#versus drag queens

[clubkidandcollectives]

[coffeeastronaut]

i am once again giggling over MOFFAT of all people understanding (or at least getting extremely lucky in how it comes off) doctor gender better then the two ‘progressive’ writers. incredible stuff

[lesbovalentine]

this too may be yuri. unless rangiku wants to hmu instead

[san-sebastienne]

With truly all the love and empathy in my heart: crying daily over the sexual assault allegations against Gaiman isn’t healthy. I’ve seen multiple people –especially fans of GO – saying this since they came out, and it’s really fucking concerning me.

I wonder if it has to do with the insidious ideas that 1) people are either Bad or Good, 2) Bad people can only do Bad things, and 3) liking Bad things or Bad people makes you Bad.

None of these things are true.

People are mixed up and incredibly complicated. Someone can be an incredible artist/friend/chef/ally against racism/drag queen and still be predatory/homophobic/antisemitic/never tips their wait staff. People do things that harm others in big and small ways all the time. You do too. I promise.

(Also the idea of anyone, even people who do genuinely insurmountable harm, becoming somehow less than human is an inherently fascist ideology)

The fact that you (yes, you!!) do harmful things doesn’t immediately make you Bad. There are certainly things that someone might do that causes more harm (say, assault) versus less, but that doesn’t somehow infect all the things they’ve done in the past with their Badness. Gaiman helped write Good Omens. There’s no way now to say “I was wrong and this book was Bad all along” or even “oh, all the parts I like were written by Pratchett, the Bad parts must have been Gaiman.” You didn’t miss an inherent evil by liking the book in the past. It doesn’t make you Bad for liking it now.

(It also doesn’t mean that people associated with Gaiman, like David Tennant, are also Tainted by inherent Badness. Tennant isn’t, you aren’t. Saying otherwise is also a slippery slope argument into dehumanization and fascist ideas)

By all means: if it feels right, stop giving Gaiman your money. Stop tagging him in your Azi/Crowley fanart. But do this as a way to disentangle yourself from parasocial relationships that are actively causing you grief and to vote with your wallet, not because unlinking yourself from Bad Art and Bad People will somehow absolve you and make you Good again. If you already have a copy of Good Omens or Sandman, whether you reread it is between you and your gods. Interacting with a text you find important doesn’t make you Bad or Good. It’s just reading. What you do with the stories is what matters (ironically, that’s the message of a lot of both Gaiman and Pratchett’s work).

Maybe take a peek at Good Omens and re familiarize yourself with its other core message: People are not Bad or Good. People do bad and good things.

Then maybe drink a cup of tea. You need to rehydrate.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two.

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[potpourri-of-ecclecticism]

Now I understand what Helaena felt when she saw Aegon’s body being dragged through the hallway after Rook’s Rest - helplessness (more than concern) because she’d already foreseen it and there was nothing she was able to do about it.

Her husband was burned.

By his own blood.

In a moment of vengeance and mindless wrath.

Her boy taken away from her, and now her husband incapacitated. By one person.

Did she feel Aegon’s heartbreak as it happened in her dream? The moment he celebrated Aemond’s presence there and in a the next second burned to ash. The grandest betrayal - one that stung worse than Alicent’s confrontation. Did Helaena feel Aegon viscerally in that moment?

It’s just so sad the way they’re written. The ache to reach out and tell him everything versus losing to his own impulses. She can’t tell him ‘I told you so’. She doesn’t WANT to tell him ‘I told you so’ because that’s too heartbreaking to vocalise.

My doomed queen, you keep handing us W’s 💚

[90shaladriel]

Rewatch of the ROP Finale Fight Scene

>> Warning: Clearly biased and delusional Haladriel here! <<

I admit that on the first watch I had some issues with the fight, not so much that it was a poor fight, or unbelievable, more that I felt there was more missed potentials. I think a lot of that was my fan or shipping head canons.

Could I imagine a different way it goes down or ends? Yes.

But here are some positives

From the very moment they are onscreen together, Sauron tries to de-escalate. He snuck up behind her and walked past while she was holding the Nine rings and Nenya. Her first words were a question, a pointed one, but it's satisfying they began on speaking terms, and then his calm response actually backed up my opinion that the Season 1 events that got them together were not his design.

She is the one that picked up the sword and swung first.

He struck back but she was the aggressor. What might have happened if she had run away? Or maybe used the Light rather Strength to overcome him?

