#out of Spite for how she was treated in particular

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[sepublic]

            The Owl House’s first episode really is a litmus test for people who claim to support Problem Kids who act out but ultimately need support by their community instead of punishment by the system, because jeezus.

            The way so many people were clutching their pearls over Luz bringing fireworks to school, treating her like some domestic terrorist in the making who needed to be carted away, and not just… An eager kid who got in over her head trying to bring fun with something associated with fun, especially in her country!!! Like this was so obviously a well-meaning child who just needed to be sat down and explained the dangers of fireworks, who was clearly willing to listen!

            And yeah, Luz DID become a domestic terrorist. But you know what I mean, and really that just proves my point that Luz can be a rebel in a fantastical sense, but when you apply it to a real-world context, suddenly she’s a menace that needs to be stopped. Because it’s easy to root for the metaphor until you have to uncomfortably apply it your own life. Why else would Belos be an actual colonizer from IRL history, and not just a space alien or demon?

            It’s the way people saw this cartoonishly-evil system that the show was so unambiguous about, and because they thought they were being clever by being uncritically contrarian (when really they were just affirming their own latent biases), they argued that Oh yeah maybe the system IS good for Luz, maybe this is what she needs! The way people were so ready to take the camp’s promises at face value, that See it’s going to teach her how to do taxes and listen to the news!

            People were just so insistent that actually, the Troubled Teen Industry means well and will do well in taking this brown child away from her struggling brown mother, without a choice for either of them. They just ignored the obvious bit about Principal Hal sending Luz to the camp as a punishment, out of spite, after breaking his promise to give her another chance as soon as he ran into the aftereffect of Luz’s prior chance. Luz even brings it up, “That doesn’t count, right?” And he still went through with it because he doesn’t actually care about what Luz needs, he just wants to punish her!!!

            It’s Be Gay, Do Crimes until the protagonist performs actual crimes and suddenly she has to be arrested. Nobody questioned how at least half the incidents Luz was sent to the office over were clear overreactions by the school; Things that didn’t harm anyone! It’s almost as if, gee, maybe sometimes kids DO cause problems, but there’s a particular bias and double-standard regarding certain demographics, and so they’ll be punished for the same things other well-behaved kids get away with! Principal Hal clearly had it out for Luz from the start , so I really don’t care about his judgment.

            It’s all about restorative justice for criminals, until one of them does something even remotely problematic and suddenly they have to be hauled off and not worked with. It’s all about supporting child welfare, recognizing that kids are a struggling and oppressed class in and of themselves, until Luz is having her entire summer vacation, a whole three-months period to herself that is idolized in our culture by kids for this reason, to be sent learning how to do taxes.

            But nnoooo these are important life skills, you argue! But if your parents used up your whole vacation, your only reprieve, to send you to a camp where you had to learn these things, you would understandably be calling it child abuse. Y’all stress the importance of breaks and how school genuinely wears a kid down, and vacation is legitimately necessary; But Luz is a Problem Child and you’ll say it with unironic contempt.

            And that’s not even getting into the implicit bigotry of the system, because under kids’ show censorship you can’t actually SAY that the system is targeting Luz disproportionately for being brown. But you can definitely imply it, just as in Teen Titans, Cyborg goes on a whole spiel about how he can verbalize Starfire’s struggles with fantasy bigotry without her even having to explain it to him, clarifying that he knows because he’s… part-robot.

            Belos isn’t allowed to rant about indigenous peoples but his attempted genocide of natives in a fantasy world is so obviously meant to hearken to what IRL Puritans did with Native Americans, and the show even clarifies that its universe’s witch hunters had the same motives as IRL witch hunters, who were racist, misogynistic, etc. Lilith tells Luz to go back to her world. The Reality Check Camp has Masha, an obvious Russian migrant child, a dark-skinned kid, and another kid based off of Molly Knox Ostertag, who is openly queer. Gee, it’s almost as if the camp is targeting, specifically, kids who don’t fit within the cultural hegemony of the United States!

            And yes, it’s interesting that Yesterday’s Lie creates ambiguity for Luz because these kids seemed to get along and find each other because of the camp… From her own perspective. But Luz doesn’t have the luxury of re-watching a scene carefully, she had other things on her mind. She’s canonically an Unreliable Narrator who remembers things as worse than they actually were, as revealed in the very next episode.

            The kids said they found solidarity while also calling the camp terrible, so it’s clear it was an unintended side-effect of the camp, it had nothing to do with the camp itself; But Luz isn’t the calm, detached viewer. So her takeaway is something that will fuel her regret over coming to the isles, which her mother really contributes towards at the end of said episode.

            I don’t think TOH is the pinnacle of Leftist media, obviously. It’s basic, entry-level stuff; But this is a kids show. So not only is its effort impressive for a kids show and setting the bar, but it’s also a good introduction for kids into other ideas. The writers are clearly operating off of ideas and beliefs, so it’s fun analyzing how they bleed into their work, how they think to convey these ideas, and Readings are always a thing. And also, yeah; It IS a kids show! What I’ve said should be obvious to kids, the first episode is cartoonishly obvious, but some of y’all are actual grown adults who still can’t get it, how embarrassing!

            And in the end, I don’t think it’s because you don’t have the skills. I think some of y’all do understand, but are just contrarians who live in a perfect bubble where you don’t notice the system’s issues and are insistent on taking its side, even when the narrative is unambiguous about its fault. I also think some of y’all are just racist, and/or misogynistic. That some of the people saying this are white does not elude me.

            I know I toss those words around a lot, but seriously; It genuinely is everywhere, but of course privileged people can ignore it, and treat women and PoC as insane and overreacting. It’s Not That Deep until it bleeds into everything, including people’s writing and how they engage with media. Luz was struggling with the viewers’ own racism since the first episode.

            The most absurd part is that the show does get around to this; It does address that Luz can get carried away, and that she needs to be more mindful. It can also be nuanced in acknowledging that she was disproportionately targeted and punished for being “weird.” The first episode sets up the show’s conflict, its themes, its status quo and cast; As well as the flaws and trajectory of our main character’s arc. It begins addressing these things pretty early on with Luz learning to be more mindful as early as the fourth episode.

            But y’all are adults who lack reading comprehension with a kids show, and demand every issue of the protagonist be resolved in its first episode, which is already going fast because of everything else it’s handling, on top of its first lesson for our protagonist. Y’all really needed Luz’s flaws to be resolved ASAP instead of her development occurring naturally over the course of the show, and ending with the show because it’s about her story.

            Because you can’t bear to deal with a girl of color’s flaws being a consistent thing on the backburner spaced across the show for her to eventually conquer, she needs to be punished immediately! Because it’s not enough that she learns and grows from her mistakes, no Luz needs to also be punished in a show that starts off talking about the system’s disproportionate punishment. But then y’all see your white faves and complain about how they were so much more fun when they were mean, why didn’t they stay mean, why didn’t we get more time for them to be mean before they had character development…!

[vxsellie]

you're ellie's achilles heel ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⌇just went to a planetarium & guys i forgot how much i LOVE greek myths!

life and living are two entirely opposing concepts. life, to ellie, would be akin to a cloudy sky hued with ceaseless shadows of predetermined fate and ineradicable fortuities. living, however, would be the prior with the addition of you — a parting in the clouds, a malleable serendipity to act as a reminder of all things gaiety.

vivacity incarnate, you were. a calm in the storm of loss. a beastly thing, that grief, rearing a head of torment and incessancy. like a dog to its owner; like a shadow to its caster; like a deeply rooted consequence following someone deserving of their karma. whatever metaphor works best, they each elucidate propitiously. owing to such, the grief that trailed her impressed by joel was unabating. analogous to that of a deity, you'd come upon her like an answered prayer. a kind soul of gentility, a laugh in the darkness.

bare skin on hers, the intimacy of your love healed ellie in ways she'd never priorly have dared wished to be. a kiss on the nape, a hand in hers, a gaze of blown pupils.

to be around you is to be around the sun itself. to even imagine losing such a blessing is a harrowing thought of atrocity. from this seed of love and fear to lose grew a sapling of vigilance, which grew to a tree of protection, which grew to a sequoia of possessiveness. it was, in the beginning, benign. until it wasn't. until she treated you like a glass vase of fragility. never would one wish for that, especially in an apocalyptic milieu.

in a world of plague that teemed of infection, injury is quotidian. more often than not would it be fatal. it's a simple fact of such a sphere, one accepted by all living inhabitants. all but one. all but ellie. to see you with so much as a scratch would wreak havoc from the woman. her world would shatter, the ground falling from under her feet. toxicity, it was. you knew it, as did she. but to address or to permute the blight would be futile, fuel to a bonfire.

achilles was she; man of perfection, strength to be embodied in soul. not a flaw in sight upon such personage. naught but one. as his heel was to achilles — the singular deficiency to his strength — you were to ellie. a blemish, a fault, a foible. an imperfection. she hadn't the best upbringing, admittedly, but one's past is as inevitable as the stars are to the sky. in each universe, ellie loses joel, and in each universe, it thus ruins her entire being. all but one. the one where she finds you, clings to you, and deteriorates in crypticy rather than overtly.

achilles' heel is the death to him, the extinguishment to a blazing flame of life. to imagine being the douse of ellie's fire is horrifying. and for that, you leave. for that, you disappear without a word of explanation. because she deserves that. to go through such pain as losing someone is an unavoidable fate predetermined by the trojan prince, paris. by the river styx embodied within you.

to leave her is a blessing in itself, though she may not see it.

as said by achilles himself, "fate is the same for the man who holds back, the same if he fights hard." in this, ellie's kismet will have been withheld in spite of everything. had she not met you, she'd overcome grief just the same. though, since she did, the act caused naught but added time to the defeat of quietus. she'd, in spite of circumstance, always end the same — alone. to abandon one's dog, one must be solus with it as to avoid distraction; to run from one's shadow, one must be in absolute solitude as to circumvent the possibility of other penumbras intervening; to vanquish one's karma, one must face it in a duel, others absence mandatory. in ellie's particular case, she must find out how to vanquish the loss of joel on her own. without you. without dina. without any other people she's bound to lean on out of instinctual dependancy.

grief is naught but the price of love. to find a home in another is to solidify the possibility of losing them, is to to fossilize anguish in stone, star, or statue.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 perm taglist. @luvsturniolo. @kasqnxx. @xlovla. @ilovewomenfr. @zzombiegirl. @elliessweetheart. @shawangel.  @defnoteleonor.   @fatbootymuncher. @autisticintr0vert. 

[rebelliousstories]

Candy Hearts

ValenFics

Relationship: David Loki x Reader

Fandom: Prisoners

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 657

Main Masterlist: Here

Jake Gyllenhaal & Co. Masterlist: Here

Summary: Having a lover at home that packs lunches for him is always sweet. And there are sometimes extra sweets involved.

Consider Donating: Here

Currently, David found himself in a predicament. On one hand, he loved being next to his girlfriend in the morning, just bathing in warmth, and enjoying life. On the other, he needed to go to work to pay their bills. When the cold winter threatened to seep into their house, there was nothing he wanted more than to stay in. Pennsylvanian winters were not for the weak.

In the dead middle of February, there was another issue. Everyone was going on and on about Valentine’s Day that was right around the corner. And while Loki wanted to join in, he was just so unused to doing so. The amount that he worked, and the nature of it has never lended itself to being totally in the moment when he was home, no matter how he tried.

