#which was way fluffier by comparison

[blueduplicity]

I need you to know how obsessed I am with your Three's a Crowd fic. It's legitimately the best smut I've ever read and I've read a lot! I was in awe of how you wrote such a long smut because I can never do that, and how gripping it is

The secret is I got really REALLY high when I was writing it LOL

Kind of a joke but not really lmfao bc i was definitely high for the concept, but I was mostly sober while getting the plot down. I'm glad you liked it! I was a little worried that the premise would scare people away, but it got a way better reception than I was expecting.

Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me you enjoyed it! I know I'm a very slow writer, but I appreciate that there are people willing to read my stuff at all, happy to have found my little niche LOL

[feyascorner]

as the snow falls

summary. years after becoming the vampire ascendant and harnessing the endless power he’s always wanted, the loneliness of his throne brings him to reminisce about the only person who’d ever cracked the surface of his frozen heart.

so why not visit them disguised as someone else?

warnings. angst, little to no comfort, bittersweet, this is kinda long

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

a/n. happy holidays everyone! I thought about making a fluffier fic but what’s better than holiday angst!! this takes place years after the game where Tav/reader breaks up with astarion once he becomes ascendant btw!

He hated fresh snow. At this time of year, he left the palace more often, leaving deep footprints that ruin its perfect evenness. He preferred when it was stained with blood, but then again, he preferred anything over untouched snow.

So when he sits up from his bed, which is far too big for one person, he sighs irritably at the snow falling softly on the other side of the window. His voice awakens the woman beside him, who rubs at her eyes, her other fingers grazing at the two identical puncture wounds at her neck.

To be quite honest, he'd forgotten she was there. He only notices her when she revels at what he's staring at, letting out a shrilling gasp. “My Lord, it’s snowing! How beautiful.”

Judging from the way she oh so comfortably addresses him, he figures she’s one of the newer servants in the palace. Any other half witted person would know to keep their head down and leave quietly, but not her. While it would bother him on any other occasion, he doesn't bother reprimanding her as his mind fails to supply him the words. He doesn't even know her name.

“Get out,” is all he says, voice an octave deeper than usual. There's a slight pause before she scrambles to climb out of the bed, finally having had some sense knocked into her. He only glances at her right as she shuts the door, eyes only noticing how her hair is the same shade as his late lover.

When he turns back to his window, he remembers how your hair had looked softer than hers. He remembers the way it had felt when he ran his fingers through your strands, and the way you'd smile in that enchanting way of yours. The way he'd let you run your own hands through white curls in return, immersed in a world where only the two of you existed in that cruddy tent while the very real problems of the outside world didn’t weigh as heavy as they usually did.

He pulls the curtains closed.

By the time he gets to his throne room, the palace is already wide awake. While Cazador’s operations had run themselves mainly during the night, Astarion was different. He could bathe in the sun all he wanted and would only come out glowing, and he'd abuse that to his full advantage. He was not afraid of the sun, because they were not the same.

They were not the same at all.

As he paces by the servants, they all hush down, quietly returning to their busy schedules as they prepare whatever housework they'd been assigned to. When he perches on his throne, he looks down at all of them, eyes narrowed at each of their movements. He’s not truly paying any of them any attention, except for the occasional ones who have the same shade of hair as the servant this morning. Those ones have puncture wounds on their necks.

Even if their blood tastes vile in comparison to yours, it’s the closest he can get.

Finally, something truly catches his attention. If he didn't have such keen ears, he wouldn't have heard the few in the corner, whispering.

“The heroes are celebrating the restoration of the city at Elfsong tavern tonight!” one says excitedly. “Do you think Master will go see them?”

“No, certainly not,” another responds. “He rarely meets them anymore, does he? Shame. I would love to see them in person before they leave. I heard a few of them won’t be coming back for a while.”

“Surely we could go ourselves?”

“Well,” one ponders. “If we hurry with all our assignments perhaps we can make it in time…”

Astarion snaps back into attention when a male servant approaches him, admittedly with a swallow of his throat. “My Lord.”

“What is it?” he snaps, thought it surprises even himself how harshly it came out. Not that he cares.

“T-the entire first floor has been scraped clean, my Lord. The second floor, twice,” he stammers, eyes looking anywhere but at Astarion’s face. While it first boosted his ego seeing others cower in fear, now it just irritates him. “Of course, we haven't touched the left wing, as you instructed, but there were some worries regarding the dust collecting in the main bedroom there, and-”

“The left wing will remain the way it is until I orderwise,” Astarion responds immediately, then pauses. “Tell the others to rid the yards of snow.”

The servant’s eyes go wide. “But my Lord, it’s still snowing…and there's already a few inches—to clean it would just result in the snow piling again-”

“I won't repeat myself, child.”

He is not like Cazador. Not at all.

As the servant stumbles away with a frantic nod, Astarion’s gaze drifts towards the windows again. He’d had them installed the second he took possession of the palace, refusing to keep its walls in darkness any longer. He'd torn off the curtains, wallpaper, decorations, and replaced them all with new ones—ones that were more to his liking. It was an entirely new Palace, and yet…

The only place he'd left untouched was the left wing. He knew the servant’s words came from reason. The left wing was surely to rot away at this rate, being left unoccupied for so long. He hated the way it had no windows, the way the curtains were the same blood red shade Cazador had favored, and how the hallway was only dimly lit with a few candles.

He closes his eyes.

He remembers your voice so clearly, he might’ve mistaken you for standing right before him. “Once we kill Cazador, isn't this place yours?”

He had raised a brow. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe you can make this place more pleasing to the eye, I don't like how dark it is now.”

“Really? I am curious as to what you would deem admirable interior design. Perhaps I’ll give you a portion of the palace to yourself, my dear.”

He snaps his eyes open.

He truly hated when it snowed.

He looks down at all his subjects once more. And this time, he found the isolation of the throne eating at a heart that he no longer had.

——

The snow doesn't stop, even as the sun sets.

And while he detests himself for doing so, he finds himself entering Elfsong tavern, where the night’s just begun. After hours of contemplation, convincing himself he had no reason to join the celebrations of common folk, he thinks of course you of all people would celebrate at a mere tavern over a lavish party with the rich. Of course you'd prefer to listen to a less than pathetic excuse for a bard than a musician with years of experience.

He curses that humble streak of yours as he steps into the building with a disguise spell. He’s still an elf, handsome but not as much as his ordinary self. His hair is a shade of chestnut brown, eyes in a different color than his usual as well. It’s enough to pass as a different person.

He doesn't have to look around long, because someone bumps into his shoulder, yelping an obnoxious ‘ow!’ before turning to him. And while Astarion contemplates a more violent outcome for daring to cross a vampire, he quickly stops when he sees a familiar wizard.

“Sorry about that. Have a lot on my hands right now,” Gale apologizes with that annoying smile of his before rushing back to his table with the two drinks in his hands. It’s crowded in the tavern, but none of it stops Astarion from spotting you in an instant.

Gods above.

That same shade of hair framing your laughing expression is all he can see. Gale sets the drinks in front of you and Shadowheart, and the vampire makes out your thanks from the way you mouth the words before taking a chug from it.

You’ve matured. Your hair is styled differently than he remembers from a few years ago. The way you carry yourself is different too. And you seem more comfortable under so many gazes—all of which he wishes it were only his.

You look happy.

A part of himself hates you for it.

But when he dwells on the feeling a moment too long, he realizes it’s more directed to himself. Because while you sit there with that beautiful smile on your face, surrounded by your companions and the admiration of the city, all he has is the cold grips of his throne, where all he seems to think about is blood, and more importantly, you.

Enough, he thinks. He's making a fool of himself. He's sure you'd rather not see him anyway, after the poor falling out the two of you had. And he's not sure what he'd do if you came too close to him, which is also something he'd rather not test.

But then, you stand up. You wave something at the others before pacing across the tavern toward the back door. Astarion doesn't even have to will his legs to move before they're halfway across the door, trailing after you.

When he finds you again, you're ankle deep in the fresh layer of snow behind the loud tavern, in the otherwise quiet city of the night. You're staring at the sky as a snowflake lands on your nose, and you make no moves to wipe it off, instead you breathe in, and then out, leaving Astarion to stare blankly from the shadows.

“You can come out, you know. I promise I don't bite,” you hum, and a lump grows in his throat. Still, he does.

“It’s cold,” he says.

“It is,” you smile, oblivious to who you're speaking to through the disguise. He simultaneously wants to reveal himself and hide in the shadows. “It’s nice though. I've always loved snow, and this might be my last chance to see it in Baldur’s Gate for a while.”

He stares at the way your breath steams against the freezing air. “Have plans of travel? Surely a hero like you would prefer to stay in a city of people in your debt.”

“Adventuring, probably,” you shrug, turning your gaze back down to the snow. “I’ve done what I can here. No reason for me to stay.”

The selfish part of him flares, though it seems to be most of him nowadays. Him. He should be the reason.

His brows furrow. “You won't be coming back?”

“Probably not for a while. This city holds a lot of memories, and not all of them are ones I'm rather fond of,” you sigh. “I just wish I could've helped more people, but I suppose life just doesn't work out the way you want it to.”

He raises a brow. “How ambitious. I would think saving an entire city is enough for at least a few lifetimes.”

“Well,” your voice drops. “There was one more person I really wanted to help. One that I lost.”

He remains quiet, eyes glued to the way you kick at the snow.

“I should have guided him better. Should have let him know that he was enough. Not because he was some all powerful being, but just because he was him. I thought—” your nose crinkles. “—I thought I'd been helping him, by encouraging him any way I could. But that tore us apart, and I'd do anything to go back and fix it.”

To be in that tent again, to hold you close again, to love you again.

“Sounds like a lucky man to receive such endearing words from you,” is all he manages.

You snort, laughing a bit. “I was the lucky one to have ever met him. I just wish our time together hadn't been so short.”

And as you hold out cupped hands to the sky, gathering the snow, Astarion feels his chest go impossibly tight when you finally meet his eyes. Gods, had he missed them. “I wish we could've seen the snow together. The first snow in the morning, when nothing’s touched it and it’s just a perfect even layer. I think he would have liked it.”

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’m sure he would've enjoyed watching the snow with you.”

You smile again, and he forces down the urge to pull you closer right then and there. To remind you that you can have all that, and more. He could give you everything, the world be damned. He could have you sit on his lap in the throne of his palace, and fill your head with hushed promises of love and praises, holding you tight to his side with one hand and wine in the other.

He could forget about how cold the throne feels.

Instead, he only watches you step out of the snow and pace towards the door leading back to the tavern. And as you open the door, you glance back at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I ought to return home. I have quite the night ahead of me.”

You tilt your head. “Shame, I was hoping to buy you a drink for listening to a complete stranger for five minutes.”

Astarion offers a slight nod. “Perhaps next time, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He hates the churning inside of him as he realizes this is your final farewell. This is the last time you’ll give him your full attention, and he detests the way all he wants to do is to convince you to stay. To realize he can offer so much more than the rest of the world. That he’d ruin the world for you.

But when your smile softens, he stops himself again. He curses the effect you have on him. “Next time, then.”

