#meaning she did indeed have less power than him

[geekgirles]

I'm obsessed with the fact that Amalia and Yugo have individual thrones while Armand and Aurora had to share (I don't have a screenshot for it, but if anyone could add one, I'd really appreciate it).

That's right, babies! You show 'em how to be a literal power couple!

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

[angstigone]

you had thought that bringing denji and power with you to the grocry story for a late night grocery run would allow aki to rest, as he had seemed more than done with the dynamic duo.

albeit, the two weren't any better behaved with you, they wouldn't at least antagonize against you, mostly embarassing you with their own perks.

hence, you had sent them to pick up a 'reward' for their good behavior while you went to pick up some wine; the thought of having an home date with aki appeared in your mind as you remembered that power and denji would be off to a night shift in the incoming week.

you were examining the different brands when you were startled by a pat on your shoulder and while you thought of finding denji trying to convince you to buy something otrageous, you were faced with a man a few years your senior looking back at you calmly.

«miss, may I ask for an opinion?» he asked politely and although you were definitely tired off as it was - indeed - a late night run, you tried to gently smile and return the politeness «... I was choosing a wine for a date, and I am not an expert so I thought I'd ask for a second opinion».

he then extended two bottles in his hands, continuing to smile politely.

«oh...» what you wanted to actually say was 'the best option would be not picking up wine from a 24/7 kombini' but you were doing the right same, so you weren't in any judgement zone «... alrightie, I did drink the one you have in your right hand and if you'd like to drink vinegar, I am sure you'll be fine».

«that bad?» the man laughed at your sarcastic quip and you smile in compliance «... alright, alright... anything you'd like to suggest».

«your second choice is pretty solid, I do prefer white wine over red, but I'd say it mostly depends on what you'd like to cook and pair with it» you explained although it felt a bit obvious, but tried to be polite not wishing to be thought rude as the man was definitely well-intention. till, he wasn't.

«oh well... that depends» he said, assuming a thoughtful pose before his mouth opened in a smirk «... what would you like to eat on your first date?».

you tried not to let the dread show on your face at the badly-spoken pick up line; it wasn't even the fact that you were - happily - in a relationship, but the way that the man was lookng at you expectantly as if he had just said the best thing ever...

plan to let him down happily as you went to casually play with the lapislazuli ring that aki had gifted you for your birthday, although it was on the wrong hand to be an engagement ring.

«oh that'd be nice... except...».

«except she has already a mate, filthy rat!».

your face dropped further at the highpitched voice that spoke the words, not having to turn around to feel power's - stinky - presence by your side. she had an hat that hid her horns but she didn't look any less terrifying.

«... get your stinky hands off her!».

«power...» you started because as much as you had been aggravated by the unwanted attention from the man and cringy pickup line, you were sure that whatever the fiend would have come up with was much worse than your kind rejection «... it's fine... have you already...».

«don't you have no shame, dude!» oh no, power's craziness was matched with denji's own shamelessness. this was so over «... to hit onto a girl with a boyfriend!».

«a boyfriend?... filthy... rat?» the man looked patiently confused as his eyes racked from power to denji and back and forth «... I didn't know... I was simply... what is it... can't you even shoot your shot with an hot girl anymore?».

«no» power said finally, as you turned your head to check on the situation and found denji shaking his head judgingly «... she and topknot are happily mated! we are just waiting for pups to come out at any ti...».

«and just because a girl is hot, it doesn't mean that she has to give you any time of her day!» denji retorted right as you thought it could get worse and while his discourse did make sense, you were startled when he added «otherwise, I and miss makima would already be... i don't know... a thing?».

«is this... is this some new... anti-creep method?» the man spoke startled and definitely a bit intimidated as he took a few steps back «... to... have your friend pretend they are weirdos?».

«pretending? oh no, the great power doesn't pretend to be anything!» power, instead, moved a step forward as a lounding predator animal «... she's a weirdo!».

«powy, that isn't... well, that isn't a compliment» denji spoke before turning her attention to the unwanted assilant «... and if you know you are a creep why do you try to hit on girls? who's the weirdo now?».

if the man looked more uncomfortoable or confused, you didn't know. you knew just that power's and denji's plan worked as he backed off with a bewildered look, looking thoroughly traumatized.

you turned to denji and power fully, noticing the two high-fiving each other and then bumping their hips as they must have seen on a music video and it reminded you perfectly how young those two were, letting a smile appear on your face.

«he won't probably approach another girl ever» you said and while usually you'd be annoyed at them bothering an unwanted bystander, you felt your mouth quirk up in a smile «... good».

«I know!» denji promptly beat his fist onto his chest as a motte of pride while power smiled promptly.

«we gotta assure ourselves that you are protected when hayakawa isn't with you!» she muttered as if she had seriously given this much thought and you couldn't help but slightly giggle at their ridiculousness.

«well, I could have handled it on my own but thank you for the help» you gently patted each head in thanks.

«you totally couldn't» denji snickered before piping up «and either way, hayakawa promised us treats if we scared any man that approached you».

at that you quirked an eyebrow as power shot him a slight look of aghast horror at the revelation.

«that is so not true».

«it is!» denji insisted although you couldn't see aki to be like that. to say something like that; he wasn't definitely the jealous type and nor had ever been one to be outright possessive «... whether you believe me or not!».

you simply huffed knowing that there was no way you could have won such a competition and it was getting late. you were tired and sleepy and aching to get rid of the awkward meeting with a daily dose of hugging aki tightly to sleep.

«mmh, alright, let's go. put whatever sugary threat in the bin and let's go towards the exit» those two were then all too happy to fall into the discussion as they complied with your request, moving towards the checkout station.

as you scanned the items swiftly you couldn't help thought but smile softly at the small little family you felt, with an overprotective fiend and a cunning hybrid.

---

«... by the way, did you tell denji and power to keep an eye out for any potential dude hitting on me?».

«...».

«you did?!».

«I thought they'd realize I was joking».

«were you?».

«...».

[marinettesaltprompts]

Not sure if you're still active, but here's a 'prompt':

Maribat, but without the wish-fulfillment:

The bats-family comes to Paris, and the usual Maribat stuff happens. Shadowmoth is found, Lila gets revealed, Marinette gets to castigate her friends to the bone beofre dimissing them as vile people beneath her notice and Adrien gets summarily replaced because Plagg's Miraculous is apparently Ladybug's engagement ring and Damian is "just better". To top it all off, Marinette is taken under Batman's wing, and without an active threat in Paris leaves for Gotham.

It's not what she expected.

She realises the true depths of human cruelty without the insanity of Akumatisation to hide behind,

She gets to learn what it's like to be the last person to know plans because SHE'S not the one calling the shots anymore, indeed: she's the most junior person int eh chain of command. She's the one who has to shut and obey when push come to shove, and get excluded from decisions that effect her and information that she should have but Batman keeps locked up under "need to know". And she's not on the list.

Because why would she be? She was the child who struggled to find Shadowmoth while she had a box of magical superweapons- including one that could give her any power she asked of it- when it took Batman his Robins maybe a week at most to do the same with conventional methods.

She even finds out that Batman has a dozen contingencies in place to take the box and Miraculous from her if she goes rogue. Based on information he's accumulated from her while she spent time under his roof and trained to impress him.

Oh, and to add salt to the wound: Damian makes it clear that he doesn't consider her his equal. Guardian or not. Certainly not someone he's going to take orders from, or someone he's interested in romantically for that matter. It takes more than a reasonably attractive face and talent for magical devices to interest Damian Wayne; and beyond those things what's exceptional about Marinette Dupain-Cheng compared to the other potential love interests he already had?

Did it occur to her that he might already be in a relationship before she gave him the ring? Because it seems like she's committing the same sin that Adrien Agreste once did in assuming the bearers of Destruction and Creation have some special destiny to be together.

(Adrien could tell her how that works out).

So now Marinette's stuck in a new, far less friendly city, speaking a foreign language and in a home filled with strangers she impulsively threw her old life away to be with. And she has to live with it because of how she burned her bridges.

Great Post! You put a lot of thought into the prompt, and the idea of Ladybug being brought into a situation where she's way in over her head and not instantly the main person in charge (just because she holds a powerful set of magical earrings) actually sounds great! Though that itself could be its own fanfic idea.

I myself am not personally fond of the Maribat part of the fandom or the idea of even mentioning it, given that it and the the idea of Marinette and Damian ever being a thing represents everything bad about the salty part of the fandom, especially from people who likely never read any actual DC comic involving Damian.

However, I do appreciate how you deconstructed the idea of not only Damian instantly being Marinette's love interest, but also how Marinette meeting the Batfamily would instantly make her part of it or even their favorite, since neither of those would likely ever happen given the dark and gritty nature of Batman comics contrasting with the light and generally perfect world of Miraculous.

I mean, the idea of Marinette relating in any way to the BatFam would be ridiculous in canon, considering her generally perfect and happy family life in comparison to everyone in the BatFam differing flavors of trauma. By comparison, Lila being a bitch or her friends not believing her seems mundane by comparison.

Anyways, love the post!

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

"His plaything"

Pairing: Prince Nuada x Fem. Reader (Human / Third person POV)

Themes: Dark | Smut

Warnings: Dark! Nuada | Dub-Con | Power imbalance dynamic | Degredation | Explicit language | Spanking | Penetrative sex | Rough Sex | Oral (Male receiving) | Cream pie | Angst

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary: Nuada searched for a means to satisfy his physical needs. The opportunity presented itself in one of the mortal servants made to serve at court.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI. You are responsible for the media you consume. | 18+

Rules and tag form here.