And while David always tried to make her feel appreciated when he was home, regardless of a holiday, it never hurt to do something extra in the case of. But he was not sure what to do. She always took such good care of him. What was he going to be able to do?

Rolling over in their bed, he pressed a kiss to her head, watching how she slept for just another minute or two. Reluctantly, David began his process of getting ready. A scalding shower that only lasted just long enough for him to scrub down his body. Clothes that were thrown on haphazardly as he prepared to brace that familiar chill. Hearty breakfast of no less than two cups of black coffee, with three sugars but he would never let anyone know.

As he ran out the door to make it down to the station, Loki made sure that he snagged his lunch box that his girlfriend that lovingly prepared the night before. It was a small token, but one that he cherished very much. Ducking back into the bedroom, David snuck a final kiss to her sleeping figure, and then he was finally out the door.

Going into the station, he went about his usual routine of doing his work, arguing with his captain, and getting headaches that he would end up medicating with endless cups of coffee. In spite of all of this, David continued to try and find a way to spoil his girlfriend for Valentine’s Day that was within budget. She had not mentioned anything in particular that she wanted as of late. And that just would not work.

Maybe he would get her those ruby droplet earrings that he knew she had saved on her Etsy page. Yeah, that would be a nice treat. Those and a nice dinner the next town over. But for now, he was stuck at work planning about what to do.

Sometimes, he wondered how he got so lucky. He was a man of few words, did not show emotions most of the time, and worked one of the most demanding jobs he could. Which is why Loki wanted to spoil her for the holiday.

When he went to grab yet another cup of coffee, the time on the clock startled him. It was somehow already two in the afternoon, which meant that the window for a lunch break was slowly closing. Bringing his mug back over to the desk he called his own, he grabbed his lunch bag from underneath to dig in.

However, something tumbled out as soon as he opened it. A box of conversation candy hearts. Chuckling, David picked them up, and shook them softly. The rattle inside made him smile. He was not sure why such a small thing was bringing him so much joy; maybe it was because his girlfriend had packed it. But it made him feel better to break them open and enjoy his sweet snack.

Sighing deeply, he knew he needed to pick up another box on his way home to give to his girlfriend as a thank you.

[nuapriori]

enjoy harry's horny bullshit i wrote today

------

Kim’s hand twitches automatically toward the key in his coat.

But it’s not there.

Because the Coupris Kineema—his sleek, immaculate motor carriage—his baby, is now, as of this morning, in evidence lockdown after The Lighthouse Island operation.

Too traceable. Too risky.

So they wait beside the curb until a familiar sputter rounds the corner -- Jean’s beater lurches to a halt in front of them. One headlight out, paint flaked to hell. The kind of car that survives through sheer spite -- but it's one of a kind.

PERCEPTION(easy success):

This particular model has a steering wheel.

ENCYCLOPEDIA(formidable success):

The Caprice 100. Not Coupris. It’s Mesque design, originally manufactured in the early 80's of the last century by a defunct transport cooperative-- known for its political neutrality and zero marketing. No slogans. No names. Just the number. One hundred. Because that’s how many were ever made.

INTERFACING:

Not anything remotely stylish.This one’s been rebuilt half a dozen times with parts from four different countries. No two dashboards alike. No official records.

ESPRIT DE CORPS:

The only reason it’s even street-legal is because the licensing officer gave up with Jean trying to pin down its origin.

CONCEPTUALIZATION:

A symbol of stubborn utility in a world that romanticizes sleek precision. It growls when it turns, smokes in the cold, and leans like a drunk in the wind.

But it runs. God, does it run.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT:

VOLITION (godly failure):

I'm weak.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (libido strong):

Mmm. Kim Kitsuragi behind the wheel of that wheezing relic—one hand low, steering, the other lazily adjusting his sunglasses, jacket rolled up his forearms, elbow crooked just so. A sharp turn, a flash of dark eyes, and suddenly your blood’s in your throat.

YOU: Gulp...

ELECTROCHEMISTRY:

He doesn’t say much when he drives. You know why?

He’s busy feeling. You’d sit shotgun just to feel the jolt of his choices in your spine. You’d let him shift gears with your heart if he asked. Parallel park you. Strip your dignity like a clutch gone hot.

AUTHORITY(medium failure):

I do actually like the sound of that.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY:

Just say it. You want to be that gearshift.

YOU:

I want to be that gearshift.

INLAND EMPIRE:

You could watch him shift gears all day. Even if it means death by exhaust fumes in a dying steel coffin with no suspension.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY:

You’d die with a boner.

YOU:

I'd die with a boner.

And then—Christ—Harry does the face.

The other one; the one where his eyebrows go slack and his mouth opens just a little, like he's just seen God cruising in low gear. He doesn't even notice he's doing it until Kim glances over—just a flick of his eyes—and one brow lifts. Barely. But enough.

He knows.

Harry looks away. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like that might erase the expression.

AUTHORITY(epic failure):

Good job. Now mutter something incoherent. Fuck.

COMPOSURE:

Pull it together, you absolute walking sausage.

Jean, blessedly oblivious, leans out the driver’s side window of the Caprice, chewing something that may have once been gum.

“She’s all yours, princesses. Don’t grind third. It bites.”

Harry recovers—barely. Grin sharp, voice steady:

“She’s beautiful, Vicquemare.”

Jean flicks a middle finger in his general direction. “She’s older than both of you put together. Treat her right.”

[winniethewife]

In Spite of All The Danger

(Luke Skywalker x M!Reader)

A/n: A ficlet for Star wars month, and in preparation for Pride month! Unbeta'd so if you see errors, no you didn't. Thanks to @ierofrnkk for this idea months ago.

Words: 938

The destruction of the Death star was the single greatest accomplishment of the Rebel alliance to date, or at least that’s what everyone was telling Luke for days after. He felt like he had walked around in a daze for a while after that. He had made many friends in such a short time, but one face stood out in particular. A pilot that he had flown with on that mission. He was one of the few people who didn’t treat him differently afterwards, someone who was just as nice to him the first time they met every day after that. He was funny and sweet and kind and the way he smiled… Luke would catch himself daydreaming about him every so often. The war didn’t exactly leave a lot of time to just hang out and get to know people. But every chance he could Luke would sneak away to find his new friend and talk. But what he didn’t expect was how quick he would fall for him.

“So that’s how I learned how to Play Sabacc!” He said with a grin as he finished his story. Luke looked up having missed the last few moments staring into his eyes, he laughed to try to cover up the slip in focus.

“That’s hilarious! I can’t imagine what your mother thought when she found out.” Luke grinned taking a bite of his food. They had decided to hang out over lunch one day between drills. His friend gave him a look and shook his head.

“She wasn’t thrilled but she eventually forgave me.” He chuckled. “Enough about me though, what about you? I’m sure you’ve got a few stories of your own.”

“Nah, not really, my life has been pretty boring until now.” Luke said with a sigh. He stabbed at his food with his fork as he thought about Tatooine and the moisture farm. How much he had longed for adventure and thrills taking the steady and stable life that his Uncle and Aunt had tried so hard to give him. The life that they ultimately died for. He shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind as he looked up at his fellow pilot. His eyes were gazing directly at Luke, a small smile on his lips, until the millisecond that he realized Luke was looking back at him. His eyebrows raised and his eyes quickly flickered over to something else, anything else, just so he wasn’t caught. Luke felt his face flush. This was nice.

~

Later they were patrolling the forest of Yavin. The two of them trekking through the rainforest checking for imperial drones or other hostile creatures that might cause problems for their outposts. Luke was almost used to the unfamiliar terrain at this point, all though he had spent his whole life surrounded by nothing but endless sand dunes he had taken to the forest quite naturally. His companion however had a harder time traversing through the large tree roots and wild flora. He was stuck trying to pull his boot out from between two large twisted tree roots, muttering curses under his breath. He managed to pull himself out but not before he stumbled backwards nearly falling over, luckily Luke was there to catch him.

“Easy there.” He said as he grabbed the other man underneath his shoulders looking down at him with a smile.

“Oh no, he’s so very pretty. Kriff.”  Was the only thought running through his head as he looked up at the blonde haired blue eyes man who had just caught him like it was nothing. He felt a burn in his cheeks as he muttered a thanks and pulled himself to his feet. He instantly mourned the loss of Luke’s touch, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. They then proceed to follow the path that lay before them, and get unbelievably lost.

“Didn’t we already pass this Tree?” He asked as they pass a familiar patch of greenery. Luke sighs deeply and turns to look at him.

“I donno, this whole forest looks the exact same to me!” Luck said throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. They were good and lost. He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Look Luke, I love you and all but-”

“You what?” Luke interrupted, eyes wide in shock. Oh no. That was his out loud voice.

“I…Should probably have picked a better time to tell you… but yeah, I’ve kinda fallen for you and that’s not great seeing as we’re currently at war and all that.” He stumbled over his words, his eyes drifting downward as he prepared for the inevitable let down. He was however very surprised when instead he felt a gentle touch of Luke’s finger pulling his chin up. His gaze meeting with those gorgeous sky blue eyes again, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I would argue now is the best time to fall in love, since we have no idea if we’ll even be here tomorrow to appreciate it.” Luke muttered softly as he slowly closed the distance between them and pressing their lips together. Luke was right. Why wait for the Empire to blow them all up without experiencing all life had to offer? He kisses him back his hand finding the back of his neck tangling his fingers in the other man’s blonde locks. When they finally pulled away from each other Luke smiles so brightly.

“Thank the maker we got lost, or else we never would have had this talk.”

“That wasn’t much of a talk...We should talk like that more often.”

~

masterlist

Taglist: @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @lover-of-books-and-tea @ierofrnkk @faretheeoscar @alexxavicry

[headachecat]

My favourite parts from Rookanis Epilogue (WIP in no particular order)

Enjoy!

--

‘Spite. I’ve missed you,’ she murmured with affection. Spite smirked, as he held her there, his hands steady, possessive. Lucanis felt a rush of hunger, as he allowed the demon to guide him. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her neck, ‘Rook. He’s glad. You are back. I am too.’ He kissed her neck, savouring the way her pulse thrummed beneath his lips. His eyes darkened with approval, as Rook’s hand pulled on his hair harder. Spite led his hands wonder down the side of her thigh, lifting her leg and placing it on their hip. Rook chuckled, letting herself lay helplessly in his embrace, playing into his little game. His grip tightened around her, pulling her even closer for a moment, before releasing Lucanis’ body entirely. He stepped away from the scene, his gaze lingering on Rook, assessing her with certain admiration. ’She’s fun. I like her’ Spite hissed, fading away into Lucanis’ mind. ‘Make her stay. With us.’

--

Harding paused, watching him quietly, her eyes softening as she tied the bag closed with a practiced motion. ‘From Rook?’ she asked, her voice gentle, a knowing glance crossing her face.

He nodded, his fingers tracing the creases of the letter, as though making sure it was still intact. He slid it into the inside pocket on his chest, close to his heart. Harding smiled at him reassuringly, before turning her attention to the window through which they had entered. ‘I’m certain she’s all right,’ she said, ‘Unless they ran into the bears in the Hinterlands. Maker, those just never give up.’

--

It was a charcoal sketch, clearly drawn up in a rush, although with great skill. He made out Rook’s silhouette as she stood in front of a stone Wolf statue. She was smiling widely, beaming with laughter, as her arms resting confidently on her hips in her usual manner. Lucanis noticed her hair grew longer. Perhaps more frizzy in the moist Fereldan weather. Right next to her stood a taller woman, her hair short and black, a scar piercing her cheek. Her hands were rested comfortably behind her back. Her expression betrayed a slight amusement at the situation she has found herself in. He glanced at the description written hastily towards the bottom of the picture.