And then the door shuts closed.

He stares at it for a long time, waging an internal battle where he struggles to gather his composure relentlessly until he looks away and turns his attention back to the snow.

He breathes. Not because he has to—because he doesn't—but because it finally allows his shoulders to relax.

The air is cold in his throat.

Somehow, from here rather than the view from his bedroom, the snow doesn't look so bad.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 9/∞

LUO BINGHE HAS CURLY HAIR

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

Luo Binghe's hair texture in the novel is not described as either curly or straight. There is only one place where his hair texture is referenced at all:

Shen Qingqiu forced his eyes open and looked down, only to find a small head with a curtain of soft black hair. (7 Seas, Ch. 28)

The idea that Luo Binghe canonically has curly hair was likely cemented within western fanon because of the EN TL official art depicting his hair as curly. However, the depiction of Luo Binghe with curly hair as a headcanon originates before the Seven Seas novels were released.

There are multiple editions where the cover art depicts a wavy-haired Luo Binghe, including Burmese, Korean, Thai (though this one is only very slightly wavy, if it isn't just an atmospheric detail), revamped Taiwanese, and of course the English version, which is by far the most curly.

However, all of these releases occured in 2020/2021, which is after the depiction of Luo Binghe with curly hair was already popularized in fandom.

The most likely original source for this headcanon is the fact that Luo Binghe is commonly compared to a sheep or lamb:

Such a selfless and considerate attitude! For a moment, Shen Qingqiu could almost imagine that he was a cute and harmless little sheep grazing on the grass and playfully nudging Shen Qingqiu’s knees, bleating, “baa baa.” (CNoveluv, Ch. 33) With that considerate display of selflessness, for a moment Shen Qingqiu could almost believe that the individual before his eyes was still that bleating, grass-loving little lamb who had huddled behind his knees. (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

This is just one of many such comparisons made throughout the novel-- though the comparison is always made to describe Luo Binghe's personality rather than his appearance, it could certainly draw an association with curly/fluffy hair, and influence the way he is portrayed in fanart.

For example, this post by @/zeldacw from 2018 (a year after the first major EN fantranslation projects began) directly states that this comparison is the origin of that particular artist's headcanon and depiction. By that point in time, the depiction was not yet as sweepingly popular as it became later on, though there had been a few other depictions of curly-haired Luo Binghe by that point in time.

However, by 2019, a comment on the BCnovels translation was made which states: "Many of the fanarts of Luo Binghe that I have seen pictured him with soft curly hair. I’m quite fond of the idea actually, it gives him the innocent child-like image"

By this point in time, the depiction of Luo Binghe with curly hair has taken off enough to become common, but it is not yet assumed to be canon. It's reasonable to assume, though, that the cover artists followed off of this same trend in fandom.

Now that the official cover art of the books depicts Luo Binghe with curly hair, despite his hair texture never being directly stated in canon, the official art is taken to be a canonical depiction especially by new fans joining the fandom through these official editions, and by fanartists continuing to keep up with the trend of drawing Luo Binghe's hair as curly.

However, common fandom depictions give his hair an even curlier, fluffier, or coilier texture than the cover art does.

This has no basis in the novel's text.

One additional statement that is commonly tossed around as a source is that Luo Binghe's hair is described as fluffy. This is an incorrect statement-- nowhere in the novel, whether the official translation or fantranslations, is Luo Binghe's hair described as being "fluffy."

(many thanks to @verycharismaticdragon , @loxare , @mochhio , @nottherailtracer , @iwhateveryou , @danmeiireader for positing potential sources, and @furbygoblinxiv and @cum-villain for timeline sleuthing!)

I've heard it said plenty of times that all Chinese people have naturally straight black hair. This is not true (I say as a wavy-haired Chinese person who gets tired of the erasure sometimes). It's not common, but it's not as rare as people think-- but wavy or curly Chinese hair behaves differently from other ethnicities'. It's relatively coarse and stiff, has a tendency to be frizzy, and (at least in my own experience) almost impossible for there to be any kind of uniformity to the curl, and takes a lot of work to style well-- many Asian people with curly hair will just straighten theirs instead.

One could argue that because Luo Binghe's hair texture is never described as curly or wavy, then there is no reason to think that it would deviate from the typical straight hair. In my opinion, this is significantly likely. Without the EN art, I would certainly not imagine Luo Binghe to have curly hair, and would assume it was straight.

There are also Chinese beauty standards to keep in mind, which overwhelmingly favor straight hair.

Of course, because it is never directly stated whether he has or doesn't have wavy or curly hair, it cannot be said that it is against canon. Furthermore, his appearance has a bit of an idol-like air to it, and some idols do have wavy or curly hair.

Therefore, it is not impossible that Luo Binghe has curly or wavy hair. However, since it would be likely that an uncommon hair texture would be described directly if it were intended to be canon, and Shen Qingqiu's narration would almost certainly have mentioned it with his tendency to gush over LBH's appearance, it is not particularly likely.

There's not really anything wrong with depicting Luo Binghe as curly-haired, and it doesn't even directly conflict with canon-- however, if he does have curly hair, he would have curly Asian hair (albeit, curly Asian hair that miraculously looks as though he had used a complicated hair routine but really he just woke up that way because he is the Protagonist™)-- so if someone isn't familiar with the hair type, it wouldn't hurt to do a little bit of research before drawing/writing about it.

However fans choose to portray it, though, it should not be assumed that Luo Binghe's hair is canonically curly.

[reverssentiment]

What are the salient features of Asriel, post-canon, that keep us from "saving" him from life alone in the Underground?

He's soulless (a practical problem),

he'll soon return to being a flower (a practical problem) and would prefer that you think of him like this rather than Flowey (a personal and interpersonal problem), and

he's decided to stay and tend the grave of the fallen child (and this is not really a problem at all; rather, a decision, which the boundary conditions of Undertale require us to respect).

There is a lot of UT post-canon fic out there which treats all these as practical problems. Frisk can just get a soul from somewhere, throw Alphys technobabble or soul arcanobabble at the body issue; get Flowey in therapy; and... also get Flowey in therapy for that last one, because his decision isn't really legitimate, in save-the-goat stories. It's self-harm. Which, personally, is both understandable and missing the point of one of the game's core themes: no matter how many times you restart the story, there are things you can't do; you are not getting a 100% Complete Perfect Pacifist where even Asriel is saved, and it's okay to be wistful about it, but you still need to put down the controller eventually. Getting him to the surface happens a lot in fic, because we all want the goldenest ending, but it could never happen in canon and we just have to live with it. It's thematically potent and I'd lose a lot of respect for Undertale's commitment to its story if you could circumvent it.

(Incidentally, this feels to me like it stems from the same ideas as making "* I have places to be" the wrong answer, a giving-in to Frisk's self-sacrificing, self-disregarding nature which must be corrected. Sometimes, you have to let people live and make their own decisions, outside the boundaries of the story's frame. Your perspective only goes so far.)

...now, fluffier, more sympathetically-traumatized Asriel, on the other hand...!

Ralsei's woes in Deltarune are very visibly the same kind of isolation as what Asriel's dealing with at the end of Undertale, but a) it's worse (a whole lifetime of waiting in a very deliberately empty, lifeless, three-screen-long kingdom) and b) he's stuck there for purely practical reasons. Darkners can't enter the Light World without becoming objects. He never made a decision to be here.

It's not something we can technobabble our way out of right now, but we're only in Chapter 2, right? We can save him, in a way we can't save Asriel: the deadlock we can't resolve has been removed; we don't really have to think about his preferences any more, because the preferences that kept us from helping him and left him stuck in the Underground I mean Dark World are just gone.

His issues are also much more obvious from the get-go, and seem designed to be something we talk him out of – not Asriel's decision to stay by his lost friend's grave, with a weight of meaning and feeling behind it, but hero worship, subservience, religious dedication to the Prophecy and self-image issues, all clear and visible dysfunctions. Giving Asriel therapy has left the realm of fanfiction and wish fulfillment and become part of canon... and the real disagreements we had with UT!Asriel over what he was and meant and deserved have become simple roadblocks for DR!Asriel whoops I mean Ralsei, things we have to help him through. Practical problems where the solution is friendship speech + therapy.

To make a slightly heavy-handed comparison, Ralsei saying we exist to serve Lightners and gratefully referring to himself as Kris's lackey is Anthy saying I'm the Rose Bride because I like it. It's the kind of reason we're inclined to reflexively overrule without working to deal with it at its root. Ralsei is Asriel, minus the irreconcilable and bittersweet parts, someone whose objections to being helped have either been removed or simplified down until we can feel good about disabusing him of them. He's our wish fulfillment in the way that candy on trees might be Susie's and a city of shining lights might be Noelle's and Giant Arcade Consoles might be Berdly's: an Asriel you can help, who you can make go to therapy and deal with the problems that keep him from caring for himself; who'll shut up, comply and let himself be saved.

...so the fact that Kris – whose personal issues are opaque, complex, and frustrating; who appears to be actively hiding parts of their life and motives from us; who clearly doesn't want our help or an improved social life at the expense of their agency – finds him so distasteful might not just be because he's a parody of their brother or Secretly Evil or whatever. If Ralsei is "the kid they're supposed to be" it's not just his fluff and horns!

[ask--eggman]

You remind me of Wario. I think it's just the mustache and nose that reminds me-

I've noticed the similarities. We're both fat, both have big pink noses, both strong - though I'm definitely stronger, we're both bikers, and most interestingly we've even both used our... flatulence, as a form of attack.

Which I absolutely didn't copy him with, by the way. Pure coincidence. I just had to let it rip during a race after eating lunch a little too close before and my gut started acting up, realized it was very effectively stunning to those around me, then started using it to my advantage.

And sure, the mustaches are similar too I guess. But mine looks way bigger, fluffier and better, it can't be matched! Plus, I'm much taller and much more handsome, if we're doing full body comparisons.

Alas, despite anything we might have in common, the times we interacted didn't go so well. Probably partly due to the fact that I tricked him, but... He should just get over it!

[rosetyler42]

With all this talk of Drericka and Jake/Rose comparisons getting me into simething of a ADJL kick, I thought it'd be fun to draw these two sparring together. Ended up going in a different direction than expected. It was just going to be banter about Ericka being the more experienced one/giving her advice, But it ended up going in a mich fluffier + funnier direction. Which fits even BETTER with these two, anyway. (And allowed for fun "bait and switch" joke and Addams-esque bits.)

Still a fun way to bounce these two characters off each other, playing with how this interaction would go. The bouncy older huntress who chose to leave her situation for love and family and the child who felt trapped in her situation until Jake made his wish that freed her from it.

