The Medium's timeline is so weird, isn't it? Its retroactive existence is difficult to puzzle out.

I don't think you could see the history of your Land by travelling back before you entered. All physical evidence of that history is there, but it's generated in a single instance when you Enter, and can't be accessed. It's analogous to read-only-memory.

After all, John, Rose and Dave are in the past with respect to LOJADE, but they're never going to see its 'history' - and Jade's Entry isn't going to insert it into the Medium retroactively. It won't have been 'there all along' when John was flying around earlier on his jetpack - it'll only ever have been there from Jade's Entry onwards.

As for getting into Earth's past, I think Karkat had it right, when he described the kids' original universe as 'a set of points to choose from'. You can't get into Earth's past by time-travelling around the Medium, but that doesn't really matter, since you can open portals into any point in its history, as long as you have the gear.

They're fascinating questions, aren't they?

Pre-Exile, she was the Tradition Wrangler - a Prospitian lawyer who struggled to interpret the Medium's archaic laws!

DD is a man of action, and I'm sure he approves of any Player who acts decisively themselves.

Plus, I'm sure he can emphasize with Aradia's situation. After all, it sucks to be bossed around by someone whose motivations make no goddamn sense half the time.

Common Terezi W.

True - she didn't need to hold her there for long. The laser pointer thing is a better analogy, blinding her almost instantly. I don't think it's any less fucked-up - it's more like a different flavor of fucked-up.

That's a pretty impressive robotics feat for Equius, actually. I wonder what Aradiabot is actually made of?

Tracing the source of alchemy gear is one of my favorite Homestuck 'minigames'.

Hivebent's art is fantastic! I really see why the comic blew up around this time. It's really coming into its own, stylistically. Of particular note is the art of Make Her Pay, and the art accompanying Aradia's final monologue. I can't wait to see more!

Gamzee is just too high to be rendered in a less symbolic manner.

Sollux is broken, and probably another mutant. The Sgrub trolls don't seem surprised by his level of power - but considering their circle includes other absurd espers like Aradia and Vriska, they probably aren't the best people to ask about what's normal.

Damn, I wish we could have seen more of Alternia. I know some of the spin-offs dig into this, but I hope we get more in canon, too.

Terezi's dream self is blind, because that's the version of herself she identifies most with. There's very little doubt in my mind that your dream self would reflect your self-perception in other ways, too. Skaia is clearly an ally - thank you, king.

You could imagine a Player whose dream self changes after they realize - or conversely, a Player whose dream self cracked their eggy loking thign. I'd be surprised if there weren't many fanfictions where this is a plot point - and depending on how things shake out in the comic itself, I'm not ruling it out.

In asking about magic, Kanaya really does start to sound like the young child that she is. It's easy to forget, but heartbreaking when you remember.

A few people have talked about this, so I added all of my 'immediate reaction' posts to the liveblog tag! I think it got them all - other than LOLCAT, which I missed and will add now - but if there are others, let me know!

I guess Matespritship isn't explicitly described in terms of romantic love. It's described as a close analogue of human romance, which is 'rooted in strongly positive emotions'. I've been assuming, based on that, that Red Romance is effectively interchangeable with the human concept of romantic love - but I suppose that's not necessarily the case.

I do think you're hitting on a very good point, here, too, which is that the quadrant system itself is described as something that trolls need. I think the 'need' for these categories is enforced, artificially, for the benefit of the Empire. It wouldn't be the first institution to pull something like this.

Either way, it'll be interesting to see how the troll/human ships end up shaking out. It's going to be a challenge to merge their respective relationship frameworks. The best solution, of course, is for them to experience their own relationships without any cultural baggage, but I don't think I'm just speaking for myself when I say that that's easier said than done!

[house-of-musez]

I rarely share my thoughts online, for a variety of reasons, but i feel like in lieu of absolutely no recent events, I should share a writing rule I know of.

It's called the 'rule of imitation' (I don't know if that's what it's actually called, it's just what I know it as). It appears a lot in children's cartoons, and oftentimes we don't even notice it's there since it's sort of a behind the scenes thing.

The idea is simple: You can't show something bad if a small child could see it and reasonably imitate it. Thus, it's fine for a character to be hit by a falling anvil, but not by a friend swinging a baseball bat. It's fine for a character to be shot out of a canon, but not to be shot with a gun.

A child isn't going to have access to a canon or an anvil, but they *could* have access to a baseball bat from the shed, or a gun from dad's bedside table. Thus, the more 'mundane' and less dangerous actions are actually *more* harmful to display, as they could lead to children doing those things and actually hurting someone.

I think this rule of imitation applies to a lot of other things too, mainly: Internet threats.

If someone says they hope another person gets stung by a thousand bees after falling in a vat of radioactive honey, you have to consider that you can't imitate that. It's not a threat because it is very clearly not an event or action that would be able to be replicated in the real world.

If someone says they hope another person dies a painful death involving a car that's covered in hammers that explodes a few times, causing hammers to fly everywhere, you have to consider that you can't imitate that. It's not a threat because it is obvious that no one would be able to do that in the real world, and thus remains in the realm of fiction.

Neither of those are death threats since the action itself is so wild and improbable that it is clear it is not meant to be a serious call to action. What *would* be a serious call to action is someone saying that they hope all [insert slur here] get SAed and stabbed, since that is an entirely possible and probable action for someone to do. *That's* a death threat.

Reporting someone for that should be taken seriously, as it is a genuine call for someone's death. Pursuing legal action towards one of my own, entirely made up examples (radioactive bees, car covered in hammers) would be ridiculous, since anyone with common sense could tell that it's not really a threat.

Of course, i feel the need to make sure @photomatt knows that this is in no way related to predstrogen, because I worry that if they assume that this *is* a jab at them I may get suspended, as that is apparently a valid response in Matt Mullenweg's eyes. Again, just a random thought that popped into my head and i felt the need to share with the good people of Tumblr, and nothing more.

[fish-bowl-2]

Ok. I had this ask in my inbox for the longest time. I am so sorry anon. I tried to answer it earlier, but I was on vacation with only access to Tumblr mobile, which is a major pain in the ass when it comes to editing drafts. TWICE all my answers got deleted. Here I am for round three but on a desktop computer, so I can finally set these thoughts down worry-free.