We found Solas! How could anyone take TEN YEARS to do so? 

R --

Rook traced the line of his arm with deliberate care, her touch gliding over his wrist, her fingers curling around his own. She lifted it toward her face, cradling his palm in hers. Her cheek pressed into his hand, warm and familiar, pulling his focus back to her face. ‘I’m here, vhenan,’ endearment rolled off her tongue with an intimacy that made his chest tighten. She reached towards his face, her fingertips brushing against his skin. The sensation sent a spark racing along his nerves, the kind that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. ‘Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.’

Lucanis smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers as they traced the line of his jaw. ‘What are you doing–‘ his words cut off abruptly, his gaze falling to the side of her face. It froze there, locked on her ear. He reached out instinctively, or maybe in shock, to touch it. Her beautiful, long ear was cut off. The extended tip was gone, jagged and uneven, the edges ruggedly scarred. Though the wound was healed, it hadn’t been treated with proper care. He traced the faint ridges of the initial scarring with his fingertips, feeling the calloused texture of the skin that had mended poorly. His stomach churned at the sight, a hot knot of anger beginning to form in his chest. His jaw tightened, as he locked eyes with her once more. ‘Who did this?’

-- Cassandra touched his shoulder reluctantly, as if she wasn’t used to performing such gestures. They stopped for a brief second, alone in the darkness. ‘I’ve once known a man who evaded his love for ten years because of duty,’ she said slowly, her eyes making sure he paid attention her words, ‘And once they reunited, it was clear that it was a time wasted. So they tell me. I admire your acceptance and dedication to the path thrust upon you. But make sure it doesn’t stop you from finding your own way to what your heart wants.’ --

'Just don’t leave.’ Lucanis tiled his head, the pain in her voice tearing a hole in his chest, ‘Never.’

The gleam of her usual happiness crept back into her eyes, and he smiled, bringing her into another kiss. She pulled him close, as he gasped breathlessly at the unexpected rush of heat running up his neck. Lucanis wrapped his arms around her. He guided her carefully to rest on the wooden deck. She tensed underneath him. He groaned, feeling his wings extend and cradle both of them in a protective embrace. They got lost in the moment, their breaths mixing, their hearts racing, and their hands yearning to touch. To explore. To remember. --

It took a moment for their chuckles to die down. And then, the silence stretched between them as they perceived one another. Rook’s face was flushed with excitement. Lucanis, looked at her tenderly, trying to keep his eyes from watering. He observed her face with emotion, his gaze flickering down to her mouth. He really shouldn’t, not until they were far away. Not until they were in safety. She pulled back her hair, exposing the side of her neck ever so slightly. Maker’s breath. Rook opened her mouth, as if to speak, but Lucanis didn’t wait for the words to sound out. His breath mingled with hers, slow and steady, before he leaned in swiftly, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. There was nothing cautious about it – just pure, unfiltered need. The months apart had built up an ache neither could ignore, and now, with her so close, he couldn’t keep the hunger under control. His hands found her waist, pulling them together as if he couldn’t bear the space between them any longer. Rook responded instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer. She, too, had been waiting for this moment.

Lucanis’ heart thudded in his chest, louder than the faint rustling of the leaves around them, louder than the distant hum of the party.  He could feel Rook’s body pressed against his, the soft curve of her shoulders, the steady rhythm of her movement matching his own. She pulled back briefly just enough to catch her breath, her lips still hovering near his, her chest rising and falling with effort. She searched his eyes with visible joy, the crinkle of her nose noticable in the faint light. ‘I promise to be a better assassin from now on,’ she whispered. Lucanis placed a short kiss in the corner of her mouth. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

--

I hope it will be a crown jewel of the anthology you can find here https://archiveofourown.org/works/60395146/chapters/154153939

Let me know what your thoughts!

[lore-of-the-mushroom-kingdom]

Movie Bowser's Character

So not long ago I came across a video that referred to Bowser in the movies not actually being evil, just misunderstood, and just in love with Peach. Something I've seen several people do before and it is very similar to what I've seen people do with Eric Frankenstein from Creature Commandos. And like Eric several people are missing the fact that the movie version of Bowser in particular is basically a toxic manchild.

So while the game version does have elements of this with him needing to be the biggest baddest guy around and not show weakness or ask for help. And by extension make the game Bowser like this as well. They have several differences which make the movie version of Bowser suffer from toxic masculinity. So I'm going to go over these and point out how they are similar and where they diverge.

Bowser throughout the movie feels threatened by Mario thinking that Mario is going to somehow steal Peach from him. Getting angry and declaring he will kill Luigi just because of Mario, and slamming the piano on Kamek's fingers after literally saying "I'm not threatened." While Bowser in the games does feel threatened by Mario and tries to up stage him, he doesn't aim to kill his opponents including Mario most of the time, let alone Luigi.

Later when a Koopa Troopa askes Bowser what if Peach says no showing his insecurity and violent tendencies. While game Bowser is violent and will lash out in fits of rage, doesn't do it often and only attacks his troops when he is really frustrated or they tick him off. Like he did with Kammy and Iggy. On top of this Bowser treats his minions well. If it were the game version of Bowser would have probably something like, "what are you stupid of course she will say yes I am just that awesome!!" Instead of setting his minion on fire. He also doesn't aim to harm Kamek given his is the one who raised him and he basically respects Kamek.

Bowser in the movie also seems to only be in love with the idea of being in love with Peach, and if he marries her all his problems will be solved. Bowser: "You ruined my wedding, I was finally gonna be happy! Now you will suffer like me!" This shows the movie version of Bowser is unhappy and suffering, thinking that if he just marries Peach he will finally be happy. While the game version of Bowser seems to also just be in love with the idea of being with Peach as well, he doesn't show signs of being unhappy and suffering(from what I can tell). This is also probably because of the societal expectations placed on Bowser especially as the king of the Koopas. Also, if the movie Bowser is anything like the game version, he grew up not knowing his parents as he was raised by his caretaker Kamek. This would definitely play a part in his unhappiness and expectations.

Bowser is both versions doesn't really respect Peach or even know anything about her. Movie Bowser just lists off how she looks and nothing about Peach as a person, and both overall have a one sided relationship with Peach. On top of this both try to force Peach to marry them in spite of Peach not wanting to, and the movie version threatens her subjects if she doesn't. And while the game version knows better than to sacrifice a bunch of people which Peach would not be okay with, they still don't completely care if Peach is okay with something. As he revels in the Toads suffering and not having their wishes granted, all while telling Peach to smile.

A side note people have notice such themes in the movie carry over Mario and DK. Both Mario and DK struggle with societal expectation and getting approval from their fathers. Cranky Kong being very toxic which is also true for Cranky in the games. Something Transparency Boo actually talks about in their video Dixie Kong's Gender Trouble | A Feminist View on Donkey Kong Country. And that while Mario and DK are able to overcome their struggles and become heroes, Bowser just self destructs and is unable to overcome his struggles. But it is also noticed Luigi in the movie doesn't suffer from these expectations or trying to gain approval. That Luigi is content and doesn't care about other's opinions, or his father's approval. But he does comfort his brother does care about that. On top of that Luigi is not afraid to well be afraid where others tired to hide it. I guess Luigi truly is number 1.

[lemonmoxy]

Memory Lane

Summary: Direct follow up to Ships in the Night where Mimir and Lucanis finally recognize each other. 

Read on Ao3

Next

Chapter One: Lucanis and the Suicidal Death Mage

It starts like this: Rook and Harding are planning their trip to find their Grey Warden contact, which means spending long stints away from the Lighthouse as they try to track down the correct Eluvian. Bellara goes with them most days as she is the closest thing they have to a fade expert. Rook insists, when defending why they keep taking Bellara, that they are not a Fade expert, that they don’t have an expertise because that’s a whole thing you have to write a thesis on which Rook hasn’t done yet. Regardless, this leaves Lucanis and Neve alone together. 

Neve doesn’t like him. She is rather upfront about her lack of trust. Lucanis doesn’t mind. He doesn’t trust himself either. And someone has to caution Rook, who thinks his situation is a “marvel”.  Rook tries with all their might to not make it painfully obvious that they are enchanted by his situation because they are not so insensitive to not know that it was forced and bad, but Rook is not very good at hiding the way their eyes sparkle with intrigue whenever he does something “abomination-y” (as Bellara calls it). 

They are concerned, yes. They are the first to, kindly, chastise, Spite when he lashes out. They insist Lucanis sleeps, suggesting ways to keep Spite at bay. All of their ideas involve open communication and discussion of boundaries. It makes Lucanis’s skin crawl. Of course, this isn’t because of the fact that he hasn’t spoken about his feelings since before his parents died, but because Rook is insistent on treating Spite as if he is a person. They do not seem to grasp that Spite cannot be trusted. Lucanis honestly doesn’t understand how Rook hasn’t gotten themself possessed all on their own given their stubborn refusal to see demons as what they are. They want to talk to Spite almost as much as Spite wants to talk to them. Lucanis couldn’t live with himself if he ended up with their blood on his hands (and he wouldn’t live long, Neve and Harding would have his heart), so he holds Rook at as much as a distance as he can (because Rook is very insistent, and very very hard to say no too). So yes, Lucanis is very appreciative of the way Neve and Harding hover around Rook hovering around him. 

Neve in particular has picked up on Spite’s fixation in a way that Harding hasn’t, and she watches Lucanis like he might pounce the death mage. Again, Lucanis appreciates this, it’s good to know that Neve will have an ice spike through him before he lays a hand on Rook; but things are tense, even when Rook is away. Neve works on her cases in her office and Lucanis cooks. They barely interact at all. 

Neve bursts in on Lucanis attempting a vegetarian dish Mimir had mentioned missing (to Bellara). Lucanis hears her steps so he doesn’t startle, but he is surprised by the unnecessary force she opens the door with. 

There is a manic look in her eyes and for a moment Lucanis is sure something terrible has happened. Then she opens her mouth, “We’ve got to do something about Rook’s hair.” She announces.

There is a beat of silence as Lucanis processes her words. “Oh thank the Maker you said something.” Lucanis breathes a sigh. Neither Harding nor Bellara seemed to notice the problem. He was beginning to think he was going crazy or fashion had changed a lot in a year.

“We have money now.” Neve expresses her exasperation. She paces over to him, then in circles. “Why won’t they spend it?”

“They give all their money to Bellara.” Lucanis points out. 

“What?” That stops Neve in her tracks for a moment. “Why?” 

Lucanis has no answer to that. 

“Is it some sort of flirting thing?”

Set. Bellara. On Fire. 

Lucanis winces as Spite rears his head at that. Spite was mad enough that he wasn’t out watching Rook throw constructs to the next Fade island. He was mad whenever he wasn’t the center of Rook’s world, and that was with the current state of things where out of everyone (including Lucanis!) He got the most of Rook’s attention. If Rook started dating, Spite would hit peaks of insufferableness that Lucanis could not begin to imagine. This was, obviously, the only reason why the idea of Rook dating Bellara bothered Lucanis. That and obviously it was a distraction. 