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @serial-serializednovelreader @deathfangirl9 @wingingfromthezing @kittyball23 @heartsong1994

[clownblr]

I wrote a Whole Response to this ask and then I was like oh I wanna browse clown tumblr a bit so I went to save it as a draft and TUMBLR made it come up RED and deleted my whoole thing. So the ask box and the drafts on the blog get eaten up into tumblr’s bottomless gullet. Save me, friends :0( [sad honking noises]

BUT!! Thank you so so much for the ask anon, I got so excited!! :03

You all know parties, pierrot, and scares, but HERE are some clown breeds for YOU that you might not have known about!! (Maybe some of my personal favs hehe)

Porcelains are a favorite of mine- maybe because I care for one myself!!! I’ve seen a lot of pictures of them on my dash, but no one really talking about the breed itself. I think it’s pretty important to do so since they’re not a beginner breed, mostly due to their fragility. They’re very prone to cracking :,0( They evolved from clayface clowns, and their porcelain skin was believe to have been evolved to protect them, like a bird’s egg would- so it’s very good at evenly distributing force, but certain things can cause it to crack.

They enjoy the finer things in life- frills and shiny objects, pastries and sweets- Pinkee has been particularly fond of tea parties recently…. <3 They’re usually very small and dainty little things!! They’re also commonly mixed with other clown breeds such as parties or Pierrot!! Pinkee says hello!!

Rodeos are a breed of clown that I don’t think gets enough love, especially because they’re so so interesting!! Not many people care for them in the home- which I understand, since it’s a bit difficult to reproduce their natural environment. They’re used to warmth, having originated from the desert, and you know.., bull fights are a little difficult to just whip out in your backyard. They’re a very daring, energetic, and charming breed though! Some of my favs <3

Acrobats!!! Ough!! /pos!! They’re definitely not a breed I see on tumblr a lot, in comparison to their working human counterparts for which they were named. Different varieties/subspecies have popped up all over the globe, which I think is really cool!! They tend to parallel the humans performing the tricks they love :)) which I think is really sweet.. <3 They require a looooot of space, which is why they’re not as common domestically- they need room and equipment to swing and leap around. Their unique behaviors are what make them some of my favorites!!

Jesters have been making a comeback, as evident from my little friend Pinkee. They’re a living underdog story, really! They originate from the court jester, which was a breed that was believed to have gone extinct by the 21st century, due to the loss of their habitat and the way they evolved into different modern breeds of clown. But following the discovery of an isolated colony, clown husbandry enthusiasts worldwide have been working to spread this newer, more modern form of this breed that is more reminiscent of the court jester!! Court jesters themselves are very interesting to me, I always have some hope they’re not actually extinct,,

Teddies are, well- very similar to teddy bears, and come in a lot of different aesthetic varieties!! Usually very frilly and fluffy <33 They’re very good with kids and are overall just an extremely pleasant breed and wonderful for families! Very low maintenance as well- though they still need love and attention just like any other clown!!! They’re super common- sometimes you’ll see a teddy and you might not even know it’s a living clown, which has spooked me at the shelter,,,,,,,,Many Times,,,,,,,, I love them dearly though, they’re such cute little things! They love pastries and fluffier foods like cotton candy!

And those are some of my favs/breeds I think deserve more love!!!!! I can write up some more if you need, I was just very excited to write abt these guys!!!

Sending love! Please update us on that master post if you can!

-Mod Grace :0)

[double-0h-no]

With Blackbirds following

I... was very preoccupied with finally finishing my weekly report and thus forgot to post today's (technically yesterday's) fic (I didn't go to bed yet so it doesn't count, right?)

My prompt fill for the last Whump prompt, "paralysis", and @thestalwartheart 's prompt, "birdwatching".

Mac, I'm sure you envisioned something entirely different (and fluffier) for this, but the plot bunnies ran away with me and… this happened. I really hope you do like it at least a bit, though.

on ao3

If birds were omens, Q sure hadn't figured out their meaning yet.

"Did you know that American robins look vastly different from our European ones? It's because their robins are thrushes, and ours belong to the vague genus of song birds."

: : : : : : : : : :

It happened in January.

A cold, miserable month that was mostly wet. Q had been at home, taking some much needed time to clean the litter box. It was Riley who called him, and later he'd wonder whether she'd been called for help, or whether she'd merely volunteered to call him.

There wasn't much he could do, he mused as he was sitting on the kitchen floor, totally numb and staring into the void. It would take another day until Bond was in London, if the medical staff in Beirut would clear him for transport, and that seemed to be a big if.

He had only been called once before because Bond had suffered an injury. Once in four years that Q had signed off on being Bond's next of kin, et cetera. Once. Now twice.

: : : : : : : : : :

Robins had always been his favourite kind of birds. They were small and round and had pretty colours, and you could even find them in the city, other than bullfinches. And he’d always preferred Robin over Batman.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first call of this sort had been on a sunny Saturday morning, and Q had been asleep in his way too empty bed. Relief had flooded him like a tidal wave, because James had been MIA for days by then and they were all rather sure he'd been captured. Q had only been home because he'd needed sleep. That 009 would seize this exact opportunity to free James was just the world showing Q how little of a fuck it gave.

That call had been the sweetest thing.

The aftermath had been bad. Once the initial relief had ebbed, the worry had taken over, but they'd made it, both of them, it was all good. That first call had been to tell him that James was safe, above all else. That he was seriously injured and would need extra care for some time seemed like the fine print, in comparison.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q loved owls, too. It was a bit cliché, which was part of the reason he never led with owls, but they did fascinate him; their nigh silent hunt, their mobility, their night vision, and yes, in a way their beauty. How they came in so many shapes and sizes and colours. It wasn't the best-founded fascination.

: : : : : : : : : :

While back then, the overwhelming relief of James being found had overpowered Q's worry, right now worry was all there was. He'd never been called in because of how seriously James was injured. He'd simply come to expect it whenever James got home. He so rarely made it out scot-free.

The first time in four years.

He couldn't feel his face, and the tips of his fingers had gone numb, too. Daphne seemed to sense that something was off and climbed into his lap, precariously balanced on his thigh, and started making biscuits.

Four years.

He swallowed harshly. He didn't know why that number was so important. And if it were ten years, it would always be one day too short.

He only hoped that it would all be fine.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first time it came up, they met on the roof of MI6. It was a rare occurrence - ever since Q-branch had moved to the old tunnels, it was quite a-ways to get back to the rooftop, and so Q only found himself up there after particularly bad meetings.

Bond had been more surprised to see him than the other way around.

"Wouldn't have picked you as one for such vile vices," he commented while lighting his own cigarette.

Q snorted. "Just goes to show how much you know."

He'd cocked an eyebrow. "Really, Q? What else could you be tempted with?"

It was a testament to how horrible his day had been so far that he answered at all: "Oh, sex, drugs, rock'n'roll. The usual."

He could feel James' eyes on him while he stared over the Thames in the vague direction of the Tate and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, I could certainly provide two of those. Unfortunately, I'm not musically gifted."

Q didn't bother to suppress the smile at the shameless flirting. It was nice, in a way. Comfortable. "My self-respect might allow me an occasional cigarette, but I'm afraid that's where it draws the line."

Even from the corner of his eye he could see Bond's grim expression transform into a smile.

A loud bang came from the construction site below and a flock of birds took flight.

"Bloody pigeons," Bond cursed, hiding badly that the sound, not unlike a gunshot at all, had startled him.

"Crows, actually," Q mused, watching the black mass fly over the water. "Carrion crows if my eyes don't deceive me, and my eyesight truly isn't the best. A murder of crows, if you believe in such antiquated terms."

"You've made your dismissal of those terms abundantly clear."

"What? Oh, no, I'm rather fond of them, no matter how bloody and archaic. A murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens, a parliament of owls... It's so very English," he added with derision, and the smile was back on Bond's face.

"Careful with that, Quartermaster, or I might feel inclined to give you a shove."

Q snorted. "Ah, yes, apologies, the SIS building might be the wrong place to express my less than patriotic tendencies. Whatever could I do next? Take the Lord's name in vain?" He didn't roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.

When he looked over at Bond, he almost choked on the smoke filling his lungs. It was such an unguarded expression Q wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Sure, he did see the hints of a smile every once in a while, or the carefully guarded admiration he sometimes showed Q's creation, but this smirk was all that cranked up to eleven.

It was quite charming, actually.

The crows cawed on the nearby bridge.

: : : : : : : : : :

It was worse than Q had thought. Better, too, in a way, but Q didn't much care for the brighter angle. It didn't help anyone to say that technically, very little was broken. Only one bone, plus a shrapnel wound. That didn't sound too bad. It was also completely disregarding the fact that the one bone and the shrapnel had unfortunately been in his spinal region.

: : : : : : : : : :

A mission in Brazil, some weeks after the crows, probably, but certainly before the local bird conversation:

"I feel out of place. Or at least underdressed, and that's not something that happens often," 007 lamented via comms.

Q furrowed his brows in confusion. Then: "You won't get me to ask what you are wearing, but shouldn't you be alone?"

Bond huffed a laugh. "Wasn't my intention, quartermaster, and I'd rather be alone with you, but alas, a bunch of birds has decided to settle down close to me, and they're causing a huge ruckus. At least I'm sure I can't be heard."

"And that the noise suppression of your mic truly has improved," Q hummed in agreement. "What birds are they?"

"Don't know, haven't asked," Bond muttered.

"Describe them to me?" At least it was a distraction from the flirting.

"Pink birds with funny beaks." 

"Ah." He wasn't quite fast enough to swallow down a sound of recognition.

"You know what they are?"

Q shrugged, unbeknownst to Bond. "I have an educated guess, considering where you are and the pointed description you gave me, I'd say roseate spoonbills. I understand why you're feeling underdressed. Their plumage can be quite impressive. They, too, like flamingos, get their pink colouration from the food they ingest."

"I will not start eating small crabs to meet their style," Bond joked, and Q had to bite his lip to not laugh.

"Yes, well, I'll leave that decision up to you. Back to my initial question: Is there anything else you require?"

: : : : : : : : : :

The nerves weren't completely severed. Which, apparently, was neither a good nor a bad thing, it just was. Even though the general opinion was that neural injuries did very little healing on their own, that didn't mean they did none, so it wasn't yet possible to be able to gauge the full extent of James' injuries.

: : : : : : : : : :

Sometimes Q sat down next to Velma, when she was staring out the window into the backyard. She had her special little place from which she watched the birds in the bushes, and Q thought it to be important to show interest in her hobbies.

"Meow."

"Really, a magpie? Haven't seen one of those in a while now, have we?"

"Meow."

"You're right, must be because it's autumn now."

"Chrrrp."

: : : : : : : : : :

He didn't talk. For weeks on end, he didn't talk to Q at all. He hadn't been faring well in Medical, but he had for maybe the first time in his life listened to the staff and done what he'd been told, including the resting bit, and Q thought it would be a relief for him to return home.

It wasn't.

James stopped talking after that. The wheelchair remained standing next to his bedside, untouched, and Q resorted to being his caretaker, and with every passing day he could see James resent him a bit more. 

: : : : : : : : : :

Only two months after... Well. After they… couldn’t deny their attachment anymore, and unanimously so, might be the most apt description. But after was enough, too. Only two months after, James brought him up to Skyfall. Q hadn't known where they were going when James had told him to get in the car, but watching their route on the satnav, he felt himself transported back all those years to his very first mission with James, planting bread crumbs along this very trail for a man who wasn't more than a note in a file anymore.

Once he'd figured it out, he just relaxed back into his seat and let James drive. His driving wasn't horrible when he made an effort.

