#none of these characters are dead and live happily with their loved ones :)

[tainbocuailnge]

this is a final fantasy fourteen dawntrail post. it speaks incredibly for the desperation of the people of alexandria in its decline that they both couldn't bear to remember the dead and couldn't bear the thought of the dead no longer being remembered, and thus created this contradictory system where the dead are only remembered by something other than those to whom that memory is meaningful. so crushed by collective trauma and grief that they directed every effort to eradicating awareness of mortality altogether and it's resulted in a paradise where everyone is incredibly blasé about dying because the dead live forever in the cloud until they run out of spare souls and are completely paralyzed with fear of their own mortality.

but even more than desperation it speaks of a naive sincerity that the scientists and officials behind the project just actually genuinely built and maintained this giant memory database to preserve the deceased at increasingly large cost, rather than just lie that they totally did that to a populace who won't remember those deceased anyway. they're not harvesting souls to power the war effort while using a recreation of the beloved princess as puppet figurehead, they completely sincerely recreate the dead from their memories and simulate them living happily ever after, started by a sincere desire to not lose their beloved princess. living memory is an eternal theme park that actively goes out of its way to facilitate letting people who remember each other fondly meet again. it's the manifestation of a childish wish for a world where there are no partings, only reunions. it's a theme park rather than an actual city with a dmv and shit like amaurot was precisely Because it's a childish dream. it's fundamentally an artificial experience, but one which sole motive is to bring joy and relief from everyday sadness.

and sphene is the first and most prominent victim of that naive sincerity. she's the mascot of this theme park, and because she's the mascot in charge of providing this artificial but kind experience she can't ever break character. the people of alexandria couldn't bear the thought of her being forgotten, so they created a memory of her that would last forever, but they also couldn't bear to actually remember sphene, so she's a mascot instead of a person. she loves her people, and they love her, but none of them can possibly understand the weight that love puts on her shoulders. the sphene we meet is fundamentally trapped by other people's deeply limited understanding of her.

it's so so so important to her character that she's a small dainty feminine woman that exists to take care of everyone emotionally and be loved by them for being so nice and sweet and loving, and when she tries to arrange some kind of secure future she ends up with an abusive husband who ignores her wants and needs for his own ambitions, and she is fundamentally unable to act outside this highly gendered framework. sphene reads like the commonplace tragedy of the straight woman to me to the point where making her in lesbians with wuk lamat is like. I can certainly understand wanting to grant sphene the sense of liberation and comfort that many lesbians themselves feel at the realisation that they don't have to marry men, so far be it from me to say anyone is wrong to do so. but it's kinda ignoring part of what her deal is for the sake of that comfort I think.

not that lesbians have never ended up in abusive marriages with men but sphene very explicitly does not have other options, part of the tragedy is that you fundamentally cannot actually grant her that liberation and comfort. cahciua explicitly says there's no way to know what the real living sphene would have done because this sphene is a recreated memory of the beloved princess whose job is to sustain living memory. their darling sphene who will always listen to all their troubles and is always nice to them and will always take care of them. she's literally trapped by the role society assigned her, and that role is essentially to be their tradwife mother. the living sphene may have been into women, but the people who recorded her to create the sphene we meet never even considered the option.

do you guys know that tweet thread where OP describes going to a funeral for a woman they didn't know who'd died young of a heart attack, and the husband spent most of the eulogy talking about himself instead of his recently deceased wife, and by the end of the ceremony OP had learned nothing at all about what this woman was like beyond being a wife and mother? everyone fondly remembers the princess and queen of alexandria, but nobody remembers sphene. and just like all OP could still do for this woman was go to her casket and acknowledge that she too had been a full person in her own right before the stress of swallowing everything about herself killed her, all wuk lamat can really still do for sphene is think of her as the full person she must have been.

we're not told anything about what sphene was like as a leader, what her policies were, how she actually did her work, her vision for the future of her country before she died and was reconstructed. they only tell us everyone loved her so dearly because she was so kind to them. we're shown her dying moments and it's her using her airship to shield a civilian, so we can assume her love for her people was indeed true. but none of sphene's history that we're shown and nothing of how otis (who knew the living sphene) talks about her tells us anything about what she was like outside her role as beloved princess. her memories from after her "revival" are dissonant and corrupted and possibly not even real, and her policy of preserving living memory no matter what is a wish implanted in her by the people who reconstructed her. we don't even get to see what she looked like when alive. the only sphene the people know is the theme park mascot of living memory.

cahciua was exactly as erenville knew her and was true enough to herself to be able to turn against the system, so we're not given reason to believe any of the endless were tampered with. but sphene was already dead by the time they even tried to figure out how to preserve her memory, her actual soul and memories definitely long gone by the time the technology worked. we're explicitly told that nobody in everkeep really cared who or what sphene was as long as she adequately fulfilled this role of loving them all so much. she can't even tell you her favourite food, none of the people who labored so intensely and sincerely to bring her back bothered to write down even her most basic personal preferences when they reconstructed her. she has to deflect the question with "when I think of the people who make the food I can't pick just one" because the only preference she's allowed is loving all her people equally. she's completely thrown off that wuk lamat would even ask.

and it's precisely because she is remembered only as this kind loving woman who gave everything for her people that she is weak and powerless to actually do whatever it takes to keep them safe. she does not have the freedom to assert herself, let alone to be cruel or violent or take extreme actions. society does not give her that freedom, because she is a small dainty woman and (therefore) the only role allowed to her is to be their tradwife mother. so while her desire to protect her people is as real and true as it can be part of her plan to lobotomise herself in order to become someone capable of violence and cruelty also reads to me as that specific female frustration of wanting to destroy the sweet babygirl image of yourself by doing something extreme. like britney spears shaving her head. but in sphene's case destroying the babygirl image amounts to destroying herself completely, because the babygirl image of her is all that comprises her. and so when all is said and done the only fragment of sphene that is restored and lingers just a bit longer after that image is destroyed is the sphene that wuk lamat sincerely wanted to get to know.

[autisticrosewilson]

It's been bugging me for a while that we have so many canonically queer characters now but none of them ever DO anything! It's like after they get two characters in a queer relationship they just never give them any conflict after. We didn't ask for more representation because we wanted that character to no longer have interesting stories outside of a queer identity we wanted you to stop queer baiting us.

I know that word gets tossed around a lot, but there is very strong evidence for TimKon, StephCass, and GhostBat where they practically confirm it but they never say anything explicitly. Supersons were literally shown to live together, co-parent Lizzie, and were explicitly paralleling other canon couples last week.

But it's too much for Kon AND Tim to be queer, so they gave Tim a civilian boyfriend that he never has any conflict with and all of the build up and tension that comes with trying to clone your dead teammate 99 times and being a hair away from making out for like 8 years.

Robin AND Super boy couldn't be canonically queer so they aged Jon up and then gave him a civilian boyfriend he never has any conflict with all while parading them around in elseworlds because they knew fans were upset about the lost potential.

Even Harley and Ivy fall victim to this in a different way. I love that they're canonically queer! I just wish that at least Ivy got to keep some of her villainy. I don't think they should have to compromise being menaces to society with being queer.

And it's related but I hesitate to call it queer baiting... what's going on with Dick Grayson. He gets confirmed bi in a non canon video game but he has more pride covers than Tim. Like you can't dangle an extremely queer coded character in front of us and then just never make it canon. And I'm tired of one off implications too. We deserve better representation than a one liner played off for a joke (Batstantine this is about you I fear) but they won't because they know full well they won't do a damn thing with him after.

You wanna know what we should be striving for? Midnighter and Apollo. Messy their whole run time, uncompromisingly interesting whether they're together or not, happily married with a daughter, and yet continued to be unerringly bad ass. John Constantine, with all of his shameless flirting and raunchiness. Grace Choi and Anissa Pierce. The pining, the break ups, the make ups. Obsessed with them.

Joey Wilson!!! You want someone whose already canonically queer who Dick has a lot of tension with? He's right there! The son of Dick's arch Nemesis. Both of their willingness to go over people's heads to protect them. Joey's ability to completely take someone's free will (and his deliberate and spiteful choice not to) vs. Dick's constant fight for independence (and his willing surrender to the pull of his family). Dick's unwillingness to communicate his feelings or experiences with literally anyone ever paired with Joey's uncanny ability to read him like a book. Are you joking. The mess, the tension, the INTRIGUE!!

This got away from me but I want my queer characters to be interesting again pretty please.

[swan-of-sunrise]

...Is Love, Sweet Love (Part II)

Summary: Eight months later, (Y/N) and her daughter Molly have settled in well at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, with (Y/N) teaching a Classical Literature class and six-year-old Molly taking courses while learning more about her telepathic skills. Charles, having fallen head over heels for the school's new professor, debates whether or not to act upon his feelings.

Pairing: Charles Xavier X F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yes, I know, it's slightly unhinged to write a Part II to a one-shot that I published over 2 years ago, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and here's what I came up with! Again, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" by Jackie DeShannon partially inspired this fic, so you should totally give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :)

…Is Love, Sweet Love May 1980 Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester (Previous Chapter)

Despite living in his family’s mansion for the majority of his life and spending countless hours of his childhood eagerly exploring its sprawling grounds, Charles Xavier hadn’t truly grown to appreciate the tranquility that the estate provided until he’d re-started Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sight of young mutants happily playing on the playground and partaking in group sports without feeling the need to hide their differences away brought a smile to Charles’ face, and the cheerful laughter of his students paired with the beautiful spring sunshine inspired him to once again enjoy his lunch outside with a good book…although, it was difficult to deny that he spent far more time listening in on Professor (Y/L/N)’s nearby Classical Literature class than actually reading his novel.