Nuada was a disciplined elf. He spent hours pouring over books and stone tablets in his lord father's great library. When he was not reading, he was sparring.

The crown prince was a warrior without peer, so the singers said. Even when he was but an elfling, it was said no match could be found for Nuada's gift with spears and swords. His father, the high king of all elves, considered him to be the greatest warrior of their people. And the most accomplished. The prince was not just gifted with the blade and well-read; he was also skilled in craftmanship and music and even dancing. It was a strange thing indeed, to see such a brutal warrior glide across a hall like a feather on the wind.

Handsome and charming and dangerous in equal measure, the prince never wanted for company. Nuada was always surrounded by beautiful maidens, all of them vying for his attention. He was unwed, you see, and was expected to take a wife. That was one of his duties: to marry a maiden of the highest birth and produce an heir. The prince understood this. He was more than willing to pledge himself to marriage, but he just needed time to find a bride worthy of him. Until then, he decided, he would find other means to satisfy his needs, for he was a warrior, and as disciplined as he was, he had a warrior's many appetites.

Of course, it must be said that the prince would never sate his hunger by taking another elf to bed. Oh no. Nuada abhorred the very notion of sullying one of his own people that way, no matter how lowborn the elf in question may be. He turned his eyes to the servants instead. They were all mortal hostages taken by his lord father after a great and terrible war. King Balor tolerated them as well as he could manage, and turned a blind eye to how they were treated, provided certain decencies were observed. Those decencies were simple enough: No torture. No working servants to death. No forced couplings. Alas, these edicts had many and more cracks to find if one knew how to find them.

And Nuada found one precisely to his liking.

"Why are you whimpering, little mortal? He grunted. "I thought a good little whore like you wanted nothing less than being bedded by the crown prince Bethmoora."

Whore. That was the choice word he called her, among other things. And yes, y/n did desire the crown prince ever since the moment she first saw him. Her dreams had been haunted by sweet and tender visions of him wooing her before bedding her. She thought that should her dream ever become reality, he would be as generous and courteous and gentle with her as he was with the ladies of his father's court. Such blissful ignorance only lasted until he caught her looking one night while serving his dinner. The prince only waited till his guests took their leave of him before asking her to sink to her knees. He had caressed her cheek, almost in affection, and insisted she open her mouth for him. Not knowing what was expected of her, y/n obeyed. So much had changed since then.

She jolted when he slapped her thigh. His hand was large and had been roughened by centuries of fighting and wielding weapons. It left a mark all of its own. He slapped her thigh again and dug his nails into her flesh. Y/n licked her lips. The prince was expecting an answer.

"I whimper out of pleasure, your highness," she replied as fast as she could, hoping it would please him. She may have felt some pleasure; it was true, but it was so little. The prince would slake his lust upon her body and chase his release, and show little care for her own. As soon as he was satisfied, Nuada would order her to dress and leave.

"You are not lying to me, yes? You do know what happens when people lie to me, yes?"

"I know, your highness. I am not lying, your highness."

Nuada grunted and grabbed her hips, muttering indencies in her ear the entire time. His hands left bruises wherever they touched. Sometime he held her so hard her body would be sore for several days after. Then there were the things he called her, not caring about how they might make her feel. Y/n would not have minded any of it had he shown any interest in her during the act. Or showed concern for her after it.

"Such a good little whore," he said, picking up his tortuous pace and thrusting even harder, filling her as deeply as he could. His nails dug into delicate skin, leaving bruises in their wake. "But you must be fucking silent. I like you that way. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your highness." Y/n lowered her arms and rested her head against the pillows. That allowed the prince to find another angle. He rammed her and found a new place that made her moan long and deep.

"I said be silent!" He barked at her and soon lost himself in her flesh. Nuada moaned and grew drunk on the sound of his thighs slapping against hers. He chose well, he thought. Y/n was meek and discrete and obedient, a maiden who had not known the touch of men until him. She was so soft, her skin warm, and her cunt plush and sinful whenever it fluttered and tightened around his cock. Then there was that sweet little mouth of hers. Nuada enjoyed seeing it swollen and glistening with the remnants of his spend.

The bed creaked softly. Y/n bit her lip and buried her face in the pillows. A heady mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelmed her even as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. They had sprung from the knowledge that she was a mere plaything to the prince, someone he could use and throw aside once someone worthy of him was in the offing. And there would be someone worthy. Nuada would take an elf-maid hailing from only the highest of births for a wife. She, on the other hand, was a mere mortal, the only child of a petty king who dared to march against King Balor.

"If only your pathetic father could see you now," Nuada grunts and stops just long enough to reach over to gather her wrists. One hand tightens over them, keeping them behind her back. The other curled around her hair. He tugged hard whenever he sheathed himself in her. "A slut servicing her master."

Her father had been allowed to live on the condition that she be sent to court as a hostage. He had no say in where she was placed or whom she had to serve. He was not allowed to know, either. Perhaps this was a mercy.

The air grew thick and heated. The room felt uncommonly warm. Y/n's neck ached from Nuada tugging her hair. Her entire body trembled with each violent thrust. Tiny beads of sweat formed over her skin. Her breath had reduced to shallow gasps and pants. A sweet tension gathered in her core. She was close. So close. But the question remained: will the prince let her have her pleasure just this once?

That was not to be. Nuada felt the coiling in his belly. He was on the precipice of his release, and he had no intention of spilling his seed in y/n's slick heat. As glorious as that would be, he did not wish to risk planting a halfling bastard in y/n's belly. The elves were the children of the earth. The golden blood of the true ancients and the elder gods flowed strong in their veins, and Nauda would never dream of mingling his blood with that of a lesser creature. He drew back and got out of bed, pulling y/n with him as he did. She knew what was to happen next and did well to hide the sadness welling within her.

"Open," he commanded, after she settled on her knees.

Y/n obeyed, letting her mouth go slack while he sank his length all the way in. She kept still while he set the pace, her breath filled with the clean scent of him. His cock was warm and heavy on her tongue. Y/n tightened her lips just enough, just as he taught her the first night. He moaned. She opened her eyes. His head was thrown back, and his mouth was slightly parted. Nuada moved, fucking her mouth and grunting whenever that sinful tongue of hers glided along his member. He sighed wistfully, grabbed at her hair, and went faster and deeper, delighting in the little gagging sounds she made. All y/n could do was keep her hands on her thighs and let Nuada enjoy himself. She was not allowed to touch him during the act or speak to him unless spoken to. He delighted in that too, for he believed that was where mortals like her belonged. Silent and by the feet of their betters.

A few more moments were all it took. "Fuck," Nuada muttered while his cock throbbed and twitched and a warm torrent of his spend spilled onto y/n's tongue. He pressed himself hard against her lips while still riding the high of his orgasm, groaning one last time before finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. The prince ran a thumb over the servant girl's lips, pleased to find them glistening and swollen as always.

"Swallow," he commanded, and brushed a thumb over her tears. He brought it to his mouth, as if to savor the taste. "Swallow my spend like the good whore that you are."

Y/n obeyed, trying not wrinkle her face when the salty essence of him washed down her throat. She knew Nuada would not let her leave until she had swallowed every last drop. Nuada grunted in approval when she opened her mouth and he found it empty. He lifted y/n to her feet and kissed her hard on the lips, his fingers digging into her skin. When he pulled away his eyes glinted in savage triumph.

"Get dressed, and then get out," he said without even looking at her. "I have had my fill of you this night."

Y/n gathered her clothes. Her fingers trembled, as if they had all turned to thumbs. She fumbled with the lacing on her dress, the ties of her neat little apron. She glanced at him. Many a turn of the moon had come and gone since their first coupling, and the prince could not bring himself to even pretend to show her a shred of kindness and respect. Y/n sniffled and looked away.

Nuada made a sound of disgust. "Spare me the sad little doe eyes. I will not fall for it. Now get out and get one of the others to draw me a bath."

Y/n slipped into her shoes and fled into the cold and empty darkness, finding it a welcome relief to the prince's company.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 2 of 13

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: Suggestions of sexual assault

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Welcome back, Ladies!” Alastor was in the hotel lobby as soon as the doors opened. “How did your ill-fated endeavor go?” 

“Bad.” Vaggie answered, not wanting to talk about any of it. The less people that knew her angelic origin story, the better in her mind. 

“Alastor?” Charlie tried to find the similarities between the man in the picture she had spent most of the trip home looking at and the one standing before her. 

“Whatever can I do for you?” He was in front of her in a heartbeat, leaning into her space slightly, hands planted on his cane as was his way.

“I think maybe I have something for you?” Charlie held out the silver pocket watch. 

“Angelic steel?” He asked as he stepped closer, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “As a pocket watch? What a silly trinket to bring back. Pocket watches were a thing of the past long before my day.”

“It was given to me. A woman, she asked me to give it to you. At least, I think you’re who it’s for. Maybe there’s another Alastor? Or one who isn’t dead yet. Or one that already had their soul destroyed. Or-”

Alastor bounced the watch in his hand a few times, enjoying the weight of a well made pocket watch in the palm of his hand. Wristwatches had indeed replaced the pocket by in his time on earth. Still, they had an elegance he had favored in life that few knew about. 

They made handy trinkets to fiddle with. In life, he’d run his thumb over the faceplate of the watch his wife had gotten him while he stalked his victims… or while he sat through pointless meetings. 

She had gotten it for him as a gift early in their marriage, upon discovering his rather modest personal collection. It’s weight lived in his pocket during those few short months they had spent together. In the time after her death however, he had wore the faceplate smooth, running his thumb over it again and again as he went about his daily life. 