He was surprised how little there was left. Somehow, he'd assumed that a large manor like Skyfall wouldn't be able to just burn down like that.

"Do you know how to hunt?", James asked, and Q tutted.

"I don't know what it was that gave you the impression, but I am one hundred percent a city child. It's a wonder I've seen a forest from among the trees, really."

James had shot him one of his half-smiled, the kind that was oddly appreciative of both his self-derision and grandeur in equal parts.

Then he tossed Q a hunting rifle. Q caught it more out of reflex than conscious decision, but then he examined it with greater interest and admiration. He could easily make out that it was older and well-cared for, and it had a small, circular metal plate with the initials AB.

"Your father's?"

James nodded.

"It's a beautiful thing. Not as well-adjusted as your Walther, of course, but I doubt you'd take that out into the woods with you."

Again the half-smile. "I don't know. Let's find out."

To say that they went hunting would be an exaggeration of circumstances. Mostly they went hiking, and Q couldn't help but marvel at the landscape around them. It truly was beautiful, and he found that he didn't mind the light drizzle half as much as he did in London.

At one point, they heard the oddest of sounds, a deep clucking, a bit like the call of a stag, followed by skittering sounds, and Q put his hand on Bond's elbow to halt.

"That sounds like a capercaillie."

James cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know? Thought you didn't get out of the city?"

Q shrugged. "I didn't. But their call is sort of unique, don't you think?"

They both listened into the silence, until that odd call sounded again, and James nodded slowly. "You might be right on both accounts. This sounds like a capercaillie. And it really is a hard sound to forget."

Along their trek, they saw many more birds, far more than Q ever saw in London, but he bit his tongue about it and instead tried to figure out the puzzle that was James.

: : : : : : : : : :

The big crash came, like Q had always feared it would. He'd never been more afraid for James' life. And it went exactly like expected: A truly dangerous amount of alcohol and tears. And the very pointed absence of an ultimatum.

Q had thought about it hard and long - whether it would maybe get a reaction from James if he threatened to leave. Because he couldn't do this eternally. It was ruining him, chipping away like an untalented sculptor with hammer and chisel, always taking just a bit more than they'd intended, and he felt himself wasting away in time with Bond, always keeping pace.

He would do it anyway. Unless James finally started communicating with him, he would not wither in his care of the man he loved.

And either James dealt with it, or he bloody well did something about it.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q had an odd fascination with vultures. They truly weren't the prettiest among them all, but they were huge, with majestic wingspans that only truly managed to impress him when he was an adult, though really, they should have intimidated him when he was a boy who could have been easily scooped up by them.

For all their bad reputation, they were invaluable to the food chain.

Also, bearded vultures could swallow and digest bones so well it was considered the main part of their diet, and who wouldn't be floored by that?

: : : : : : : : : :

James cooperated more after that, but he still didn't talk.

He allowed Q to take care of him, with all the indignities involved, and he followed the instructions of his physical therapist, with whom Q could only assume he talked because Geoffrey didn't complain anymore.

: : : : : : : : : :

"You'll once again use your cover as Richard Starling. I always found it oddly fitting, you know? Seeing as starlings are renowned for their ability to mimic other bird calls and blend into their surroundings."

: : : : : : : : : :

One day, Q came home from work and James was sitting in his wheelchair at the window, looking out with Velma, watching birds fly by.

: : : : : : : : : :

On the few occasions Q dragged himself out to the cemetery, he always brought some bird seeds.

"He really liked them, you know?", he told James, the first and only time he asked him to come along.

James hadn't asked any questions. Had not asked whether it was a security risk that he visited these graves. Had not asked who they were, or what had happened. It was all obvious enough.

His parents and younger brother were long since dead. And he should never be here. But he couldn't help the visit on Juno's birthday. He never brought flowers, only left the bird seeds.

"I like to think he enjoys having them all come to him."

Even though for the most part, there were only blackbirds.

: : : : : : : : : :

"All right, get dressed, we're heading out."

Because if they didn't, Q had the distinct feeling that he might go stir crazy.

James complied with the same resignation that he'd brought to the table for weeks now, and it really just made the restless unease in Q’s chest curl up to transform into a ball of rage. James bloody Bond was a lot of things, but not compliant.

Q borrowed a car from his branch and drove out of London, out into the woods to the very end of a forestry road where he stopped the pickup and settled in on its cargo bed, with James as his begrudging companion.

Though it had been a spontaneous decision, Q had come prepared. He'd brought several blankets for when it inevitably got cold, various thermoses with tea and mulled wine and coffee, enough food to get them through at least twelve hours, not that he intended to stay so long, and all the medical equipment that he'd gotten used to carrying around for James' sake.

It was, admittedly, a wretched time to watch birds or literally anything out in the wild except for falling foliage. It was late autumn, the trees had barely any leaves left, and a lot of the birds had migrated south.

Yet Q relished the peaceful quiet of the woods, and the stars that appeared far earlier than expected. When James shuddered next to him, he turned to him in concern.

"You cold?"

James shook his head. "No."

It took Q all his strength to nod and settle back in, even though his heart was in his throat.

Some five minutes later, a familiar bird called. "That's a barn owl somewhere close by," Q said absent-mindedly.

The next day, James did his physical exercises on his own, with renewed determination.

: : : : : : : : : :

They drove out to the woods every weekend after that.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q's great-aunt, an admirable lady of a woman, had had a grey parrot as a pet, and Q had delighted over it. It was the cleverest little thing he'd ever seen, and he could play with him and teach him tricks and never grow tired of it.

His great-aunt had also had a deep love for detective dramas on the television, which meant that the only sentences the parrot spoke were straight out of Agatha Christie's feather.

“Show me your hands!”

“Murder!”

“It wasn’t me. No no. It wasn’t me.”

Q still wasn't sure which delighted him more.

: : : : : : : : : :

A year after the accident, Q drove them all the way up to Scotland, though far away from Skyfall, all the way up north to Thurso where they took the ferry to Stromness. From there, still further up, until he found a nice parking spot near Birsay. While Q carried their backpack, James took his crutches and they walked towards the edge off the cliff and settled down in the grass, a spot with a great view that was more or less sheltered from the wind.

"Did you know that puffins are pretty bad fliers? You can't much see it during flight, but they need to flap their wings a lot to stay airborne, and their landings tend to be atrocious in terms of posture."

James snorted. "Take a long walk off a short cliff and we'll see how you fare."

Q rolled his eyes and got the thermos with his tea from the backpack.

To say that the winter had brought miracles would be a step too far, but things were looking cautiously optimistic. James had regained enough mobility to move on his crutches - the right leg was totally numb but in the left leg, he could at least move his joints, though with far less precision than before. His limp was obvious and his gait drew attention, but he could move around upright again, not totally immobile, which was more than either of them had dared hope for. 

"But they can dive up to sixty metres deep into the sea."

James hummed and wrangled the backpack into his lap to search for the second thermos with his coffee. "How long can they hold their breath?"

"Longer than you," Q said deadpan, and a devious glint appeared in James' eyes.

"You weren't complaining last night."

He wanted to complain, but he couldn't. Especially when they drove out like this, just to be outside together and marvel at some birds, Q could still hardly believe he got to have this again.

"They also chatter a lot while on shore, but at sea, they're mostly silent. And usually, they mate for life."

[wheezysoblivion]

Dating phw hcs~ nsfw/sfw

He’s a very unhinged lover

Percy often brings up ideas for you two to engage in when bored

Such as: dumpster diving, making voodoo dolls of one another, sex

Meeting Percy was a whole other story

You met while at a gas station, when you literally bumped into each others heads when grabbing the same energy drink

Percy = smitten

The relationship was taken quite slow at first, but once you guys were going out you never stopped

He is easily the more affection out of the two of you

Always needing you to be in his general vicinity, or just knowing that you’re in his apartment makes him all giddy n’ shit

It has been talked about that he fake fucks you when you bend over

But I have a twist, it turns into real sex cause he begins to grind on you which in return makes you wet and him hard

Also has been talked about, but licking you and biting you 😩

Not always in a sexual manner, but it can be that way, just licking you as a silly goofy way to have your dna on his tongue 🤷‍♀️

Dance parties are the most favored thing you guys do in your free time

Often tipsy, but that just makes it more fun

Hip shaking, tripping over feet, half-assed tricks

It can be romantic though

Slow dancing to strange songs the both of you have taken a liking to (ie: twilight- boa, exit music for a flim- radiohead, etc)

Takes the most random photos, like this one:

And this one:

Makes it more romantic IMO

Before you started dating, he invited you to hang out with his not-so-small friend group, and they INSTANTLY loved you

Move it Percy, you're their new bestie

I distinctly remember seeing him and Natalie in this one scene from the gifted when they locked hands, and I IMMEDIATELY took notice on how large his hands actually were

Which got me thinking... choking? Yes. Face holding? Absolutely. Hand comparison to make you blush? Damn right.

He knows you're obsessed with his hands, and he'll never let you live it down

When intimate, he tends to be more of a person who wants to take care of you more than you taking care of him

He's more turned on seeing the way your face looks when he's giving you pleasure, or teasing you, rather than receiving his own pleasure

Now, if you propose you blow him, he won't exactly turn it down, but he prefers giving way more than receiving, but me personally I’d be sucking his dick quite a bit (everyday)

Loves your ass, can't explain it. But if you are on the curvy side, or plus sized, you bet he's diving in there atleast twice a day.

When having sex, he prefers doggystyle, cowgirl, and spread eagle. Don't ask though

Back to the fluffier stuff

His parents love you, it's just being in your presence makes them appreciate the happiness you've brought their son

Won't hesitate to ridicule your ass if you hurt his beautiful soul, same with your parents if he plays with your feelings

You two were inseparable before dating, imagine how it is now that you’re together

You don’t even use the bathroom without each other, unless if you’re shitting

Leaves the biggest hickies, like fat circular ones right on your neck

Everyone knows that he fucks you

The hickies you give him are small, but much more frequent

Like tiny little bites and bruises around his nipple

Your most favorite spot to leave hickies is on the nape of his neck

Barely visible, they almost look like small bug bites

But they were made from raw love ❤️

If you have a more plump face like I do, then you bet he’s always licking, and kissing your cheek

It’s a force of habit, your cheeks are just so soft, and Percy just loved feeling his lips meet your smooth skin

He’s the mort to your king Julian, and vice-versa

Back to nsfw

Legit best at everything, ESPECIALLY fingering

The way he twists and curls his long digits inside you makes you cry out in pleasure, becoming so intense it leads you to sob

When he takes your panties and shoves them in your mouth as a way to keep you quiet cause everyone is sleeping

The amount of vigor in his tongue when he licks your clit could get to the center of a tootsie pop in two seconds

He relishes in the contorted look on your face when you cum, biting down harshly on your saliva dampened underwear, small salty tears running down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of your orgasm

Percy then begins to check up on you like a million times, “are you okay?” “Do you need anything, are you sure?”