Anyway. The shift to Halbrand was a bit of a low blow. He reiterated his feelings for her were not all an illusion and then immediately turned into an illusion of not only Halbrand, but then herself (?) and Celebrimbor. Like appearing as her murdered brother, these don't seem to be good strategies for winning someone over who mistrusts you. But ok, he is a villain and showing off perhaps.

As Halbrand he never strikes a blow at her, he speaks, walks away and dodges her first strikes. Even as Galadriel form he mainly parries her rather than attacks. Then as Celebrimbor he stomps the stone structure to collapse rather than striking at her. I could have used more Halbrand fighting her though over the magic show spectacle, but it was cool I will say.

When she once more asserts the Door is Shut, (because of course with her people's city in ruins, Celebrimbor tortured and killed, the threat of Sauron in the future, she has no choice narratively), and then takes that moment to kick him hard in the face does Sauron seem to become enraged. He is hurt, his pride is wounded to, just as Celebrimbor did with his dying words. He takes his anger out on the rocks and her sword but doesn't really try to land a killing blow.

Once she slices his cheek he seems to have said "I've had enough of her" and let the rage take over. Even then what does he do? He uses the crown not the sword to impale her. Which is pretty toxic, I do agree, although how many times as she tried to stab him and gotten a pass?

Caveat that I've never been stabbed in the chest, but that was very suggestive of them to say the least.

He could have reached over and taken the Nine and Nenya once more. But didn't. The speech he gave then about what he would have done for her as his Queen is really something. It's not meant to convince her of anything I don't think. He has lost that part of her (The Door is Shut). At least that's my thinking. He just wants her to know since at that moment he knows he would have won and has nothing to lose by telling her the truth of how he feels or maybe once felt.

By the way she was stabbed by two spikes but only seems to have one wound?

Still after the creepy face he lets her fall. Takes the nine and then asks her for Nenya.

I guess this is ambiguos. Is it plot armor for her? Did he really think the crown's poison would not kill her but drag her spirit to the unseen world? Was this the method he used to bind souls to his werewolves in the book legendarium?

It's not clear why he still would need her or want that versus take her life like he took Celebrimbor's.

The simplest explanation would be that he wants her alive and to be at his side, whatever he selfishly thinks of that.

My main disappointment was probably that we didn't get either a redemptive angle on Sauron or perhaps a Galadriel trying to tempt him back in someway. Maybe those were just crazy head canon ideas. I think having evil Sauron be obsessed with Galadriel and her light is about what I expected before coming into Season 2.

[flagellant]

Do you have any recommendations for gay movies? Just woke up to a law being passed in my state banning Critical Race Theory and discussions of sexual attraction/orientation, and I want to have a spiteful movie night. Paris is Burning is already queued up.

A Sydneyite drag queen gets a call from someone who was a part of her past asking her to do a performance in a few days' time. She takes two of her fellow performers on a road trip out through the outback to reach the venue, with shenanigans ensuing along the way.

This is a deeply fucking heartfelt movie which deals with themes of growing older as a queer person, the intricate dance of being genuinely authentic versus being genuinely safe in a world which would harm you, the human desire for connection and understanding, and the very frank realities of intracommunity dismissal of trans women's lives and rights as women. It also has something which was and remains extremely radical for a queer-focused movie, which is that everyone gets a happy ending. Period. Everyone gets a happy fucking ending. Their suffering and oppression is acknowledged and never once ignored or toned down--but Priscilla also is a movie which says "The world fucking hates us all, which means we're all standing up to it together, and we find our lives inside of those margins living messily and strangely and uncannily and in love with the luxury of being who we want to be, because that's who we are".

[tmwcs]

N 3 W B E G 1 N N 1 N G S : S A T A N

C H A P T E R 1 N E

Warnings: Not in this one so much. Referencing to events of SE7EN series, a short chapter, chapters 2 and 3 is where it's going to be at, there is mentions/references to how Heeseung obtained his y/n, pregnancy, the members are all 7 princes of hell, mentions of demons and angels.

“What’s going on with you? Ever since you came back from your last visit from the mortal realm with Asmo, you seem out of it.” 