Alastor froze as he opened the watch. A face he had spent what felt like eternity trying to forget looked up at him.

He had hoped that was where she was. He had feared she had already perished in hell, having been damned for one wrong thought or some childhood action like so many of the weakest sinners in the realm. 

Static jumbled his voice, radio filter going heavy, “Where did you get this?” 

“A woman, she gave it to me.” A shiver ran up Charlie’s spine as Alastor clicked closed the watch and slipped it in his pocket, moving without a trace of the dangerous flair of power he had displayed. “Do you- is she-”

“My wife.” He confirmed. Though they had been separated in death, he wouldn’t deny her. He had spent decades trying and failing to forget her, but he would never deny her outright. 

“You had a wife?” Angel was too shocked to add any quips to his question. Alastor having a wife ment that surely, at some point he had an interest in more than just himself. “Does that mean that you do-”

“I advise you to speak carefully,” Words came nearly lost in static as shadows deepened, lights dimmed and Alastor’s back twisted and his neck turned far more than should have been possible so Angel was faced with his terrifying face. 

“What is she like?” Charlie was eager to settle the mood and learn more of the woman who she had only gotten to meet for a fleeting moment.

“She was sweet as honey. A woman truly deserving of Heaven.”

“How’ed she end up with a fella like you?” Angel stuck his neck out to ask the question on everyone’s mind, not having enough sense of self preservation to keep his mouth shut after the first warning. 

“I was far from deserving of her,” Alastor felt like such didn’t need saying. “We had family connections pushing us together. Is she well?” 

Charlie hesitated, her mind replaying the way Adam manhandled the wisp of a woman. 

“She’s in Heaven.” Vaggie answered, as if that was an answer. 

Alastor accepted it with a nod, “I thank you for bringing me her trinket.” 

“She said to tell you that she loved you,” Charlie blurted out. “No, that’s not exactly it. She would always love you, that was it. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her but she said she would wait forever for you.”

The wide toothed smile on Alastor’s face closed, pulling tight, “She shouldn’t.”

“You can try for redemption.” Charlie felt renewed hope for him. He had someone to be redeemed for!

“No, thank you.” Alastor’s smile grew again, cut wide by his sharp teeth. “I am hardly the man she knew. I thank you again, for the trinket, and carrying my Isabel’s message. Good Night.”

~~~~~<3

Adam was in a rage as he threw her against the wall. Isabel wished for nothing more than to die. If this was heaven, she didn’t want to be here. 

“What were you talking about!”

“I just wanted to find him.” She whimpered in the face of Adam’s rage. He was held up as the perfect man, the first man. If he was placed next to the man she loved though, he couldn’t even live up to his shadow. 

“He’s a disgusting Sinner!” Adam grabbed her again. “Why do you hold out for him? You could have me, the original dick.”

“You’ll never be half the man he was!” 

Adam threw her on the floor and loomed over her. “Take what I am willing to give you,” His hand grasped her ankle and pulled her toward him as she tried to get away. “And I will make you forget him.” 

“You’re as much a sinner as anyone in hell!” She kicked at him, “This is no Heaven. This is but a beautiful blasphemous lie. This is Hell!” 

~~~~~<3

Alastor sat in Rosie’s parlor, teacup of rich warm blood swirling as he was lost in his thoughts. Across from him sat his dearest friend in Hell. Her territory was a refuge for him, somewhere without cameras and where those who would spread idle gossip about him were not eager to wander inside.

“Alastor Dear, As glad as I am to see your face, what troubles you?” 

Rosie had been sitting in silence, watching him. She waited patiently for him to open up before her soft prodding, though she wouldn’t dare push or pry. Maintaining a friendship with her often chaotic fellow Overlord took some delicacy and respect for his many boundaries and walls.

“My wife,” Alastor’s smile was subdued yet ever present even as the weight of his punishment in hell crashed over him once again. 

It was a weight he had long ago gotten used to. He had learned to thrive under but when he was forced to remember this part of his living life, it was a stone around his neck that threatened to try to drown him. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would let it.

He needed to once again cast aside the stone. She was where she belonged and he would never be with her again. So what if she waited for him? So what if she still loved him? She didn’t know the sins he carried. He needed to throw her memory aside, once again, and leave the past in the past. 

There was nothing that could be done to change anything. 

She sat back in her chair, back perfectly straight and empty eyes wide. Sure, she had been privy to the fact that at one time, he had been married but most gave up such ownership over their spouse after a few decades, referring to them as former, ex or late.

It was easy to assume due to his apparent lack of romantic or sexual drive that he had mentally divorced himself from the relationship long ago, shed the shackles that societal expectations bound him with in his life. They hadn’t spoken explicitly about his preferences or desires, it wouldn’t be proper, but she had a way of knowing these things. 

Or at least, she had thought she did.

The idea that taking a wife had been anything more meaningful to him than the socially expected and proper thing to do hadn’t crossed even her mind. All things exist in a spectrum, she supposed, and matters of the heart were rarely anything less than complex. 

Alastor placed a open pocket watch on the table between them after she was all but certain that he wasn’t going to discuss the matter further, “She’s in Heaven.” 

“How did you get this?” She asked, picking the silver watch, gleaming in a way things in hell rarely did, and examining the picture inside. 

It was hand sketched and ever so detailed. Crafting the image clearly took a significant amount of time. Someone had slaved over the artwork inside for a great many hours to produce something that had near photo results. 

“Is this-?” 

“My Darling and I, the day we wed.” Alastor confirmed. “She had always been a talented artist, though I’d say her skills have progressed significantly in the decades since she left my side.” 

“It’s very good,” Rosie said, “You made a lovely couple.” 

“Our Darling Princess delivered it when she returned from Heaven,” Alastor took a long pull from his teacup. “A gift from Isabel.”

“I’m so sorry, Alastor.” She slid the watch back toward him, not sure what the proper thing to say to him in that moment was. 

“No need, my dear friend.” He absently responded as he pocketed the watch, sparing a moment to run his thumb over the faceplate hiding the picture inside. “No need. She is where she belongs, as am I.” 

“Yet it weighs on you,” Rosie pointed out, “You long for her?”

“Perhaps.” Alastor wasn’t fond of the questioning but thankfully, Rosie did so with tact and respect. It was something lacking from the hotel residents who struggled to picture him caring for anyone, let alone as a husband. “She is safe, as she should be.”

“It’s a relief then?” Rosie asked, plucking a lady finger from the plate between them. “To know she didn’t parish in an extermination?” 

It hadn’t occurred to her that he had been looking for, hunting for anything more than the powerful demons he killed as he arose to power. Perhaps there had been a bit of something else driving the events of those days. Now wasn’t the time to ask however.

“To know that she is where she belongs,” Alastor countered.

“Which isn’t with you?” Rosie delicately tried to untangle the complexities of her dear friend. 

“Which is somewhere safe,” Alastor corrected. “You know just as well as I, Hell chews up and spits out those who are not savage enough to earn respect and take power.” 

~~~~~<3

Sulfur stung her nose as the portal to Hell opened. This was her chance, she had humored Adam though it had made her skin crawl to get to this moment. Adam wasn’t an intelligent man but still, it wasn’t easy to allow him to believe that she was finally willing to entertain his advances, his hands on her. 

It was too much to hope for that he would know anything about her husband but he was her ticket to where he was. It was common knowledge that Adam took his warrior angles between Heaven and Hell in order to protect the gates. 

There’s no way she could convince Adam to take her with him. Manipulation wasn’t her strength in the slightest. Just pretending to accept Adams advances was challenging enough. 

It wasn’t for nothing at least. It had gotten her here, standing at the front of the select crowd who would see off Adam and his warriors to the mighty battle as the citizens of Hell once again rose up to try and overtake the gates. This was a war only a select few knew about and being one of those few took work. 

Golden sparks kicked to life in the air in front of the army. Sparks grew, swirling to life into a large portal from what had started as a pinprick. Adam offered her a cocky grin that she did not return before he lead the first wave of his army though.

This was her chance, Isabel knew. It was now or never. If she let this chance pass by, she wouldn’t get another. 

Counting, Isabel prepared herself to do something she knew she could never come back from. 

One. Looking in the distance she saw her Mother-in-law nod her blessing. How she had managed to get that close, Isabel would never be able to ask her. Everything she had learned, everything she had feared, everything she had experienced in Heaven, she had shared with her dear Alastor’s mother. If anyone knew how much being separated from him was torture to her, it would be his mother. 

Two. She fluttered out her wings, tensing muscles and ruffling feathers. To pull this off she needed every feather in place. She needed every muscle to propel her forward before anyone could stop her. Hopefully at least. 

Three. One last deep breath of the cleanest air she would ever breathe as the hot sulphuric air wafted into heaven from the open portal. Just a few more rows of the army were left. 

 Now. She ran, long dress clutched in one fist as she hiked the hemline up to her knees, wishing she had worn the dip hemline she had favored instead of the ankle long hemline Adam liked. She had to manage without getting caught. She had to make it through and out of reach of the angels while she fell. 

One powerful beat after the other allowed her to pick up speed as she ran forward, going as fast as her legs would carry her. Then she was going faster, feet grazing the stone floors as she shot forward into the stream of deadly angel warriors.

Fingers grazed the feathers of her wings in a startled attempt to stop her as she shot away from the army. For a moment, she was disorientated. 

They were supposed to be high above hell, defending the gates from one of the frequent uprisings. She had planned to fall, hoping to miss the battle and fall fairly safely.

Instead, the portal all but threw her out into the battle near the grounds of Hell. This wasn’t right but Isabel had no time to get her feet under her. The air burned her lungs as she gulped  air as her wings beat with all the strength she could manage. 

Dodging out from the army, a black tentacle nearly knocked her out of the air. She had to get away from here, where ever here was before she could do anything else. Flying from rooftop to rooftop, she did everything she could to try and put distance between her and the battle without drawing attention to herself.

Once the fighting was over, she would look for him. First she had to find somewhere safer to wait out the violent fighting taking place around the large building. Surely, everyone would be paying attention to the battle and one lone angel wouldn’t draw too much attention, right?