“Can anyone tell me why the characters of King Lear worship the pagan gods and not any form of Christianity?” (Y/N), who was sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her small class, arched a brow as she surveyed the silent group of teenagers before her. “C’mon, guys, you know this. We went over the background of the play during our last lecture, and I seem to remember some of you even taking notes…” After a moment, a timid hand went up from the red-headed girl in the front and (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“The play is set in ancient Britain, long before the arrival of Christianity.”

“Very good, Jean!” Jean Grey’s shoulders relaxed and beside her, her friend Jubilee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, why would Shakespeare choose to set this play in this specific time period? Think about the time period in which Shakespeare lived, and what the social and political climate in England was like.” A dark-haired boy towards the back of their group raised his hand. “Go ahead, Remy.”

Remy LeBeau lowered his hand and began fiddling with his deck of playing cards as he spoke in his distinct French-Creole accent. “Well, Professor, that was when there was a lil’ trouble brewin’ ‘tween the Catholics and Protestants over there, right? He prob’ly didn’t wanna ruffle any feathers by puttin’ a popular religion in his plays, so he had his characters worship the gods from ol’ Roman mythology; anybody who’d be offended would’ve been long dead, so Willy did what any guy’d do to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Charles smiled to himself as the class laughed and (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a reluctant grin. “A little unorthodoxly put, Remy, but you’re absolutely correct. In the play, Lear states that-” She was cut off when the familiar sound of the school bell rang out and her students started to pack their things away. “Remember, on Monday we’ll begin performing your assigned scenes so be sure to work on memorizing your lines with your groups over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day!”

While they laughed and talked amongst themselves, the students headed back towards the mansion for their next class and with a fond smile on her face, (Y/N) looked away from them and finished packing her binders and books into her messenger bag. The novel in Charles’ hand was all but forgotten in favor of admiring his colleague and friend, who’s effortless beauty almost always succeeded in making him stutter over his words and caused him to blush in a way that he hadn’t since he was a schoolboy; she was dressed casually in a striped button-down blouse tucked into a faded pair of high-waisted jeans and well-worn Birkenstocks, with her (Y/H/C) hair pulled away from her face by a blue headband and her reading glasses dangling around her neck by a colorful beaded chain. Charles took in all of her striking figure, but it was her content smile and the happy gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes that made him release a lovelorn sigh and look down at his lap.

Charles was infatuated with Professor (Y/L/N). Well, it perhaps started out as a simple infatuation, back when she’d first arrived on his doorstep pleading for him to help her daughter; her kindness and caring nature in regards to Molly’s safety and well-being was touching, considering how many parents he’d met who were overly eager to pass their mutant children off to a complete stranger just to be rid of them. After hearing their story, he knew that she couldn’t bear to be separated from her five-year-old and so, he asked that she stay and teach at the school to ensure that they would remain together. That was eight months ago and since then, the infatuation had evolved into a full-blown romantic crush; Charles was captivated by (Y/N)’s capacity for compassion, enchanted by her quick wit and natural beauty, in awe of her progressive idealism in regards to mutant rights and more than appreciative of her boundless consideration in regards to his disability.

Yes, Charles was enamored by his school’s newest professor, but he was also plagued by insecurity. The last woman he was romantically involved with was Agent Moira MacTaggert of the CIA, all the way back in 1962 when he was a dashing young man who’d just earned his doctorate and possessed an egotistical streak wider than the English Channel; nowadays, his ego was tempered and his youthful good looks were beginning to give way to wrinkles and streaks of silver. While a ten-year age gap between two consenting adults was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to a happy relationship, a part of him couldn’t help but think that (Y/N) would be happier with someone younger than him. Both Alex and Hank thought that he was overthinking the situation, and perhaps they were right but whenever he started to consider asking her out, that little voice of doubt whispered on in the back of his mind.

“Hi Charles!”

Looking up, Charles’ face reflexively broke out into a grin when he saw (Y/N) approaching the bench he’d parked his wheelchair beside. “Hello, (Y/N)! Holding your classes outside today, I see?”

“It’s such a beautiful day, so you could hardly blame me for taking full advantage of it.” The professor adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and tilted her head as a teasing smile played across her cherry-red lips. “Enjoying your lunch outside today, I see?”

“Touché, Professor,” Charles chuckled, slipping his bookmark into his novel to mark his place and tucking it into his wheelchair’s saddle pack. “Hank seems to believe that my vitamin D levels are too low, so I decided that eating outside was the quickest way to get our resident worrywart off of my back. Not only did I soak up plenty of sun, I had the added pleasure of listening in on your fantastic lesson on Shakespeare’s King Lear; no offense to the Bard, but it’s refreshing to see an Classical Literature professor teach her students about one of his historical plays instead of one of his romances.”

(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she began to fiddle with her pendant revealed the bashfulness she was attempting to mask. “Well, I remember what it was like being fourteen; you’re around the same age as Romeo and Juliet, yes, but you don’t know a damn thing about love and it’s not easy to understand why they do the things they do.”

“As a former fourteen-year-old, I heartily concur. At that age, I could scarcely understand myself let alone an emotion as complex as love, no matter how beautifully Shakespeare described it,” Charles replied, looking out across the manicured grounds as he recited, “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep-’”

“‘-The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite,’” (Y/N) finished and when their eyes met, Charles’ heart fluttered and he could feel his face beginning to warm; his brows rose in surprise when the professor hastily turned her head to try and hide her besotted smile, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the sight. “I, um, I-I should go and find Molly…”

“She’s at the playground with Alex’s second graders. Speaking of which, I need to speak with Alex about tomorrow’s scheduled book delivery…” Charles awkwardly cleared his throat before giving (Y/N) a tentative smile. “Would you allow me to escort you there?”

(Y/N)’s own smile widened at that. “Of course!”

While Charles wheeled himself along the stone pathway and (Y/N) kept in step with him, they eagerly discussed the school’s ongoing library expansion and all the new books they’d obtained for the students; any progress made at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but expanding his ancestral home’s library was one of his greatest desires and he was thrilled that the children would soon have access to more knowledge than many of the country’s best private schools and universities. (Y/N) was just as excited about the expansion as he was, and he couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm written across her beautiful features while he listened to her talk about all the lesson plans she’d brainstormed involving their new books.

They reached the playground sooner than Charles would’ve preferred, but his disappointment was set aside by the sight and sound of his school’s youngest students happily entertaining themselves on the elaborate structure; so many of them came from broken homes and were sent away without any second thoughts by families that couldn’t care less about them and while Charles couldn’t change their heartbreaking pasts, he did all in his power to give each and every one of his students a loving home and bright, promising futures. For the first time, I find myself truly understanding the blinding rage that fills Erik in regards to mutant rights, he thought with an inward grimace before glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling as the human woman affectionately watched her mutant daughter play, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my faith in humanity’s innate goodness.

“Hi Mommy!” Molly exclaimed from the top of the structure, a toothy grin stretching across her face as she gave them both an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Professor ‘Zavier!”

“Hi Molly-Bear!” (Y/N) called back while a beaming Charles returned the little girl’s wave with one of his own. He’d always maintained that a good professor shouldn’t have favorites, but no one would blame him if he came out and admitted that Molly (Y/L/N) was – hands down – his favorite student; she was as exuberant and carefree as any human six year old, but her mutant abilities as a psychometric telepath meant that she was more insightful and tended to see the world around her with sage eyes. In truth, Molly reminded him so much of himself when he was a child and knowing first-hand how challenging having telepathic abilities at that age can be, he was grateful that he could help her by teaching her how to control and accept her gifts.

While Charles scanned the playground for Alex, he caught (Y/N) looking over at him and the tender expression on her face nearly took his breath away; she quickly looked away and pretended to adjust the fasteners of her messenger bag, but not before Charles noticed the glimmer of affection in her gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes. A familiar whistle cut through his racing thoughts and when he glanced over, he spotted Alex leaning against a light pole that bordered the playground; a knowing smirk curved across the younger man’s face, widening as he brought a hand up to his temple and wiggled his fingers to signal for Charles to read his mind.

“I told you so.”

“Alex…”

“(Y/N)’s into you, Charles, and you’re clearly into her. So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

After taking a steadying breath and running an anxious hand through his hair, Charles cleared his suddenly dry throat and hesitantly spoke. “(Y/N)?” The professor looked over at him expectantly and his finger drifted upwards to loosen his shirt’s collar while he clumsily continued. “I, ah…well, I-I was wondering if I…(Y/N), would you and Molly care to join me for dinner sometime? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant in Salem Center and a little movie theater just down the street from it that I think you’ll enjoy…”

(Y/N) blinked, looking dumbfounded but slightly hopeful as she took a moment to find her voice. “Charles, are you asking me out on a date?”

Charles nodded and offered her the barest of smiles. “Over the past few months, I’ve grown…immensely fond of you; I wake up every morning looking forward to our usual discussions over breakfast, I find myself spending far too much time styling my hair and picking out what to wear in the hopes that you’ll take note and every time you smile at me, my heart skips a beat.” The professor shyly smiled at that and he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, the weight in his chest already feeling lighter with each confession he uttered. “Yes, just like that.”