Admittedly, it is kind of hard to rank the kids from favorite to least favorite. Obviously my favorites are the Eds, but I see value in all the characters, and can name any number of episodes where I find one or the other entertaining. One of the benefits of having a small tight-knit cast. I hope you don't mind if I just rank my thoughts on them alphabetically.

Jimmy: His inclusion within the show is super interesting to think about. Not that I am an expert on the social climate at the time, but there are way more diverse male characters in children's media now than there seemed to be back then. Not that Jimmy's depiction is perfect, but I find him very likable and entertaining in a way that I laugh with him more then AT him. If there is anything about his person that is made fun of is his tendency to be accident prone, rather than his effeminacy directly. I think people undervalue the amount of good lines he has too. He often says stuff that totally catches me off-guard lmao.

Johnny: Of all the kids, he is the one I think the least about. I admit to finding him kind of grating, but I think that is VERY intentional seeing how the other characters react to him on the show. He still has fantastic moments though. Episodes that come to mind are "Dear Ed", "Rent-a-Ed", and "Shoo-Ed".

Kevin: I think he is SERIOUSLY funny. There are so many moments where his deadpan humor just gets to me. I think I've laughed out loud the most with his comebacks. I like the approach of depicting him too. He plays the 'bully' role for the Eds, but that doesn't make him an entirely unlikeable muscle-head. If anything he appears more unimpressed and suspicious of events that transpire. I like that 60 Minutes detail in the pitch bible a lot not only because it is funny, but it establishes something interesting about his paranoia. Especially emphasized in the episode "See No Ed". I also really like his friendship with Rolf. In a lot of other kid shows it would have been an easy choice to have Kevin bully the "foreign" kid, but instead they are buddies. Really emphasizes how targeted the Eds ostracization is.

Lee: I really like her! I think she might be my personal favorite Kanker. I like how unashamed her aura is, and her design is my favorite (granted I think all the Kankers have good designs). I am going to repeat this a lot with her sisters, so I might just say it here: I really do wish there was more exploration into their personalities. I think this is my biggest gripe with the show as a whole. It feels at some point the team couldn't really figure out what to do with them, which is disappointing. (I think they have been quoted to say as much but I cannot vouch for that. If anyone desires, feel free to pull up a source or link).

Marie: I feel she is the Kanker with the LEAST defined personality, which makes her difficult to analyze. With Lee, even though there isn't anything extensive to go by, I can inference that she seems to be the "oldest" of her sisters, and takes on a leadership role in a reflection of her Ed-of-interest. May is definitely the "baby" of the girls. Somewhat ditzy and sensitive, which gets her pushed around. As for Marie, I guess she is jealous??? (maybe this is an unfortunate reality to being the middle sibling </3) She doesn't really share much with Double Dee like Eddy and Ed do with Lee and May which makes this even more difficult to pin down. To me she seems to mostly share a connection to him in design. I kind of subscribe to the interpretation that she is avid in "street smarts" in comparison to Edd's "book smarts", but that more of a headcanon than something confirmed by the show. I don't know, I am confused by her a bit. Because of this lack of...anything, I find it interesting that so many 30+ year old 90s kids are so enamored by her. This is definitely the unfortunate side-effect of being a fictional goth/emo aligned girl.

May: Of all the Kankers, she is the one I feel has received the most defined personality throughout the show's evolution. By no means is it a lot, but it feels like she is way more than just a "dumb ditz" stereotype to match Ed. I think this is why so many fans connect to her, and it feels like she has grown pretty popular with the fandom on here as a result.

Nazz: She's chill. I like her. She doesn't have much of a dynamic personality to go off of though. Honestly, even less than the Kankers who have that whole nasty, gross girl thing going on that makes them really entertaining and relatable. I do like how that in the earlier seasons she is depicted as a bit of a tomboy/skater girl. It is a lot more unique than making her simply a "popular girl" stereotype, and actually makes it understandable why all these preteen boys would be all over her. She genuinely seems cool to hang out with. A lot of the time she appears to be amicably hanging out with Kevin, which I think is sweet too.

Rolf: Who doesn't love Rolf lol? I've gotten into arguments with my sister on whether his depiction on the show is politically incorrect or not. I don't think he is by any means a squeaky-clean impression, but I don't find find it to the level of any kind of cancellable offense, or by any means racist! I think the fact that his upbringing is inspired by Danny's experience coming from an Italian family emphasizes a bit of acknowledged sympathy to the character. Not all the neighborhood kids understand him, but that doesn't ostracize him. If anything, he seems to be seen as a bit of an elder or "sage" if you will, in the eyes of the other kids. I think that element is super interesting and deserves to get talked about more.

Sarah: I think she gets way too much hate. Of course she is super annoying and mean, but that is kind of the package of the role she plays. If she was super nice all the time there wouldn't be a lot of stakes for the Eds. I think her bitter vendetta against Eddy is so funny. Her friendship with Jimmy is great as well. I really love strong girl characters being protectors of a boy character. It is such a good take on an otherwise overly used trope.

[mmkin]

Fishman Family (Siren's Shark ch 11) ARLONG!!!!

New chapter of the Siren's Shark now up... link on A03 and also under the cut and the lovely screencap of Arlong.

Plenty of fishman goodness for us fishman lovers!

Content warning - a bit of smut, some slavery and mention/flashbacks of traumatic events, child abuse.

XI

Quite a pivotal chapter, and also quite fun to write. Whoo!

o0o0o0o

Somewhere in the North Blue, many years ago…

Nitirb Island was a land of harsh, cold winters. Those with enough money and food could weather these long, bitter months with ease, but those with fewer resources felt the bite of cold and hunger much more deeply.

Yolande had noticed years ago that the cold didn't seem to affect her quite as deeply as it did her fellow residents at the orphanage, but over the last year, her hunger became much deeper. She'd noticed that her wristbands and hems crept a few inches past her wrists and ankles over the last few months. After being a 'little shrimp' for as long as she could remember, she would have been glad for this growth spurt if it wasn't for the aching hunger that the simple fare of the orphanage failed to quell.