~~~~~<3

TagList: @catticora, @alastor-simp

[future-island-egghead]

Man I have so many thoughts on the Seraphim and since it's been over a year since their introduction I've had a lot more of them but overall I kinda.. feel bad for them, more than anything else?

No matter how powerful or scary or cool they are, one thing always remains the most important and unforgettable aspect of them.

They're sentient. They're sapient. They're aware and alive. They're people.

Not just people. But children.

They're just children.

And they have to grapple with being the crossover of two terrible things to be.

A clone of someone else, who's life has already been lived and decided by their own terms, and forced to follow it to the letter, and having no fundamental identity independent of them. only footprints of memories that aren't even their own, purely for the purpose of making them better fighters. How can they be anything more than simple variations or derivatives of "real" people? Can they even consider themselves "real"?

A pacifista. A human weapon. No agency. No humanity. Stripped of everything from will to dreams to freedom to even self-expression and forced to follow commands and never ask questions. Like a soldier. Like less than a soldier. Like a tool.

Like a gun.

Vegapunk said that Kuma's lack of free will would force him to obey, even if they asked him to murder a child. But he originally had free will to begin with. Kuma's life as PX-0, a sentient being with no will of his own, nothing more than a passenger in his own body is a nightmare. S-Bear has known nothing but that nightmare since birth.

People said that Doflamingo was born evil, but in reality, his life was shaped by the events he lived through more than anyone in-universe wants to admit. I wonder how S-Flamingo must feel, forced to carry on Doflamingo's legacy as a monster to the core, regardless of how monstrous he himself might or might not be. i wonder if the pressure of being the clone of a demon will cause a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Hancock's worldwide status was one even she did not want. It was a curse she herself learned to turn into a weapon. S-Snake does not even get the privilege of encountering OR weaponizing the curse herself. Already forced into the limelight without warning, and the eyes won't leave. Everyone already treating her like a celebrity, without a chance to even know what it was like to be a person first.

All she can do now is follow the same government that traumatized her origin and forced her to destroy her home.

Similarly, what of S-Hawk? Moreso than any seraph, any creation of the World Government, surely all eyes are on him to succeed. to be the strongest of the Seraphim and a symbol of total global safety. The world's strongest swordsman, new and improved, right? And what if he isn't? What if he's not as strong as Mihawk? What if he never is? What if he can't do it?

And what if he does? What if he ends up even worse than his origin: a bored god sitting on an empty throne with an empty title, with no one left to challenge him?

Jinbei wanted nothing in the world more than discrimination towards Fish-Men and Merfolk to end, to the degree he'd stake his life on it without hesitation. I wonder how S-Shark, a tool of the World Government, partly born from a race nearly extinguished by them, and forced to uphold their fascist, discriminatory rule against his will feels.

If Crocodile's secret is indeed his transgender identity, then what does that mean for S-Croc? At least Crocodile got the opportunity to keep it under wraps, even if some people do know. S-Croc will never get that opportunity, ever. the whole world on him from birth. Will they even let him be.. him? or will they force him to live in a body and identity that not only isn't even his own, but isn't anybody's at all?

and if it isn't, sure! I suppose he won't have to worry about that. but what of his intelligence? his own ambitions? It's said that Crocodile's greatest attribute was his mind, but the seraphim aren't allowed to break from the orders of others or formulate strategies, so S-Croc would be forced to take orders from people less experienced or intuitive. The footprints of a forgotten dream of wealth, fame, power, and freedom still sputter in his chest. A natural-born leader, forced into the role of lowly weapon, emptily paraded as a hero. How pitiful.

And S-Gecko? Always the runt. The last one. The weakest of the bunch. The world government never cared enough to hide their disdain and contempt for Moria. I can't imagine this won't bleed into how they treat S-Gecko. No matter how hard he works, being treated as nothing more than the worst of the best. Being equated to nothing but failure because his origin was one and constantly put down as "obligatory" and only existing at all because they couldn't get a better warlord to clone instead. Sure, he's not traumatized by the loss of his crew like Moria was.

But at least Moria had a crew.

The Seraphim are scary, and they're powerful. They're not naturally-born organisms, and they're programmed to follow the words of the World Government, even if told to kill in cold blood.

But they're still people.

They're still alive.

They're just children.

For the love of Nika, they're only children.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

aww yeah ep 20 GOOD

I guess I do (very casual, broadstroke) episode commentaries now, halfway through the show lmao. Spoilers below!!

Bai Jiu BETRAYAL?

Wen Xiao WANTED?

Zhuo Yichen DETECTIVE-ING?

Ying Lei BACK?

*crowd cheers*

The dots are connecting like crazy with the big bad's whole inner core crusade and also with the simultaneous demon case like I did not recognize Ao Yin as the demon Li Lun first released eight years ago but oooh do I enjoy that minor payoff.

Love the repeated use of the demonic-spell-restraining sigils now that we've been introduced to them though I wonder why the Bureau doesn't ever seem to make use of them. Maybe they don't deal with enough powerful demons to need to paint those in their own (very empty) dungeon? Or perhaps just plot convenience. (edit: someone has pointed out the Bureau indeed uses them!! I'm just blind <3)

Anyway I kind of wish in the Chongwu Camp dungeon PSJ fought a little bc she's so cool in action and their bailing was a little abrupt, but it makes sense that they'd have an immediate getaway plan. Also this is an ep 19 comment but that line Mr. 3-Face Mask delivered about PSJ being fated to always be betrayed by her little brother(s) HURT. So good.

Back to the Bureau, I do love me a good framing, and I'm also happy to get a tiny bit of the episodic demon-murder-case style back. WX was v clever to hide out in Situ Mansion, and (small detail but) I appreciate that the others catch her up on the Bai Jiu thing onscreen. As an aside, I also like that the actress for WX got to be double-casted even just briefly. Seeing some of the actors get to play around with portraying various extremes in characterization and costuming is a ton of fun.

And then yay Bai Jiu backstory at last~! It's crazy how much that blood moon fucked up everyone's lives eight years ago huh.

Everything ZYC says to him is on point (and honestly, ZYC is really quite adept at comforting others, he just sucks utter ass at it when it's his fault and he has to apologize lmaooo) but of course my favorite scene in the whole episode is as follows:

The very slight shine in the waterline, the bittersweet smile/grimace as, deliberately or not, ZYC's words indirectly echo everything about the circumstances between the two of them right now??? Whew. They did that for me specifically.

Anyway, this was a good one to chew on for me, packed with plot movement enough that I didn't feel unsatisfied with just one episode. I'm glad that so far it seems like the release schedule bears in mind what episodes should be watched in pairs for maximum effect (eps 16/17, 18/19 specifically) and which ones are okay to stand alone for the day, but I also don't want to speak too soon haha. We'll see how ep 21 fares.

Also since this is a ZYC stan account (lmao) I have some obligatory ZYC thoughts that I haven't managed to fit anywhere else. I've been meaning to comment on this for a while now and was reminded by this episode: I love the fact that ZYC actually smiles quite often. I think it's a bit surprising every time he does because he so easily fits the archetype of stoic broody action hero, but it really is just an archetype he's fit himself into, and it's never clearer than when they flash back to smiley baby!ZYC (how freely and purely he used to give those smiles away...).

On the other side of this is also how caustic and biting he can be with his words, whether sarcastically or otherwise, and how clearly his face telegraphs his emotions in general. I love that he actually emotes quite a lot and isn't cold and unaffected in the least, just pouty frowny and awkward.

The last piece to this for me is probably his age (which I very much appreciated being established super early on) and how convincingly TJR portrays him as young and inexperienced and extremely earnest. He's so sincere in everything he does that it really doesn't take much to move him, which also (imo) makes his arc less overdone.

We all know from the start what direction his development will likely go, how he'll learn he's mistaken about ZYZ and how he'll grow to have a more nuanced view of the world as he creates more bonds with others. But he's so emotional and emotionally aware that it doesn't really take much push and pull to get him there. And actually, it's not untread ground to him—he is moreso thawing, in part returning to the open-hearted nature that he had to very abruptly shutter away rather than fundamentally changing as a person. I think to me, that makes his character more compelling to watch because his cynicism about the world is perhaps the least sincere thing about him. It's entirely learned, and not by choice. Relatable.

[choster33]

Gambit- X-men 97's Romantic Hero

I love Gambit and after watching X-men 97 I'm sure that he's a lot of people's favorite right now. After watching and rewatching, season 1 I think that the writers have set him up as the Romantic Hero which is not just that he's a main part of a love triangle which he is but Romantic in the Byronic literary archetype way of "possessing the qualities of being larger than life, enjoying suffering, being isolated from society, being always haunted by an unseeingly unidentified sin and is known for being quite cynical" according to Brainly.com. Not to mention having a long suffering love interest!