Rook had so much on their plate, it was, frankly, selfish of Bellara to put her attentions on their fearless leader. It was understandable, of course. Rook was sweet, funny, endlessly patient, heroic, they had a dimple on their right cheek when they smiled, they had a sweet husky voice that could make anything sound like music, they could pick up constructs twice their size and throw them like they were playing log toss- Lucanis put those thoughts to a halt because he had surely lost the plot. The point was, there was no way Rook was interested in Bellara (not that there was anything wrong with Bellara, it was just inconceivable that Rook would ever have feelings for anyone).

“No, surely not.” Lucanis said, his tone forcibly light. 

Neve shrugged. “Well, we got to do something.”

“I bought them shoes.” He had, on their shopping trip. Rook had been delighted, and had put them on immediately. Then Rook had turned around and bought him a knife ten times more sentimental and expensive than what he had done for them (before giving Bellara their coin purse, seriously, what was UP with that?)

Buy. Rook. MORE!!!

Spite had a point. Another set of armor at least, the Dalish poncho was on its last legs. It was begging for death. They would look in nice Antivan leathers. The blues would clash a bit with their eyes, but if he went with the more traditional black it would look good on them. And more importantly they would be safer. Lucanis did not understand mages’ insistence on wearing cloth. 

“Every Nevarran I’ve met has had an exceptional sense of style.” Lucanis said, remembering a teenage elf with a death wish. They had taken an hour to pick through the corpses of blood mages to find all their stolen jewelry; it had been a similar experience to a Crow presenting their knives, always one more, and each piece of jewelry had been an exquisite antique. “I do not know what is going on.”

“It does seem rude to ask.” Neve agrees. “But I bought this.” She holds up a bottle. “It strips hair dye. Whatever their natural hair color is, it can’t be worse than what it is.”

Lucanis hesitates. “You sound like you’re planning to ambush them.”

“We are. Yes.”

“What?”

“Rook can punch holes through walls when determined enough. I’m going to need your help.”

Lucanis twitches at the mental image that brings up. “Surely we can just offer it to them. They took the shoes.”

“Counterpoint. Rook said they don’t bother to wear anything to bed because they tore their night clothes and it ‘wasn’t worth replacing’.”

The wooden spoon Lucanis was using to stir their dinner snapped. He fumbled to fish it out of the vegetarian stew. “We have to buy them night clothes.” Lucanis’s thoughts buzzed, going a million miles an hour, but he couldn’t grasp them fast enough to know what he was thinking, “Any one could walk in on them! They oversleep all the time!” 

An image, straight out of one of his romance novels, sprang to mind: Bellara stumbling in with an academic question; Rook sitting up, disoriented with sleep, vulnerable and soft, lit by the blues of their aquarium bedroom, their blanket slipping, first exposing just one pale shoulder; they smile a hazy smile at Bellara, not realizing their state as they sit up more, draping themself over the back of their couch so they can see and face Bellara; the blanket slips more from their body exposing-

TWENTY BLANKETS! A HUNDRED! Spite interrupted the delusion like it was a tangible real thing. Suddenly Lucanis was thinking of Rook wrapped in a cocoon of blankets which made his stomach flip, but in a different less stomach churning way.

Spite’s fixation on Rook (and Rook’s fixation on Spite) wasn’t good but he had a point. Rook might not have a sense of modesty but that was no reason to scare Bellara, or frighten Harding’s Ferelden sensibilities. 

“That’s what I said.” Neve agrees, jarring Lucanis back to reality. “They said, they’ve seen lots of naked dead bodies and don’t understand what the big deal about nudity is.”

“… what did you say to that?”

“What do you say to that?”

Lucanis also wouldn’t have had a response. “Ok. Hair dye. New armor. Night clothes.” 

“So you’re in?” Nere’s grin is devious.

Lucanis coughs. “I think we need to express to our fearless leader that they are an asset that deserves care.”

“Aren’t you so noble? And this has nothing to do with the fact that you just got a missive from Treviso and you don’t want to be seen with Rook as they dress?”

“Nope, not at all.” He says too fast to be believable.

Harding, Bellara, and Rook return not too long after Neve and Lucanis’s conversation. 

“We’re back!” Rook calls as the three of them come up the stairs. 

“And we found the Eluvian to the Anderfels!” Bellara announces cheerfully.

Harding is frowning. “Are you sure you’re ok Rook?”

ACID. DIZZY. Spite is openly sniffing Rook, but Rook doesn’t know it. They can just feel his presence around them. They pat where they think Spite’s head is (they are off by a good few inches) as he sniffs them. Lucanis feels violated for them. 

“Vomiting is a normal biological reaction from going from low altitude to high altitude so quickly, combined with going from freezing temperatures to hot.” Mimir explains, clearly embarrassed from the way their ears tint at the points. “It is stupid that the Eluvian to the hot dry place is in a snowy area.”

“The Anderfels have a lot of marshland actually, so it’s not dry and it has spots that are co-.” Bellara says, earning an exasperated look from Mimir. “Sorry!” Bellara flushes in embarrassment and Rook immediately looks guilty.  

Neve, seeing that Rook isn’t actually sick, and is about to enter into another apology spiral with Bellara, pounces. She slides up behind Rook, throwing an arm around their shoulder. “Well, I’m glad our fearless leader is ok.”

“I am…” Rook says, dubiously, sensing this isn’t going in a direction they’ll like. 

“Then, how about a makeover night, say, new hair dye?” 

Rook tries to jump away. “Neve, no, I’m fine!” They insist. 

Neve’s arms lock and Harding of all people grabs their waist. “Rook!” Harding breaks in. “It’s really bad! We’re not hunting Solas anymore, you don’t need it!”

“Varric bought me it!” 

Neve freezes at that confession and for a moment Lucanis feels awful, but then Harding speaks up. “As a joke!”

Rook seems to just pretend they didn’t hear that. It is a hauling effort, Lucanis has to wade in as the only person who has both strength and height, to drag Rook to the kitchen (Harding could drag Rook, but then Rook just went to the floor and grabbed the floating stones and they came to a standstill). Lucanis has never had friends that weren’t related to him, but he’s pretty sure this is a game. If Rook wanted to really make their displeasure known, they are strong enough to make it very (painfully) clear. They only used enough magic to make it a challenge.  

Raise your hand. Spite advises as Lucanis heaves a squirming Rook onto his shoulder. Lucanis, foolishly, thinks he’s been given advice to stop another Rook ploy to escape. His hand cups their ass at Spite’s guidance. Rook freezes. Lucanis almost drops them. Rook wobbles on his shoulder and clings to him to keep from crashing onto hard stone. 

Their right leg curls around the length of his chest, while their left curls against his lower back, seeking a steadying purchase. Their right hand slaps against his shoulder blade, aiming to grab his shoulder but failing to reach while their left rests on the small of his back just above the swell of his-

“Ah! You bastard! If you drop me, I’ll break your favorite toe!” 

Lucanis has manhandled many people. He has manhandled people prettier than Rook (especially true with their terrible terrible hair dye). He has never felt any which way about doing it. He had always privately laughed at how Illario would always get himself worked up at the weirdest (in Lucanis’s opinion) moments. Right now, Lucanis is so uncomfortable he feels he might combust on the spot. Spite is laughing at him, the bastard. 

He drops them in front of the sink and Bellara and Neve descend. Rook’s head is forced into the sink and cold water is dumped onto them.

“COLD! IT’S COLD!” 

“Heat it.” Neve commands, completely unsympathetic. 

“I’m bad at elemental magic! Do you want me to set my hair on fire?!” 

Neve does, at that, take pity on Rook to heat it. Bellara starts scrubbing the liquid bottle into Rook’s hair. 

Lucanis watches as the dye seems to turn to ink and run down their scalp. Black gives way to white. And in the warm lighting of the kitchen, with the Lighthouse reflecting the last traces of sunrise for them. Lucanis doesn’t see the dye as black, but as a dark red. He remembers another death mage with blood running through white locks, the curls so damp with blood that they hung straight and limp. 

“Mimir?” Lucanis wouldn’t have remembered the name if asked. It was something that could only be pulled out of him in a moment of such visceral remembrance. 

Mimir blinks up at him, peering at him in between Bellara, Harding, and Neve. Their eyes half lidded to keep hair dye from running into them. For a moment they are alone. His blood rushes around his ears. It’s so strange. It’s so strange to see evidence of something he did right, that was good. He and Mimir had saved a hundred people from dying. They had all walked back into Nevarra together with a hundred people, and what had been about to be a disaster just wasn’t. It was incredible how Mimir kept turning around bad situations, like it was the role they were born to play (somewhere in his head, Lucanis can feel Spite take note of that). 

“You talk to other demons?” Spite speaks with Lucanis’s mouth, affronted. Lucanis slams his hands over his mouth and wrestles control away from Spite before he can say something else embarrassing. 

“Maker!” Mimir laughs. It took them a few seconds but the realization clicked in their head too. “You’re that crow! I didn’t recognize you with the beard!” They straighten, grabbing a towel to mop up the dye before it can stain their shirt. 

“I speak to plenty of demons, Spite.” Mimir laughs. “I’m a mage, they find me in the Fade, in my dreams.” Mimir’s tone is factual, and they seem unaware that they are causing problems.  

Spite is furious at this new but obvious fact. 

Lucanis ignores Spite and the headache coming on to regard Mimir with his newly remembered information. “You really didn’t learn anything from all that did you?” 

Mimir huffs. “I learned plenty! I got really into Spell Thievery after that.” Lucanis doesn’t know what that is, but he suspects it has something to do with Mimir taking charge of the Tevinter spell in Ossuary. He thinks about all the terrible spells that they are likely to come across, and Mimir sticking their hands in it, and he feels a little sick. 

“That was the worst thing you could say.” He tells them seriously. They throw their still wet hair dye covered towel at his face, and Lucanis dodges for his life, because this shirt is silk!

[queenmuzz]

The Testament of Rook

Note: Spoilers for Act 3

Archivist’s Note:  This document was recovered from  an unknown location, and after examinations, it has been declared authentic, and is to be kept in the Minrathous Archon’s Vaults, for use in historical research.

I, Zea Ingellvar, a Crypt Gaurd of the Mourn Watch, being of sound mind and body and…well..  Lets just get down to business, you all know it’s me writing this.

To Neve, to whom I still believe that I do not deserve your friendship, after I failed you and your city:  That hood you bought me when you and Bellara dragged me to the Dock Town market.  I loved it, it was light, flexible,  but still kept the sun out of my eyes.  My eyes might not have the same sense of colour theory as you, but I thought it really went well with the colour of your eyes.

Also: Please take whatever money I have, and treat yourself and Lucanis to that fish dinner.  I swear I wasn’t avoiding having it with you because of my diet.  I’ve been told the people in the coasts of Nevarra eat fish on occasion, and use the bones to fertilize their rocky fields.  Thus, the spirits of the fish are pleased.  I’m pretty sure a whole fish would be worth me trying out once.  Any other money remaing, please distribute to any orphans in Minrathous.  

I wish you two happiness that trancends the grave.

AN: written in a script often used by Tevinter mages: So like you, to be concerned about the little ones.  Damn it all.

To Lucanis, a man who taught me that I should not be hasty to judge others, whose fighting spirit is worth far more than an entire army:  I give you my set of coffee cups.  Whenever you drink from them, may you have good memories of the times we share.  Let them be sweet, and not bitter. Ppl ppppp poop pink n

PS.  Don’t you dare set them in a display cupboard and never use them like your grandmother does with her finest China.  I WILL haunt you. 

PPS. You better treat Neve right, or I will SUPER haunt you.