“And you…you wouldn’t mind Molly coming along?”

The anxiety that filled (Y/N)’s eyes as she awaited his answer nearly shattered Charles’ heart; based on what little she’d disclosed to him about her past, he knew that she’s struggled with dating as a single mother and he could only imagine how disillusioned with romance she’d become as a result. “Of course not, (Y/N),” He softly replied and in a bold move, he reached forward and took her hand in his. “You two are a team, after all; Molly is your entire world, and I want you to know that I respect that more than anything. It’s also…well, let’s just say that it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone on a date, and I’d…”

“Like to go slow?” (Y/N) gently offered and when Charles wordlessly nodded, she gave him the smallest of smiles before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Molly? Sweetheart, can you come here for a second, please?” After coming down the slide, Molly skipped over to them and the professor knelt down so that they were eye-level, her hand still holding onto his. “Professor Xavier wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner and a movie. Does that sound all right to you, Molly-Bear?”

The little girl’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied Charles, and he was forced to mask his amused chuckle with a cough when she brought a mitten-clad hand up to her mother’s ear. “Like on a date?” Molly loudly whispered, and (Y/N) pursed her lips to keep from chuckling as she nodded; her daughter lowered her hand to reveal her excited smile and she gave her mother an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me!” Molly looked back at Charles with a conspiratorial giggle. “Mommy likes you, Professor ‘Zavier.”

Charles arched a playful brow as his eyes flicked between the embarrassed elder (Y/L/N) and the beaming younger (Y/L/N). “She does, does she?”

“Mm-hmm, she likes your eyes and your smile and your hair and your-”

“Okay, young lady, that’s enough out of you,” (Y/N) hastily interrupted, tickling her daughter’s neck with both hands and smiling when she shrieked with laughter and scurried back to the playground. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she stood and glanced back at Charles, who was trying and failing to muffle his laughter. “Well, I guess that settles it. Does six o’clock this Friday work for you?”

He emphatically nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s perfect!” He felt himself begin to blush at his obvious enthusiasm, and it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle as he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. “…I-I mean, Friday at six o’clock works for me.”

“Good. I guess that Molly and I will see you then.” The professor turned to walk away but took Charles by surprise when she turned back around and bashfully smiled at him. “I’ve…I’ve grown immensely fond of you too, Charles.”

Before he could say or do anything, she’d bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his cheek, an infatuated gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she flashed him one last smile and left to meet her daughter on the playground. A broad grin slowly spread across Charles’ face and while he watched her walk away, he leaned an elbow onto his wheelchair’s armrest and rested the side of his head against his palm, releasing a love-struck sigh and barely taking note of the familiar figure that moved to stand beside him.

“See what happens when you actually take my advice?”

Charles straightened his posture and glanced over at Alex, who was wearing the smuggest of smiles on his faces as he stared back at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an impertinent ass, Alex Summers?”

Alex’s smirk widened. “Heard it all my life. So, when’s the big date?”

“This Friday at six o’clock. And since you and Hank have taken such a keen interest in my love life, I’ll be requiring your assistance on Friday.” The younger man quickly sobered and with a grin of his own, Charles chuckled and patted his arm. “There’s a good chap. Now, about tomorrow’s book delivery…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it was a far cry from the hazy evenings spent at Oxford’s many lively pubs and in the company of the college’s most flirtatious female students, Charles’ date with (Y/N) and Molly was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one he’d ever been on. He’d met the mother and daughter in the mansion’s foyer with two bouquets in his hands – daisies for Molly and vibrant pink roses for (Y/N) – and he happily watched them admire their flowers while simultaneously hiding the fact that he was studying (Y/N)’s figure; the professor was wearing a knee-length yellow dress with long billowing sleeves, a bright pink sash tied around her waist and matching high heels, and her carefully styled hair was pulled back by a pink headband. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be going out with the likes of him, but his fears of inadequacy were quickly alleviated when she looked over at him and smiled.

Hank and Alex drove the three of them to Salem Center in Charles’ maroon 1959 Jaguar Mark IX, the pair of them opting to stay in town and catch a showing of the newly-released The Empire Strikes Back while they dined at La Mensa. Sensing Molly’s apprehension with being around so many non-mutant strangers, Charles distracted her by playing ‘tic-tac-toe’ and ‘hangman’ with her on her paper place-mat and (Y/N) threw him a grateful look as she asked her daughter about her schoolwork; while they enjoyed their food, (Y/N) entertained them with stories of her students’ antics and after some goading by Molly, she even balanced a spoon on the end of her nose much to her daughter and Charles’ delight. After dinner, they made their way down the street to the small movie theater and while many of its patrons were queued up to watch the latest Star Wars film, the three of them decided on watching the re-release of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; Molly adored the classic cartoon and while Charles was impartial to the film, he thoroughly enjoyed exchanging enamored glances with (Y/N) over the little girl’s head.

Molly fell asleep on the drive home, cuddling against her mother’s side as she lovingly brushed her fingers through her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair. In low whispers, (Y/N) assured Charles that Molly had a wonderful time and that she hadn’t seen the little girl so happy since before she’d come into her mutation; although aware that Hank and Alex were clearly eavesdropping from their front seats, Charles quietly asked her if she’d care for a quick nightcap in his study after putting Molly to bed, and he was thrilled when she readily accepted his invitation. When they arrived back at the mansion, (Y/N) carried the still-sleeping Molly inside, but not before giving Charles one last smile as he maneuvered into his outside wheelchair.

“So…” Hank arched a curious brow as he walked beside Charles’ wheelchair and steadied it when they reached the top of the ramp, where Alex was waiting with his motorized indoor wheelchair. “How was it?”

“Charming, but I could’ve done without the rather offensive Asian and Italian stereotypes-”

“Not the movie, Charles, the date,” Alex interrupted and when Charles chuckled in amusement at his friends, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you finally ask out the woman you’ve been head over heels for and you’re not gonna give your two best friends the four-one-one?”

Shaking his head in faux exasperation, Charles shifted himself into his motorized wheelchair and arranged his legs as he airily answered, “(Y/N), Molly and I ate a truly magnificent meal at La Mensa that we followed up by watching a classic Disney film at the movie theater. What more is there to say?”

Alex heaved a sigh but moved to allow Charles to wheel himself into the mansion. “A little help here, Hank?”

“Oh, he’s having far too much fun messing with us to stop.” The scientist tucked his hands into his jacket pockets while a mischievous smirk played on his lips. “But speaking as the school’s resident genius, I couldn’t help but notice the good professor clearly checking (Y/N) out before we left and blushing when she smiled at him just now.”

A reluctant blush warmed Charles’ cheeks at that. “Don’t you two perverts have morning classes to prepare for?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, lover boy,” Alex smugly countered, nudging Hank’s arm with his elbow as they walked beside Charles’ wheelchair down the vacant hall to his study. “Well, Beast, there’s no doubt about it: Charles here’s got it bad for our lovely Professor (Y/L/N).”

When they reached his study’s door, Charles nudged it open and wheeled himself inside, but not before giving both men a look of genuine sincerity. “Thank you, for your assistance tonight and for your encouragement; the pair of you can occasionally be a pain in the ass, but tonight couldn’t have happened without you.”

Hank’s smile softened. “You’re welcome, Charles. We’re just happy that we succeeded in making you do something selfish for once.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us both out so much over the years and it was high-time we returned the favor,” Alex added as he clapped Charles on the shoulder, his earnest expression morphing into a knowing smirk while he continued. “Enjoy your nightcap with (Y/N), and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lover boy.”

“Oh, and don’t forget protection!”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Chuckling, Alex and Hank left the study and closed the door behind them; after pausing for a moment to take a calming breath, Charles wheeled himself over to the oak cabinet near his cluttered desk and unlocked it, pulling out a glass decanter of scotch and two glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He bit his lip as his eyes surveyed the messy state of his study, cursing himself for not tidying up earlier, but a part of him knew that (Y/N) wasn’t the type to mind a little clutter; she liked to joke that the best professors had the messiest studies because they spent all their time teaching instead of worrying about how others perceive them. It was the good manners instilled in him from birth that saw him gathering stacks of loose papers, binders and leather-bound books and unceremoniously shoving them behind his desk before lifting himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the couch; with nothing else to distract himself from the anxious anticipation building up within him, Charles plucked the maple-colored queen off the chessboard and nimbly twirled it around his fingers as he waited for (Y/N).

Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door of his study and after scrambling to straighten up his chessboard, Charles called out, “Come in!” The door opened and (Y/N) stepped into the room, her gentle smile widening when she spotted him seated on the couch. “How’s Molly?”

“Out like a light.” (Y/N) crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him, her fingers playing with the flowing yellow material of her dress’ skirt as Charles poured their drinks. “She wanted me to tell you that she had a really fun time tonight, and she wanted me to thank you.”

“She’s been working so hard these past few months to complete her schoolwork and training, so if anyone deserves to have a little fun it’s undoubtedly her,” Charles replied, a surge of fondness for his youngest student and her kindheartedness bringing a smile to her face as he turned to (Y/N) and offered her a glass of the amber-colored liquid. “As do you, Professor.”