He is not in the series for a lot of time, but his arc through episode 5 and the impact that he has throughout the whole show is monumental. He begins with a splash looking hot in his iconic pink crop top. I mean, there are very few people who would make this look good and he really does. He also comes off as way more interesting than Scott who bores me to tears. I sometimes skip Scott and Jean stuff to be quite honest and that comes from Remy being a good guy, but not boring. He has a sense of humor, a sense of adventure, and an all around down to earth personality. He is a strong fighter and loyal X-men, but even from the beginning he is seen as charming, funny and right. There is less of a threat after Xavier's death and Scott, Bishop and Ororo did have it handled.

Then we get to the club and Gambit is the ultimate lover in that he pairs up with Rogue and then proceeds to look at her lovingly whilst telling her what any worthwhile man would do to be with her. Swoon.

Then we have episode 2 where Rogue and Magneto reestablish their connection. We may cheer Rogue for being able to touch someone, but look at Gambit's hurt and sad eyes. Long suffering relationship indeed. Romantic heroes seem to love suffering and what is more painful and self inflicted than falling in love with someone who can't touch, but also is full of insecurities about love and commitment. I love Rogue, but she's afraid of love and terrified of hurting someone else which shows in how she handles relationships.

Mon dieu, it's freaky Rogueneto telling him what he tells himself, his deepest fears. A good Romantic hero always has demons and haunted by past sins and who is more haunted by his past than Gambit. I have to say here that some people might be thinking who is more tortured than Magneto, but I disagree. Magneto has a dark past, but he thinks he's right. Whereas Gambit is wracked with guilt and feelings of not being worthy of being called a X-man and being Rogue's man. He grew up a Cajun swamp rat from a Thieves guild raised by thieves, assassins and other nefarious people and lived most of his life as a thief. What makes him interesting is the tortured guilt and modesty that Gambit has.

He goes to Genosha because he's jealous and wants to make sure that there is nothing going on between Rogue and Magneto. Magneto even says as much. He wasn't even meant to be there and might have been safe on Earth, but we know what happened to him tragically. Plus we see how he is not cowed by Magneto and willing to ask questions no one else is willing to ask. Another reason why Magneto is not the Romantic hero, is that he is mutant MVP in this show, the heir to the X-mansion and the X-men, asked to be king of Genosha, and etc. where Romantic heroes are on the fringes of society like Gambit, who is a hero as a X-man but not wanting fame, glory, or power like Magneto.

Kurt is so observant and sees instantly the connection the two have and calls Gambit out on being theatrical. Gambit calls himself a scoundrel and yet again dismisses the possibility of a happy ending for himself. Then we get that iconic line of "There is no love without sin. Love is best measured in what we forgive." Gambit again falls into the Romantic hero trope of thinking he is too low for love, but isn't going to necessarily change his ways, just accepts that he is on the fringes of society and all that entails. One of the things I love about Romy is their understanding about one another. They both have murky pasts and are filled with self loathing and self doubt. They are strong attractive X-men but they are best friends because they GET each other.

Oof, the breakup scene. How more Romantic and tortured was this? He showed how amazing a man he was by patiently listening to her tell her story and then at the end not blowing up at her or making her feel like shit, but just wanting the truth from her and showing how much it hurt him. He played the Swamp Rat, because a lot of that was a game, a way for her to feel OK with keeping him at arm's length, dangling on a string, never fully letting him in because intimacy was too scary.

It's scenes like this that make me wonder if they have touched before even accidentally because Gambit as a character is so self loathing that if she touched him even by accident, she is holding so much of that loathing in her which may be something contributing to her doubts. A part of comic!Rogue leaving Gambit in Antarctica was because she absorbed him and was filled with self loathing.

He is such a gentleman that he even kisses her hand and agrees to be friends. And granted that the Magneto and Rogue dance was hot, but that must have been torture for Gambit. Then our Byronic hero becomes a man of action and hot damn we get James Bond level action and heroics. He shows his strength and does whatever is necessary to save his lady. Despite his differences with Magneto, he doesn't petulantly sulk but does what is required of him because he is a hero at the end of the day. He is brave and selfless and chivalrous. He is giving old school knight chivalry here and I'm here for it.

Then my heart breaks as does every other viewer at the death scene and the "can't feel you" line. It's very soap opera-y and dramatic to kill him after breaking his heart, but here we are. Rogue is the long suffering love interest and most Romantic stories don't necessarily have a happy ending. He wasn't even meant to be in Genosha and because of love and circumstance ended up dying tragically as the ultimate hero. He died a hero's death dying to save thousands, but more importantly to save the love of his life.

In later episodes, his death is a catalyst for Rogue taking action and even turning darker. Her love for Gambit shows more when he is gone and is going to be a fundamental chapter in her life. One that might make her think twice about being commitment phobic and using her abilities as an excuse not to feel intimacy and how wrong she got it with Gambit. It was love, true love and she didn't see it until she was too late.

This may just be a chapter in their story and we may have more drama and angst with Deathbit in Season 2, but even dead Gambit was the troubled Romantic lead that made X-men 97 work and be so interesting. Episode 5 was my favorite and probably the best episode next to the finale and that's due to Gambit. We relate to him and feel deeply in his pain, self loathing, jealousy, and love of Rogue. I find Magneto interesting and Rogueneto is fun to read and write about, but Romy is the OTP and Gambit is Lancelot.

[followfire]

So... a little bit of a fic I have decided to work on during whumptober :3

It's an AU where instead of being Diluc accompanying his father during the Ursa incident, it's Jean. Since it's not his precious son who is about to be a victim of the dragon, Crepus doesn't use his delusion and he lives! Yay! But Jean isn't that lucky and doesn't get out of it unscathed, to a point where her future as a knight could be compromised...

***

The moment Diluc finally saw Ursa the Drake, he was struck by its size and the sheer strength that emanated from the creature. He wasn’t expecting anything less from a dragon, yet he wasn’t prepared for the strong impression that it was going to leave on him. It was flying around, roaring louder than any thunderstorm, the flaps of its powerful wings enough to uproot trees and knock several knights down. Its movements were erratic, its targets difficult to determine. It seemed that it was just flying around, making fun of them, sometimes deciding to descend on the convoy and striking a merchant on its way, sometimes just pretending to and then turning at the last second, barely avoiding a panic stricken knight.

Varka, on the other hand, wasn’t destabilized by the situation in the slightest. Without even a flicker of hesitation, he confidently ordered the attack on the dragon, his courage seeping through the group that followed him without question.

Diluc didn’t follow him, though. His priority was to find his father. He hadn’t discussed it beforehand with the Grand Master, but he knew his behavior wasn’t a hindrance in repelling their enemy. Knights were also needed to assess the situation about the convoy and assist the wounded. And Varka surely knew making sure his father was safe would take up too much of Diluc’s mind to just head straight into battle.

He jumped from his horse mid gallop and headed straight for the covered wagon he knew his father was supposed to travel in. It was knocked over on its side, damaged but not smashed like some others.

“Father?!” Diluc screamed as he swiftly pushed aside the curtain that separated the inside of the chariot from the outside.

“Diluc? I’m alright, son!” his father answered, miraculously unhurt. He seemed to be rummaging through things, maybe trying to collect himself after the carriage had crashed. “Don’t worry about me, there are other people who need assistance!”

Diluc lingered a second more, making sure his father was really as fine as he said, or maybe reassuring himself that his father was indeed fine. Then he rushed out to find who else he could assist right now, drawing his sword, ready to defend anyone against their opponent. He scanned the area, shock and helplessness building in his throat as he did. Most of the people — knights and citizen alike — were either up and still fighting, or lying down, probably already dead given the state they were in. Limbs were torn or crushed, blood splattered all around. The dragon was merciless.

He was about to decide that the best he could do was join Varka to participate in the direct confrontation, to put an end to this fight as fast as possible, that it was the best course of action to ensure that they wouldn’t lose any more lives tonight. Then he spotted Jean, lying on the ground.

He lowered his sword, almost dropping it as he scrambled closer to her, falling on his knees to check on her, praying that it wasn’t too late.

“Jean!” he screamed her name, shaking her a little in the hopes of waking her up, knowing as he did how futile it was. She was covered in blood, so much that he wasn’t even sure where it came from. It was on her face, her neck, her stomach, her leg… But she was still breathing, he was sure of that.

“We need to stop the bleeding” he muttered to himself, taking his coat off to use as a compress on a gash on her stomach, before turning around to try and find someone who could help him. He was not by any means a healer, and they hadn’t even brought many with them. They couldn’t take that risk. Healers were sure to be needed, but they couldn’t risk losing them in the heat of the battle and leave the city without medical support. It was a tough decision that he knew the Grand Master hated to make, but it was a small convoy; the casualties couldn’t be abundant. Diluc was just hoping to find one of the knights who had even the basic training in healing, who was just a bit more knowledgable in this area than he was.

And his gaze fell on Kaeya. He realized he had completely lost track of Kaeya’s whereabouts before that, so engrossed in checking on their father. Kaeya hadn’t followed him, apparently.

“Kaeya!” Diluc called his brother, eager to have him by his side to do something about Jean.

But Kaeya wasn’t moving. He was looking straight at him, yet his mind seemed to be completely elsewhere. He had his sword in his hand, but seemingly no intention to use it. Was he even aware how much of a sitting duck he was right now? Immobile and inattentive in a battlefield?

“Kaeya?!” Diluc tried again, desperate to have him come and help. What in Celestia was he doing?!

“KAEYA!!” Diluc screamed at him, and Kaeya finally seemed to snap out of it — whatever it was — and hurried close to him, quickly scanning Jean’s condition too.