 AN: a style mainly written by the Antivan Crows 

Your threats do not not frighten me, friend, but you do not worry, both things will be loved and cheris- WHERE IS SHE- Spite, she is no longer with us. BRING ROOK BACK.AN: We are unable to ascribe the source of the text that interrupts the crow text, but it is written in the same ink, thus confirming it was written at the same time.

To Bellara, to whom I will never regret spending any time in your book club with, no matter how animated you got about a particular subject:  I give you my collection of Nevarran romance novels.  I really wanted to get around to sharing with you, I had a good feeling you’d like them.  I know we as a people in Nevarra are known to have an obsession with death, which seems counterintuitive when it comes to romance.  But when death is treated as an old friend, and not as an enemy, or a predator to be feared, love can transcend even the grave.

AN: Tevinter script

We’ll make sure to bring her back, Zea.  She would love to read them.

To Taash, whom has the body of warrior, but the soul of a dragon:  I was thinking back to what you said about Rivani memorial customs, and taking something from the body to wear as a keepsake.  Perhaps you’d like one of my teeth?  

NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE 

(AN: We believe both this interjection and the one below are from the Dragonslayer Taash, before she became celebrated in Rivain for her exploits)

I kid… I kid.  No doubt you are ranting at this very moment about how ‘weird’ it would be.  I don’t blame you.  As a consession, I give you my greathammer, Lamentation’s Rest.  It may not serve you well when facing a dragon, but it is very effective against the undead and demons.  Against the latter, it is enchanted to deal great harm to them, to the former… Well, my record for launching a skull is 132 feet.  Let’s see you beat that.

YOU’RE ON.

To Lace Harding, one of the first people I ever was able to call a ‘friend’:  My bequeathment is simple.  A rock.  To be more specific, it is Nevvaran fine grade granite, the type we use to construct our monuments of.  When I first left the Necropolis, I brought it with me, as if to carry a little bit of home.  It kept me grounded those first few nights when I lay awake at night, terrified I would fall into a sky I had never seen before.  You are a Child of the Stone, and just like this rock, you helped keep me steady in a world I had never experienced before.  

Also, it hurts like hell if you get hit by it, so if you were to say…throw it at an archdemon or a god, I daresay it could do some damage.  I’m going to chuck this rock so hard at Solas’s head, they’ll be able to hear the echo of its impact all the way in Ferelden.  (AN:  The remaining additions, except when noted,  can be attributed to Lace Harding, former member of the Inquisition) 

I wish the two of you joy unending, seeing the two of you smiling at each other could cause a stone to weep.

To Darvin and Assam: I know you both have little need for excess items. A warden’s life almost never includes stability.  Still, I’ve seen how talented you are with your wood carving, so I hope my set of knives and whetstone will serve you well.  If we managed to defeat the Blight once and for all, perhaps you’ll need another profession after this, and ‘Darvin the Defeater of the Blight, and Master Woodworker’ sounds incredibly amazing.  Just remember, Make my figurine the biggest. 

Assam, I give you my hopes.  One day, I want the skies of Arlathan to echo with the sounds of you and your siblings' descendents' cries.  That no poacher will dare to enter your forests, out of fear of your majesty.  

Oh Zea… you knew at the end…  you already knew.

To Varric Tethras:  The man who gave me a new purpose in life, when I was lost and without a guide. I’m glad I met you.  I give you the three volumes of my diaries of our travels together.  The fourth one is reserved for another.   I’m not saying they’re worthy of publishing or anything, but they might help with your references, or if you want to set a story in Neverra. 

?????  ????  AN:  This entry is confusing, as when the earliest it could have been written, Varric Tethras was deceased.  No explanation for this is given, but scholars insist that it is a genuine part of the document.

AN:  From here on, both the font and writing style changes dramatically.  Historians have debated the authenticity of this section, but cross referencing letters written before and after this document, the theory is that she has shifted her style reserved for the Mortaliasi, specifically the Mourn Watch. It is considered a more intimate form of speaking to fellow necromancers.  To Manfred, a loyal friend and companion:  There are tales of heroes who have done nigh impossible feats to save even one person, and you did that to save many.  You are a spirit of curiosity, and yet you have become more.  Never was I so glad as the day you came back to us, your spirit alight with veilfire, and how happy you were to return.  Alas, I am no spirit like you, and no amount of necromancy can bring me back.  I can only  hope you will understand in time, and accept my apology.  

I bequeath to you my brooch.  Let the love and care of the man who first gave it to me be passed onto you, that you may both be a support for each other.

Where. Is Rook?

AN: Author unknown of this above line, as it is written in a childlike scrawl, and there is no record of any children in Rook’s entourage.

A separate page is included.  There is some water damage to it, possibly by rain, but most of the words are legible.

FOR EMMRICH VOLKARIN’S EYES ONLY

My Dearest Emmrich:

I’m so sorry about that argu

Of course I would open my big fat mouth and

I know nothing I will say will take the pain away.  No apology, no self-deprecatory joke will bring relief.  I know this, I’ve seen it happen many a time as loved ones interred their dead.  It is a wound that only time may close, and even then, there will be scars.

So instead of dwelling on how and why I am no longer with you, let me bequeath you this:  Who I was and what you mean to me..  You know the basics, of me being an infant foundling left on top of a pile of bones.  It was the bedrock of who I was. That from the very start, I was unwanted.  Unneeded. To be discarded when convenient.   When the magic talent I was certain would manifest eventually never came, I fell deeper into despair.  I would never be a proper necromancer.  At best I could be a weapon, a bulwark to protect the living and the dead.  And Maker, how I tried to find my place in the Mourn Watch, tried to earn the respect of my peers.  Only to be cast out when I could not even do that.  Yes, Varric and the others helped in their own ways, but I still felt like I was not worthy of anything. And then, I met you.  You, a man of exquisite talents and grace.  A man who saw the world of the living and dead as I did,  a man of incredible empathy and intelligence.  You did not look down upon me, nor did you even pity.  Instead, your words were of admiration and respect.  You were like a mirror being shown to one who had never encountered one before.  You saw me as I could not even see myself.  That I was worthy of your love and affection.  And slowly, you chipped away at the self loathing that had accumulated, and made me realize the truth.  That I was not only worthy in your eyes, but in the eyes of everyone else.  The only regret  is that I had not met you sooner.  Perhaps if I had gone to the memorial gardens to enjoy the ambience more often instead of viewing it as another chore to tend the graves, we may have encountered each other, and had more precious moments to spend together.

AN: Both the words ‘regret’ and ‘memorial gardens’ were circled in red ink by who we assume is Professor Volkarin.

When you stated your desire to become a lich, I would never stand in your way, as who was I to tell you otherwise?  But secretly, in my deepest thoughts, I desired you to remain mortal, not because I preferred flesh to bone, but because I knew that you would lose something essential to you.  When you gave up your dream to bring Manfred back, and I saw the delight and joy in your eyes, I loved you even more. There, I said it. I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Like I said, I cannot take the pain away, nor your fear of death, but I say one thing now:  That no matter how long it takes, I will remain on the threshold, waiting for your arrival so that I can  I can only pray that gives you peace.

Yours in eternity, Zea 

AN:  Below is what was a blank space, now filled with formulae, diagrams, arcane sigils written in red ink.  The words ‘Prison’  ‘The Fade’  ‘Regret’ are repeated several times.   Several passages are smeared, either accidentally, or on purpose.  Water damage before the ink has dried is substantial in certain places

The last few lines are written messily.  ‘The Fade is thin in the Memorial Gardens….perhaps…” it trails off into incomprehensibility.

Only the very final line is legible.

I WILL find you, my dearest.

[crownedwithstars]

Why doesn't Thingol just give the Silmaril to Fëanorians?

One thing I find curious about the discourse around the Silmarils and their ownership issues is how it seems to often simplify the Sindarin and especially Thingol's perspective. I mean, Thingol giving the Silmaril Beren and Lúthien stole from Morgoth's crown to the Fëanorians is framed as somehow easy and obvious option. But I don't think it really is?

It's not even about whether Thingol is right or wrong to act as he does, it's about why his actions are justified from his point of view (and why it is more believable than him being compliant to Noldor).

1. Noldor disrespected and antagonised Thingol from the start. They have given him little reason to be nice or helpful.

When the Noldor arrive in Beleriand, they immediately start to do their own thing, and disregard Thingol, the local sovereign who is regarded as the overlord or at least respected and revered by the Elves native to this region. But Noldor (and Fëanorians) do not attempt to gain his friendship and alliance, they don't establish diplomatic relationships, they bring no gifts (which would be expected in this kinda medieval based society) and neither do they ask for help as Exiles, they don't let Thingol know where they are going to settle down or ask whether it's convenient but grab lands whether the locals like it or not, they don't recognise his position even as a friendly gesture, they don't disclose the nature of their expedition, withhold important information, and most of all, they bring violent trouble to his backyard. This must seem deeply and outrageously insulting to Thingol, especially because these princes are children and grandchildren of Finwë, Thingol's close friend - and yet they treat him without an ounce of respect.

Thingol is no less proud or particular about his position than Fëanor or Fingolfin is. He probably has not had it challenged or ignored by anyone except Morgoth's servants. Also he may see it as indicative of general Noldor prejudice/disdain against Sindar.

Whether Noldor had justified reasons for the way they act upon landing in Middle-earth, you can't deny that they don't do even the bare minimum to win the locals over. Yeah, you could argue that bringing reinforcements at the time when Morgoth returns and becomes active in Middle-earth again is something, but this is still not a way to treat potential friends and allies.

2. The Kinslaying of Thingol's people and kin at Alqualondë and the burning of their ships.

Obvious, really. He may see himself as standing in for Olwë, and regards the Silmaril as weregild for slain relatives and friends - people he himself probably knew before Teleri were sundered. Also why would he respect Fëanorian property rights when from his point of view, Noldor don't give a damn about Teleri or their rights?

Thingol may also judge that the Kinslaying and burning of the ships disputes the Fëanorians' right to the Silmarils and their moral high ground to a degree where anyone brave and cunning enough to reclaim even one of them becomes a rightful owner. Obviously he is biased in Beren and Lúthien's behalf but it would be weird if he was not? After B&L's efforts and their suffering, and quite literally achieving the impossible, he may be of the opinion that they have more right to the Silmaril than Fëanorians who seem more invested in competing Morgoth for land than for the Silmarils. Thingol may share the same attitude as Dior has in one of the drafts: there are two more Silmarils in the same place where the one in his possession came from, so why don't the Fëanorians go get them first?

3. Celegorm and Curufin.

I mean, after the way Lúthien was abused and attacked by the two brothers, Thingol could be holding on to the Silmaril out of pure spite. His daughter never gets any apology for how she was treated, and Thingol has no reason to believe that C&C's actions - and the attempt to force Thingol into an alliance - were not sanctioned and approved by the rest of the brothers. These people have been consistently terrible at everyone Thingol loves and cares about, so why should he help them in any way?

4. The Silmarils mess with your brain.

It's clear that the Silmarils have an unwholesome effect on almost everyone who possess them. Time and again Tolkien describes how characters fall prey to this greedy, possessive lust for the Silmarils. I mean, Fëanor and his sons are ready to spill blood again and again just to get them back. There is something about the jewels that, if you desire them for their own sake, kind of enslaves you to them. Thingol won't give up the Silmaril to Fëanorians because he can't.

5. The Doom of the Noldor compels him.

It's explicitly stated in the Doom that while the Oath will drive the Fëanorians, it will never yield its objective, and the Silmarils will elude them. As soon as Thingol names a Silmaril as a bride price for Lúthien, he becomes involved in the Doom and what it dictates, limiting his control of the situation. Because of the Doom (and the effect the Silmaril has on him), Thingol is not free to give it to the Fëanorians.