The nuns would tell her and the other children that if not for the orphanage, they’d starve to death, so they should be grateful for the gruel and root vegetables they got.

It was hard to be grateful, though, Yolande mused as she looked at the children around her. None of them asked to be here. Orphaned through death, illness, or the neglect or abandonment of relatives, they were too young or disabled to support themselves. Why hold it against us, Yolande wanted to ask. She'd asked once, years ago when she was much smaller. A harsh slap from the nun was the response she'd gotten, and she had never asked again, even though it was on the tip of her tongue many times when the nuns lectured about gratitude, charity, or how the gods had a plan for everyone, even orphans.

She quickly scarfed down her bowl of gruel. As bland as it was, she still wanted more. Her stomach continued to growl for a bit, but none of the people sitting near her heard. Hands moved in furtive gestures as the children spoke to one another in sign language. She was the only one in the group who could hear, but she’d learned sign and in exchange she acted like their ears, replaying information to them that they would have had no access to otherwise.

“Tonight,” one of the boys signed. She nodded briefly.

“We’ll have it ready for you,” he said.

She replied with a thumbs up as her stomach rumbled again. If she'd been a meaner person, she'd have snatched a bowl from someone else and helped herself to the contents, as the bullies did here. Fuck, she couldn't wait for tonight.

It was an almost moonless night, with only a sliver of light to guide their way. She’d picked up the package, which included the extra layers that the others were lending to them for the mission. Nanni had more layers than she did, but Yolande still felt the bite of the cold on her face as she helped Nanni over the wall and the two of them made their way through several twists and turns in the alleyways before making it into the thick woods that hugged the west side of the city.

Nanni’s rich complexion and dark hair showed that she was descended from the natives of this island. Her parents died when she was young, and her grandmother took care of her. Her grandmother had died a few years ago and she was sent here, for there was no one else who was willing to take on the care of a disabled child. The friendship between them had been almost instantaneous despite the communication barrier. And sign language was not the only thing Nanni had to teach. Her grandmother had been a healer, and she’d learned much from the old woman. A couple of the weeds that grew in the yard could be used for medicinal purposes, Nanni pointed out.

It also meant that Nanni was skilled at foraging, so here she and Yolande were, sneaking off through the woods and seeing what they could gather. She also knew what was poisonous or not, and Yolande was quick to learn what she could from her.

She squeezed Nanni’s arm and held one finger to her lips in the near-universal sign for silence. The two of them stood still as Yolande listened carefully to make sure they were not being pursued. She gave the clear sign, and they moved on, snow and ice crunching under their feet.

The pickings were almost non-existent, and Yolande sighed in disappointment as she looked down at the almost empty bag.

“Sorry,” Nanni signed, her fist moving in a small circle against her chest.

“Not your fault,” Yolande assured her. “We’ve been through here before… not like we can expect fresh pickings, eh?” she added sardonically. Nanni smirked.

“Go further?” Nanni asked. “Look.” She pointed, and it took Yolande a couple of moments, but she saw light flickering through the trees.

Fortune favors the bold, Yolande told herself and Nanni. And it couldn’t hurt to just look, at the very least. It turned out to be a fine house – not quite a mansion, but certainly one of the finer houses she had ever seen, with several outbuildings.

As it turned out, it was the home of one of the wealthier men in town, and one who was known for his displays of charity, donating money to the church and making sure he was seen every Sunday in his pew alongside his genteel wife and well-fed brood.

“We go beg?” Nanni asked with a grimace. Yolande shook her head.

“Steal,” she signed after a moment. Nanni stared at her for several moments.

Stealing. One of the many crimes that would incur the gods' wrath. How often had they been lectured about stealing? How wrong it was to take something that was not yours?

“We are hungry, and they have plenty of food to spare,” Yolande pointed out.

“… You’re right. Fuck them,” Nanni finally said after appearing to meditate for a couple of moments.

It took some time and surveillance, but they were able to steal some rice, candied fruit, and jerky from the cellar when the household was sleeping. There were plenty of other things to steal, but only so much they could carry or be easily hidden.

The rest of their circle made short work of the jerky and fruit. The rice took a little longer because they had to hide it while they were cooking it, using a stolen pot and scraps of wood for fuel. It was fine white rice, not the coarse wild rice that was grown on the island, and they’d accidentally burned some of it, but they ate it nonetheless.

It had been agreed by the group that the house should be hit again. Yolande had her reservations about stealing from the same house again, but the meals served at the orphanage had become even leaner, the nuns saying that money had been hard to come by this year, times were hard, people had less charity to offer, and so on. Yet Mr. Bumble and his brood remained well-fed, and they were not the only ones.

Fine, Yolande said. This time, two of the others joined them, and they crept out in the dead of the night. They made off with things that would be easier to consume, including more jerky. Once they were back, they excitedly went over the rice, beans, kimchi, fruit preserves, and teriyaki-marinated jerky. Nanni had pointed out to her the local poisonous plants along with the edible ones, and Yolande also knew that the food the orphanage got wasn’t always fresh, so she paid attention to the food as she inspected it, sniffing the jerky. It smelled fine enough but there was something wrong. She wasn’t sure what it was, but as she ran her fingers over the dried meat, she was unable to ignore the sense of wrongness.

“Don’t eat this,” she said, gesturing to the jerky. The others stared at her with disbelief. Nanni gave her a curious stare.

“Why?”

Why, indeed. What was she supposed to say? This feels weird? But it wasn’t a weirdness she could explain. It looked fine. The spices in the teriyaki called out to children who were regularly fed unflavored fare. To them, this might very well have been a holiday feast.

Nanni followed her lead. So did a few of the others, but not the two who had been with them to steal the food, and another one of the boys. She begged them to not take it. She even tried to forcefully take it away from them, which resulted in a fight, and she was outnumbered.

The commotion over the jerky eventually drew the notice of the bullies of the orphanage who were in a way assistant overseers of the place, doing so for a bit of extra rations. The jerky was taken from her friends… which turned out to be a good thing.

Those who ate the jerky became ill. Two of her friends, and all four of the bullies. Both of her friends died, and so did the bullies, though some took longer to die than others. And being orphans, all they did was get cursory examinations from the doctor who came by now and then, and the nuns told them to pray.