“She’s losing too much blood, there’s nothing we can do about it here. We need to get her back to the city as soon as possible”, he said, as he turned around and began calling and regrouping the few knights that were still around and not participating in the assault, either the ones from the convoy that were still standing, or the others from their group who were trying to find the wounded who could still be saved. Kaeya was more clear headed than he was, he had to admit. His instinctual reaction was to rush and do anything he could to save Jean’s life, but Kaeya was right: Diluc’s small attempt to stop the blood from spilling out of one of her wounds would not be enough to save her life. They needed to think farther than this.

Once a few people — his father among them — were gathered, Diluc took charge, ordered them to take the wounded on the few stretchers they had and bring them back to the city. Kaeya and him, whose abilities were better used in a fight, would ensure that they could get away without trouble, before going back to join Varka’s group. They would fight off the dragon and catch up with them as soon as they could.

[jeannereames]

How important was it, really, that Alexander didn't have more brothers? He had Karanos, and it there's the gossip that ATG or his mother killed the boy. Philip Arridhaios apparently wasn't seen as a direct challenge and ATG kept him around. But if Philip had more healthy male offspring around Alexander's age, would that have threatened his hold on power, the partition of the empire or even the military campaigns themselves (the brothers becoming generals for example)?

Philip’s (Lack of) Sons

So, first I need to correct the bit about Karanos. He didn’t exist. Justin gave baby Europē a sex-change. No historian reports two children for Kleopatra Eurydikē, and Justin alone names a boy. We get two children when modern historians try to reconcile Justin and Diodoros/others. But Justin gets things wrong a lot. So, where Justin disagrees with other historians, I’ll go with the others (especially if it’s more than one). Justin wasn’t simply epitomizing Pompeius Trogus; he had his own agendas and themes, so he changed things when it suited him.

Therefore, “Karanos” = Europē,* born just a few days (maybe a week or two) before Philip’s murder.

The wives and children of Philip are reported in a fragment from Satyrus preserved in Athenaeus (13.557b-c). Of his (living) children, we have four girls (Kynannē, Kleopatra, Thessalonikē, and Europē), and only two boys (Arrhidaios and Alexander).

I specify living because ancient accounts don’t usually list children who died young unless it somehow impacted events. So, the murder of Europē, which led to the suicide of Kleopatra Eurydikē, means Europē got a mention whereas if she’d died of some childhood disease, we’d probably not hear about her.

Ergo, it’s possible Philip did sire other children who simply didn’t survive long enough to make it into the histories—especially if they’d been born (and died) in his earlier years. In Dancing with the Lion, I invented a son (Menelaos) by the shadowy Phila of Elimeia, who died young, specifically to illustrate that point.

The two-to-four ratio of boys to girls suggests Philip fathered girls more than boys. Would more boys have endangered Alexander’s place? Certainly, if they were around his age. But not if they were notably younger—another point I make in Dancing with the Lion: why Alexander is less upset by Philip’s seventh marriage than his mother. The chance that Kleopatra Eurydike might bear a male child threatened Olympias’s position far more than Alexander’s. Even some of my colleagues seem to forget that. While yes, sons and mothers did form a political unit at polygamous courts, that doesn’t mean that threats to the mother’s status necessarily entailed threats to a son’s. Philip’s marriage to Kleopatra Eurydikē was just such a case. Any son she produced would’ve been so far behind Alexander in achievements (and thus, a shot at the throne), that the marriage was no threat—which is why he attended the wedding. That makes events at the wedding very curious indeed! And convinces me that we don’t even begin to have the whole story there.

I made up some things in Rise (no spoilers), precisely because we don’t know and I had to come up with something that didn’t make Alexander into a reactionary rube. Too often people point to him as a “hotheaded youth” who made a mountain out of a molehill at his mother’s instigation. Folks, he was eighteen or nineteen. Hotheaded (always), but not some little kid to jump at shadows and Mommy’s tales. Something truly threatening generated that level of reaction from him (and beyond what Diodoros relates at the wedding). It wasn’t fear of being replaced by an as-yet-not-even-conceived infant brother--unless Philip had other reasons to replace him, and there weren’t any … on the face of it.

Anyway, I want to end by pointing to the Big Pink Elephant in the room that way too many people seem to forget….

AMYNTAS PERDIKKA was Alexander’s chief rival, not Arrhidaios or a fictional infant brother. Amyntas was older than Alexander, the only son of Philip’s older brother Perdikkas (III), who’d been king before Philip. Amyntas didn’t become king when his father died in battle precisely because he was only about a year old, while Philip was c. 23/24, and the kingdom was in crisis. Being a baby was also why Philip didn’t kill him. He needed an heir until he could father his own.**

So despite being the eldest Argead after Philip and the legitimate son of a former king, Amyntas spent his life as “the spare.” Imagine the resentment that would have generated. It’s not an accident that Alexander had him killed inside six months of taking the throne. And it’s probably in that time frame that Amyntas would’ve staged a bid for the throne himself. After all, not only was he an Argead, with military experience, he was married to Philip’s eldest child, who was already pregnant, showing he was fertile. He had a really good claim.

Such a clearing out of competing Argeads was standard for any new king’s first year or so. It’s what whittled down available Argead males from the five sons (and progeny) of Alexandros I to just three at Philip’s death, a hundred years later: Amyntas, Alexander, and Arrhidaios. Alexander wasn’t unique in house-cleaning. Philip had killed his three half-brothers upon taking the throne, keeping only Amyntas, his nephew. This was so typical it’s of note that Alexandros II not only didn’t get rid of Perdikkas (III) or Philip (II), but kept around his half-brothers too. It was the exception, not the rule (perhaps because all of them were still too young to be a threat?).

So basically, given Argead patterns, the survival of male siblings/cousins depended on a couple things:

The age of the sibling(s)/cousins. Siblings and half-siblings who were notably younger were likely to be spared if they didn’t appear to offer an immediate threat. After all, the new king needed an heir until he could father his own.

The apparent competence of the sibling(s)/cousins. Arrhidaios is our best evidence for this: Alexander took him with him to Asia to keep an eye on him—prevent his use as a stooge in a coup—but he otherwise kept him alive.

The king’s personal relationship with the sibling(s)/cousins. This is obviously very hard to determine, as our sources may not tell us, or not tell us honestly, but even if it’s hard, that doesn’t mean we should neglect it as a possible motivating factor. It may, in fact, explain why Alexander II (Philip’s older brother) didn’t kill his siblings. He may have loved them (and them, him). While we can’t say from the evidence, we also shouldn’t dismiss that as a possible motivating factor.

Here's an earlier posts about Amyntas, btw.

AMYNTAS PERDIKKA

* The names themselves are a give-away. “Europē,” like “Thessalonikē” was bestowed in celebration of Philip’s military victories. By contrast, “Karanos” (which means generic “chief”) isn’t a royal Macedonian name at all. Bill Greenwalt talks about the name’s significance in one of his articles, but I can’t now recall which.

** There is some question as to whether Amyntas was ever king, however briefly, due to a reference to an “Amyntas IV.” But many of us believe that was part of a challenge to Alexander later, not proof that Amyntas was king briefly, and Philip his regent.

[coraniaid]

I guess I'm running the risk of sounding like a broken record at this point, but I don't think I'll ever not be deeply depressed by the way so many people on here talk about Joyce Summers.

I mean, I'm just thinking out loud here, but.  Maybe the reason that Giles was much more immediately accepting of Buffy's identity as the Slayer than Joyce was might have something to do with the fact that Giles has been training to be a Watcher for over three decades when he first meets Buffy? That his family sat him down and explained to him that vampires were real when he was a child, and that he's had over thirty years to get used to that fact? And that he is in fact literally paid to train Buffy and mentor her and prepare her for being killed in the Cruciamentum after she turns eighteen and he helps rob her of her powers her destiny? 

Whereas Joyce learns about the reality of vampires and Slayers and the supernatural for the very first time while in a state of extreme emotional distress, only hours after discovering that her daughter is wanted by the police for murder, and in circumstances such that Buffy simply has no time to sit her down and explain things in more detail in the manner they would both want?  Which is a turn of events that can be attributed in large part to the fact that Giles himself repeatedly told Buffy that she couldn't possibly tell her mother about vampires, even after (1) a vampire attacked her in her own home (in Season 1's Angel) and even after (2) the vampire Buffy had been dating, who had a standing invitation into her house, lost his soul and started going after the people closest to her, people explicitly including Joyce. (And note that Giles never offers a better argument for not sharing this potentially life-saving information than Xander's "the more people who know the secret the more it cheapens it for the rest of us".)

I mean, I know you're all pretty wedded to the popular competing theory that it's because *checks notes* Giles is a perfect dad who Buffy should have been much more grateful and sympathetic towards while Joyce is an evil bitch who never once did a good thing for her daughter (and Buffy must be stupid for ever thinking or saying otherwise), but the problem is that that theory is … uh, bad, actually.  Really incredibly cartoonishly bad. And dressing it up in pseudo-progressive language doesn't make it any better.

Wringing your hands over how poorly you think the show writes middle-aged women as if there's simply nothing to be done about it except conclude that they are indeed horrible people (and maybe give them some completely new flaws the show never did), while at the same time you write endless hagiographies and apologia for the show's canonically terrible (and often just as badly under-written) men is definitely a choice though.

And yes, it is definitely true that Giles matters more to the story of Buffy the Vampire Slayer than Joyce does. It is clear that the writers care about him more as a character than they care about Joyce, and that he is consistently used in a metaphorical way that Joyce normally isn't. At best you can perhaps argue that Joyce exists to vocalize and reify Buffy's own lingering desires to be seen as respectable and 'normal', but I don't think this is a reading the show ever commits to in the systematic way it does the Mind/Heart/Spirit reading of Giles/Xander/Willow. But on a less metaphorical level, thinking about the different characters of the show purely as distinct people in their own right, nothing Buffy says or does ever suggests she cares about her relationship with Giles more than her relationship with Joyce. Quite the opposite, in fact.