Accepting the glass, (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before holding it up and angling it towards him. “In that case…to having fun.”

“To having fun,” Charles repeated, lightly clinking his glass of scotch against hers and taking a sip, his eyes appreciatively roaming along the professor’s figure while she took a sip of the strong liquor. “Do you like it? It’s top shelf scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland.”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow as she crossed her leg over her knee and angled herself to face him. “Expensive, imported liquor? Are you trying to impress me, Professor?”

“Well, that all depends…” Following his instincts, Charles set his glass down and rested his elbow on the couch’s back cushion, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Is it working?”

Her (Y/E/C) eyes softened and after setting her own glass down, she rested one of her hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Charles, I was impressed by you before the top shelf scotch, before the fancy Italian restaurant, and before I ever laid eyes on this beautiful mansion.” His brow furrowed in confusion but she merely smiled and rubbed small circles along his knuckles with her thumb. “Eight months ago, the letter that I sent you asking for help with Molly was my Hail Mary; I had nowhere to go and no way to protect my daughter from the people who hated her for who she was, so I decided to write to the one person I knew could help her. And when you sent me a letter back – that incredibly kind and empathetic letter – you gave me hope, hope that I hadn’t felt in so long. So, you see? You managed to impress me before we’d even met, Charles Xavier.”

Charles, touched by her sincerity and feeling a little emotional, reached forward with his free hand and carefully cradled her warm cheek in his palm. “Oh, my darling (Y/N)…you’re not the only one who’s had their hope restored; I gave up any hope for romance not long after I lost my legs, choosing to focus my attention on the school and my fellow mutants. Over these past several months, however, you helped me to see that there was still hope.” His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in. “And now, I would very much like to kiss you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N)’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much as well, I just…” He could feel her cheek flush beneath his touch, and a look of embarrassment flashed across her face. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Would it be silly to say that I’ve got butterflies in my stomach?”

“Not at all, darling. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous myself,” Charles murmured, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at her enticing lips before glancing back up. “The last time I kissed a woman was in 1962, so you’ll have to forgive me if my technique has gotten slightly rusty over the past eighteen years.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we give it a go, will we?” (Y/N) breathed and her (Y/E/C) eyes burned with desire as they both inched closer. “Charles, dear…please kiss me.”

Wanting nothing more than to please the professor, Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as he tentatively brushed his lips against hers. (Y/N) wasted no time in returning the kiss, kissing him softly and sweetly as her hand left his to rest on the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair and eliciting a blissful groan from him; with one hand still cupping her cheek, he rested the other on her waist but soon found himself winding his arm around her in an effort to bring her closer. (Y/N)’s lips were soft and oh so addictive, slowly but firmly caressing against his as her fingers carded through his locks, and Charles surrendered himself over to the woman wrapped in his embrace.

Eventually, they were forced to separate for some much-needed air, the both of them out of breath and almost dizzy from their impromptu make-out session; Charles felt a surge of pride as he took in (Y/N)’s kiss-swollen lips, heaving chest and the dazed smile on her face, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lightly rub his nose against hers. When he pulled back, he huffed out a breathless chuckle at the incredulous look that she was giving him. “That’s a rusty technique?”

“Mm-hmm. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) giggled at his joking question and pretended to consider it. “You know, I think I need another example before I can definitively say.” They both laughed but when Charles moved in for another kiss, a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to recoil with a hiss of pain. “Charles, are you okay?!”

He mutely nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he straightened his posture and leaned his back against the plush couch cushions. “I’m fine, it’s just a muscle spasm.”

“Is it…?” (Y/N) trailed off and when Charles finally opened his eyes as the pain began to fade, he could see the worry written across her face. “Is it because of your spinal cord injury?”

“That, and I’m afraid that I’m getting on in years; I’m not as young and spritely as I was in 1962.” Instead of stammering out a string of apologies and getting up to leave as Charles feared she would, the corner of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin that left him slightly confused. “(Y/N)?”

The professor shifted closer to him. “Did you know that Molly’s father was fourteen years older than me?” Charles’ brow rose in surprise and he silently shook his head, watching as she reached over and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “You could say that I’ve always had a thing for older men…” Before he could think of something witty to say, (Y/N) swung her leg over his to straddle his lap and rested her hands on either side of his face; Charles couldn’t help but grin and, inspired by her delectable boldness, he placed his hands on her waist to hold her securely to him, his grin widening as her breath hitched. “Go ahead and read my mind if you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Shaking his head, Charles rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was staring up at her, softly smiling as one of his hands traveled upwards to cradle her cheek. “I believe you, darling. Would it be too sappy to say that I don’t want this night to end?”

“Not at all, dear,” (Y/N) shook her head before closing the distance between them and captured his lips in another passionate kiss; when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and returned his blissful smile with one of her own. “We can make this work, can’t we? Balance the two of us with running the school and raising Molly?”

“I believe that you and I can do just about anything, so long as we’re together,” Charles replied, his thumb and forefinger moving to guide her chin forward and pouring all his emotions into another kiss; there was no place on Earth he’d rather be than in the arms of the lovely Classical Literature professor who’d captured his heart and judging by the way she kissed him back, it was clear that she was thinking something along the same lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had so much fun dipping my toes back into the Fox X-Men Universe (I still have a massive thing for 80's Charles Xavier and his flowing brown hair lol) and I loved that I finally resolved Charles and (Y/N)'s mutual attraction with this cute Part II! I may or may not have a few ideas for a possible Part III, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying!

Story Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @holb32 @f1uveryysblog Marvel Tag List: @brooke0297​​​​ @deadlymistletoe Permanent Tag List:​ @momc95​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​ @groovy-lady​ @yasmin12312

[not-wholly-unheroic]

I recently found a copy of the graphic novel version of Straight on Til Morning at my local used bookstore and got a great deal so I wanted to share a few of my likes, dislikes, and general observations. I’d been meaning to write up a proper review of the book for awhile now but have been SUPER behind. Anyway, the graphic novel follows the book pretty closely and I’ll be sharing some images from it, so this WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS for those of you who haven’t read it.

First off, the artwork for the graphic novel is beautiful and some scenes are illustrated in a really creative way. For example, I love the depiction of this particular scene where Wendy is writing her stories and Hook sort of…comes to life off the page.

I also really love that while (most of) the characters are still recognizably Disney’s version…they also look a tad more realistic and have some of the illustrator’s own personal interpretation mixed in.

George Darling is a great example. In the graphic novel he is slimmer than in the film and looks remarkably like J.M. Barrie…which I have to consider was probably intentional.

And then there’s the Lost Boys in their animal costumes…Tootles, Skipper (excuse me, this is Nibs erasure—you can add Skipper but don’t just eliminate Nibs!), Slightly, Cubby, and the Twins.

The pirates, however, are a totally different story. Who the heck are these guys???

Anyway… at least they get Hook’s personality right. I love this bit, in particular, where one of the pirates gets a little rough with Wendy and Hook is having none of it. Also, the idea of Hook capturing Wendy to be a mother to the crew is a nice nod to the book.

One big complaint I do have is that the characters are, on occasion, a little TOO self-aware. Like in this scene where one of the pirates makes a sort of on-the-nose observation about Hook’s feud with Pan.

But I will admit, I did cackle at Hook’s reaction.

He said would you please stop trying to psychoanalyze me and look for symbolism and just let the story be about a boy and a pirate? (Hook, how do you even know who Freud is??)

You may have noticed by now that I haven’t said anything about Peter… That’s because Peter barely features in the story at all and honestly when he does show up, he’s…kinda useless and clueless. Now, admittedly, Wendy is meant to be older in this (around 16) so of course, it’s reasonable to think she might not quite view him the same way she did at 12…but in having her team up with Tink to do all the heavy-lifting of the plot (because, ya know, girlpower and all that), Peter sort of ends up not really doing anything. I’d almost rather have an evil Pan, as annoying as that trope is because at least then he actually does something. In this story, it truly feels like Wendy has just…outgrown Peter altogether. And that hurts.

Speaking of which…ya know what hurts even more for me as a Hook fan? THIS.

This poor man is curled up on the deck in the fetal position, terrified of a crocodile who has been long-dead, crying out for a best friend who never even existed except inside his own mind because he was so alone that he made him up.

O W !! Why would you do this to me, Disney?!

It ends for Hook with the crew deciding to drop him off somewhere with enough gold to pay for his keep and hire a caretaker because he’s so mentally unstable they don’t trust him to live by himself.

I hate to say it, but honestly, watching him die would be less painful. At least that would be over with fairly quickly. This just hurts.

But everyone else lives happily ever after, so it’s okay, right? Right??? 😫😭 (Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here in the corner, crying over my pirate boy.)

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone 

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it. 

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write. 

You wrote as though your life depended on it. 

Because it did. 

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act. 

Dracarys. 

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next. 

Loss. 

‘Mother and Father, 

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating. 

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond. 

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond. 

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily. 

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it. 

None of us will. 

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this. 

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full. 

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there. 

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond. 

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come. 

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva.  Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin. 

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning. 

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters. 

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood. 

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession. 

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers. 

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him. 

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours. 

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end. 

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action. 

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before. 

When greeted with Aegon’s terms. 

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above. 

Waiting. 

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.” 

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment. 

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk.��

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder. 

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching. 

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence. 