A small breeze swifts through Sunghoon’s hair while Jungwon steps into the scene of his royal abode. Each brother inherited their own lavish palace, stationed in separate regions throughout Hell, courtesy of the eldest brother. Within their respective estates, the brothers meticulously designed and decorated the dwellings to reflect their tasteful fashion, mapping out the aura of his own personal nature. Despite being one of the infamous Seven Princes of Hell, Sunghoon had always adored the color white. It reminded him of his formal hearth back when he and his siblings resided in their former master’s Heavenly kingdom, as his main ArchAngels. Keeping in memory of the past, his kingdom flourished in lush white Lilies, surrounding the beige, and gold infrastructures that outlined the points of his castle. The interior matched with tapestries, draperies, and ornaments of similar colors, never to extend past the hues of the soft and natural palettes. 

He doesn’t answer his younger brother, at least not immediately. Detracting his mind, he changes the course of the subject by asking how the Queen and King are fairing. 

“They’re doing well. I stepped in for a visit just yesterday, the Queen is handling the pregnancy rather well, considering she had only adjusted to immortality not long before conceiving.” 

Dragging his finger along the white satin threaded backdrop, Jungwon softly chuckles as he makes his remarks regarding his eldest brother, and his new found bride. “She’s adjusting well….perhaps not by choice, either way, she at least knows her place is by Heeseung’s side.” 

Nodding, Sunghoon’s attention drifts back to the moment when he saw you. In spite of meeting you for a few seconds– if you can even call it a meeting, subsequently you had unknowingly created a stir within Satan himself. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about you that he couldn’t get off his mind. Not a moment had passed since, where he didn’t think of who you were, what continent you came from, or what name you were blessed with upon your birth. Some days, it was more frustrating than nostalgic when drafting the details of your face in his mind, since he couldn’t quite figure out what it was that caused you to become engraved in his heart. Surely, this couldn’t be the very thing that had caused his elder brother to become engrossed with his mortal bride, thousands of years before she even came into existence. This couldn’t be the same tortuous ache that pained him all that time, forcing him to lay dormant in a state of unconsciousness and choosing to dream of her versus spending his time awake. This couldn’t be…

“Where is Heeseung? Is he currently in the Sanguis Orchid Palatium?” 

Jungwon nods with a sly smirk, sensing the urgency of his elder as he immediately exits the great hall. Using the ranges of his abilities in dark magic, Sunghoon transports to the home of his eldest sibling. Arriving at the grand entrance, Heeseung’s empty throne lays ahead, paired with the seating that belonged to his beloved wife. In front of the two royal stations, was the massive pedestal bed that Heeseung had specially made, all for him to keep a solid sight on his darling wife while she laid scantily dressed. The flashback image of when the Queen was initially brought to Hell, abiding by a contract she wouldn’t have been able to escape from, travels in and out of Sunghoon’s memory. At the time, the Queen was transitioning to her immortal state, and succumbed to the King’s maniacal sense of affection and obsession. Never affording the opportunity for her to leave his sight, Heeseung entrapped his lovely darling eternally, not even allowing her to sit on the throne beside him, finding it more suitable for his queen to be in front and in plain view. His twisted obsession had triggered him to become mad with love and possession, opting to observe and study his wife nearly every day, never retiring from his indulgence in her. Even now, after one year’s time had past, the Queen lives a life where she no longer is limited to remain on the boxed framed bedding, shrouded behind sheer chiffon of the canopy that framed the bed, however, she will always remain under the watchful eye of her husband. A price to pay for eternal love and protection. 

“They must be inside the palace.” Mentally remarking their absence from their usual standing at the great entrance, Sunghoon makes his way down the elongated pathway that led to the large double doors. The passageway was lined by a parallel row of demonic guards that rendered respect to the demon prince. Breaching the monumental entrance, the sentinels that manned it bowed politely before opening the double doors, admitting the crown prince his entry. Greeted by the massive marble hall, lined by mirrored glass frames, Sunghoon swiftly walks through one regal chamber after another. 

“Your highness, are you here to seek out His and Her Majesties?” Greeted by the precedent chamberlain up ahead, Sunghoon emits a single nod in response. 

“Very well, right this way.” 

The sovereign attendant guides the Hellish prince to the colossal ballroom, which contains a lustrous detail of dark marble walls and flooring, with brass ornaments that symbolizes a Gothic love story, all lining the mighty and elegant pillars that surround the room. Ahead, Heeseung lazily sits in his second throne, with his very pregnant wife atop his lap. In spite of being in the late stages of pregnancy, the queen’s immortal standing allowed for her to remain in her usual appeal, one without a large belly. It was the aura surrounding her that strongly indicated the strength and development of the child she carries, and while she didn’t carry a large belly, there was indeed, a belly. It was subtle and rounded, smaller than what it would be had she still been mortal, yet the fact she was indeed showing could only mean that the child was much stronger than the average offspring, and possibly is taking more after its father. Yet then again, it is the offspring of the Devil. 