[dalekofchaos]

Round 1

Context

Choice 1

Balon is crushed by the fallen tower instead of his sons. This ends the war and Alannys Harlaw becomes The Iron Queen to preserve the peace. Alannys keeps her sons in check until the time is right. Theon still becomes a ward to hold Alannys in check. When Theon comes home, that's when Alannys and her sons work to avenge Balon and take the Seven Kingdoms with the Iron price.

Choice 3

Asha being raised with the Starks leads to Asha keeping her Ironborn nature, raised to fight and eventual betrothal to Robb. She talks Theon into helping her secure the Ironborn to Robb's cause aka Theon sending a Ironborn like Karl The Maid to kill Balon and Theon using his silver tongue through the Kingsmoot.

Choice 4.

Dany staying in Pentos either ends with Dany accepting Quentyn's proposal or regrouping with Young Griff.

Choice 7

Joanna, Rhaella and Lyanna live to raise their kids.

Joanna.

I have not seen anything in reading ASOIAF or the companion book AWOIAF (which mentions Joanna) that would indicate Joanna was somehow cold or cruel and would mistreat Tyrion. (If I am mistaken I do welcome any text references showing that).

There are references that Joanna was Tywin’s most trusted companion and counselor, but I see nothing that indicates that translates to cruelty or lack of maternal devotion.

It is stated that she is the only person who was able to make Tywin laugh, which indicates she likely did have a great deal of warmth and kindness.

Reputation and status was important to the Lannisters, both Tywin and Joanna. Given the option, I’m sure they both would rather Tyrion not be a dwarf. She may even have felt a certain amount of shame at his appearance, and favored Jaime and Cersei.

However, it could go the other way too. She could have seen how the world treated a dwarf, and shown him more attention than Jaime out of a desire to compensate for the discrimination and judgement he received.

The point is. We don’t know for certain.

I expect she would have treated him better than Tywin did. However, I also expect Tywin would have treated him better, had Joanna lived.

There’s the obvious fact that if Joanna had lived, Tyrion wouldn’t have had that “you killed your mother” thing hanging over his head. It goes beyond that though.

You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father’s sigil and his father’s before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse. Tyrion, ACoK

A cruel statement from Tywin, but the thing of it is, it’s true.

Tyrion, as always, takes away from this only that his father hates him for being “ill-made” (a dwarf) and for being responsible for his mother’s death. He actively disregards the other perfectly reasonable criticisms that Tywin lays forth.

We love Tyrion. I love Tyrion! But he is (in particular in the books) as Tywin states, devious, disobedient, spiteful and full of envy, lust and low cunning.

When Tywin says this, he has just found out that Tyrion has, against Tywin’s direct orders, been visiting the whorehouse (visiting Shae, though in the books they think it is a different prostitute, Alayaya).

Tywin is actually referring to a very real issue he has with Tyrion, which is his habit of getting drunk and frequenting prostitutes. The Lannister reputation and image is of paramount importance to Tywin. Tyrion is constantly embarrassing the family not with his dwarfism (as Tyrion believes), but with his behavior.

If Joanna had lived, Tyrion may have felt more loved, had a better relationship with women, and not taken to drinking and whoring. That would have greatly improved things with his father.

Cersei would also not have treated Tyrion so badly if Joanna had lived. Likely she would have treated him more along the lines of mild judgement and contempt because of his dwarfism, but she wouldn’t feel the hatred she did from believing Tyrion killed their mother.

So, yes, I believe Joanna would have treated Tyrion better. However, I also believe Tywin would have treated him better as well.

Lyanna.

So this is complicated.

Lyanna lives and becomes miserable as Queen while Jon(Daeron) lives with The Starks. However one day, she gets an offer she couldn't refuse. Littlefinger offers a deal. He could arrange for Robert's death, while allowing her freedom and even allow Jon Snow to be legitimized, all he asks is for the Vale and Harrenhal. However... It would not be a poisoning or a boar to gore him. Littlefinger arranges events so that Robert is in a drunken rage and gets physical with Lyanna right in front of Jaime Lannister. Causing the second Kingslaying and triggering the War of the Five Kings.

The Kingsguard and Lyanna take Daeron III and go to Essos and one day return with the Prince who was Promised to save the realm.

Lyanna reveals the truth and Robert either annulls the marriage or has her and Jon killed

Rhaella

Viserys doesn't become the Beggar King and Dany has a happy childhood with her family. Rhaella provides a happy childhood for her kids in Bravoos, while also plotting with Doran Martell, Olenna Redwyne, Varys and Illyrio.

They raise an army of sellswords and easily steals the Golden Company from Joncon and Aegon. Viserys is betrothed to Arianne Martell and Dany is betrothed to Willas Tyrell.

The Targaryens return with Fire & Blood

Choice 11.

It is said that Domeric was quiet, read history, played the harp, and was an excellent horseman. I do kind of think in a scenario where Domeric lived, he could've either talked Ramsay into seeing him as a true brother would earn father's trust to legitimize him, Domeric gains control over Ramsay and sends Ramsay to do House Bolton's dirty work or Domeric is smart enough to understand how this ends and kills him before he's poisoned.

Another scenario. Ned might arrange a betrothal between him and Sansa to keep one of his more premier bannermen in line. Seeing as how he was reported to be chivalric and knightly, that will probably work out well for him and keep Roose in line. Will also probably lead to Roose getting rid of Ramsay, who is now a loose end to be disposed with.

If Domeric stays in the North when Robb marches South, then Ramsay doesn’t rape Donella Hornwood, isn’t captured by Rodrik Cassel and isn’t brought to Winterfell. He isn’t here to counsel Theon to murder the two miller’s boys, and I doubt Theon is smart enough to think of this ploy by himself (but that’s a big if here, because if Theon does murder them and pass them for the Stark boys, the story continues as it did in the books). So he doesn’t murder children, and the news of Bran’s and Rickon’s deaths doesn’t exist. Catelyn doesn’t free Jaime Lannister, Robb Stark doesn’t sleep with Jeyne Westerling and doesn’t break his promise to marry the Frey girl. Rickard Karstark doesn’t murder the Lannister hostages and Robb doesn’t execute Rickard Karstark. Roose doesn’t believe for certain that Robb Stark’s cause is lost, so he doesn’t abandon him, and orders Domeric to take back Winterfell (and that is easily done). The Red Wedding doesn’t happen. Arya probably reveals her identity to Roose at Harrenhal and is reunited with Catelyn and Robb. Bran and Rickon are safe at Winterfell, and Bran’s trip North of the Wall may be delayed. 

If Domeric marches South with Robb ... It depends on Ramsay’s behaviour. I do think he would be unable to marry/rape Donella Hornwood, so the same scenario as above happens.

So, a lot of things would be different. 

Choice 12

The Brotherhood without Banners finds Robb's body instead of Cat.

Beric gives his life for Robb. The resurrection goes horribly wrong and it's Robb and Grey Wind's mind and fury spliced together.

Robb comes back as a blunt instrument of The Old Gods Justice. the Old Gods wishing for justice, to seek his own revenge.

Just imagine. "The North Remembers" Those loyal to Robb flock to news of their very dead king and when they see him, they bend the knee. "KING IN THE NORTH"

And it's not just Northerners loyal to Robb. His howl commands a legion of Wolves and Direwolves who flock to him, hence being called The Wolf King.

They capture and kill those loyal to the Lannisters, Freys and most importantly the Boltons.

Roose will die a most agonizing death. The Bastard of Bolton will die worse than those he has flayed and will pay for Winterfell. Walder Frey and all his kin will die for their treachery. Theon's death will make the Drowned God Theon and his family oh so worships seem like The Maiden and even that is far too merciful for what Theon did to Bran and Rickon. And Jaime….."Robb Stark sends his regards"

One by one, The Starks will regain the North and those that dare defend the oathbreakers and traitors will all die and those that caused the deaths of Ned, Lady Catelyn, Bran & RIckon will all die.

"The North Remembers"

[averyangrypossum]

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the

Flowerbroadcast AU!

Based on the two drawings I did of a fankid for the ship radiostatic.

The full-body one

And the one with both Vox and her

And now, I’m gonna tell you all about it and exactly who the fuck this little kid is.

Lotus is the daughter of Vox (as you can tell) and Alastor and is six years old. She was created shortly after Vox and Al broke up, oh yeah I should probably talk about their relationship status. Vox and Alastor, unlike in canon, weren’t only close friends but were dating at some point, mostly because Alastor wanted to manipulate Vox’s feelings to where he’d be more compilable but accidentally took it too far, and since Vox is a piss baby Alastor decided to entertain Vox for a while.

Was this relationship healthy?

NO!

Would Vox say these were the best years of his afterlife?

Yeah.

But anyways, in this au when Vox asks Alastor to “join his team” he was actually proposing and Alastor finally realized,

“Shit maybe this has gone out of hand” and breaks it off with Vox which leaves Vox heartbroken and with an incel breakdown. Now instead of trying to move the fuck on, he has our little darling Lotus, who he has trying to fill the hole that Alastor left.

So obviously having a child for that reason isn’t going to make you a good parent.

Lotus’ relationship with the Vees are as follows in the particular order.

1 Velvette: She does Lotus’s hair everyday and picks out outfits for her to post on her social media before Lotus immediately undos everything that Velvette does and just goes for pigtails and her nightgown. Velvette has wine aunt energy and is probably the only one of the Vees to know how to talk and get through to Lotus.

2 Valentino: Surprising I know, but Lotus doesn’t know what he does to his workers, she knows what he does for work but grew up with thinking that was just something normal since Valentino was never hush hush about his job around her much to Vox’s dismay. Valentino isn’t a big fan of children and doesn’t hang around her often, but sometimes he’ll draw along side her while bitching about a particular show she’s watching even though it’s literally made for kids.

3 Vox: Wow, how bad do you have to fuck up for a pimp who hardly spends time with her to be ranked higher than her own father?? Vox, despite making the conscious decision to have her, he isn’t around like at all. Hes a workaholic through and through, and mostly leaves her with nannies and Velvette. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her. Au contraire he loves her with all his heart and soul. Will give her anything except quality time. He uses her more of an accessory than a child.

Now how exactly Lotus was made is up to you.

A robotic creation Vox made? Sure!

Some voodoo magic shit? Yeah!

Some weird magic thing where she kinda just poofed into existence? Why not!

Mpreg? I mean, do what you wanna do ig?

Cuz it really doesn’t matter!

This whole au starts with Lotus running away from the Vee tower to explore hell since she's basically Rapunzel. She gets lost and terrorized by sinners until our deer Alastor rescues her. Seeing his chance to promote the hotel he takes her there where she is offered to stay there by Charlie when Lotus complains about how bad her dad is. She graciously accepts because shes only six but is going through her “My dad hates me and I hate him” era. Which I mean…I would get that impression too if I didn’t see my dad that much.

Wait my dad lives across the country…don't talk to me rn I’m busy dyeing my hair black and becoming emo 🖤

But anyways she stays there while Vox is loosing his fucking mind, and becoming more mentally unstable.

Meanwhile! She's having the time of her life with the hotel's residents and a new father figure who treats her well and pays attention to her! Alastor! Now Al doesn’t know she is his kid, but that doesn't stop him from being a better dad than Vox out of spite!