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass. 

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either. 

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock. 

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men. 

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

[hannya-writes]

To love some one who can kill you

Fandom: Boku no hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Other characters: None

Category: Thoughs and Ideas, romance, very twisted romance

Warnings: Suicide idealize, death theme. Do not read if you are susceptible

Author's note: Just found this in an old notebook, it is very short but I hope you like it!

Dabi isn't a soft and lovely lover. He is harsh and sometimes even cruel. His hands are always hot and greedy, his lips are demanding and controlling. They claim you with every mark he purposely leaves in your skin and you happily endure it.

You find pleasure in his rough and possessive touch, you find the love and desperation for you in his eyes. It's weird, to love some one who can kill you. He just has to want it and in a blink of his stunning eyes you will surrender your life to him.

His love is twisted and dangerous, and you know it. So, why don't you leave him? Why do you stay? Because you had never feel such a passionate and overpowering love. Because you want him to consume you.

Maybe you are as crazy as he is. Maybe opposites do attract, after all just like he can kill you, you can keep him alive. You can relive his dead skin, you can heal his tear conducts, you can give back every physical thing that makes him himself.

You could kill Dabi and revive Touya Todoroki and that was the thing Dabi feared the most. Yet, he stayed by your side.

Maybe you wanted to die, maybe he wanted to live. Maybe you liked that space in between both extremes. Half alive, Half dead.

[sophiejanefostersilver]

so, ive got thay thing i always say, "patroclus has to die first", and it basically means that there are two characters how are clearly gay and in love with each other, and you expect one of them to die young in a tragic way, but then the other one does.

and i hate that i cant say that about neil and todd, cause none of them had to die. they really could live happily together, if stuff were a bit diffarent, but it is as it is and neil is dead.

[two-maroon-ghosts]

unraveled spoilers!!

AHHHHHHHHHSBAHSBJACBWBIAXNWJAIDB THIS BOOK WAS EVERYTHING!!! I needed a more slide-of-life type story from this series and you get to tell me I got to watch it be with Keefe and Alvar??? My two favorite characters?? You're gonna tell me it proves I was right about Alvar???? I'm dying 😭😭 I cried when I learned he wasn't dead and that he just wanted to live now yk. And Keefe's pining?? No one pines like him. Ugh him and Sophie are so in love it's stupid. I love them sm. But also the bonus chapter about the kiss being titled "Everything" despite none of the other chapters having names like skabdksbfaksifb I'll die happily now

[twig-tea]

I Owe an Apology to Cherry Magic Thailand

This is me righting a wrong. A few weeks ago I wrote this post in response to an ask about Thai BL including what Thai BLs airing at the time I was enjoying the most; I listed Cooking Crush and Dead Friend Forever, which was true. I didn't list Cherry Magic Thailand, and the reason for that is the timing of that post coinciding with the very unfortunate Cherry Magic Thailand episode 8 which was a filler episode that made some really unfortunate choices. None of those choices affected the relationship writing or character arcs of the main characters, but the conflict was poorly written--it didn't fit well in the narrative, it didn't even really make sense, and it didn't land the way it was clearly meant to--and I was afraid that the writers of the show would not realize the really interesting things they had done with the main characters in the Thai adaptation and how that would have to change the way the story progressed in order to be consistent, and so I was ready to watch this show go off the rails. But happily, I was wrong, and instead we got an excellent episode 9 and 10, so I am here to publicly tell you:

Watch Cherry Magic (Thai adaptation)!

The one episode 8 misstep is worth living through for the greatness that is happening in this series.

If you're familiar with the source material, here are a few things that I absolutely LOVE the Thai adaptation is doing (very light spoilers, I kept the big stuff out so that you could read and still be pleasantly surprised if you decide to watch the show):

The "magic" is used in fun and clever ways that keep the show funny, interesting, and fresh

Achi [the Thai Adachi] is more self-actualized and self-driven from the get-go, and is more willing to fight for the relationship

Karan [the Thai Kurosawa] is even more of a simp, and is less outwardly perfect than in the Japanese live action, and is also a little hornier (though not as much as the anime version lol)

Both Achi and Karan have stronger character arcs in the Thai adaptation than Adachi and Kurosawa did in the Japanese live-action

Jinta and Min [the Thai version of Tsuge and Minato] are also really great; they're hitting a lot of the same beats but at different times, which makes their progression feel stronger, and there is less of an emphasis on the age difference between them than in the Japanese live action

Min also gets an arc with Rock [Rokkaku] that gives him more depth than in the Japanese live action

We get more of Jinta and Achi's friendship than we did with Adachi and Tsuge

Pai [Fujisaki in the Japanese adaptation] is a fujoshi, which is from the original manga, but the show is still doing something really interesting with her as (I think?) a nod to Fujisaki in the Japanese live action being on the aro/ace spectrum

They have done a great job making the show feel Thai (e.g. including Thai cultural festivals, changing the scarf to an umbrella, adjusting the humour)

There is a kiss!

Anyway. I'm really enjoying it, and it's worth fighting past the annoyance of needing a VPN set to Thailand and waiting an extra day in order to access the show on VIU's website.

[heylittleriotact]

Rook Questionnaire

inspired by @cassieuncaged's BG3 Character Development Questions but for Rook instead!

@emmg tagged me in this, so here you are - thanks for making me think about a lot of these because I hadn't considered them 😅

Answers under the cut due to length (teehee)

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

Nevarra, probably.

2: What is your character's alignment?

I entered Amina’s answers into an online quiz just for shits and giggles knowing full well that my Lawful Good girl would make Steve Rogers look like a knuckle-dragging thug with the moral fibre of a used car salesman.

3: Race and subclass?

Elf, Reaper

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

Probably in a cemetery in a small town on the continent trying to put a wayward spirit to rest. Or at an extremely expensive boutique hotel in Orlais (she got a discount for offering to stay in the allegedly haunted room).

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

Positive/optimistic with the occasional purple choice. She reads the room and doesn’t act overly familiar with people she doesn’t know well.

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

She becomes quite close with Bellara. Amina admires her optimism and passion for life despite her own regrets and hang-ups. Her excited, keyed up energy compliments Amina’s manic border collie energy and somehow their energies sort of like… harmonize and cancel each other out. It’s really wholesome. Like you know how they sometimes assign dogs to cheetahs so they don’t get too stressed out and die? That’s basically the vibe with Amina and Bellara, except they both think they’re the dog and not the cheetah. 

7: Romantically close with?

She is romantically VERY close with Emmrich. In fact they get married and live happily ever after, and enjoy an adventurous sex life, and have exactly one (1) child.

8: Who are they suspicious of?

She tends to give the majority of people she encounters the benefit of the doubt, but is inherently wary of anyone who telegraphs any indication that they see spirits as lesser/tools/pests/evil because she fundamentally doesn’t understand why anyone would treat a spirit differently than a person.

She’s not sure what to make of people who treat their families poorly/disrespectfully. She understands that there are all sorts of dynamics out there, and not all family relationships are good, but she would give her left kidney to have a petty argument with her mother, or have her dad question her life choices. She’d much rather take the hardships that come with family than her reality where she has none.

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

For the most part. She’s extremely dedicated and passionate about her work, and she takes her oath to protect the living and the dead very seriously. She’s well-principled, disciplined, and is above corruption and political machinations. She’s very approachable, however, and has a knack for getting people to like her - even the ones that initially don’t. 

Obviously some people are of the mind that she’s an inflexible hard-ass, but she truly believes that rules exist for a reason and order is infinitely better than chaos. If someone chooses not to like her for that fact, she doesn’t take it personally: she let go of people-pleasing years ago. 

Varric always thought she and Aveline would have been fast friends.

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

She taught herself to play the lute when she was 14 because she thought people would be more keen on being friends with her if she knew an instrument. It didn’t help much, but she can still play a little if she feels inclined.

11: Weapon of choice?

Sword n board baybeeee. 

12: What is their orientation?

Pansexual.

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

She doesn’t love it, and will actively exhaust every other option before entertaining it as a solution. If she’s decided she’s out of options and killing you is the only one left, better kiss your ass goodbye though, because if she’s decided the only solution ends with your death, you’re absolutely going to die very soon.

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

Shopping. Fashion. Sewing - if she didn’t end up with the Mourn Watch she would have pursued becoming a clothing designer/tailor. If she ever did decide to permanently step back from the Watch I could see her opening a quaint, bespoke lingerie shop or something. 

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

She pretty much likes everybody until they give her a reason not to, and even then she doesn’t take it personally. The First Warden really wore on her because his willful ignorance was actively endangering other people, so she wasn’t keen on him for that, but she also knew he was just another poor bastard trying to do his job and yeah sure he’s an idiot, but he’s not a malicious idiot. 

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

Wisps hold a special place in her heart. She makes no secret of the fact that she wants a dog/mabari after she moves in with Emmrich, and when he says that the Necropolis apartments are no place for a pet, she reminds him every moment she gets a chance (in writing, via three separate students, and on one occasion in the form of a corpse who recited her wishes as a limerick) that he also owns a sprawling estate on the outskirts of the city with OODLES of room for a dog. Why, they could get a whole kennel of them and a dog would be such a lovely way to teach Manfred about caring for other creatures…

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

Yes and no. She’s grateful that she can be a force for good in the world, but the danger and uncertainty of it tends to wear on her especially after she and Emmrich get together. Life as a Watcher is dangerous enough as it is - what kind of crazy person actively seeks MORE of it when they have someone waiting for them at home? 