“Sunghoon…” Heeseung calmly greets; his deep voice faintly echoes and travels down the narrow corridor hallways. 

“Heeseung, my lady, good to see you both.” Emitting a small bow, Sunghoon lets out a comfortable tone as he greets the pair. Chuckling, the elder strokes his chin as he grows wide eyed from the sudden appearance of his younger brother. Slyly smirking, Heeseung’s devilish senses proceed him, further expanding his great wisdom and intuition. “You have something on your mind–or rather, someone…” 

Sunghoon displays a stunned countenance before relaxing to his composed manner. Chuckling, he closes his eyes as he nods, tilting his head to the side as he swoops his side part. “Has it become that obvious?” 

Responding with his own deep chuckle, Heeseung faintly nods before shifting his gaze upon his queen. Snaking his hand around her waist, he cups the subtle belly protruding under her silk dress, and leaves a tender kiss on the side of her head while issuing gentle taps of his finger tips. “Pretty, sit here for a moment and wait for my return.” She nods gracefully in response, however, contrary to her seemingly obedient nature, a golden chain formulates out of particle speckles that appear out of thin air. Binding her by the ankle, the other end of the chain slithers and encircles around Heeseung’s wrist. No matter how far or wide the owner travels, the piece extends and retracts at the will of its master, in this case, it was Heeseung. It would appear that the King of Hell had every ounce of trust in his Queen, but maintained reservations for closure and comfort in knowing that she remained bound, should he be further than one-arm’s distance away. 

The two walked across the ballroom, stationed between two pillars that faced a large balcony that overlooked the entire region. Heeseung’s castle resided on the highest peak in the underworld, quite fitting for the Prince of Darkness. 

“So who did you see on your last visit to the human world?” Peaking a brow, Heeseung admires the wide open view as he beckons his younger brother. 

“What makes you think it was a mortal?” 

Hearing Sunghoon out, Heeseung flares his traditional smirk as he side-eyes his sibling. “I never said that it was…” 

Sunghoon gives out a series of blinks before sighing in defeat. Heeseung was far too clever to be dragged into the trenches of a guessing game, or perhaps the former was simply terrible in drawing out explanations. Either way, Sunghoon punches through the icebreaker and cuts to the point. “When you saw the Queen, was it the same?” 

Heeseung side-eyes his brother once more, this time without a smirk accompanying it. Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he glances over his shoulder and peeks at his beloved, remaining poised and obedient on his throne. Switching his gaze back on the horizon, he understood the pain that Sunghoon was breaching, he understood it all too well. However, his younger sibling has an advantage, one that wasn’t afforded to Heeseung himself, at least not for seven thousand years time. Imparting the only guidance he had to offer, he comforts Sunghoon’s mind and provides a calming solution to the storm that was brewing in his demon heart. 

“Do you think of her night and day?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where to find her?”

“Yes.” 

“Then go get her.”

Sunghoon slowly turns and faces his elder, pawning a reflective stare, only to find Heeseung’s side profile kissed by the permanent moon’s light, enhancing his noble elegance. His eyes remained thoughtful, taking his heart back to a time where he recalled the feeling of longing and desiring for the one thing that remained unreal for so long. His silence spoke louder than any word in existence, and he knew that his message was received.  With that, Heeseung softly pats Sunghoon’s shoulder, before turning away to tend back to his queen. Committing a half turn, watching as his brother takes the queen's hands, and aids her to stand all the while caressing her cheek, Sunghoon reflects back to a time when he and his brothers witnessed a change in Heeseung. Back to a time when he blocked the sight of his eyes beneath black lace, and silently waited for many years, until the time finally came when he rediscovered his love, looking exactly the way she had when he traveled through the corridors of time and became mesmerized by her image. 

And here, he now stands, emotionally resembling his elder brother’s past, although unlike Heeseung, Sunghoon is presented with a choice, one that he does not have to wait seven thousand years for. 