Along with the numerous ‘I love you’s shared between cheek kisses

This relationship = what I want

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How do you think a genderbent Savanaclaw would be like? Cuz, personally, I dont think Ruggie and Jack's respective personality and backstory would be changed but given Sunset Savannah's more gender equal society, it begs the question on how Leona wouldve been treated if he were a girl. Would he still have been feared and looked down upon? Would he have been more respected? Would there be different expectations on Leona?

***JUST A QUICK THING:*** I go off on a tangent about some feminist and egalitarian points in this post; I wasn't sure if I should tag them as content warnings or not (since I don't think those topics are too contentious?), but I wanted to at least slap this little message on here for those who may prefer to not read too deeply into that.

In the case of sexual dimorphism in wolves, male ones are larger and more aggressive (some sources I looked at also said males’ fur is fluffier). For hyenas, it is the females who larger and more aggressive than the males. As for lions, the males are larger and stronger (+ they have manes), but it is usually the lionesses that do most of the hunting. (Note that in Twisted Wonderland, lionesses are said to be stronger than lions.)

If those traits were to be carried over to fem!Jack and Ruggie, well 🤔 it’d probably have an impact in how they present themselves and in some behaviors, although I don’t think to such an extent that they come off as totally different characters. I don’t get the sense that these changes in personality and/or minor physical traits would alter their backstories in any significant way either 🤷‍♀️ This is honestly true of most genderbent characters; unless there’s some inherent part of their past, identity, or other lore tied to the concept of their gender, then it doesn’t largely impact the story, their background, or their character. (For example, Epel struggles with having his views of traditional masculinity and femininity challenged by Vil; Epel also has insecurities associated with how naturally feminine he looks despite wanting to be seen as “manly”. How would these issues be perceived and addressed differently if it were fem!Epel wanting to be masculine, given that society more readily accepts a girl wanting to be a tomboy over a guy that presents as feminine?)

I don’t know if I’d call the Afterglow Savanna necessarily more “gender equal” just based on the one bit of lore about how most warriors (especially the high-ranking ones) are women. I guess it’s more “gender equal” if we compared it to some societies in the real world, but different societies differ in their values; there is no set monolith for comparison.

Another thing to think about is that we don’t actually have a lot of information about what it's like to be a woman in that the Afterglow Savanna. We know that women are respected, but I don't know if that's really an indicator of anything since ‘respecting’ is a vague term. It doesn’t automatically mean that women are put on pedestals or that they are treated the same as men. (Consider that we don't know about how women are perceived in other placed in Twisted Wonderland to use as a means for comparison. To say the Afterglow Savanna is "more" gender equal means there is something else that sets the baseline and is being compared to; in this case, we don't have that baseline.) On top of that, we only know a little about a single specific sector (military/the royal guard), which probably makes up only a fraction of the total women in the Afterglow Savanna; we don’t know if women are actually given equal opportunities on a larger scale or how that compares to those of men. (Like… what about women in STEM, art, etc??) It’s premature to suggest their entire society seems more gender equal based on just one area of specialty. Something else I have to wonder is this: if the women of the Afterglow Savanna are mostly expected to be "strong" warrior types, is that truly "equal" if it's basically no different than shoehorning them into any other position in life (for example, stay-at home spouses, or expecting men to also be a certain way)? There tends to be this belief that if women are in a traditionally male dominated role (ie warriors/soldiers), then that's empowerment. That's true to some extent, but that pigeonholes female empowerment into one "type" and leads to looking down on others that don't fit that mold (ie traditionally feminine women). In truth, true female empowerment is when women are free to choose to do whatever they want without repercussions or judgment, whether that means being traditionally feminine, traditionally masculine, or anything inbetween. I can kind of see why you’d come to the conclusion that you did, but 💦 I hesitate to agree with the phrasing. There isn’t a lot of evidence for the Afterglow Savanna being more egalitarian than other societies in the TWST world (or in the real world, for that matter).

fbjswbksksow Okay, back to the topic at hand! While Leona doesn’t have a large struggle that ties in with his gender, there is lore surrounding gender which may have had an impact on his (er, her?) childhood. In Leona’s post-OB flashback, we see a bunch of servants gossiping about Leona’s incredible power and being terrified of him because of it. Because females typically make up the warriors for the Afterglow Savanna and are admired for their strength, it’s possible that fem!Leona wouldn’t have received the same harsh criticisms that OG!Leona did?? As a woman, her powers would be admired as being a trait befitting a powerful and noble warrior. This, however, creates a dilemma and a contradiction for the main story—“How is fem!Leona supposed to be angsty and OB if they don’t get the same kind of childhood trauma as male Leona did?”

First of all, I’m going to avoid the “high expectations are put on Leona to take over the Lion Guard, so she gets stressed out” route because it doesn’t carry the same energy as the original. It gives way too much “hope” for the future when the OG idea is that Leona has none and keeps being beaten down no matter how hard he tries. Here are some alternate proposals for fixes (though, admittedly, none of them are perfect and they’re just ideas I came up with off the top of my head):

Make the servants dislike and fear Leona anyway regardless of gender. chajwjksksdo This is the laziest option in terms of rewrites (and ignores parts of canon lore), but I figured I’d slap it on here anyway 🤡

Make the situation progressive. Maybe everyone praised Leona at first, but then they grew to be fearful of her as she grew up (and her powers along with her). This option lacks the childhood trauma being concentrated in the past and is more of a slow burn. The issue with this one is that I don’t know if Leona’s bitterness would be as intense if the servants were so slow in the development of their apprehension.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Reprieve~ Part 1/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 18 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE ���

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of past character death, mentions of miscarriage

Summary: Grief for her child, her father, her crown. There was no use drawing comparisons- you were certain all of it cut her just as deeply.

A/N: I’m back. It’s my birthday, and I’m giving myself the gift of easing some of the guilt I’ve felt by keeping you on hold with this story for a while😅  in all seriousness, i hope you enjoy. if you have stuck with this story so far, I appreciate the hell outta you. this one’s a bit angsty, but part 2 will include some fluffier moments with the kids, and part 3 will have an awkward dinner between both families. i hope you enjoy🖤

PS, the poll hath spoken, and part 2 should be posted Thurs 3/30, and part 3 should be up Sat 4/1.

Never before had you written so much at any one time.

Your hands ached, practically begging for relief. For how important you believed it was for these letters to be sent out by raven at once- as they were, for you had requested someone stop by every half hour past to collect the letters you had already completed- the task of actually penning the words to paper was not nearly as forgiving as you had hoped it to be.

One of the only comforts you were able to take was that you were in good company.

At the very thought, you looked up from your current letter, which was addressed to Lord Alan Tarly, and over towards your companion, who was seated at the same table, in the chair across from you. As though he had felt your soft gaze, Harwin ceased his own writing immediately, and his hazel eyes snapped up to meet yours. The smile he gave you was a tired one, but genuine. You wondered if his hands pained him as much as yours did.

In a shameless bit of self-indulgence, you allowed more pleasant thoughts to drift into your weary mind. Alone in the quiet chambers Rhaenyra had prepared for the two of you some time ago, it was almost too easy to imagine that you at Harwin were back at home, in your shared study at Highgarden, enjoying a calm evening unwinding after a delicious supper.

It was almost too easy to forget that you were far removed from the Reach, and in Dragonstone, blindly making your way through the aftermath of King Viserys’s death. For the briefest of moments, you allowed yourself to pretend as though you were not waiting with bated breath, passing the time idly until it was decided, by forces beyond your control, whether the Seven Kingdoms would be put to the torch as two Targaryens fought for the vacated seat their father’s passing had left behind.

You brought your focus back to your letter.

To Lord Alan Tarly,

By now, it is likely that the grave news of the passing of King Viserys has reached Horn Hill…

You had lost track of how many of the letters had started in the same manner. But there were only so many ways your sentiments could be expressed, and time was of the essence.

After your arrival in Dragonstone, and once Queen Rhaenyra had had the opportunity to apprise you of the current standing, you and Harwin had mutually agreed that it would be best to write letters to your closest kin and peers immediately. Primarily, the letters that you and your husband had spent the better part of a few hours writing were addressed to the various lords and ladies across the Reach and Riverlands. Throughout the process, you hoped to thoroughly examine those you both knew who might also be sympathetic to the queen’s cause.

First, Harwin had written to his steward, Lord Dannis Chambers, at Harrenhal. He warned him of the grave reality of the impending war, and urged him to prepare the castle and Harrentown accordingly. After this had been achieved, Harwin wasted no time recounting all the atrocious crimes he now believed his brother, Larys, had committed, and advised Lord Dannis that if Larys made any attempt to contact him, he was to be notified at once. Lord Dannis was also instructed to detain Larys on sight, should the Master of Whisperers be so bold enough as to attempt to gain entry into Harrenhal.

But Larys’s treachery had gone undetected for years- you did not believe him anywhere near daft enough to try such an outlandish thing. You had voiced as much to Harwin, hoping it would reassure him, but Harwin was of the mind not to leave any matters pertaining to the kinslayer up to chance.

Next, Harwin had written to his sisters- and by extension, their husbands. The letters proved particularly challenging for him, but completely necessary. Lilyan and Eyla deserved to know the truth of what happened to their father, even if it meant tainting the image they may have had for their other brother. In his letters, Harwin kept the recount of the discovery to a minimum, not wishing to distress his sisters any further than his words were already likely to. He made promises to explain in further detail the next time they met.

Like he had Lord Dannis, Harwin urged Lilyan and Eyla to compel their husbands, Lord Cerran Leygood and Lord Joseth Smallwood, to begin making their own preparations. Neither you or Harwin anticipated Lord Cerran or Lord Joseth to deflect and support the Usurper. Not only had both Lilyan and Eyla served alongside you as ladies in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra, but Lord Cerran, as one of your liege lords, had also pledged fealty to you as Lady Paramount of the Reach. And Lord Joseth was one of the most honorable men you had known; he would uphold the pledge his father had made to King Viserys, and bow to Queen Rhaenyra as his one true successor.

After those had been written, Harwin had written to his extended kin- the houses his mother and father had descended from- and to a few other neighboring houses in the Riverlands whom he believed could be swayed, if they were not already, to support Queen Rhaenyra.

Most regrettably, the Reach was another matter. 

As their liege lady, all the ruling lords and ladies of the land had pledged fealty to you after King Viserys had proclaimed you as the heir to Highgarden and the Lady of House Tyrell. In turn, as you had pledged fealty to uphold Rhaenyra as the true heir to the Iron Throne and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, it was expected that all the other houses in the Reach would fall in line, and join you in offering her their support. However, as demonstrated by House Hightower’s heinous deflection and usurpation of the throne, such was not to be the case, and even words vowed by the oldest and noblest of houses could not be taken at face value.

You deemed your first letter, which was addressed to your uncle and steward, Lord Elwood Meadows, to be of the utmost importance. In your letter, you were insistent that preparations be made with the utmost haste. Highgarden stood between Oldtown and King’s Landing, and if army reinforcements were to be called to the capitol from the Hightowers’s stronghold, the army would most likely march through Highgarden’s lands. Until the lords and lady of the Reach declared for Queen Rhaenyra or the Usurper, it was wiser to assume that Highgarden was surrounded by potential enemies, and to prepare the men and supplies with that belief in mind.