Emmrich actually forces Amina to stop for a minute and consider her mortality and her legacy. She thought she didn’t matter before. That her life would be a blip in time: inconsequential and certainly not worth mourning when she dies, but he seems devoted to showing her that’s not the case at all.

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

The Thedosian equivalent of being a Ghostbuster lol. 

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

Oh she will die old and comfortable in bed, with her family beside her and a smile on her lips as she announces that she’s off to be reunited with her sweetheart. It’s all happy endings here. 

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

After the ritual, she wanted to see Varric’s goal through: she wanted to finish what her friend started and make Solas see that he didn’t have to do what he was planning to do. When Solas’ spiritual origins were revealed, she felt further compelled to help him see reason: no longer was he just a man burdened by guilt and regret, but a spirit dealing with them, and it was her sacred duty to help spirits whenever and however she could. In this case, she saw her responsibility change from “stop a foolish man from ruining the world” to “aid a tormented spirit."

That said, after the truth of what happened at the ritual site became clear, she was livid. She felt hurt, tricked, and as though her own kindness and tendency to believe in the best of people had been used against her. Her own grief was used against her in a cruel trick. She questions if Solas can actually be reasoned with anymore, and has about hit that point I mentioned earlier where she starts to see death as the only remaining option. Emmrich is the one to talk her out of this, urging her to remember her oath as a Watcher and encouraging her to not give up hope. 

So Solas really has Emmrich to thank for happily ever after with his vhenan because Amina was 10000% done with his shit.

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

The thing with the big spectral scythe always feels extremely badass no matter how many times she does it.

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

Common, Nevarran, Orlesian, and Tevene. She knows conversational Antivan and next to no elven despite her ancestry. It’s important for Watchers to be fluent in many languages, as the dead tend to be quite chatty, and the spirits that reside in the Necropolis can’t all be assumed to speak Common. 

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

Keep finding things to do. If she sits still for too long it’ll all catch up with her at once and become overwhelming, but if she keeps finding people to help and helping them, she can put it off indefinitely. This has led to burnout in the past, and without someone like Emmrich around to basically force her to deal with things rather than burying them under work, it would happen again.

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

She thinks that anyone who says they have a definitive answer to that question is lying. There are so many things about magic, the Fade, spirits, and the soul that aren’t known or understood, but she has witnessed enough evidence that she feels confident in some sort of continuation of a person’s essence beyond the veil of death. What that ultimately looks like/entails is a mystery, but she finds comfort in not knowing every detail. It would be anticlimactic to set out on that next Big Adventure if everything was spelled out in advance. 

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

She is the Reaper-est Reaper who ever Reaper-ed. She’s capable of keeping up with the insane physical demands of the work, but also possesses the compassion, empathy, and patience that make a good Watcher. She loves caring for the living and the dead, and approaches her work enthusiastically. Also, she’s just kind of… odd. A trait that many Mourn Watchers possess. 

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

Border collie. Needs purpose. Needs activities. Needs to be contributing in a meaningful way. Otherwise will get severely stressed out and die, probably. 

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

Amina was having a crisis of belonging before Veilguard. She’s questioning her purpose and place in the world after being soft-exiled from the Necropolis and is just kind of drifting from place to place and doing the only thing that she knows, which is Watcher work, but the people she’s helping aren’t exactly tripping over themselves to thank her for any assistance she renders because of the inaccurate assumptions most make about the mortalitasi. 

She’s not in a great place. She’s struggled to feel like she belongs anywhere her entire life because of her start as a foundling, and by the time she meets Varric she’s largely of the mind that she’s a burden that people simply tolerate out of politeness and moral virtue. But Varric… he really seems to like her. Care about her even. The more time she spends with him, the more she starts to think that she’s not just a receptacle for pity and charity, and that maybe she actually deserves to connect with people. 

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

Amina has zero qualms with taking charge of a group of people and telling them what to do… especially if it keeps them alive in a dangerous situation. 

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

I think her sense of honour and duty would have made her an excellent Grey Warden. She’s got too much of a conscience to be in the Lords of Fortune or Antivan Crows.

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

She has this quiet, understated strength about her that could easily be mistaken for shyness or passivity, but she’s actually just so humble and kind and good that she tries to make herself as approachable as she can, even with her scarred face, somewhat crooked fingers, and the tip of one of her ears missing. She wants to be someone that people can trust during their darkest times, and if given the chance will unequivocally prove herself to be that person. She is literally a knight in shining armor with a pure heart and so, so, so much love to give. 

[deuterosapiens]

Finally watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and had a bit of a fun time with it, though I'll call the pacing in the first act unnecessarily slow. I'll ignore this, however, for all of the obvious things this movie does oh so delightfully well. A few personal favorites:

Charles Deetz's death: beautifully animated, ridiculously over the top and most importantly, his half-eaten corpse wandering the Afterlife is a fun gag.

Monica Bellucci. I'm gay, but that's still Monica fucking Bellucci. She's stunning and no amount of staples can change that.

Willem Dafoe is clearly in a completely different movie than everyone else. Did he show up on set thinking he was filming a Boondock Saints sequel? He's such a wonderful presence!

Sandworms!!

Way to go, Practical Effects! See, things are so much more impressive when there's actually something there!

So we suffer a bit from an over-dose on villains. Since each has their own separate motivations, none are really fleshed out well enough to be dispatched properly. Jeremy wants to trade Astrid's life for his own. How does Rory or Delores affect that, or how does that affect them? There's no connection, which means resolving this plot will by necessity require it to be inconsequential to the finale. Rory is a lying scumbag obsessed with Lydia's money (why was this a Reveal again? Not a single person was surprised by this development). How does this tie into Delores's revenge against Betelgeuse? Delores is hell-bent on having her man back and will stop at nothing in pursuit if that. How does this tie into Rory's plans?

Since none of these separate developments are really in any way connected, each has to be resolved separately, meaning none can be given the proper amount of time needed to be resolved in the appropriate manner. I guess the connecting thread is intended to be the Juice himself: Betelgeuse is brought in to save Astrid from Jeremy's plot, which is unceremoniously foiled. He interrupts Rory and Lydia's wedding to attend his own, after using said wedding as the price of admission for saving Astrid. And Delores is a scorned bride who just sort of shows up at the wedding in pursuit of the Man Himself.

Jeremy being foiled is given no real weight, acting as a stepping stone to get Lydia back to the Living World for her wedding, making this entire sequence feel, sort of inconsequential. Delores is an actual threat, the primary subject of Willem Dafoe's entire storyline, but since he has nothing to do with her defeat, his part feels fairly inconsequential. Rory and Delores are both fed to a Sandworm summoned by Astrid, so even Betelgeuse in the finale feels fairly inconsequential.

Since the stakes are so muddled, and the villains are all basically everywhere in motive and function, there's no real strong sense of resolution to anything. What's the status quo at the end? Well, Delia is dead, there's that. But her death had nothing to do with any of these other events, so that would have happened regardless. Lydia is unmarried, which is exactly where she was at beforehand. I guess maybe her relationship with her daughter is better? Maybe?

Okay, so the script might have needed a smidge of tightening. I would dismiss issues of character motivation here if this one hadn't tried to make its focus a character-driven one. I can get behind the sort of fun, absurd nonsensicality of the first movie quite happily. I like strange and unusual things. Weird things presented without explanation, weird character who exist just because the world itself is weird. But trying to tell a character story requires you to effectively tell a character story, you know?

This one is still delightfully crazy, but I like it a smidge less than I could have if it were a half hour shorter and either committed to bits, or committed to character moments. You can easily do both, I would have loved for it to do both!, but unfortunately, in pursuit of one, it neglected the other and is therefore great, but not entirely perfect.

Also, to hell with Crime and Punishment. Am I the only one who did not like that book? I'm beginning to think I'm the only one who did not like that book.

[gabessquishytum]

so Persephone Hades AU, but I am working on a classic studies degree, so I gave it a twist from the original original myth and added Dyspoina.

Hob finds a consort, and this being Greece where its socially acceptable to kidnap your partner, he does that.

Dream is none to happy about this and refuses the food of the dead, because once the gods hear about what happened, they will be looking for him, and he has no plans of styaing hell.

Well Hob is regretting his choices by kidnapping a spoiled prince for a new husband. But he's a bit shocked to see that despite Dream refusing to eat the food of the dead, Hell still seems to be accepting Dream as a new ruler and bending to his will the same as Hob's.

So for a while it seems to be a stalemate where Hob just wants Dream to accept the title as consort and Dream is just waiting until someone upstairs finally thinks to look in Hell.

Well Hob finds himself in Hell's library and the rules are simple, if a book or story is lost to time, it ends up in the library, which is where Hob finds a nifty little book where it explains that Dream is the child of two gods who were associated with death, and Dream at one point being so feared that his name has been forgotten to time because speaking it was one of those omens that brings Dream to the speaker.

But, because this is the lost library, Hob finds his name and goes to find his husband. He attempts to blackmail Dream as a sort of "imagine if people found out their little flower god was really a death omen"

but Dream is actually taken aback Hob isn't turned off by Dream's past Devinity. Hes lost countless lovers to it, and he had a hand in killing his name sense he was tired of people fearing him. He asks Hob if it really doesnt bother him that he, Dream, is an omen of death, and Hob says "What exactly will that do to me? In already the god of the dead. Its not exactly a work hazard to meet a death omen."