Ungrateful, thieving orphans, Mr. Bumble roared at them the next time he deigned to set foot in the orphanage. Dirty rats were stealing my food, so I left some just for them. And damn if the rats I was trying to kill had turned out to be children instead of damn vagrants.

If these children weren’t such ungrateful little shits, and satisfied with the charity they got, why, they’d still be alive, so let this be a reminder to you how the gods frown upon thievery, these little shits got what they deserved.

Little shits, unwanted brats, abandoned, neglected, discards, garbage, burden...

Yolande gasped and shuddered as she opened her eyes, seeing the cabin she shared with Arlong, and there he was, looking down at her. She felt the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks and instinctively, she turned away, starting to climb out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Arlong demanded. She could only shrug helplessly as she held back a sob, remembering her friends. She hated these dreams, the way they could take her through years of anguish in mere moments, all that pain coalescing into a lump in her chest when she woke up.

“Get back here,” Arlong growled, pointing to the spot she’d just vacated. She stood there in the silk nightgown that was confiscated from Elania’s wardrobe, the fine material hugging her curves in a way that her old linen nightshirt didn’t, much to Arlong’s pleasure. The sharkman encouraged her to make free use of the former lady Mukachin’s things and if she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t about to turn up her nose at some of these trappings.

“Why?” she asked quietly as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Because I fucking said so.”

Silently, she obeyed his command, feeling him wrap his arm around her when she resumed her spot in the bed. The skin of a fishman tended to be cooler than humans, and she found that coolness comforting, leaning the side of her face against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“Just a bad dream.”

His large hand came to rest on the top and side of her head, holding it to his chest. “Seems like it was more than that.”

She said nothing. His hand slid down to her chin, forcing it up as he looked into her eyes.

“What caused you such pain? I could feel it.”

She blinked in surprise and he smiled thinly.

“It appears that this bond between sharkman and siren shares things other than pleasure,” he said dryly. She jerked away from him, and he grabbed her arm. “And that is something that needs to be resolved,” he said, pulling her back to him.

Logically, that made sense. And she certainly didn’t want to inflict pain on him. Their bond had proven to work both ways, and she didn’t relish the thought of experiencing his pain.

So she told him about the poisoned jerky. “These people had so much food they were willing to poison some of it instead of give it away,” she said bitterly. He stared at her for several moments, his expression unreadable, especially in the near-darkness.

“What was that you said about the jerky, that it didn’t feel right?” he finally asked.

“It just didn’t. I was used to carefully looking at the food we were given or foraged for, for mold, vermin, that sort of thing. So I was inspecting the jerky and it looked fine on the outside and smelled great. I almost ate some on the spot, but I kept getting this nagging feeling.” She looked down at her hands.

“And have you ever had that feeling again?” he asked with a thoughtful tone.

“Yes. When I saw what happened with the other children, I realized that this was something that I needed to pay attention to. So yes. I refined it, practicing on different substances I found. I knew what good jerky was, so I knew that jerky was bad, and I figured out that if I knew what something was supposed to be when it’s good, I would know when it was not good… if that makes sense?”

“It does,” Arlong replied. He reclined back on the pillows, still holding onto her. He tutted to himself quietly for a couple of moments, something that Yolande had observed was something he did when he was deep in thought. His thumb rubbed along her cheek as she listened to him breathing.

“Do you still feel pain?” she ventured after several minutes.

“No.”

She closed her eyes in relief, feeling his fingers brush against her hair.

“What happened to them wasn’t your fault,” she heard him say. “You warned them.”

That was easy enough for him to say. She realized he was trying to help, but it didn’t make her feel any less guilty. Why didn’t she try – or fight – harder to get rid of the jerky, she had asked herself often after the fact. Logically, she knew he was right, and she had told herself the same thing in the past, but as she knew all too well, emotion carried a weight with it that couldn’t be easily shaken off by reason.

o0o0o0o

Ishidai looked down at Caten fondly, running his fingers through her hair and fingering her with his other hand while the catfish woman was sucking Mido off. Erhu had been invited to join, but he politely declined and Ishidai suspected that he might be intimidated by the older fishmen, but that wasn’t something to worry about right now, not when he felt the tight heat around his fingers. Fishmen might have cooler skin on average, but it didn’t mean a female couldn’t get nice and hot when she was given the proper motivation. Or a male, for that matter, he thought with a smirk as he idly ground himself against the outside of Caten’s thigh.

Mido tilted his head back and gave out a sharp groan as he lifted his hips, and she sucked him off enthusiastically while clenching around Ishidai’s fingers. A sharp squeal met the ears of the men as Ishidai pressed against her clit, finally pushing her over the edge. He continued to rub her gently for several moments, carefully stroking her clit as she trembled against him.

After a few moments, she lifted her head off Mido. “I have some good news for you.”

“What’s that, honey?” he asked.

“I had to set limitations before... But that problem’s taken care of now.”

“Oh really,” Mido said with a pleased chuckle.

“Yeah. Thanks to the pharmacy,” she replied with a chuckle of her own.

“Well, it looks like the chemist is proving to be much more useful to the crew than a cartographer,” Ishidai replied slyly as he glanced at the other fishman, and Mido guffawed at that.

“What was that?” Caten asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Ishidai chuckled. “Just a silly inside joke. Which one of us goes first?”

"Oh, I can't decide. Really. I like both of you, but obviously only one of you can be first. How about paper, rock, scissors? The winner goes first this time, the loser has dibs the next session."

“We are nakama, let us not fight,” Ishidai said with a wry chuckle before he and Mido shook their fists at one another to determine Caten’s first partner for the night. No use in getting jealous and fighting over this sort of thing, after all, especially when it’d been so long since they’d been around a sister.

o0o0o0o

Dreamsicle Island was visible in the distance, a peak of green the first thing they saw of it. It was a summer-autumn island and sold much of its produce to outsiders, including specimens that were exotic to many other parts of the world, ensuring robust trade.

Since the White Mermaid did not include Dreamsicle Island on its circuit, there was no worry about someone being suspicious of fishmen being in control of the vessel. He used the documentation of the vessel to pass himself off as Captain Aiuchi via the Den Den Mushi before sending several fishmen out to do a quick survey.