[nalyra-dreaming]

You know how Anne Rice cemented in her books that her vampires "couldn't" have sex? It was always a bit unclear to me whether she meant that drinking blood was so good they just chose not to, or whether they were physically incapable. I had theories - no erection due to low heart rate? Skin and muscles too inflexible to accomodate penetration? Only the ancients could potentially do it with each other because they're so physically hard they'd tear anyone younger apart? etc. etc. Ultimately the whole concert felt like thinly veiled religious puritanism, as if Anne Rice potentially wanted to keep her smut to the Beauty series and force herself to write the vampires "clean", like she might have felt that all the brutal things they did were less morally "bad" than sex could ever be. It made me angry. But ANYWAY - that's not what this post is really about. It is about how I ended up developing this headcanon that LESTAT is the only who thinks they can't have sex. Everyone else is potentially fucking like rabbits if they so choose - some of them are ace or otherwise choose not to - but only Lestat thinks they can't, and is usually so busy with Lestat adventures that he just... doesn't. Until he does whatever *fade to black* happens with Akasha and realises oh, well, that's awkward. Did everyone else know? And once the dust settles everyone else confirms that yes indeed, they knew. And yeah, then there's book canon science things, but I came up with this before that was released. I just kinda love the idea that Lestat is full of himself but there's something really obvious that he's just not cottoned on to.

Yeah well. I mean it's a head canon.

Also I have no idea where that take comes from that Lestat is always so "full of himself". The guy is walking insecurity and trauma bundled up in too much power and hidden by bravado.

But just for the record:

He covered me and kissed my cheek. "Drink from me," he said, "drink until the pain goes away. It's only the body dying, drink Pandora, you are immortal." "Fill me, take me," I said. I reached down between his legs. "It doesn't matter now." But it was hard, this organ I sought, the organ forever lost to the god Osiris. I guided it, hard and cold as it was, into my body. Then I drank and drank, and when I felt his teeth again on my neck, when he began to draw from me the new mixture that filled my veins, it was sweet suckling, and I knew him and loved him and knew all his secrets in one flash which meant nothing. He was right. The lower organs meant nothing. He fed on me. I fed on him. This was our marriage. All around us, the grass was waving softly in the breeze, a majestic conjugal bed, and the smell of the green flooded me. ...

It's not that they can't.

It's that in book canon it isn't the height of pleasure anymore. Killing is. Blood sharing is.

That's a difference.

[samwpmarleau]

fic: 2091

whumptober day 16: time loop masterlist: tumblr, ao3 Robbie delays his departure and is swept into the future with everyone else.

“You really have to leave right away?”

“Yeah. Gotta get this book someplace safe. Keep an eye on my brother?”

Daisy nods. She would’ve anyway. After all, she’s the reason Gabe was dragged into the S.H.I.E.L.D. flying circus to begin with. As she prepares to bid him goodbye — again, after having barely any time with him at all — Coulson interjects, “Come on, you have to at least stay for some grub. Crazy robot’s dead, the Darkhold’s not going anywhere. There’s cause to celebrate, Mr. Reyes.”

“Nah, I can’t. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Look,” May puts in, immediately jumping on Coulson’s train, “you’ve still got ground to make up with me for what you did to Mace, but you did save all our asses from Aida. Let us buy you a burger or something.”

Robbie hesitates, then looks at Daisy as though expecting her to tell him to ignore them and leave. She shrugs. “What they said.”

So he does, after some more hemming and hawing and silent discussion — or argument, it’s hard to tell — with Ghost Rider that Robbie apparently wins. She’s not sure she could ever call him light, not while he shares his body with a demon, but it’s nice to see him sit among the rest of them like he’s part of the team. Once the first joke is cracked, so is the ice.

He fits, Daisy observes. He could continue to fit. Become a freelance agent if nothing else, an off-the-books consultant if S.H.I.E.L.D. remains too public to properly employ him, what with all the extrajudicial murders and all. Daisy wouldn’t have to look out for Gabe, nor face the kid’s disappointment and grief, because his brother would still be around. Surely the Rider has debts he can settle in this dimension?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Robbie asks, snapping her out of her musing.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Daisy says as she takes a prim bite of a fry. “You could belong here, that’s all.”

Robbie’s good mood falls. “Only place I belong is hell.”

“Jesus, you’re dramatic.”

“It’s the truth. The Rider agreeing to one burger doesn’t mean he’ll agree to staying forever.”

“He will if I have anything to say about it.” Daisy reaches over to place a hand on his arm. “I’m not gonna just let you go to hell.”

“You were an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, an hour ago I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“We’ll see.”

Robbie looks very much like he wants to refute that, but before he can, the lights shut off and what she assumes are government agents burst in. The poor waitress doesn’t even get to finish her spiel about pies.

“Phillip J. Coulson,” an agent greets in monotone.

Daisy smirks at the sarcasm in Coulson’s voice as he replies, “Yep, that’s me. You got us. Nice job. And hey, congrats on the whole power outage thing, that was very ominous.”

She doesn’t get to hear the agent’s reply, however, for the next moment lands her in a very disorienting room that’s empty save for a red-striped white — oh, for fuck’s sake — monolith in the center.

“Uh, what is that?” Robbie asks. Jemma lets out a despairing ha! that Daisy can hardly disagree with. If only he knew what a pain in the ass this is. It must be a different kind of monolith, to be fair, since it’s not the same bluish-black as the one that swallowed up Jemma, but Daisy’s not inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt. Whatever this one does, it’s no less dangerous.

Indeed, they don’t remotely have time to come up with a game plan before the monolith melts into a wave of white and swallows not only Jemma but the whole group of them. In what seems like an instant, Daisy next finds herself in an equally, though different, disorienting room. A jail cell would be nicer in appearance than this one. The walls are made of grimy cement, what passes for furniture and machinery seems to be made of little more than scrap metal, and the sole light in the place is the kind one would see in a broom closet. It casts a sallow gloom over the place. God only knows where she’s been dropped.

More accurately, where they have been dropped. Robbie stands beside her assessing the room as well with a deep frown on his face. She wonders what the Rider thinks about this, whether he’s alert and ready to take the wheel or whether he’s content for the moment to let his host deal with whatever’s going on. Daisy can’t decide which she’d prefer. While she’d much rather have Robbie’s company, she can’t say she’d necessarily object to the Rider raising all kinds of hell to fix this shit. Maybe he’s even come across that monolith before, or at least has some idea of what it can do.

“Hellspawn care to weigh in on this?” Daisy asks. The stale air is suffocating.

“No,” says Robbie, tearing his eyes away from their surroundings to look at her. “We’re on our own.”

“Great. The one time we could actually use him, he’s taking a smoke break.”

“Fine by me.”

Robbie says it under his breath, as though voicing the thought at all is risking being smote where he stands. Perhaps it is. Not that she can blame him. She’d noticed how much more comfortable he’d become with both his powers and the Rider itself — something she doubts can happen in only a couple weeks. No, she’d stake the farm on time being different where he was, months if not years of traversing hell planets. All of which, from what he’d told her, was spent trapped in his own body unable to do anything but fight.

Weird teleporting monolith or no weird teleporting monolith, she can understand his relief at still being himself.

“Well,” Daisy says, “we won’t be able to figure anything out without doing some exploring. Are you up for that?”

Robbie adjusts the chain around his torso. “Yeah, let’s go.”

It’s helpful, she discovers, to have a being such as Robbie on their side. Not simply because meeting him had significantly upped their tolerance for strange — like being flung into the future — but because it gives them literal firepower they hadn’t had before. While Robbie keeps the spontaneous combustion to a minimum for the sake of maintaining a low profile, most of the time he doesn’t need to flame on at all. People can sense the power, the danger, in him even if they can’t pinpoint why, which means less resistance and more acquiescence. Hell, knowing she’s got an invincible friend sleeping one cell over even allows her to get a decent night’s sleep or two.

Nevertheless, the Rider yearns for violence, to unleash himself on the unworthy.

Kasius, needless to say, doesn’t stand a chance.

[ananke-xiii]

little convoluted thought that ends beautifully, I promise.

So Purgatory Dean/Benny and Summer of Love/Demon!Dean/Crowley stories are structurally very similar and I would even go as far as to say that they are the fundamentally the same but I can't because Dean/Crowley is a deterioration of Dean/Benny in the sense that while Benny did indeed help Dean, even though he had an ulterior motive, their relationship was based on more or less equal footing (Dean had more power in their dynamic) and respect of the terms of agreement.

Both stories have two more characters in them, i.e. Sam and Cas but their function is not the same. While Sam's is a sort of wake-up call for Dean to go back to reality, Cas is the one who bookends these two stories. Both Purgatory arc and Demon!Dean arc are closed when Dean and Cas reunite.

Now.

These two arcs are basically about Dean escaping reality. Which means he doesn't like his reality and probably needs/wants something more, different or for the first time out of it. Purgatory is pure and easy, Crowley's summer of love is fun and free. And yet they both REALLY end when Cas is back into the picture.

Mmmmm.