Dream practically tackles Hob to the ground and they are all over eachother in minutes. Dream finally (finally) met someone who doesn't fear him, and Hob got his consort.

Ahh this is excellent! Emo Omen of Death Dream feels very in character. He’s tried to reinvent himself as this harmless little nature god but he’s just… he’s very emo. Even before he was kidnapped he used to mope around being all sad and dramatic. It’s one of the things that Hob finds endearing about him!

So yeah, Hob isn’t entirely surprised by the revelation of Dream’s previous identity. It makes a lot of sense, and surely it’s a good thing! Dream will thrive spending time in Hell with the dead, who already serve him with great love and respect. Instead of hiding from his true nature, perhaps Dream can finally embrace and learn to love himself as he is?

Honestly Dream is just relieved. He finds Hob very attractive, despite the whole kidnapping thing. Hob has really tried hard to make the underworld a good home for Dream, and he genuinely feels like he can breathe for the first time in a very long time. So he gladly throws himself in Hob’s arms and agrees to become his consort. On the condition that he will be able to leave Hell and visit him family in the land of the living. Hob agrees readily enough, relieved that he’s finally persuaded Dream to stay (for at least some of the time).

As god of the dead, Hob also has dominion over everything that lies under the ground. He is, therefore, the richest of all the gods, and he can deck his new husband in freshly mined silver, and beautiful jewels. Dream’s crown glitters with diamonds, and he sits happily on his throne at Hob’s side while the dead pay homage to them both.

From then on, it’s always Dream who enters a room before Hob. He is an omen of death, after all. It’s his duty to let everyone know when his husband is on his way.

[jaylleoo14]

Its not the spooky season anymore 😔 But I dont need it as an excuse to write it!

TW// Dark/gory/horror themes up ahead so tread carefully

I've been thinking, imagine what the characters would be like as serial killers. Who would be a best fit for one? And honestly, I feel like I'm able to write all of them as possible ones, well except for Ortho. Okay and maybe for Silver too but everyone else I think I can make do with it. I think.... I feel like characters that are obvious to fit the role is already generic such as Jade or Leona or Malleus! So i wanted to get more creative and try to expand more on the other characters. It would be fun to write about them though but I want someone who I think would fit the role just as nicely. Riddle and Trey was also a close one but I just really thought there could be someone more fitting. And what better character than to do the secretive man himself, Cater! I love Cater! And the potential he has a killer! Huihuihuihiuhihi Its making me shiver just thinking about it (with excitement) Perhaps I'll make the narrative as if you are looking through his eyes. That would be a fun read, no? Well I'll definitely switch the narrative to you and him but its a fun thought!

One day your boring, depressing, and mundane life gets interjected by Cater, the fun loving and bright barista! Some days you would always find yourself dreading as to why you should even continue. You live in a shitty area and your living situation is a mess, your neighbors are always partying, your boss is always picking on you, you're family situation is complicated, and all your friends seem to have moved on doing their own things in life. Life sucks, why do you have to go through this? You just want to go home already. Recently whenever you come by this super cute cafe this barista is always happily greeting you. "Another rough day?" He asked one day, and ever since that question you both have been making small talk whenever you would come by. He was easy to talk to, very friendly and bright. He was something you looked forward too during your days before and after work. One day when you go by the cafe you don't seem to see Cater around. Instead another worker rings you up instead. Out of curiosity you ask them where Cater was, and to none of their surprise that it was you who asked they simply answer with a "he called in sick." They recognize you as well considering you are a regular patron, one of the many other people who seem to enjoy Caters livelihood. Well you needed it in your life anyways. When you take a drive to your workplace you hear on the radio that two missing reports have been filed just last week, and to add on, just today they found a dead body belonging to one of the missing persons. They've been found brutally handled, the skin of their face peeled off and missing. What a grotesque and horrific way to go out.

A killer has been out on the loose in your city for who knows how long now. Though one thing is for certain, they've been going on for quite sometime now, all the victims going out in the same vindicative way. With their faces taken from them. This killer has been going on for quite some time now, but its just recently that they are starting to make another strike. For how long exactly? Who's to say. One thing for sure though is that you plan to save enough to finally move out of this godforsaken city, your awful apartment, and quit your damn job once you make enough. Despite all these killings going around, a lot of people seem to still go by their normal days just only hoping that they wont be the next unfortunate victim. "I hope Cater's alright" You say to yourself as you turn off the radio. The weather has been getting a lot colder lately, and it has been frequently raining. It would make sense that he'd get sick. Hearing about the reoccurring news causes you to let out a sigh, taking a mental note to be a bit more wary now.

You both don't really delve into each others personal life like that, so you can only hope for the best that he has someone to take care of. However on the way to work your light makes you stop and next to you is a deep alleyway. The day still being freshly new, the weather being a dewy light blueish grey after a slight rain, you dont care to look anywhere around you until a little glare hits your eyes on the side. Without much thought you turn around to see what the cause could be. Perhaps a shiny or passing car? Or perhaps it was just the reflection of someone's skateboard on the nearby sidewalk next to your car, or maybe it was- Oh.

. . . Oh

Your heart drops. You suddenly feel cold and goosebumps arise in you as you slowly flare up and your eyes widen with hyperactivity.

Someone is over there

In the alley way, next to you. Just slightly, are you able to make out a figure hidden under the shadows casted by the surrounding and clustered buildings.

Someone with a dark hoodie to blend in with the shadows, their back slightly angled towards you in the dark.

HONK

A car honks from behind you and you're woken from your trance. Just then though, the person in the alleyway slightly shoots their head towards where the sound of the honking originally came from quickly and for a split second your eyes meet. You hit the gas pedal, quickly speeding off with your heart racing as you pass the streetlight. Your cold clammy hands grips onto the steering wheel as you slightly speed off in a hurry and you bury yourself into your seat as the sound of your engine revs away down the dampened street.

They saw me...... I saw them...... they saw me

Was that? Did I see, the killer?

As he watches you speed off in your car he turns back to his finished business. The bloodied and lifeless corpse in front of him lying in a dirty puddle mixed with gravel and rain water from the earlier light rain. With his bloodied gloved hands, a dark shining glint glossing over it, he brings it to drag his mask down to inhale the dewy freshness of the air and out with a heavy breath.

"Ah, Cay-Cay should've been more careful huh?"

With no response he only laughs to himself a bit, nudging the lifeless corpse with his foot as if it were a ball.

"Oops. Forgot you've kicked the bucket now. Oh well, they didn't see me anyways. I shouldn't worry too much anyways."

"heh, who would've thought It would be (y/n) to see me down here... I guess I'll keep a close eye on them from now justttt in case."

Definitely will expand on this when I have the time and finish my other work, but oh how I cant wait to share! >< This is just a base and loose little draft for me to go off of but I was thinking of something like Cater placing pictures around the victims, pictures of perhaps locations to where he could have put their faces. But regardless, I think it'd be fun to write a really slow burn between you and Cater, a psychological horror experience :3

[callistawolf]

Astarion: Alive or Dead

If there's one constant in the Baldur's Gate 3 fandom, it's that Astarion fans are divided on ascending Astarion or not. I like to think more are against it than are for it. It's not secret, I am a fan of Spawn Astarion and believe ascending him is his "evil" ending. That it's perpetuating the cycle of abuse. But I also know that fans of Ascended Astarion are very vocal about how they believe allowing him to ascend is granting him his true freedom.

And I can understand why. As a spawn, he's been confined to what is essentially slavery with no will of his own. Until he was infected with a mind flayer's tadpole, he had no choice on anything. Plus, he couldn't do things like be out in the sun or walk through creeks or enter people's houses. When he learns about ascension from Raphael, it's a tantalizing prospect.

Astarion knows he can't turn back the clock on being a vampire. Or at least he strongly suspects that. If there's a cure out there for that condition, he doesn't know about it. (And neither do I, for that matter, but stranger things...) From his point of view, ascending is the closest thing to a cure that he's encountered since that fateful night when he woke up dead. He could walk in the sun again, he could feel practically human again. None of the drawbacks of being a vampire with the added bonus of MORE power than even a regular full-throated vampire would have. Which means he wouldn't be a slave to anyone ever again. VERY appealing.

Of course, ascension comes with a cost. It's an infernal ritual and as much as vampire tend towards the evil side of the alignment spectrum, an ascended vampire is soulless. Many people say that Ascended Astarion is Cazador 2.0. But it's even worse than that. He's like Cazador 2.0 on steroids. He loses whatever shreds of humanity his spawn self had. That includes his capacity to love. Love is replaced with a more grasping impulse. It's turned into ownership, and your character becomes someone for him to possess. To own. To control. This is largely why I'm so opposed to it. Why would my character who has fought so hard in this game to regain their bodily autonomy from the mind flayer's tadpole just happily hand it over? Even for Astarion? I can't reconcile it.

Something else occurred to me today when I took the gang to Cazador's palace to have a little talk. Naturally, I talked Astarion down from his blood and fear soaked high and we freed the spawn and my man has retained his soul. I told him I was proud of him and he was very understandably feeling jittery and on edge and unsure about everything because let's be honest... it's a LOT. He has just killed his former master, his tormentor. He's closed the book on a ridiculous amount of power. He's free but... he's still who he was before. A simple spawn with no extra powers and, without the tadpole, a lot of drawbacks to living a regular life.