“Looks good. We didn’t see any fishmen but there were a few Longnecks and Minks. No Marines, at least not that I saw. We didn’t get any weird looks,” Ishidai reported before he pulled out the most recent newspaper, putting it down on Arlong’s desk.

“Oh, good,” Yolande sighed. “It was much like that when I last visited, but you never know if a regime is going to collapse or some insane new law or societal norm has been established.”

She was not to know what an unintentional barb that had been to Arlong, given the collapse of his rule in the Conomi Islands. He stared at her for a moment before nodding. Hatchan was in charge of the grocery shopping. Several other fishmen would comb the markets for whatever else was needed. He looked to Yolande. “I’ll send fishmen out with the list of supplies you gave me, and…”

She shook her head. “It’s best I do the shopping myself.”

After he nearly lost her in the attack on the White Mermaid, he was loath to let her off the ship. He opened his mouth to disagree before she placed her hand on his. “Who better to shop for and choose the best-quality ingredients than the chemist who’s going to be using them?”

He recalled what she told him about detecting the poison in the jerky and how she'd developed that skill in other things.

Observation Haki. Hadn’t she said that under certain circumstances, people might develop their Haki in unique ways? Observation Haki was meant to help people avoid threats… though usually, that meant detecting other people and their actions, including attacks, making it a valuable skill in battle. But wasn’t such a talent like Yolande’s also valuable?

“Kuroobi, choose some fishmen to go with you. You will accompany Yolande,” he said.

“Very well,” the ray fishman said, betraying no emotion.

o0o0o0o

The tavern was not far from the food market, so while Hatchan did the shopping, Shioyaki decided to take a bit of time to examine the Wanted posters on the wall. His hunch proved to be correct – there was what looked like a brand-new poster of Arlong among the others, and his bounty had been more than doubled to fifty million beli.

The salmon fishman bit back a snort as he took the paper from the wall, folding it, and putting it in his shirt. With this island being relatively close to the Grand Line and the resulting traffic, it didn't surprise him that the Marines might hang some wanted posters here… especially after Arlong had stolen one of their ships. Hah.

In the Conomi Islands, Arlong never had to hide. If he wanted to visit an island in his territory, that’s what he was going to do. Now he was hiding on the ship. Some might have called Arlong weak for that, but their defeat at the hands of the Straw Hats had been a sobering experience, and the fishman appreciated his captain’s caution.

Shioyaki exercised the same caution here, doing nothing to draw attention to himself as he helped Hachi shop for groceries, looking over various cooking supplies, produce, and the local booze. Rekiin was with Hatchan, but unlike most children his age who would be tempted to wander off, it was like the shark boy was glued to Hachi’s side. Shioyaki couldn’t blame the kid, after what he’d been through at the hands of Aiuchi and the Mukachins, for looking wary around the humans that milled about.

He saw a stall that was selling sweets and lightly tapped Rekiin on the shoulder, pointing to the sweets stall. ‘Want?’ he signed. He saw the curiosity in the boy’s eyes, and Rekiin only left Hatchan’s side after Shioyaki took his hand.

With so many of Arlong’s crew having been orphans or coming from broken homes, some of them developed a soft spot for the kid, learning some signs along the way. And unlike Koala or Nami, Rekiin was a fishman – or fishboy, as the case might be – so he was much more welcomed.

Still, Shioyaki could not help but feel a pang of guilt as he recalled Nami, especially the first months of her life with the Arlong Pirates, which had been far more of an adjustment for the girl than for the fishmen surrounding her. She had her uses to Arlong, so no one was going to abuse her, but that didn't mean there weren't fishmen teasing her or trying to fuck around with her because, after all, she was still human.

She didn’t deserve to lose her mother any more than Rekiin did, a voice whispered in the back of his head. Shioyaki distracted himself by examining the sweets and candies that were on display.

Not only that, but both of them saw their mothers die in front of them, the voice persisted. But one child was treated with compassion while the other was sneered at.

No, Shioyaki told himself impatiently. Rekiin and his mother had been captured by slavers, his mother was killed when trying to escape with her son. Bellemere on the other hand, would still be alive if the stupid bitch had just kept her mouth shut.

Regardless of what their mothers did, the pain these children felt was real.

Damn. Having a conscience really sucked. Sure, Arlong might have had his limits when it came to the Conomi Islands. He didn't torture the humans or heap abuse on their heads. As long as the tribute was paid, they were left alone, living with their families and communities, able to do nearly anything they wanted, as long as they followed Arlong's rules. And sure, Arlong had honored his bargain with Nami, what of it if he'd been clever enough to find a loophole? But as Shioyaki had to admit to himself – if no one else – Arlong could be a real bastard, and not always in obvious ways.

It’d worked well enough for nearly a decade, but the humans had reached their tipping point, and after living an easy life for that long, they’d been quite under-prepared for the Straw Hats, and Nami’s hand in the whole incident. That was on the fishmen, he thought ruefully.

He bit back a sigh before putting a smile on his face as he watched Rekiin select several things, excitedly pointing at some rock candy before turning his attention to some dango, several mochi balls covered in syrup and impaled on a stick. He selected a variety of daifuku and mochi for himself and some of his friends.

On the Conomi Islands, if a fishman was hungry, he could get food from a village if they were collecting tribute. What could a villager do, say no? Now he had to pay for it. But the human behind the counter served him without any apparent reservations, cheerfully asking if there was anything else he needed. It certainly was better than Coldrock Island, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for Yolande for having lived there for years, unable to reveal her fishman side on top of living in a bitterly cold place.

"This place is so much fun," Erhu said as he looked around. "Even with…" He stopped himself. He'd lived in the Fishman District until he'd been kidnapped and enslaved. Being around so many humans was quite new to him like it was for Rekiin.

“It takes some getting used to,” Shioyaki replied.

o0o0o0o

Chew looked over the newspaper. There was some of the standard fluff he was used to seeing in publications, though this one was thicker than the occasional publication in the Conomi Islands. As he flipped through the pages, he smirked coldly to himself as he saw an article that talked about events in the East Blue, and the Conomi Islands were mentioned.