Stroking her cheek, Heeseung dispels a hazy gaze under heavy lids, admiring the most precious wonder in his lifetime. Watching as she turns, looking past the sheer curtains that shelter the grand ballroom of the open air that ties with the deep horizon, she remarks Sunghoon’s sudden disappearance. “He left?” 

Turning his face in the same direction, Heeseung smirks as he softly grips the side of his beloved’s neck. “Yes, as he should.” 

[rebelumbrella46]

HOTD 2x05 - SPOILERS

As a fan of House of the Dragon, I'm disappointed by the characters' lack of depth this season. Their clear motivations and predictable actions make the story drag.

I expected this season to explore moral ambiguity, especially with Team Black versus Team Green. Instead, both sides feel one-dimensional. Aemond and Daemon are becoming cartoon villains, while Rhaenyra is a goody two-shoes. Baela, Corlys, Rhaena, and even Heleana are sidelined.

For example, what was that disappointing five second scenes between Aemond and Heleana, i thought the promo photo meant that we were going to get a scene that hinted at a complex dynamic that's now forgotten. The potential conflict between Heleana and Aemond's relationship that seemed to be hinted at in S1 and Jaehaerys' parentage. Instead we got a unnecesary scene that looked pulled out of a anime, just so we can see Aemond having his villain moment.

The Daemon/Alyssa scene in Harrenhal felt unnecessary. While Game of Thrones had similar moments, what purpose did it serve? Introducing Alyssa Targaryen, one of my favorite targaryen women, in such a way feels like a missed opportunity. The initial shock value quickly fades into absurdity. The hallucinations were intriguing at first, but they've become tedious. Time to move on.

Corlys offering Baela the Driftmark heirdom? Her cool 'I'm blood and fire' moment followed by a swift exit felt forced (and cringy). Yes, she's channeling her inner Daemon, a true Targaryen. Bu there haven't been scenes that convince me Jace and Baela truly desire marriage. They seem closer to friends or cousins (understandably, having grown up together and actually being related). But power, potentially through Driftmark, is so important to have considering that we are fighting for a queen on the Iron Throne.

Sunfyre's death? I sincerely hope Cole simply believed him dead and left him behind. Sunfyre is crucial to the plot. Please don't deviate from Rhaenyra's death in Fire & Blood. It's a pivotal moment for her son, Aegon III, and a fascinatingly horrific demise.

The loss of Rhaenys, arguably the show's most captivating figure, is a significant blow. Daemon and Aemond, who shouldered the narrative last season, are now falling flat as one-dimensional villains. I do have to say, Jace was really good in this episode.

In conclusion, we have a wealth of potentially fascinating characters who could enrich the story, but it's become clear that, sadly, even Rhaenyra isn't compelling enough to carry it alone. Here's hoping, as always, that tonight's episode offers her a chance to truly shine.

House of the Dragon's potential is undeniable, but to truly capture the complexity of Game of Thrones, it needs to delve deeper into its characters (and give them all their own stories beyond the "I want Rhaenyra on the Throne", "I'm team black" or "I'm team green")

Simple good versus evil isn't enough.

[clubkidandcollectives]

[darthpastry]

Episodes Editing because typo but I meant- Spoilers for the most recent episode of Doctor Who (Boom) below the cut!

WE ARE SO BACK WITH THE SHITTING ON CAPITALISM 🙌

Wasn’t a huge fan of the writing for 11’s run, but Moffat saw he had one chance to go bug or go home and went big of big could possibly be the Doctor standing on a landline literally the entire episode. Also Ruby almost died yayyy

The description is so funny “the Doctor has to stop a war with stepping on a mine” babe, I got HORRIBLE news for you lol.

So glad they were able to shit on capitalism despite Disney. Reminds me of when 12 did it and that makes me so happy. We are so back in comparison to when 13 had to deliver a monologue about how capitalism isn’t the problem that one minimum wage worker was. I will never forgive them for doing that to my poor girl.

It’s also pretty funny in comparison to the last episode, you know? If the Beatles didn’t make MUSIC we would all DIE and this VILLAINOUS DRAG QUEEN FROM ANOTHER DIMENSIONAL PLANE is EATING MUSIC and KILLING anyone who MAKES MUSIC. It was so unserious. Crack treated seriously if you will. Versus capitalism is shitty as fuck and when you combine capitalism and religion you get pointless war that’s impossible to win. But also the DAD killed the EVIL AI with THE POWER OF LOVE and now capitalism is GONNA DIE.