You had written to the Reach nobles who you felt confident would support the Queen if war was to come after that. There were at least a few lords and ladies who had never given you cause to doubt their allegiance.

But you had not bothered to send correspondence to Oldtown, or to the Arbor. Your cousin, Lord Garrett Redwyne, had coveted Highgarden and the Tyrell family titles since you had inherited them. As a direct result, your relationship with one another had been severely strained for many years. Though you had no ill will for his mother, your aunt Elayne, placing blind faith on your cousin to uphold his oath and pledge the Redwyne fleet to Queen Rhaenyra would be incredibly foolish. Besides, he was married to Cerelle Lannister now- and whatever gold you might have been able to offer and persuade him, the Lannisters could offer him twice as much, if not more.

By the time Elinda, a particularly favored handmaiden for many years, arrived and informed you that Queen Rhaenyra wished to speak with you, you had just finished the last of your letters, and Harwin his. It was perfect timing, and a perfect distraction from the dull tingling in your hands.

“I shall come with you,” Harwin offered without hesitation, rising to his feet as he reached across the table to gather the last of the small parchment scrolls.

You followed his lead, but both of you paused once Elinda spoke up. “My apologies, My Lord. But Her Grace has requested to speak with Lady Y/N… only Lady Y/N.”

The girl sounded hesitant, and perhaps looked a bit apprehensive, too. But there was no need. In response to her words, a look of understanding washed over Harwin’s face, and he gave you a knowing look.

You believed that he had also caught a glimpse of what you suspected to be a funeral pyre outside the entrance of the castle. Judging by the soft remorse in his eyes, you now knew it to be true. Harwin had more than likely drawn his own conclusions as to the nature of what Princess Rhaenyra wished to speak with you about, and could understand why his presence was not desired.

“Of course,” Harwin relented graciously, nodding to Elinda. Turning to you, he proposed, “Perhaps I shall find our sons, and ensure they have not begun to create any trouble for themselves.”

Whilst your traveling party had begun to settle into their own lodgings, the remainder of the group arrived from the docks, as Prince Jacaerys had arranged. Brynna was tending to Luciya, but your sons had opted to find ways to occupy their own time- most likely they sought to become reacquainted with the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys.

However Derrik and Selwin had chosen to spend their time the last few hours, you did not believe them likely to cause any legitimate trouble. This was in light of the fact that you were all guests, and only welcomed in Dragonstone by the Queen’s will. But there were dragons all around, and tensions were high. Misunderstandings could turn dire in the blink of an eye.

“I will find them,” Harwin reiterated, glancing down at the last of small scrolls upon the table, “right after I give these over to Maester Gerardys to be sent out.”

“That would probably be for the best,” you agreed, albeit a little reluctantly.

But before you could step away from the table to follow Elinda, Harwin stopped you. Mindful of the fact that the two of you had company, he settled for lightly grasping your hand and bestowing a kiss on top of it.

“I will meet with you later,” he promised.

Your husband’s voice was light and reassuring; it was comforting, even. You would hold on to that as you braced yourself for what was likely to be a particularly daunting conversation with the queen.

You nodded to him with a small smile, fighting off a heat that threatened to rise to your cheeks despite your best efforts.

As you were escorted to Queen Rhaenyra’s chambers, you wrung your burning hands together, hoping the gesture would help restore some of the feeling. Before leaving your chambers, you thought you had scrubbed away most of the ink that had stained your hands during your writing efforts. But as you passed underneath flickering torches that lined the tone hallways of the Stone Drum, you caught brief glimpses of a few black splotches that you had apparently missed.

Fortunately, you severely doubted your liege would pay them much mind.

When you arrived outside of the queen’s chambers, you saw that two members of the now Queensguard were keeping post by the door.

The first was Ser Lorent Marbrand. Though he had been elevated to the Kingsguard during King Viserys’s reign some number of years ago, the fair haired knight from the Westerlands had always been a common face among Rhaneyra’s household guard. It was reassuring to see that he had elected to continue to serve King Viserys’s rightful heir.

The second was Ser Steffon Darklyn. The uncle of Lord Gunthor Darklyn bore a much sterner expression than his counterpart. Though Ser Steffon’s face was wrinkled with age, the sheer resolve etched into his features suggested that whatever laid ahead, he did not fear it. His tried and true experience he had gained during his service to King Viserys would undoubtedly be a crucial asset for the queen now.

You nodded to both men in silent greeting as the handmaiden Elinda, who had been escorting you, lightly tapped her knuckles on the closed door. A moment later, you heard a muffled voice bid you to enter from within.

Elinda opened the door slowly, and you followed her into the room cautiously. After stepping a few more steps through a short corridor, you were temporarily blinded by the sun streaming into the open room.

Elinda was not phased. “Lady Y/N, as you requested, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Elinda. That will be all.”

Elinda bowed her head and retreated, closing the door softly behind her as she went.

You squinted and allowed yourself a moment for your eyes to adjust. When your vision became clear once more, you spotted the familiar figure of Queen Rhaenyra across the room. Dressed in the same black gown she had donned that morning, she stood beside a table on the far side of the room, positioned right before the open balcony. In the comfortable silence, you heard the soft lull of waves and the squawking of the seagulls in the distance.

“Come, Y/N. Sit with me.”

Queen Rhaenyra took a seat, and you did not hesitate to heed her order. You crossed the room in a few short strides before swiftly claiming the seat across the small table from where she had settled. The table was bare, save a pitcher of wine and a pair of goblets.

As you made yourself comfortable on the chair, your longtime companion placed another object on the table.

“This is for you and your husband.”

You glanced at the folded piece of parchment as the queen slid it smooth across the table towards you. It was sealed in green wax, with an emblem you had seen no more than a handful of times. But once you recognized it, your interest was piqued immediately.

“What is it?”

“Otto Hightower deemed me deserving of a personal visit yesterday,” Queen Rhaenyra said, avoiding answering your posed question directly, though you suspected her tale would lead to the information you sought regardless. “He hand delivered terms of peace, written by the Dowager Queen on behalf of my half-brother, to all my bannermen who have already gathered here. I did not dare to correct his assumption that you and Lord Harwin had already arrived in Dragonstone, for I feared doing so would put you in further undue danger.”

Admittingly, the thought had not crossed your mind. You had suspected Larys to be the sole perpetrator behind the attack on your traveling party following the departure from King’s Landing. But you had not given pause to consider what Otto Hightower, Queen Alicent, the Usurper, or any other Green for that matter would stand to gain had you failed to reach Dragonstone. Death was one matter, but the thought of you, Harwin, and your children being captured and forced to do as the Usurper bid was another altogether, and one that made you want to shudder. You would have, had Queen Rhaenyra not been watching your every move with keen eyes.

She inched the parchment even closer to you. The seal, barring the emblem of the Hightower in Oldtown, and surrounded by a single crown, was Queen Alicent’s personal sigil. What the dowager queen thought to offer you was beyond your imagination, but it did entice curiosity. You and Harwin had been among Rhaenyra’s most fervent supporters for many years, and you knew Alicent not to be so foolish as to presume either of your loyalties could be bought for some mere gold.

Finally appeasing the queen’s silent request, you took the letter into your own two hands. “You said Otto Hightower brought terms of peace… Is that to say you were offered terms as well?”

“I was.”

“And do you mean to accept them?”

The look that flashed across Queen Rhaenyra’s face was a conflicted one, but she masked it rather quickly. “It matters little whether or not I wish to settle this peacefully. We both know that I cannot. The Usurper has made a mockery of my father’s declaration, and his selfish greed has threatened to plunge the entire realm into a war amongst itself. I have already begun to receive pledges of support, and though I hope I will receive more yet, accepting anything less than my own ascension to the Iron Throne will be a grave insult to all who have already sworn themselves to my cause. Even if I could reconcile myself with all of this, I am not the only one who shall suffer if I accept the dowager queen’s proposals. My children will never, ever be safe. And if you believe my husband will willingly bend the knee to my witless half-brother, you must understand him even poorer than I.”

Her last statement was an odd one, but it was not peculiar enough to comment upon at that moment. You could not picture the Rogue Prince bending to Aegon, not even in your wildest imagination. Every point Queen Rhaenyra had made was completely valid, which was why her next words to you took you by utmost surprise.

“You must take great care to consider whatever Dowager Queen Alicent has offered you and Harwin, Y/N.”

“... You do not mean that we should-”

“All I ask is that you discuss it with Harwin, and that the two of you are absolutely certain of your decision. Whatever you choose will not be able to be undone.”

“Harwin and I have been writing to those who we believe may be drawn to support you all morning,” you informed her, hoping it would persuade her to cease the fruitless conversation.

“I have seen the intermittent ravens being sent out over the past few hours, and I suspected as much.”

By this point, confusion was nowhere near adequate enough to describe what you were feeling. “And you would still have us consider betraying you and throwing our support behind the Usurper instead?”

“I would have you choose whatever you believe is best for your family,” the queen corrected, her tone becoming icy as she fought to make her intentions clear. “I consider you a friend, as I also do your husband. Swearing oaths, even to a king, when you are young and without much to lose is one thing. But we both have more to lose now than ever before. Wealth will come and go. Castles can be destroyed and rebuilt. But the children… The children could never be replaced. And you know as well as I do that not even the gods choose to spare them in times of war.”

She was not talking about Jacaerys, Lucerys, or Joffrey. Not even Aegon or Viserys. As nearly unfathomable as it was, in the silence that followed the queen’s words, you took a few moments to truly contemplate her suggestion.

You pocketed the parchment at once, taking care not to fold it any further than what was necessary. “I will discuss it with Harwin later.”

Queen Rhaenyra looked placated by your response. “That is all I ask. Take the day to decide. In two days time, the Greens will expect to receive an answer from me in response to their proposed terms. It would be best to have your family’s answer by then as well.”

“We shall have it to you even sooner than that,” you promised, knowing that whatever decision you reached with Harwin, you were likely going to be of the same mind.

“Very well. I plan to reconvene my council first thing tomorrow morning. Should you and Harwin decide to join us, I will accept that as your answer.”

“You do not mean to meet with your council today?”

“I have decided to give myself a bit of reprieve,” she answered carefully, reaching across the table to grab the pitcher of wine. Pouring wine into one of the goblets for herself, she continued, “I had hoped the Sea Snake would reach our shores by now, so that I may have an idea of what naval support to expect.”

“The Sea Snake lives?” That was news to you, but it was news most welcome.

“Yes, he does. While I am hopeful that Lord Coryls will eventually offer me his support, I cannot bring myself to rely on it. I must continue to plan how best to proceed with the assumption that only those who have already pledged their support are able to be called upon.”

Of course, Rhaenyra would not turn away any additional allies who would pledge themselves to her. And you believed her caution with Lord Corlys was most wise. However, despite the fact that Lord Coryls had been insistent that Lucerys was next in succession of the Driftmark throne throughout the many years since Ser Laenor’s passing, you had begun to accrue a personal understanding of how drastically a brush with the Stranger could change someone. Perhaps the Sea Snake would change his mind… and perhaps he would feel even more compelled to do so with an appealing offer from the Usurper.