… for nearly a decade, the Conomi Islands and nearly two dozen towns were under the control of the Arlong Pirates, a band of fishmen…

Of course, they just had to mention that the Arlong Pirates were fishmen… as if humans didn't do much worse.

… but were finally defeated by the Straw Hat Pirates. Arlong and his fishmen were taken into custody by the Marines to face justice but managed to escape and remain at large. The World Government is offering a bounty of fifty million beli…

Arlong never enslaved or tortured the people of the Conomi Islands. He was willing enough to leave people alone if they paid their tribute. Yet, when it came to Marzu Island – not to mention Marijoa and Sabaody among other places – the World Government was willing to turn a blind eye to the atrocities committed in enslaving others. Where was the justice in that?

He remembered being cornered by several humans who'd made comments about his big lips and what a pretty boy he was. He'd just been abandoned and was trying to fend for himself, but a five-year-old child didn't have a lot of options – or defenses. If not for Arlong, Kuroobi, and Hatchan, he would be somewhere in Marijoa or Marzu or elsewhere, doing things he preferred to not contemplate.

Chew tutted to himself as he finished the article and moved on.

o0o0o0o

Yolande looked over the vials of various powders she'd put together from the chemicals she'd recently obtained. It'd been a while since she had done this sort of work, but once she'd started mixing different substances, it came to her almost without thinking.

Chemicals often produced heat while undergoing processes. Sometimes it was so low as to be undetectable, but on the opposite end of the spectrum were explosions. Put certain substances together, ignore them, and the resultant force came out, releasing an immense amount of force and heat almost instantaneously.

That heat and force could be channeled, depending on the container or compound, in a variety of destructive ways. She’d pondered what she knew of Marzu Island and its defenses, which gave her something to chew over while considering her options.

And she hated to admit it, but it… was fun. The logistics, the knowledge that she could create such power by mixing this and that almost as she might put together a dish, and the satisfaction that she was going to be freeing slaves.

Still, she sometimes felt guilty about the fun part. Things like this weren’t supposed to be fun. But oh, the thrill. So far she’d tested various compounds but only in very tiny amounts. A full load of this or that would be something to see. She should know, although it’d been a good while.

Burn, baby, burn. She sighed and sat back, looking around at the space Arlong had given her. It was nice to finally have a spot she could truly call her own, after being taken aboard a ship full of fishmen and dealing with all the upheaval and drama that had caused in her previously quiet life.

After a bit of a break, she pulled her rubber gloves back on and resumed her work, measuring out various substances and mixing them carefully together. In a laboratory on land, she could mix larger batches, but she cited safety as a reason for her small batches. I’m sure you don’t want a hole blown in the side of your ship, do you? she asked dryly. With her expertise, the risk of something like that happening was minimal, but freak accidents did happen.

She was so focused on her work that she almost didn’t hear the knocking. She set down the vial she was holding, recognizing Arlong’s knock.

“Come in, Captain,” she called out. Arlong’s frame filled the doorway, ducking his head slightly as he went through it. He looked down at the various items she had spread across the table – several beakers and vials of varying sizes as well as petri dishes and ceramic bowls. The faint, acrid smell of smoke hung in the air, and the porthole was open, admitting a crisp ocean breeze.

“Making good use of your recent purchases, hmm?” Arlong asked with a faint smirk as he looked down at a crate that had several containers of finished explosives, carefully packed.

“You’re quite eager to make good use of my work,” she retorted dryly. Her safety goggles were perched on the top of her head, and she looked every bit the chemist she was with her black apron and a smudge of ash on her cheek.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he retorted. She could offer reasons. But then, she could offer plenty more reasons why he should just go right ahead and raise hell on Marzu Island. She could tell herself all she wanted that violence wasn’t the answer, but she shared Arlong’s rage and found her chemistry an excellent way to channel that.

… Not that she was about to admit that to Arlong. He was seductive, and not merely in the physical sense. Hearing him talk about hatred and vengeance was oddly cathartic sometimes. She’d been through so much and still carried so much pain. Much as she might try to ignore it, and suppress it, it was still there.

She looked up at him and shrugged. “...I suppose.”

He stared at her for several moments with these gorgeous blue eyes of his, assessing her much like a predator would. “Do you enjoy this? Making explosives?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Why should that matter? You’re the captain of this crew and I am simply doing a job.” She looked down at the table.

He chuckled softly. “Or is this merely something you’re willing to do if you find enough justification?”

She looked back up at him. He was now grinning widely, and she felt his hand under her chin, grasping her jaw in a careful but effective grip.

“The same could be said about you, I think,” she replied. Much of his past remained a mystery, but she’d been able to deduce that much. Doubtless much of his pain and grievance was real and justified, but there was something else.

His eyes flicked for a moment and Yolande realized that she’d hit a sensitive spot. His grip tightened a moment, and she let out a soft whimper.

-surprise, regret, shame, guilt, anger-

“Clever siren,” he muttered. His tone was unreadable. “Carry on, there is much work for all of us to do.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she replied in a subdued tone.

o0o0o0o

Hatchan basked under Yolande’s admiration as he used all six of his hands to shape the dough into dozens of pastries. Among the things he found while shopping for groceries were peaches. Yolande offered to teach him how to make the pastries he’d enjoyed so much before, and she shook her head bemusedly as she watched him.

“Some people are so clumsy with two hands, but watching you is like poetry,” Yolande chuckled as she scooped peach filling into the pastries before tucking the flap of dough over the fruit, making a neat pastry that could be easily eaten and enjoyed. Rekiin was doing the same, carefully ladling spoonfuls of fruit into the centers of the dough and then pinching the edges of the dough closed with careful precision. The previous ship had nothing more than a wood oven that was mainly used for heating water or roasting meat. The White Mermaid came with not only a refrigerator but a good-sized oven to better accommodate the appetite of its passengers.

Hachi laughed at that, pressing his thumb in the middle of the lumps of dough, shaping them for the next step in the process. While shopping for the ship’s larder, he’d noticed plenty of fresh produce, including ones he hadn’t seen in a good while. The weather of the island made it ideal for a variety of crops, and he saw the excitement in Yolande’s face as he recounted what he’d seen to her.