Also as other people have been saying, this season is so unsubtle. Bless.

[ashadowwanderedfar]

I want to interact with furries, but it doesn't feel right to intrude upon furry spaces when I'm not a furry myself.

As an alterhuman, I get mistaken for a furry a lot. However, I'm not one. I like using the example of a trans person versus a drag queen/king. For a trans person, it's an involuntary identity. For a drag queen/king, it's a choice, a performance. The same comparison can be made between an alterhuman and a furry.

Of course, one can be both alterhuman and a furry, but I'm not. I don't have any specific interest in anthropomorphic animals, and I don't have a fursona -- My representation of myself is not an OC. It's just me.

But when it's already so hard to spot alterhumans in the wild, it seems like it would be a comfort to exist in furry spaces.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

All right lads, it's @writersmonth's Writers' Pride Month again in a couple of days, and this is my bingo card! I have a few ideas for some of the squares but as is by now customary, I'm looking for prompts again!

coming out - could this be Legolas and Kíli owning up to the rest of the group chat in All I Want Is You-'verse? Or Thranduil and Bard making a public statement in Dancing in the Dark-'verse? Or something else?

pride - I know I mentioned a Pride parade in All I Want Is You-'verse during this event last year, but I'm not sure if it might go here, or under 'flag'; what about pride in oneself and one's identity? Who might that be...?

adoption - I am thinking of Thranduil and Bard adopting each other's kids in All I Want Is You-'verse or of my original character Jack and his friendship with Ivana Cutabitch the drag queen which has been developing over the last couple of Writers' Pride Months here...

queen - this is definitely going to be Ivana - or perhaps Queen Sigrid of Dale and her ace identity again?

flag - is this where the Pride parade comes in for All I Want-'verse? My flag is very definitely the ace one, so perhaps something about that? And/or Jack working through perhaps having a flag of his own, having spent the last couple of Writers' Pride Months figuring himself out?

dreams - no ideas for this one yet

dual identity - I am thinking of Jack again here, and his public/stage persona (obnoxious punk who'll shag anything that moves) versus who he really is (damaged, traumatised, sensitive demi/grey/ace boy who uses his obnoxiousness to keep people away and actually never shags anyone except his oldest friend Hal, which probably ought to tell him something)

fear - not sure about this one yet either

violet/spirit - not sure about this one either - the concept of 'spirit' is unfamiliar to me, in that I'm vaguely aware it's a thing in the US but I've never actually encountered it before. Any and all explanations and ideas very gratefully received!

I haven't had anything come to me for a kiss in the cold and dark-'verse yet, or any of my other 'verses or fandoms - so if there's anything you'd like to see for any of these, do please let me know!

[that-one-i-think]

More Au plot points

MCD Blessed Children AU - Lilith is disguised as Alina due to her inheriting the Irene relic as a baby and gaining constant threats. Alina is essentially MCD Jesus.

This takes place when the girls are 10 so by this time the Phoenix Alliance is already well established, the plot only being delayed by Laurance's acquirement of Shad's relic.

Alina is given a princess treatment. She is an incredibly magical child that is also an extreme danger, she is the last thing left of Aaron, and she is the only child that Aphmau is actually given the chance to raise. Outside of Lilith... of course.

Aphmau, Lucinda, Katelyn, and Travis are all deeply invested in Alina due to her magical capabilities and the danger she presents with Katelyn being her main guard. Garroth is Lilith's main guard and tries to be there for her as much as possible to make up for how his younger brothers were treated. He sees so much of Vylad and younger Zane in Lilith that its frightening!

ITS A DAD AND AQUIRED DAUGHTER STORY Y'ALL! Lilith and Garroth are a major focus

Lilith is partly a Rapunzel/Cinderella story. When ever Alina is out, Lilith is locked away with Zoey or more often Garroth. Trapped in a tower hidden away while her sister gets to live life, heavily protected but it is her life. Lilith is only living her sisters.

Aphmau will be a bad parent but one left with little choice in the matter as it is a childs life versus that of an entire world as Shad is still trying to obtain the relic, as stealing one from a child is also much easier than stealing it from an adult.

Tu'la is also trying to steal Alina because of political power and again, Alina is essentially minecraft baby Jesus.

This AU will feature LO! I am still figuring out how exactly I am going to put him in but just know, Lilith is getting a 2nd Dad in Lo! She will be discovering her own identity and personhood from this drag queen bard.