Anyways, thats all I have, for now! Stay tuned my friends~

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - matador!Lestat as Killer/Bruce (Pt∞): Incest, Pedos, & SA

This post is in direct response to the VERY good point @aleelewisharlot made about Claudia:

But I'm also making this part of my ongoing discussion about how Claudia (and AMC) has constantly equated matador!Lestat to Bruce. (x x x x x x x x)

Talk about it! That tension is 100% there, yes, and it's deliberate, cuz it goes all the way back to Anne Rice, and the deeply embedded incestuous undertones/parallels in Lestat's story vs IRL cases; on top of how book!Claudia was constantly sexualized (esp. by Louis). But what's important is that AMC flips it so that the tension is b/t Lestat & Claudia, by emphasizing that AMC!Louis is a firmly GAY man who has zero sexual interest in females--but "non-discriminating" Lestat does....

This is a effing LIE, and Les being nasty just to spite & hurt her, cuz Claudia IMMEDIATELY clocked that Antoinette's just as flat-no-nothing-arsed & non-curvy as "built-like-a-bird" Claudia is. Les may prefer a fuller figure on his MEN (*cough* Louis got that booty), but NOT on his women, and it shows. 😂🤣

I’m assuming all this information is from Claudia’s diaries and not from Louis but Louis is shown to be altering Claudia’s story in the name of “protecting her”. There is an interning read if Louis is also a little responsible for this threat and tension between Lestat and Claudia, if he is adding or creating more than there originally was. Then it begs the question, why is Louis presenting Lestat and Claudia’s relationship in this way? Why does he depict Lestat like that?

(The pages Lou removed were specifically about Claudia's SA, and the ones Loumand/Armand removed were specifically about Armand "my name is in some of those pages." So that had nothing to do with Lestat.) The thing about stories is that there's 3 sides: Person A's pov, Person B's pov, and then the truth is somewhere in the middle. Everyone's quick to dismiss IWTV as a total fabrication--even book!/film!Lou hated the interview & felt he'd "failed again;" and AMC!Lou set Daniel's laptop on fire cuz he felt Armand's mindf***ery has compromised his memoir too much. But Daniel disagreed & published the book anyway, cuz the whole point isn't really about the truth about NOLA; it's about the ODYSSEY of recollection--the twists & turns. YES, Louis' opinion/memories of Lestat & Claudia are compromised. But he DOES get the jist of things--that's Armand's M.O., cuz lies mixed with truths are the most convincing.

Cuz book!Lestat IS a canonical rapist (TotBT) pedo (IWTV) incestuous (TVL) genocidal (QotD) basket case, just like Hannah Moscovich said. So book!film!AMC!Louis doesn't NEED to exaggerate/lie/paint Lestat any particular way, cuz Les confirms it himself in several books. Even book!Lestat himself admitted that despite details Louis got wrong or left stuff out or lied about, Louis still accurately "captured the atmosphere & told the truth about their eerie contentment" together.

And book!Lestat NEVER denied anything Louis said about Claudia--he even AGREES with Louis, and he castigates himself about how he treated her for the rest of TVC, cuz he KNEW he treated her like trash & that she didn't deserve him taking his anger at Louis out on her.

Claudia & Lestat

Lestat's relationship with his fledglings are very atypical, cuz the Old World covens act more like CULTS, not like FAMILIES. The Children of Darkness called book!Les a "blasphemer, profaner, outlaw." And they were scandalized that he'd turned his own mother Gabrielle into a vamp, cuz of the implications. The sexual aspect of vampirism is up & down TVC. If you wanna make someone a vamp, it's cuz you love/are in love with them--or you're at least sexually attracted to their beauty (which goes all the way back to Akasha's Great Laws); and the bite/blood is the closest approximation to sexual intimacy.

Vampirism is inherently sexual--the bite itself is sexual penetration (vamp teeth are their reproductive organs). A Maker is both a parent AND a spouse; the Fledgling is both a child AND a lover.

Ames, Melissa. "Vamping up Sex: Audience, Age, & Portrayals of Sexuality in Vampire Narratives." Journal of Dracula Studies 12, no. 1 (2010): 5.

Claudia, Les' 4th fledgling, was the first time he changed his pattern of behavior (his mom Gabrielle, his first love Nicki (RIP), & his endgame Louis). But ironically, Claudia being a child isn't what was weird about Les Turning her. The Children of Darkness were up in arms against it, but Lestat himself admitted that her being a child--"a beautiful little girl"--was what fascinated him MOST about her!

Lestans never talk about it, but Lestat is ALSO a pedophile--AR doesn't make Lestat any different from Marius, David, Louis, or any other grown man lusting after underaged boys & girls up & down her books--ESPECIALLY cuz underdeveloped flat-chested girls resemble androgynous/"beautiful" boys. (As groundbreaking as AR was for queer literature in the 70s-2000s, her books are still riddled with homophobic stigmas.)

The film/show blessedly skip this part of the Murder Plot, cuz it's gross AF, but when book!Les drinks from the twins it's WILD--he's slobbering over how beautiful the little boys are, licks their nipples, and as he drinks the blood he's humping the kid as they both moan & rock back & forth, it's unhinged, but SO free-love!1960/70s istg.

The ONLY difference in Les' vs Lou's pov of the Murder Plot's that Claudia had stabbed Les over & over again after she slit his throat, which Lou never mentioned--not that details like that really matter; he's bleeding out in the swamp & set on fire regardless. 😅

But the BIG thing that breaks Lestat's pattern of behavior Turning Claudia is that she was a stranger he didn't want ("Madeleine, this stranger"). He didn't know Claudia--he made her specifically for Louis.

Sure, the 1x4 revisit in 2x7 shows more of that convo, but aside from the BS about the Great Laws (which I'm convinced was scripted AF cuz Lestat DGAF about no rules), it doesn't DENY the validity of 1x4--we still see Lou beg Les, Les say no, Lou crying, etc. The desperate atmosphere is still there, even if Lou's version never mentioned how he was on his knees sobbing please 1000x & dragging her unconscious body. Both versions emphasize that Lestat said NO. He did NOT want her around--but "anything for Louis."

Granted, book!Les didn't know book!Lou either--I always say book!film!Loustat was Vegas Married, cuz they didn't have the long romantic courtship AMC gave them. But Lestat always picks fledglings he himself has a romantic/emotional bond with--even Antoine(tte) was his sidepiece. (This pattern is broken again in Blackwood Farm when Lestat Turns Mona Mayfair for Quinn Blackwood--another underaged girl with a whole mountain of non/dubcon attached to her story as well.)

Claudia's relationship with Lestat is complex, cuz they're intimately connected to each other through the Maker/Fledgling bond; the same way Lestat is connected to Louis, Gabrielle, & Nicki. But it's loaded with resentment on both sides--AMC's version nods to how Lestat (felt that he) WAS forced to Turn her--by circumstance in the books, and more overtly by Louis on the show. The situation's the same regardless: Turn Claudia, or lose Louis.

Not that book!AMC!Lestat didn't love Claudia greatly, and not that Claudia didn't know that at ONE time, Lestat DID love her--though it was obvs never as much as he loved Louis. But Claudia died thinking Lestat hated her, cuz of the way he TREATED her: like a doll, a child, an inconvenient nuisance, a threat, etc. She was never Lestat's companion, and he was never hers, despite how similar they were & how well they got along during the "Easy Times" before Louis got depressed & Charlie died. She was LOUIS' companion, and she CHOSE Louis over Lestat to be her escort in Europe. ("You didn't want me, you made me for Louis." "I was just a roof shingle that flew off of your house!")

Claudia deeply resented & hated Lestat, esp. in the books, where she was eternally 5 years old. book!Claudia wrote Lestat off when she slit his throat & dumped him in the swamp--her rage was then redirected at Louis, going all the way into Merrick, even though she knew the babytrapping was explicitly all Lestat's doing.

Claudia & Louis

book!Louis didn't want Les to Turn Claudia at all, cuz he knew it was effed up for a TODDLER to be one of them--bitten/penetrated, turned into a killer like them, ripped from her INNOCENCE. But book!Claudia was mad that Louis tried to kill her, and thought she was better off dead and hated that she was vampire as much as she did.

I don’t know something about she was his daughter, his sister, his cousin, his throw pillow

AMC!Louis is far more responsible for what happens to Claudia, cuz he uses her as collateral--he desperately wants Les to Turn her, cuz he wants a companion all to himself--a child to love, who loves him--since he feels that adulterous Lestat DGAF about him. She's still babytrapped (or worse: in 1x4 Les says she'll be Lou's "lap dog"--an accessory/support system/comfort-object just like Armand in 2x5 calling her Lou's "throw pillow").

Claudia is another Miss Lily (is another PAUL). AMC makes parallels, but folk constantly get the wires crossed making false equivalencies that Claudia = prostitute and pimp!Louis = rapist!Louis. Louis is a homosexual with NO sexual interest in either of these females, even though that's technically Claudia/Lily's purpose--("10 million dollars, that's my wh*re number!")--prostitutes = sexual gratification; and vampire Turning = spousal marriage (but also childbirth). The SIBLING aspect gets lost in the Parent/Child dynamics.

Sure, the sibling/parent/incestuous slants are there--however, AMC never makes anything of it the way the books do. Louis is SAFE. Even the prostitutes like pimp!Lou. book!/AMC!Claudia still sleeps in book!film!AMC!Lou's coffin ("Paul crawled up in my bed last night"), and they are constant companions after 1x5--Les has Antoinette, and Lou has Claudia. But unlike Les having copious sex with Antoinette in Algiers, Lou is NOT having sex with Claudia--or with ANYONE. That's the whole problem-Louis is SEXLESS in a hedonistic world.

Les even weaponized this against Lou during the Trial, as the reason/excuse/CRIME that villainized Lou in his whole sob story about Vampire Loneliness being "the single worst thing that a vampire can feel." Louis refuses to have sex anymore. First he's anorexic & his libido's too low; then he's depressed & empty-nesting & ignoring Lestat's considerable considerables; then he's a cripple after being Dropped from the sky & all his bones are shattered.

Claudia becomes HIS mother, nursing him back to health and teaching HIM how to walk and feed himself, and keeping the dangerous Lestat OUT of their house and away from HER child/fledgling. It's an added element that the book/film never had, which emphasizes how AMC!Louis is NOT meant to be seen as her sexual predator--and it's Claudia's diaries that confirm that he's Daddy Lou to her, and then he's her brother, and then he's "Louis de Pointe du Lac. Dead weight," and she finally finds Madeleine & stops using her diaries altogether ("diaries are friends of LAST RESORT" when she's LONELY, too--Louis is a USELESS companion for her). It's not Louis emphasizing that he wasn't a sexual threat to her, it's her own testimony.

And ironically, the strongest associations with sex that Claudia addresses are all related to LESTAT: Charlie, and Bruce.

Claudia & Bruce

"He takes her to Lover’s Lane where she first sees sex and has a sexual awaking which leads to her to kill her first boyfriend and would-be sexual partner.... When Louis and Lestst confront Claudia about her kills, Lestst hides in her bed/coffin. He doesn’t knock when she demands he does after she gets her own room.

Exactly. And then LES is the one who violates her diaries (her private parts/body of work--Lou specifically tells him "don't do that, it's private!"). And the part AMC just so happens for Les to read is the part where she says how much it hurts whenever she has sex cuz her hymen keeps growing back. 😬

Louis goes along with it, cuz he IS complicit, and he's dying to know what she's been hiding (but he refuses to read the other diaries). But LESTAT reads them all, and HE is the one who takes umbrage with her "ungratefulness," and then he immediately puts his hands on her when she talks back & stands up for herself.