So the next day, they'd gone out together, and she not only bought peaches, but a wide assortment of other fruits and even several new plants to add to her little garden, which provided a pleasant bit of greenery amongst the infinite blue of sea and sky. Some of the fruit had already been turned into preserves for later, but others had been added to the cylinder-shaped metal vats that now sat against one wall in the kitchen. The rum she'd been able to make had not been enough for the whole crew, but as one of Arlong's top officers, he got to try it and was impressed at how strong it was. Now with the vats, there would be enough for the ship. It'd also taste better, she assured them, now that she'd been able to purchase high-quality yeast. One of the vats contained the makings of peach brandy, the second was started with molasses for rum, and the third one had rice to be fermented into sake.

Oh, how excited Arlong got when he saw these vats, realizing what this meant for the crew – and his cash reserves. But then, Arlong had also gotten thrilled when he saw the supplies for weaponry being loaded onto the ship. Various chemicals and containers, some of them Hachi was vaguely familiar with – like sulfur – but others that he could only guess at unless it was explained to him. Even now, with the warm smell of fruit wafting through the kitchen, he still occasionally caught a whiff of acrid smoke if he walked past her. She’d washed her hands and changed her clothes, but the smell still clung to her hair.

She hadn’t been in the kitchen much lately, between recovering from her injury, and the work Arlong had put her on in preparation for Marzu Island.

“Are you all right?” he asked, seeing a distant, thoughtful expression on her face.

She shrugged. “I’ve been with Arlong for two months now and…” She looked down, scooping some peach into the dough before setting it on a pan. “It’s been… one hell of a ride.”

Hachin wasn’t there for their private moments, but he didn’t doubt that the relationship between his captain and his friend was something they were both still navigating, not without difficulty. Who’d have thought Arlong would have a siren?

Arlong was generally a guarded man unless he was in one of his rages, but as one of his closest nakama, Hachi knew him quite well and had caught him looking at his siren with a gleam in his eye many times. Pride, possessiveness, fondness, lust. He'd seen Arlong with a few lady friends back in the old days, but Hachi saw that Yolande held a certain power over him… and neither of them was consciously aware of it.

Not that Arlong didn’t hold plenty enough power over her. So it made for a dynamic that was perplexing to the pair, and to those close to them.

Yolande chuckled as Rekiin took a piece of peach and ate it. He'd never had peaches before and had taken an immense liking to the fruit. He looked much better than when Hachi first met him. Between being part of Kuroobi's classes now and being fed by Hachi, the scrawny little shark was filling out and getting stronger.

“I really appreciate you taking such good care of Rekiin. He looks up to you,” Yolande said as she let Rekiin scoop out the last of the peaches before setting down a fresh mixing bowl with blueberries, and he continued his work, making blueberry-filled pastries.

“It’s like you said before, fishmen support one another. We’re brothers and sisters.”

A sad smile flickered across her lips. “Not always.”

The octopus man raised his eyebrow. “Don’t worry about Toma or Kuroobi-”

She shook her head. “You know I was raised by humans. So when I met fishmen for the first time, I was excited. But they treated me with scorn. Called me a mongrel and half-breed among other things.”

Hachi winced at that. “So you just continued to live among humans.”

“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t,” she replied dryly. “Especially when I have only half the strength of a full-blooded fishman. Easier to defend against a human, at least if they didn’t have a Devil Fruit or skilled Haki.”

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully as he shaped the last of the dough, setting it out for Rekiin. “Have you given any thought to giving these pastries a proper name?” Hachi asked, changing the subject to a happier vein. She’d explained to him how it was a recipe she’d tweaked for years, seeing different sorts of pastries and wanting to come up with something that would be relatively easy to cook as well as eat. It was something she’d often made for her family.

… Well. One could say the Arlong Pirates were her new family.

“… I don’t know. I never really thought about it.” She looked down at the dough and fruit before her. “It looks kind of like a strudel, but more bite-sized?”

Hachi grinned. It’d take Yolande or Rekiin at least two bites to finish one of the pastries, but plenty of the fishmen could fit the whole thing in their mouth with ease. “How about a peach or blueberry bite?” he asked. He thought it sounded cute.

"You know, I do like the sound of that. Then I can go around giving bites."

Rekiin playfully snapped his little sharp teeth at them, and they roared in laughter together over that.

o0o0o0o

It wasn’t a party, but Arlong sometimes liked having dinner out on the deck when the weather was mild enough. The kitchen would cook or grill whatever was caught that day and augment it with various side dishes to provide nutritious and tasty fare for the crew. He sat back contentedly with a bottle of sake after finishing his meal, feeling the late afternoon sun on his skin.

He beckoned Omald and Elania to come over and they obediently did so. Their appearance had deteriorated in a way that Arlong appreciated. It suited their status as slaves to the Arlong Pirates, the way their clothes hung more loosely on their bodies, their badly-shorn hair (a result of Omald complaining that he needed a shave and a fishman gleefully hacking at the hair with his dagger) and the worn, resigned look on their faces as they were ordered to do this or that. There'd been a bit of whining at first, naturally, but he and the crew were quick to remind them of their new place in the order of things.

Awwh, you’re hungry? It’s not like a fishman doesn’t know what hunger is, considering how you starved them.

Oh no, you’re tired? Did you ever take into consideration the needs of fishmen when they needed rest after you overwork or mistreat them?

You want a bath or shower? You’re not even a fishman, what do you need water for after keeping fishmen from it?

This is not fair? Oh, really? Do you know how much of a dumb shit you sound like when you say things like that? Disgusting monkey.

And so on. Likewise for Aiuchi. He didn’t complain as much as the Mukachins, but his few attempts at threats or manipulation were met with cruelty.

Don’t like how heavy the collars and chains are? I doubt you thought about that when you put them on the fishmen you captured. Put another chain on him!

You were just trying to make a profit, like anyone else in this world? Most people manage to do that without enslaving others.

Survival of the fittest, you say? Look at you now, wearing the bonds you forced upon others. And your pet Devil Fruit user is rotting under the waves as we speak.