You surmised then, “I suppose you would not wish to hear the details of whom Harwin and I have written to?”

“While I appreciate the efforts you have taken, that will not be necessary right now. You may give me the information on the morrow- should you and Harwin join the council meeting, that is. Perhaps you will have even received a few answers by then. But no- that is not why I have summoned you here. Nor was passing along my half-brother’s offer of peace for your family the sole reason, either.”

“I am a guest, and I am at your bidding- what is on your mind?”

“Should you allow it, I wish to speak with you, friend to friend.”

“Of course, My Queen.”

“Please, Y/N. We are alone.”

It was not the first time Rhaenyra had insisted on dropping formalities, but complying with her requests never seemed to get any easier. This was made additionally difficult by the fact that she was no longer a princess, but queen. Whether it be the manners and proprietary that had been instilled in you from a young age, or simply from the sheer amount of respect you held for her, it was foreign to your tongue to address her so informally. But you found a way.

“You are always welcome to speak freely with me, Rhaenyra.”

You watched in silence as she placed the pitcher back onto the table and wasted no time in raising the goblet to her lips.

“Would you care for some?” she asked after a moment, tilting the goblet in your direction. “The hour is still early, but as Maester Gerardys has informed me that my only other alternative for the pain is milk of the poppy, I consider this to be a necessary indulgence.”

Only a short while ago, the then Princess Rhaenyra had confided to you of King Viserys’s poor state of health, which she believed had been exacerbated by Queen Alicent’s maesters administration of milk of the poppy. In light of this, it was not hard to imagine the new queen would not consent to such a treatment for herself.

For a moment, all that could be heard within the chambers were the waves and seagulls from outside. As Queen Rhaenyra took another sip of wine, you watched your former lady carefully, contemplating what, if anything, you should say.

In the end, you decided to follow her lead, doing away with frivolity and speaking plainly as to what was in your heart.

“I am sorry, Rhaenyra.”

She looked at you then, truly looked at you. It was done in such a commanding way that forbade you from looking elsewhere, even if you had wished to. Initially, you thought she might become cross with your lack of formality- despite her earlier plea. But there was no anger in her eyes, only grief. Grief that, judging by the unshed tears in her eyes, was still painfully fresh.

Grief for her child, her father, her crown. There was no use drawing comparisons- you were certain all of it cut her just as deeply. You shared in her grief, and as uncomfortable as it was for you, it was undoubtedly worse for her.

“I’ve lost my daughter,” Queen Rhaenyra elaborated then, finally looking away. She idly traced the rim of her goblet slowly with her forefinger. “My Visenya.”

She had never confided to you what she had intended to name her daughter, had her hopes been correct. But you would have expected Rhaenyra to grant her child no less of a grand name for her much-desired daughter.

Unsure of what else to say, you praised, “A fine name for a princess, My Queen.”

“It was.”

Though you had your suspicions, you gently coaxed, “What happened?”

Rhaenyra continued to trace the goblet’s rim. Her focus was upon that now, as she recalled the painful tale. A grounding practice, you supposed.

“Princess Rhaenys had flown from King’s Landing. How many days had passed since my father died, we do not know, for Princess Rhaenys was kept a prisoner in her own chambers, whilst my father’s grieving widow and her own spiteful father conspired to crown my half-brother. She witnessed the crowning, Rhaenys. She says the common folk cheered for Aegon, as though he was the one, true king- until she burst through the floor of the Dragonpit with Meleys.”

You tried to imagine the scene that Queen Rhaneyra described. After only a moment, you decided you would have much preferred to have borne witness to Princess Rhaenys’s disruption of the Usurper's coronation than what you had endured on the road to Duskendale. Did Aegon tremble in fear whilst staring into the teeth of Meleys? Did Criston Cole make himself useful in any way, and attempt to protect his new king, or did he too think the end was near and cower? Did Dowager Queen Alicent show any remorse for the doom she had inflicted upon herself and her children, or had she been willing to accept her fate with forlorn resolve?

“She could have burned them all. But she did not. She flew here instead, and told me everything that transpired. When she did, well… I suppose the news was too much. Too shocking. In the end, my own body betrayed me.”

She quickly took a few more sips of wine, as though doing so would erase the memory. For a while, you supposed it could. For her sake, you hoped it would.

Feeling emboldened by the crass conversation, you took the moment of silence to fill your own goblet. Following suit, you knocked the cup back and drank until your throat burned, silently crying for air.

When you lowered your goblet once more, you were surprised to find the Queen’s attention had reverted back to you, giving you an- even more surprisingly- amused smirk.

“It is a relief to see someone so willing to share in my sorrows, rather than to merely suggest ways in which I may overcome them.”

“Most men already presume women to be easily controlled by their emotions. While we know that to be false, perhaps we ought to indulge their assumptions every now and then- lest we lose our advantage of surprise.”

Queen Rhaenyra let out a dry chuckle. “Perhaps.” Then, just as quickly as it had come, the joy fleeted from her. “My Visenya,” she sighed again, before taking another sip. When she set the goblet back down on the table once more, it was with great force. “She was my only daughter, and they killed her. They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.”

“They will.”

“I suppose now we only need to wait to see if they will accept their sentence willingly, or if it will need to be impressed upon them.”

There was a distinction to be made. You took Queen Rhaenyra’s word as law- if she said she intended to punish those who unjustly usurped her throne, you believed her full-heartedly. But the lack of conviction in her additional statement led you to believe that war itself was not her sole desire. Should war come, it would have only been the means by which she used to secure her ends.

“But enough talk of all that,” she dismissed then, obviously eager to move on to another topic. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about. You left King’s Landing the same day as my family, and yet, you had not reached Duksendale when Lord Darklyn set sail for Dragonstone. He told me that before he left, Harwin had taken to the road to find you for himself. Once I heard of this, I deposed some of my loyal scouts on the mainland, in the hope that they could be of assistance to locate you and your party. Although, it seems that by the time they had begun to search, you were nowhere to be found.”

You said nothing, both unwilling and unable to comment just yet. The mere mention of what transpired during your travels still unsettled you greatly. The ambush, the moments you spent in pure fear for your life, the awful act you’d been forced to commit in your own self-defense… It was too soon. You had yet to come to true terms with it yourself. How could you reasonably expect Rhaenyra to understand?

“What happened, Y/N?” she pried, noticeably more gentle. “I have spoken freely with you- I do hope you know that you are extended that same courtesy. Especially amongst the two of us.”

She had sensed your hesitation.

Although you did not wish to speak of it, you could not bring yourself to lie to the queen either… Omitting certain parts of the tale would, at the very least, make it easier to recount.

“The escort was waylaid by brigands, My Queen. We lost two of our men, and had my husband and reinforcements not located us in time, I fear even more lives would have been lost.” My own among them.

It was clearly not what she had anticipated you to say, and as a result, Rhaenyra looked troubled by this. She gripped the goblet in her hand tightly. “Brigands?” she echoed. “This was a random attack? I do not care for that at all. Roads in the Crownlands are supposed to be very well patrolled.”

You hesitated, torn between deceiving Rhaenyra and confessing information that was not entirely yours to share. In the end, you reasoned that if she planned to take King’s Landing by force, she ought to know about all the snakes that dwelled within it. Gods forbid a certain Master of Whisperers find himself a quick tongue and talk himself out of being punished for sympathizing with the Usurper. Harwin would not let Larys get away with the more personal crimes he had committed against him and the Strong family, and if the queen was knowledgeable of them as well, any attempts to slither away that Larys might make would be futile.

“It has since come to light that the fire at Harrenhal was intentional, Your Grace.”

Confusion flickered over Rhaenyra’s otherwise calm disposition, not that you could blame her. “Harrenhal? What does that have to do with your traveling party being attacked on the road?”

“The death of Lord Lyonel was no accident at all. Someone meant to have him killed, and they meant to claim the lives of Harwin, our sons, and myself along with him. The fire was a plot, meant to look as an accident, just as our attack on the road was coordinated, and designed to appear as entirely coincidental. The orchestrator of both schemes is one in the same.” 

“But… How? How do you know all of this? And who is it that you stake these very grave accusations against?”

“The only man who stood to gain from the death of the Lord of Harrenhal, and all his other heirs.”

A/N: Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you guys have had and continue to have a wonderful week🖤

[andro-dino]

could you elaborate on Essi and Juno's characters and how they are paradoxical? I'm curious, I'm taking any Essi crumbs I can get :D

OKAY SO LIKE BASICALLY I was thinking about some of their more internal struggles and things that they deal with and it’s so like, self contradictory to everything else about them and their personalities and I just find it so fascinating.

With essi, all around her personality is very much in line with a lot of protagonist type characters: she’s very energetic and outgoing, super hardworking and determined, and has her moments of silliness but also being very very cool. The interesting thing is that while she is for the most part pretty confident and self assured, she’s also in a lot of ways insecure. She gets very easily nervous and intimidated by other people, even if she tries her best to hide that and interacts with them despite her nerves, and sure, when she does warm up to people, she’s able to be her outgoing self very quickly, but that initial nervousness as well as the fact that she herself often doesn’t really know just how charming and likable she can be is kinda the cue that there is something more underneath the surface. More than that, when you look at her as a blader, I imagine there’s also some struggle there, because the thing about it is that Essi is a very strong and hard working blader, but she’s still not as strong as some others, and that is a source for some turmoil. Especially when she’s best friends with someone like gingka, it lends itself to a lot of comparison that maybe might not be the best for herself. The other thing about that is that she’s also very isolated in a lot of her struggles, despite the fact that she does have a lot of friends and people supporting her, because she doesn’t wanna be a burden to anyone. A big part of Essi’s character is the she likes to feel useful and helpful and she does a lot to support others, but she really doesn’t extend that to herself a lot and tries to tough out a lot of things she deals with on her own, not even feeling like her problems are really that bad/worth the concern. She’s so contradictory because of all of those contrasting features— she’s confident but she’s also insecure, she’s got lots of great friends but she’s also lonely, even just the fact that she is both strong and weak. Essi is a lot of different things but I love that about her and I feel like it works really well for her.

Juno, among my main four, I feel like is arguably the one who generally goes thru the least turmoil as a whole. She’s got herself pretty figured out. Since I kinda tend to depict her mostly in sillier/fluffier situations, I don’t really talk about some of the deeper parts of their personality a lot, but it’s kinda an important thing when I think about them plot-wise. As with most of my ocs, I don’t really have a concrete storyline for him so much as I do a general arc and progression of his character. The way I kinda imagine it, a lot of his early role would be kinda similar to the way takanosuke interacts with the main gang, in the sense that he’s not an antagonist and actually does tend to get along with the characters most of the time, but their appearances are sporadic and they don’t really tend to hang around a lot. It lends itself to them feeling more cryptic and mysterious, which is kinda the vibe I was aiming for there. A main idea with them though is that their first battle with any of the main characters which does eventually become a longstanding rivalry is with Kite, and I know I talk abt this a lot in a digivalen sense, but beyond that, it’s also what’s initially revealing about their character and that there’s more to her than what initially meets the eye. The idea with it is that juno talks a big talk about getting to know people more deeply through beybattles and revealing more about her rivals and their personalities through the act of communication via bey battle, and for most people, this ends up being a fairly enjoyable experience, but when kite battles her, he realizes one crucially important thing: Juno’s holding back. Kite ends up winning that battle, but it’s not a win he’s satisfied with because he knows Juno wasn’t giving it his actual best effort, and when he calls her out on this, Juno doesn’t let anything slip, still just as cryptic as ever, but does acknowledge him. I actually wrote a short drabble about this a while ago because the idea is so important to Juno’s character.