He says this again later when your character speaks to him in the cemetery. He wants to live again. He edits his tombstone to reflect that he has begun his life over, it's not finished yet, there's more to come. You don't get that scene if he ascends. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong, I believe he plans to take over Cazador's palace, to rule from there. A place that the spawn him, post-Cazador, is eager and anxious to leave because it smells of death.

Ascending is accepting death, embracing and celebrating it. It's continuing the cycle that has gone on for so, so long and not doing anything new. It's giving over to the worst impulses a vampire could have. It's staying there, in a palace that reeks of death. You can feel the sun on your face again, but you are still dead and bound to death.

Remaining a spawn seems like a step down for anyone who wants Astarion to have all the freedom he wants but it's NOT. He is free, not just of Cazador, but of death. There's discussion about finding a way for him to walk in the sun again after the finish the of the game and I honestly think they could find a way. But more than that, being free of that cycle of abuse is the true freedom. He is no longer a slave, no longer beholden, and his life is his own, however he chooses to live it. He makes his own choices. He is not a slave to his hunger any more than Tav is a slave to her hunger for food. He doesn't have relentless need for power that ascension would have shackled him with.

He tells the spawn that they can control their hunger. He knows this from experience. Once he was infected with the tadpole and dumped in the wilderness, he knew what it was to be the sole person responsible for his choices. He's had stumbles along the way (this is where Tav comes in, to help guide him and show him a better morality), but he knows he can keep himself from attacking innocent people. He's stronger than just the average beast. He's not a soulless monster.

Remaining a spawn is choosing to live a life of his own, for better or for worse. Autonomy is so important to Astarion and I love the thought that my character (Tav or Durge but let's be honest, it's usually redeemed Durge) will be there with him, holding his hand and support him and guiding him along the way. No, not to tell him what to do. He wouldn't stand for that anyhow. But to explore this life with him. I firmly believe my character isn't the sort to just let him steam roll over her and I also believe Spawn Astarion wouldn't want her to be. (Ascended Astarion would likely have a different opinion.) I enjoy picking dialogue options throughout the game that challenge him a little.

He tells my character after Cazador that he's so relieved that he didn't ascend. He's looking forward to what comes next, for the first time in his life, and he wants to embrace that future with my character as an equal. Spawn doesn't want to control or possess, he wants to love and live.

Ascending is choosing death, familiar as it is, and the power that it holds over him and others. Remaining a spawn is being brave enough to step out of that bubble he's lived in for two hundred years and see what else is out there for him. The sky is the limit. As Astarion himself says, anything and everything is possible.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Willy Wonka (any version)

These answers apply to every adaptation – that I know, anyway – of the story of Charlie/Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, as well as the original book and its sequel Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. I haven't seen Wonka yet.

Favorite thing about them: He's a fun character all around. I love his creative genius, with all the fantastical candies and treats he creates and all the fantastical rooms in his factory. I love his blend of weirdness, cleverness, mischief, and passion for his work. His hints of moral grayness and insanity make him interesting, but his underlying warmth and kindness, especially to Charlie, prevent him from seeming like a villain. (At least I don't think so: more on that below.) He's like an eccentric wizard from a fantasy story, but with a more modern, candy-themed twist.

Least favorite thing about them:

Original book: The whole story of how the Oompa Loompas came to work for him has unfortunate implications. Even after Dahl revised the text and changed the Oompa Loompas from black African Pygmies to light-skinned dwarfs from Loompaland, the concept is still very iffy. A businessman "importing" a tribe of people from a foreign country to work in his factory, where he never lets them leave the premises, pays them in food instead of in money, and tests his experimental foods and drinks on them, which sometimes cause them bodily harm... it wouldn't fly in a book written today.

1971 film: To a sensitive child viewer (as I was), his angry outburst at Charlie and Grandpa Joe for stealing the Fizzy Lifting Drinks is scary and mean, even if it is just a test.

2005 film: I don't like the subplot about his controlling dentist father. A character like Wonka doesn't need daddy issues to explain him.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I love chocolate.

*I'm at least a little eccentric.

*I often wear purple.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not a chocolatier, an inventor, or a factory-owner.

*I'm female.

*I've never met an Oompa Loompa.

Favorite line:

Original book:

(Explaining why he won't let Augustus be cooked into fudge): Because the taste would be terrible. Just imagine it! Augustus-flavored chocolate-coated Gloop! No one would buy it."

"Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips! Just as a poached egg isn't a poached egg unless it's been stolen from the woods in the dead of night!"

And the full text of his "There's no earthly way of knowing" poem and the funny, creepy poems he recites in the Space Hotel to scare the White House in the sequel.

1971 film:

"We have so much time and so little to see!... Wait a minute! Strike that. Reverse it." (and the later variation with "...so little to do")

"A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men."

"But Charlie, don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted... He lived happily ever after."

And of course his various quotes from Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, and other literature.

brOTP: The Oompa Loompas, and Charlie by the end.

OTP: None, he's happily single.

nOTP: Charlie or any of the other kids.

Random headcanon:

*In all versions, he's on the autism spectrum – it just manifests in different ways for each different Wonka.

*In the 1971 film, he's Jewish, just like Gene Wilder was in real life (and like Timothée Chalamet, for that matter). Maybe this is true in other versions too. I chiefly like to imagine this as a "take that" to Roald Dahl's antisemitism.

Unpopular opinion: The popular "Wonka is a villain" take is overdone. Yes, he has some moral ambiguity to him, but he's not evil. People often seem to forget that the fates of Augustus, Violet, Veruca, and Mike aren't "punishments" that he deals out. They're accidents that each child causes himself or herself by ignoring his warnings. Now, I don't mind it when adaptations imply that he deliberately sets up those accidents to occur if the kids disobey him, or at least show him as unconcerned with stopping or rescuing them. But I don't think either of those things are true to his portrayal in the book, per se.

Song I associate with them:

"Pure Imagination."

Favorite picture of them:

This classic illustration of him by Joseph Schindelman:

This illustration by Quentin Blake:

This book cover illustration, from the edition I grew up with:

This much-memed image of Gene Wilder in the 1971 film:

Johnny Depp in the 2005 film:

Douglas Hodge in the 2013 stage musical (the only Wonka I know of in an adaptation to have his signature black goatee from the book):

Timothée Chalamet in Wonka, 2023:

[9haharharley1]

I'mma keep it coming with I wanna see your head canons for Danny tbh I wonder if we're similar about the boy. So I guess 002

How I feel about this character:

I love him, I really do! I had such a crush on Danny when I was a teen, made worse (or better, idk) by the fact that when the show aired, I was also just entering high school. So it was one of those, "oh look! A socially awkward teen also has to deal with the stress of living! He's just like me fr (minus the ghost powers on my part)!"

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Romantically? Vlad, Valerie, Clockwork, and Dan, but mostly Vlad.

Want to see him get railed and ruined and crying? Dan, Nocturne, Skulker, Wulf, Walker.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Tucker and Sam (provided Sam can get over some of her holier-than-thou attitude)

My unpopular opinion about this character:

This boy doesn't have a dominant bone in his entire body. I don't like reading top Danny fics, my boy deserves a break, and I'm also not a fan when he's taller and beefier than Vlad either. I stan a short king and I will take no criticism.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

It's a kids' show, so I know this was never gonna happen, but I would have loved to see him have a full psychological break. I'm talking an entire episode dedicated to Danny having a complete and total panic attack, Batman the Animated Series style. Parents want to catch and study him, one of his best friends keeps pushing him to do the superhero thing, parents and peers are pressuring him to date said pushy friend, he's failing in school, he can't retaliate against his primary bully, his future is screwed if he doesn't watch himself, the ghosts keep coming and they won't fucking stop, his sister keeps giving him these worrying looks like she's worried, why should she be worried? He's fine, everything's fine, he's only half-dead, what's the big deal?

Danny eventually has that panic attack the closer he gets to graduating, unsure of his future, scared he's gonna fail and never be able to leave Amity Park, terrified that all he has to look forward to is fighting ghosts and running/hiding from his parents. His future is forever uncertain because the alternate time line, and his friends can't understand, even if they're trying, but they just can't know what's going on with him, and he sees the fear in their eyes every time he brings up that dark future. He could go to Clockwork, but Clockwork will only give so much advice. He doesn't share more than is necessary to keep time in tact, so he eventually breaks and goes to Vlad. Who else could possibly understand if not the only other halfa in existence?

Basically, I would have loved to see him become increasingly overwhelmed until he had no choice but to run away and go to Vlad's. They make a temporary truce long enough for them to bond over their shared plight.

my OTP:

Pompous Pep, of course (you will pry this ship from my cold, dead hands)

my cross over ship:

None

a headcanon fact:

Danny totally had a crush on Vlad the first time they met. He thought he was handsome and charming and all that gross first crush stuff, and he actually enjoyed talking with him, even if him hitting on his mom was super fucking weird. Danny could look past that because he knew his mom wasn't interested, was happily married, and when Vlad wasn't focused on her, he could be pretty cool. Too bad he had to go and ruin it by revealing his evil intentions.