Arlong snapped his fingers, pointing to a spot in front of his chair, glaring at Omald. The former Lord Mukachin got on his hands and knees, serving as an ottoman for Arlong to put his feet on as Elania came forward to massage them. Next to him, Yolande said nothing.

“Ah, this is the good life. Sun, sea, a massage,” he said with a chuckle as he felt Elania rub the sole of his right foot. Her hands were small and she wasn’t that good, but he got enjoyment from forcing these once high-and-mighty people to be ground under the heel – figuratively and literally – from the people they’d looked down upon. “Do you fancy a foot rub when I’m done with them?” Arlong asked his siren. “You’ve been working so much in the lab lately. You must have been spending a lot of time on your feet.”

Yolande was silent for several moments before shrugging and nodding her assent. He let his thoughts wander after he gestured for the Mukachins to turn to Yolande.

“… please, madame. You’ve made your point. What we did was awful, please let us pay for it. There’s plenty of gold and beli on the island…” He blinked as he heard Elania’s voice, and continued staring off, but he was now listening intently.

“You could give me all the wealth you’ve ever owned or will ever own, and it still would not be enough to make up for what has been done to the fishmen by your ilk,” he heard Yolande’s voice hiss.

“Is there no way I can earn my freedom?” he heard Elania say. “Please, I don’t want to end my life as a slave.”

Arlong’s glance slid over to Yolande, who was sitting there stone-faced, betraying no emotion.

“Why are you asking me, anyway?” Yolande finally replied, neatly evading the question. “You know who’s in charge here.”

“I thought that since you were half-human, then perhaps…” Elania’s expression was desperate. Perhaps it was knowing that they would be arriving at Marzu Island in less than a week, that was making this stupid woman make another attempt at freedom. Pathetic.

At that, Yolande let out a sharp giggle, covering her mouth. “You’re a human who was willing to enslave other humans… and you expect me to feel bad for you?”

"...I hoped for it? I'm trying to offer compensation, I'm trying to work something out with you..." Elania asked tremulously. Arlong stirred and was gratified to see Elania flinch back as he fixed his steely gaze on her.

"Can you bring back the fishmen who died in the service of your family or the other slavers of Marzu? Can you give them back the years you stole from them?" he asked with a low growl. "There better be plenty of gold and beli, because I plan to squeeze every last drop of wealth from that island. Even that won't pay in full for the lost lives or years… but it'll be better than nothing. Take them back to the brig!" he barked. The Mukachins were sharply tugged away by their chains.

He reached out to rest his hand on her arm, sensing her tension in the way the muscles of her forearm knotted. "Come sit in my lap, siren," he coaxed. He wrapped his arms around her and was gratified to feel her slump against him as she settled in.

It was handy using the humans for drudge work, and there was still pleasure to be gained in fucking around with them, but he was finding himself getting bored of them at times. Once he got to Marzu Island, what was to be done with them? Killing them would be justified, and it was something he was seriously considering. He didn't relish dragging them around for the rest of their lives, and much as he hated to admit it, Yolande's words about fairness and proving himself better than the slavers was advice that he found himself remembering more often than he wanted to.

He stared out at the brothers and sisters lounging on the deck or swimming in the water. As he wrapped his arm around her, his hand slid up to her breast, giving it a light squeeze. She was clad in a short-sleeved shirt and her cargo shorts. A slow intake of breath met his ears, and he looked down to see her eyelids flutter in pleasure as he massaged her tit. Then her eyelids snapped open, and her hand came to his wrist, giving it a sharp squeeze. She was blushing.

“Something the matter?” he whispered.

“We’re not alone.”

“… Oh, is that all?” he asked with a lecherous chuckle. “I’m the captain, and you’re my woman. We can do whatever the fuck we want out here… though don’t worry, I won’t take it that far,” he said, laughing at the look of shock on her face. “But this feels good for both of us, so why not indulge?” he asked, giving her a light squeeze. “Look down there,” he pointed to the lower deck, where several of the fishmen were sunning themselves. Caten was topless and sitting next to Ishidai, who was rubbing her back while they chatted.

“I hope you don’t expect me to take my shirt off,” she said dryly. He smirked.

“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m good,” Arlong shot back as he massaged her breast. He saw the conflict in her expression for a moment before her grip relaxed, but she kept her hand on his wrist. Some men liked the look of tits, but Arlong preferred the feel of them. Her gaze became half-lidded as she leaned her head against his chest, and he grinned as he took a swig of his sake. A drink in one hand, a tit in the other. There was hardly anything more to ask for, he mused as he felt the sunlight on his skin.

Suddenly, several fishmen shot out of the water.

“A Sea Beast! And it’s headed our way!” one of them exclaimed. The White Mermaid had seastone on the bottom of the boat to protect it from the notice of creatures such as this, but a fishman could be a quite attractive tidbit to a hungry Sea Beast, especially if there was a bunch of them swimming around.

Arlongn quickly nudged Yolande out of his lap and she complied. He’d dealt with a couple of Sea Beasts in the past, but even when he’d been much younger, he wasn’t so reckless as to try to take on one himself.

He shouted out orders, and several fishmen, including Kuroobi, dove into the water. Most of the weaponry on the ship was for defending itself on the surface because of its seastone hull, but there were a few harpoon launchers and other projectiles suited for dealing with such a threat. He longed for his Kiribachi, its heft in his fist, but alas, it was one of the things the Straw Hats took from him.

His crew had experience in dealing with this, so he was confident of their abilities… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel fear and concern for his nakama, even if he might not consciously admit it. In the distance, he saw a large fin break the water.

He might no longer have his Kiribacbi, but Aiuchi kept swords for himself and his crew, and Arlong and several others were quick to grab them before diving into the water.

o0o0o0o

Were there a couple of references to Oliver Twist in this chapter? You betcha but that book is a classic for a reason, and orphanages in the world of One Piece don’t seem to be that great, either. But then, a place for unwanted/abandoned children usually isn’t going to be the kind of place where there’s too much oversight or concern for children, and sadly, the problem persists today even with the improvement of child welfare/childcare laws/etc in many countries across our world.

But I did try to balance out the depressing stuff with some more happy/silly stuff. Feedback is always appreciated.