Which DIRECTLY parallels her experience with Bruce--they bond over talking about their abusive European Makers, and how she loves books, and Bruce oversteps by telling her to read a book on Etiquette and immediately attacks her when she talks back & stands up for herself.

I've said over & over: Lestat (& Bruce) had zero respect for Claudia, or her intelligence, and weaponize book-reading against them (& Louis).

"Lestat gives her a necklace he knows she’ll never grow into.... Lestst mocks her and forced her to watch as his body burns. "

Which makes him being forced to watch as her body burns SUCH a nice touch. 👌 Karma's a b****!

"Lestat does threaten her on the train saying he would do worse to her than Bruce did."

Lestat mocks/weaponizes Claudia's trauma CONSTANTLY, even in Ep5, so it's not beyond the pale that he'd say wild ish about Bruce SAing her. And here's where we get to the nitty gritty. Cuz this is Claudia's diaries--not Lou misremembering or Armand's effery. The only 2 people who can confirm that the Train Scene happened are Les & Claudia--and she's DEAD now. Not that it matters what Les did or didn't say--she ran away, got on that train, and he forced her back.

Claudia realized that Loustat weren't angels who'd rescued her from the fire--she calls them "Hell Demons." Her diaries explicitly say she "died in a fire but came back by the blood magic of two demons...that same girl was being raised to kill like her demon parents did." She says immediately: "I have my own room now, which is good, 'cause Daddy Lou can be smotherin', just as Uncle Les can get crotchety."

But she also says "There ain't no doubt Daddy Lou is my favorite. But sometimes, Uncle Les and I have a lot in common." She hollers at Lestat for not knocking on her door and throws her brush at him to make HIM get out of her room--NOT Louis. She KNOWS from the get-go that there's TWO of them at fault for making her, but SHE points the finger/blame at LESTAT. Way before Ep5 went to hell, there's ALREADY static b/t her & Les, but it just EXPLODES in Ep5. And then we see exactly what she thinks about Lestat in 1x6.

The screen diabolically overlays Bruce's face while Loustat are having sex--or rather, while Lestat is having sex & Louis is disassociating.

So yes, there's all kinds of layers to how Claudia perceives Lestat, and how she relates Loustat to her own experiences.

She's 19 when Bruce SA's her, and Bruce KNOWS she's older than she looks ("Always had a fondness for older women!"), but she LOOKS like a 14y/o child ("How old are you, Claudia?" "104!").

Lestat KNOWS she's a vampire stroner than an actual child, but he ALSO says she's "built like a bird," and that the vampires out there would "shred you to strips" cuz she's TINY.

They don't CARE how vulnerable she is. They use their strength against her, and throw everything she hates most about herself back in her face.

And Armand & Santiago do even worse to her in S2, cuz the whole point is that she (& Louis) are constantly being disrespected, violated & sexually assaulted. Which is why the moment she finally chooses her companion, it's when she's rescuing MADELEINE, who's about to be gang-raped. She hates Lestat so much that she balks at Les' blood being used to Turn Madeleine, he's so beneath her.

People keep complaining about Claudia's SA arc, but I think Rolin planned it from the get-go, cuz he knew he wanted Claudeleine to have that in common. They're both victims of SA, and see e/o as equals cuz they both know what it's like to feel like powerless women in a patriarchal world where they're never safe. And they pay the ultimate price when they're burned alive together on that stage, their ashes STEPPED ON & used as lube by Santiago--the bottle-blonde knockoff obsessed with being the coven's next Lestat.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Jaskier retreated from the main hall. Leaving the remaining Wolves to see to their injured and dead and readying himself for another night tucked away in his wreck of a room, determined to stay out of the way after already having been largely ignored since his arrival and then shoved away by Lambert twice. He found himself wondering if he should count the first time, considering that he probably saved Jaskier’s life in the process? Probably not. The second time though was just plain spiteful. But then, he and Geralt had been travelling together for years and the white haired Witcher tolerated his casual affection at best – why else would it always be down to Jaskier to initiate when he'd seen the Witcher freely hug and give causal touches to Ciri and Yen multiple times?

He swallowed down his self pity as he realised he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere – he definitely didn’t recognise that particular crack in the wall.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he slumped against the wall. Part of him wondered if he should maybe be feeling a little more panicked about this turn of events, considering he’d been warned that some parts of the Keep were unsafe (whilst neglecting to tell him which parts. So that was incredibly fucking useful). Then again, it wasn’t exactly like he’d be missed, even if the Wolves weren’t currently preoccupied with the aftermath of a possessed princess unleashing almost literal Hell. He closed his eyes and rest his head against the freezing stone. Sod it, this was just as out of the way as anywhere else. He’d try and get his bearings in an hour or two.

“Jaskier. Jaskier!”

Jaskier jerked awake at the shout of his name, squinting at the sun through the window, surprised by how little time had actually passed.

Geralt barrelled around the corner just as he was trying to shake some of the stiffness out of his shoulders, the Witcher looking panic-stricken as he practically ran to the Bard, “Jaskier.”

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Has something else happened with Ciri? Has Yen’s chaos - oh!” He was cut off as Geralt pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly and effectively trapping the Bard’s own between their torsos as he hid his face in Jaskier’s shoulder, “Fuck. Geralt, talk to me. What’s happened?”

“I couldn’t find you.”

Jaskier gave an eloquent “Huh?” at that, “Geralt, did you hit your head and not say anything again? You did find me. You broke me out of prison, remember?”

He felt Geralt shake his head, “No. Just now. You weren’t in the hall, or where Yen showed me you’d been sleeping or anywhere else I checked. I thought something had happened to you and none of us had noticed. I hadn’t noticed.” He pulled his face away, allowing Jaskier to fully look at him, “You scared me.”

Jaskier lowered his eyes, ‘Congratulations Julian. Yet another fuck up.’

“I’m sorry. I thought it’d be better for everyone if I stayed out the way.”

“No, Jaskier.” Large fingers tilted his chin up until sky blue met molten yellow, “I’m sorry. For pushing you away on the mountain, for keeping you at arms length here, for how the others have treated you.”

“I don’t think you have much control over the last one to be fair.”

“Yes, I do. Ciri made me realise I should have set them right as soon as I arrived back. She gave Lambert an earful for shoving you like he did after his injuries had been checked over.”

Jaskier gave a brief smile at that before the mood turned serious again, “Can I ask why though?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought we were ok after you trusted me to escort Ciri and then you just acted as if I were invisible. what did I do wrong?” He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, “I know I can be too much. I was too much when we were together, I see that now and I want to try and fix things. Stop being so, well, me. But I can’t when I don’t even know what I did between the prison and here to make you angry at me again.”

Geralt looked at him like Jaskier had just been the one to sucker punch him, “You did nothing Jaskier, you never did. I acted as I did because, well, you terrified me. Still do.”

Jaskier gave a wet laugh, “I seem to be making a habit of that today.”

“I mean it.” Geralt continued, “You shoehorned yourself alongside me and you were – are – so full of life and joy and light. I wanted to keep you for myself. Something I’ve never felt so strongly before, not for Yen, not for Renfri. I wanted to know you completely and be known in return and that realisation scared me more than any monster I’ve faced. I didn’t know how to let you in like that, so I pushed you away.”

In a moment of bravery (or perhaps madness), he brushed his lips against Jaskier’s forehead, hearing the Bard’s breath catch, “You’re not the one who needs to change, Jaskier. You never were. I just don’t know how to start, but I’ll try. For you and Ciri and Yen.”

“My darling Witcher, you already have changed.” Jaskier, squirmed until he was able to loop his arms around Geralt’s waist, finally returning the embrace, “You and Yen are able to be in the same room and act like actual adults, you finally took responsibility for Ciri, and as for me-“ Jaskier gave Geralt’s waist a squeeze, “You do realise this is the first time you’ve hugged me first?”

Geralt brushed his lips against Jaskier’s brow again, firmer this time, “First of many. If you’ll allow it.”

“Always.”

[thatscarletflycatcher]

It's really interesting to compare The Nanny and Frasier as shows, because they started airing roughly at the same time (The Nanny starting just a year later), but today I was thinking specially about the dance episodes of Frasier 3x13/The Nanny 2x15, because both spin around the trope of the Dance Of Romance (have no idea if this is the name, but you get what I mean), and follow roughly the same line: Niles/Fran has a dance to attend, there's a motive of spite/self esteem involved in having a partner for that dance, and when their dates snub them, their love interest comes to the rescue.

But then how that is treated thematically is so very different! Maxwell has to be coaxed by British Niles into offering himself, but when Eric Estrada shows up, he does feel jealous*, indicating he does have an interest in Fran, even if he might not acknowledge it to himself. Daphne volunteers freely to teach Niles to dance, but the whole thing hangs on her being oblivious to his interest in her, and on her being thoroughly disinterested in him: she doesn't feel the slightest personal conflict over kissing Niles in front of everyone despite her being in a relationship with Joe. That's how extremely uninterested in Niles she is at this point.**

For the record, I don't think the writers of Frasier are failing at writing romance here, because I'm unsure they wanted to write it at all. There IS a lot of sense in the idea of Niles being so lost inside his own head and his attraction for Daphne, that he would believe that she would just adore him, while in reality they barely know each other. In The Nanny, the rescue is thoroughly and unequivocally romantic, and it does hinge specifically on Maxwell knowing Fran and knowing how and why this event is important to her. It responds to personal knowledge and interest in her as a person, her wishes and fears. Even at his most oblivious -when Fran is anxious about spending her life caring for his kids and retiring to loneliness and poverty in old age- he tries to offer a considerate and kind solution (like, yeah, the rich 90s and all that, but he's buying her a condo! Who of us wouldn't want a "free" condo!). Meanwhile at this point Niles' gestures of "generosity" towards Daphne have been... hmmm, that time he kept paying her fake dividends so he would get kisses from her (which Fraser calls out as Disney grade prostitution), and that time his nosebleed-of-truth forced him to undo his jealous defamation of Joe. I cannot remember any other, but my memory is not what it used to be.

The Nanny undercuts the romantic scene by having Fran's dress malfunction, and both her and Maxwell having to leave the premises in an awkward manner because of it. It cuts, but it doesn't take away from the gesture or the romance of what happened. In Frasier, the episode ends with Niles taking the card of the woman who offered to go out with him. If he cannot have Daphne then he can have someone else and it will be fine.

IDK. Maybe it'll get better later on! But I'm just pondering along as I watch, and trying to make a bit of an autopsy of the writers' process as they made the seasons. So far it does seem to me they were from the beginning very reluctant/uninterested in treating romance in general, not just with Niles' character, but with everyone.

*I don't remember Maxwell ever attempting to sabotage Fran's relationships, even if he seems chagrined by them; he does seem to understand that if he doesn't make a move himself, then he has no right to interfere or complain. Yeah, Niles' sabotage of Daphne dating Joe really bugged me XD

**Speaking of, I know this was the 90s, and I know I live in an echo chamber, but boy is this series extremely casual about cheating. Mind you, there are other things where I strongly feel the intent of the treatment is irony, but that doesn't seem the case with cheating in particular. Again, maybe I'm just so super out of touch and so much on Tumblr, but I think general attitudes towards cheating have become more censorious in our own time. People seem to tolerate it less nowadays. If that is the case, it'd be really interesting to know what caused it.