The fact that Dean wants/needs more and that his heart desires something he can't or doesn't want to admit is not something I'm making up. This is literally the core theme of both s10 and 11. S8 Purgatory is about the realization that there is indeed something that Dean needs and perhaps even wants (he's very adamant about it in Purgatory where he could feel "pure" and where purity means black and white mentality and free killing) but s9 tells him that he can't have that. Not having all of his wants and needs met dangerously leads Dean to a dark path from s9 onwards when he tries to symbolically go back to Purgatory via Mark of Cain (black and white mentality, more black than white lol, free killings without guilt, fake and consuming feeling of being in control of your life if you only have that ONE thing.... ((the blade, the imaginary lover, the stripper etc))). Of course it doesn't work because Purgatory was real but it was also a different place than the everyday world where its rules don't apply (no free killing for you here, Dean. Well, more or less, only your usual).

S11 pointedly ends with Amara telling Dean she gave him something that he needs, his mother. Which is true for all human beings: maternal love is indeed the primary need to be nurtured and cared for. So Amara did learn one thing or two about humans after all. And since we're here, she presumably didn't have to give Dean what he wanted because he could get it himself.

Because if his stints in Purgatory and demonhood were Dean looking for something he needed and wanted that ended when Dean reunited with Cas... and now Dean got what he needed because Amara didn't have to give Dean what he wanted because he could get it by himself... Would that mean?! Yeah, it does.

We're back again to "the one thing I want I know I can't have". It's always about desire, not limited to the physical sense but desire for that something or someone that you want. And maybe even get.

Which made me think of this beautiful poem by Fyodor Tyutchev (ACTUALLY, thinking about this poem made me think of the rest, so this post should be read end to beginning lol):

The Dull Flame Of Desire

I love your eyes, my dear,

their sparkling dancing fire

as they suddenly rise

to embrace everywhere

like lightning in the wilderness -

but there's a stronger charm

when your eyes are lowered

during passionate kisses

and in their downcast lashes

glows the dull flame of desire.

[avaisnerdytoo]

In a perfect world, what would be your TRON 3 pitch?

It will be sooner rather than later when we get some kind of proper teaser for TR3N, and although we have some idea about what the movie will tackle, I am wildly nervous about it, I don't want to come in with the instant negative lens, but I am not feeling as excited about it under the current Disney approach.

Nevertheless, instead of indulging in negativity, I would adore to hear some pitches, if you wanna share or link or if Tronblr sees this haha, about what YOUR TRON 3 movie would look like and cover, whether it's a link to full on fanfic, or a pitch alongside what we know will happen in the movie.

- - - - - -

If you wanna read my ideal TRON 3, it would have these essentials, which will sound SUPER fan service, but just hear me out ight?

The Flynn Spark, the MacGuffin of Admin Privileges.

Ares, a program of the people LEARNS how to steps up.

Beck Lives, Argon doesn't.

Paige learns how to truly redeem herself.

A new trinity is formed (Ares, Paige, Beck) to supersede the last one (Flynn, Clu and Tron).

Full pitch as a read more, chapters go as follows:

The Grid's New Ruler?

Admin Privileges

The Renegade

The Race for Power

The Game of Flynn

The New Grid

THE GRID'S NEW RULER?

Something that I always found unique about The Grid is its insistence on a ruler of some kind, the original system had a master control program, the second had Flynn and then Clu 2.0.

Which then means that by the end of legacy, this is THE FIRST real time without a ruler within the Grid. It seems to me the goal for the actual TR3N movie is indeed to fill in that new blank spot, I don't mind if we get another monarch like ruler, nor would I mind if we had a democratic system haha, however what I do NEED out of that 3rd movie is a ruler which EARNS their seat.

Not by destiny, not by stumbling onto the role, but by knowing the responsibility it would require and to build from there.

Like Duke Leto Atreides would say: "A great man doesn't seek to lead, he's called to it and he answers".

ADMIN PRIVILEGES:

MY PITCH has the following MacGuffin: "The Flynn Spark", –or however you wanna call it– it is the literal admin privileges of the Grid, left behind after Legacy. Whoever touches it, and merges with it will get Flynn's control over the Grid, and a program, for the first time ever, will be the successor.

I am okay if Ares is said program, I have no ... clue... how he will behave, but for my pitch's sake, he pretty much has to be a man of the people, beloved in his region of origin, but naive about the true scale of systematic issues, which he needs to learn about as he travels across the Grid, meeting programs and understanding who willingly supported Clu, who didn't, and the in betweens. (I don't like when systematic issues are approached under the lens of individualism, or of single solutions, Ares is meant to learn that).

As expected, the whole of The Grid is a messy chaos, with no ruler, programs are scared and unsure who they can trust, because Ares has always been such a trustworthy program, people naturally reach out to him, in a similar way programs did to Abel in Uprising.

Whatever town he is from, like all others, is raided, chaotic, dangerous and divided.

THE RENEGADE:

The protector of the Uprising, now known as TRON, but once known as the Renegade, is working overtime.

You see, in my pitch, the true end of Uprising will have Argon destroyed, literally wiped from the code of the Grid after so much damage to the city, few have survived, even less where shown mercy (you can imagine how Bartik got to where he did for example), despite that, Beck kept fighting, after the captured TRON turned Rinzler, he has carried the torch since, improved his skills and brought former enemies to his cause, such as Paige. (Having Paige die as a chip on Beck's shoulder could be an easy escape goat, but I feel she's far too skilled for that, losing a whole city is punishing enough, whether it includes Mara and Zed is irrelevant to the pitch).

I always loved that in Legacy, Flynn surfaces the idea that if him and Sam wait long enough, Clu might be brought down from the inside, to me this has always meant that although we see a Grid seemingly perfectly ruled by Clu, this was always a facade, he very much is THE RULER, but not as absolute as we think, hence why he so desperately needed access to more power through Sam, through the world beyond.

Many, if not all in the grid know that the Renegade isn't actually TRON, maybe they know he's Beck, maybe they don't, but he is the only real contender to uphold order, and he is called into the role of the newest ruler, but without even the little administrative power Clu had, this is instantly not working.

Beck, only manages to become the de-facto ruler of a particular area of the Grid, wherever he had his base of operations, he would summon Ares to consult on the needs of the Grid, and together form a bond to improve their region.

THE RACE FOR POWER:

As time passes the now district based Grid ponders if there is a way to achieve power from what remained of Flynn (it could also be a vision to someone, or a message left behind by the last bit of Flynn, but I like to think that programs would be smart enough to deduce, that someone should be the literal admin in a system).

And as rumors fly, and programs who try to cross the Sea Of Simulation fail to come back, more people agree that whoever does cross CAN restore order to the Grid in whichever way they see fit.

This would mean different factions of all the districts would be in a race against each other, a race to engineer a vehicle capable of getting there, or to derezz the competition so no one can reach it (different factions can have different ideologies), etc, etc.

The best aspect of the additonal TRON Media, like the comics or the show, is its ability to expand the cultures of the Grid, I would want a full showcase of these, of the ones who would work together, and the ones that wouldn't.

THE GAME OF FLYNN:

However it has to be, we have our 3 figures in Paige, Beck and Ares, who race the other district representatives, once their vehicle is built, they ride or fly to the remains of the projector, but in the ever gaming spirit of Flynn, the region has become a literal trial by fire, that has stages in a game like format, to see who can survive reaching the Spark, this was Flynn's last action before dying, protecting what he held dear, Sam and Quorra first of course, but then his people, he basically had to have faith the Grid would survive without him, this is also why other programs who dared to try and cross the sea never came back.

How those stages look or what they represent I have no idea, but the logical thing is that it's both a physical test as well as a psychological one, because this is a pitch I don't know the intricacies of the mental journey's they would all face, but the notion is it would be written well to demand good character arcs and what not.

This would also be where we meet the original TRON once more... Or it could be... Admittedly this is the weakest part of my pitch, as I am unsure how to bring TRON back, honestly I can also imagine a pitch where the first thing Beck did was go and find TRON, but because I want this to be the next phase of the Grid, I honestly want TRON to rest, and live a life that is his, not just under his programming.

But the ever loyal soldier, is also the final stage of the game, not one to beat by fists, but one to win over with their heart.

THE NEW GRID:

Of course however, Tron would instantly clock in Beck and basically let him pass freely, but part of the journey they have gone through would be to understand that Beck is a protector, not a ruler.

Does this mean that then Ares should rule? I still think not, but I think he would earn the Flynn spark nonetheless, but flip the expectations of that head role.

I think of all 3 of my leads, Paige is best fit for the job of a ruler, if I had to understand their roles best, I'd compare it to the original trinity:

Flynn was a creator, and a dreamer. For me, that could be Ares, hence why he was naive at first, but through his journey why he would become a better inventor. A good engineer needs guidance however, and the levelheadedness of Paige, her intelligence, responsibility and essential care for others would make her best to politically lead a society, and to flip the lost cycles of serving under Clu, she would inform Ares of what the Grid needs in a way he couldn't see alone. And Beck, forever the shoulder to rest on, he had found his path a long time ago, but he is finally relieved of the pressure not to be something he is not, but to exceed in what he has always been, a guiding light, a protector, a moral compass, and a leader.

I am sure some fighting would occur anyways, but frankly a stronger Beck and an ever badass Paige would probably win...

This leaves TRON free for once, free to find connection, to find love or whatever he wants... He would still advice from time to time, but I think that's what he deserves after so many years of service.

BUT THAT'S WHY IT'S A PITCH HEHEHEH, not everything is best, and it assumes that upon script conversion the very evident flaws or lack of substance would be better yk?

I dunno, literally just an idea, clearly SUPER heavy on Uprising lore because I love it, but finding ways to assume the presence of Yori, Ram, elements of Identity, etc. I honestly prefer a TR3N that by now just focuses on the Grid, even if the movie will clearly not do that fully hshsh.