This kind of thing continues with her for a while, and the thing about it is that while yes, being a blader but not battling people all out is generally risky and weird behavior, but when Juno holds back, it’s not just that they’re not giving it their all, but also that they don’t extend their own philosophy to themself. Juno’s main passion and motivation generally is to understand other people better, to get them to open up and help them understand themselves better as well, and while she is very in tune with her emotions and tends to be a very friendly and empathetic character, he notably doesn’t tend to open up much to others himself. There’s a level of emotional distance that makes them feel unknowable to a lot of people, but that kinda starts breaking down once Kite (and eventually others) start acknowledging that and confronting that. For a while, Juno is content to just getting to know others without opening up herself in the same way, but that becomes very shaky once he’s called out on it, and part of what I think their character arc within the story would be would involve him doing more for himself, which also includes going all out in beybattles more often, not being content to just sit by but actually be a part of it himself. Juno’s real power as a blader isn’t really known for a while because they don’t fully apply themself, but the fact that he can hold his own for so long against strong opponents even without giving it his all is a testament to the fact that she is much stronger than she lets on. She’s so weird and cryptic and hypocritical, I love her sm.

[katharinepar]

well, now I will have to ask your opinion 👀

Lol! Okay, I’ll fold. I already talked about this a bit on my Instagram, but beware the 500 year old spoilers ahead! (Also, I’m writing this from my phone as I am still in the hospital so bear with me in terms of typos!)

Here is what I did like: the soundtrack was tolerable (modern, but not terrible); Anne and Henry’s respective actors had palpable chemistry as performers; the filming locations are all visually sumptuous; it’s flush with well-known historians with keen insight into the Tudor court. Tracy Borman, one of the ‘talking heads historians’ and a leading voice in BS&R, is also the author behind Private Lives of the Tudors, a book I continuously go back to in my own research (it isn’t infallible - but it is incredibly detail-oriented and I hold Borman in some esteem for that). I am also one of those people who happens to enjoy dual perspective docuseries - this one, in particular, is split between the actors in all their regalia and the grounding, guiding hands of the historians. The manner of filming was similar to The Boleyns on PBS, except more of an emphasis is placed on the actors in BS&R, and it is certainly a great deal fluffier.

Here’s where you’ll allow me to nitpick, though: there were a few hits within the costuming department, I’ll allow them that. Some of the bodices worked in reflecting the Tudors’ love of tapering, V-shaped waists, and square décolletages adorned with jewels. However, as the show progressed, the hits became fewer and far between - and from the very start, the headdresses were atrocious. There was nothing remotely Tudor about them.

And here is what I loathed:

The driving ideology behind BS&R - especially from Borman’s perspective - encompasses the idea that Anne was ‘not like other girls’ (taken verbatim), an ideology that is both lazy, obsolete and downright frustrating ESPECIALLY considering this program was meant to be from a ‘feminist’s’ point of view. I would pay good money to scrape that phrase from every historian’s lexicon, for the love of God. It is especially tasteless when done in unison with tearing down Catherine of Aragon, Jane Seymour, & Jane Boleyn. Ir seems the only appropriate analysis for a woman like Anne Boleyn is that of comparison to her female contemporaries, in which Anne is always depicted as a woman ahead of her time and her rivals and peers as unthinking, unblinking paperweights. The show also strangely chose to go down the route of depicting Anne as coming from literally nothing - “plucked from obscurity” - which is laughable?? The Boleyns were well-connected and Anne was privileged enough to enjoy an education abroad, so I’m genuinely baffled that the idea Anne was a mangy lil peasant was even mentioned? And oh, yes, didn’t you hear that Anne introduced the idea of charity to the monarchy? 🙄

With this in mind, I also had trouble believing that the powers that be behind BS&R have any concept of ‘feminism’ at all - at least, not the intersectional kind. Anne’s portrayal as a hyper-proto-feminist is a very far take from existent 16th century sources and the contexts of Early Modern England. Anne was not a feminist. We may view her actions as being triumphant through the lens of women’s history, but none of her behaviours suggested she was anything more than influenced by the lofty standards set by medieval queens - such as the distribution of charity, care for the poor, interest in the spread & heartiness of religion, etc. I could understand if the directors sought to paint Anne as an independent woman through her influence of Henry’s state affairs, but we know from primary sources that Henry did not welcome her input - he wanted a quintessential queen, giving birth and sustaining the Tudors image of strength and unity - in the way that he had formerly accepted Catherine’s (at least for a time, particularly in matters of international warfare.)

The prolific use of modern speech also becomes, at times, grating - at others, it makes Anne seem like an idiot. George Boleyn uttering the phrase ‘haters gonna hate’ caused my skin to crawl (despite this I liked the casting for both George and Jane - wish they had been given more of a spotlight). When the academics are using formal speech and the actors are using phrases like ‘bestie’ and ‘screw the Pope’ it’s like… are we designing these characters to seem relatable or just plain stupid?

I also found myself stretching my imagination in order to believe the actress who plays Anne is ‘actually’ Anne Boleyn. She plays Anne as a quirky Bridget Jones type instead of the cool, charismatic, and intriguing firebrand we have come to know. In that vein, I did enjoy certain glimpses of Anne’s more ‘charismatic’ and fun-loving side: these traits are almost always done away with in order to portray Anne as a slick femme fatale, but we know it was to boisterous, convivial courtiers that Henry was most attracted. Showing Anne laughing, having female relationships, and bantering with members of the court from high to low status is perhaps the most ‘revolutionary’ thing BS&R accomplished - it is, in my opinion, one of the better parts of the show.

But what I was really looking forward to in BS&R - considering we were promised a ‘feminist’s’ take on Tudor history - was a fleshy portrayal of Catherine of Aragon. I didn’t dare dream we would have this in Jane Seymour, and indeed, Jane only appears on the sidelines for a single scene. Anyway, I had hoped with names like Borman, Lipscomb, and Emmmerson attached, the show would have opted not to revive Catherine as the dark-haired shrew we were so close to burying. Alas, Catherine was only given two lines - all dripping with jealousy and hatred towards Anne and Henry - before she is erased from the narrative completely. She is only mentioned again when Anne sports flamboyant yellow tulle at her death. But let me tell you, Anne hammers in that neither Catherine nor Henry ever loved each other in every episode - which is just… not true.

If BS&R is what the producers had hoped to be a ‘gateway drug’ into Tudor history, they succeeded; I can understand why casual watchers may enjoy the story of two sex-obsessed, madly in love, desperate to break the mold royals. But for anyone looking for a nuanced, meaty, comprehensive view of Anne Boleyn and the Tudor court, Blood Sex and Royalty is a resounding disappointment. 🥲

[kotekling]

ok guys heres my sonic species headcanons cause I dont see enough of these sonic - four-toed hedgehog (atelerix albiventris) this is the species he was based off of and also one of the most common hedgehog species. it also has that pink underbelly that sonic has amy - north african hedgehog (atelerix algirus) these guys have wider but flatter faces, plus i like variety in their species knuckles - short beaked echidna (tachyglossus aculeatus) if i’m not mistaken this is his canon species but if not i’m saying it now. it’s always bothered me that knuckles doesn’t have a ‘beak’ like echidnas do. theyre also arguably way fluffier in comparison to hedgehogs. such silly guys shadow - south african hedgehog (atelerix frontalis) these guys have naturally darker pigments which would make sense for shadow, aside from that they look very similar to the four-toed hedgehog rouge - honduran white bat (ectophylla alba) I can only imagine this is the species rouge was based off of. arguably one of the cutest bat species. super super tiny and they also have sharp teeth for the purpose of cutting leaves to form tents. big - maine coon (domestic cat) if im not mistaken Big is based off a maine coon (long, pointed ears and distinct large size) big could be fluffier, though. draw big fluffy. i like fluffy big. espio - panther chameleon (furcifer pardalis) okay okay I know Jackson’s chameleon would make more sense BUT these guys are the species known for varying colors, not to mention have a single ‘horn’ instead of three. these guys are just so cool. vector - siamese crocodile (crocodylus siamensis) vector is most likely based off an american crocodile but i dont care. i love siamese crocodiles. they’re also pretty small compared to other crocodile species which reminds me of vector’s original design. chamy - cryptic bumblebee (bombus cryptarum) GRAHH I’m ashamed to admit as someone who really likes entomology that I haven’t studied much about bees. but charmy is definitely a bumblebee and cryptarum definitely seems like one of the closest matches. plus they’re also super fluffy. OK im sorry autism over.

[roobylavender]

what are your thoughts on the naruhina dynamic? I adore hinata, we don't often get characters like her

i LOOOOVE naruhina omfg they were my day ones when i first got into naruto.. i used to enjoy fluffier ships at the time so they perfectly fit my modus operandi lol. i think it's a shame how underwritten their relationship is in main canon (in the sense that they don't get as much page time) because the set up is so good and the few moments they do share with each other are incredibly potent. the pain arc was utterly life changing for me and while i loathe the way the anime generally tends to portray most of the female cast this was one occasion where its expansion on the manga was actually so well executed and remains seared in my mind to this day (please watch from 2:06 of this amv it makes me feel CRAZY). unfortunately the ball was totally dropped with neji's death and instead of adapting hinata's full THREE page monologue to naruto the anime reduced it down to one line that she's consistently been mocked for even though her intentions in the aftermath of that event were so sincere.. i'm always baffled by people's hatred of her because they seem to act like she's timid or quiet on purpose as if she wasn't abused by her father for half of her life. and then they act like she's stupid and can only think about her feelings for naruto at the expense of everything else. but if it was anyone out there on the battlefield watching someone they love get absolutely pulverized would they not do something about it too regardless of their own ability in comparison? i don't think that moment ever came down to logic and i don't think it even had to. comparatively when she made a remarkable display of composure and emotional strength in response to her cousin's death everyone laughed at her for subsequently accepting the smallest bit of comfort (and don't even get me started on how neji fans feel about her generally.. they direct more hatred to that poor girl than they do her father lmao it's insane). it's simply bizarre the expectations she's held to and the consistency with which she's underestimated because she's capable of a lot emotionally and the development is there! and a lot of people act like if naruto really loved her he would have reciprocated during the main narrative but i always argue it was unrealistic for any relationship between the teen characters to be actualized during the main narrative because they were literally at war.. i'm an avid hater of the last admittedly but that's because i think it squanders the potential the main narrative immediately set up with naruto and hinata theoretically bonding over their grief and desire to take action to ensure nothing like what they went through ever happened again. i've always dreamed of post-war naruto commencing his education in leadership and diplomacy under tsunade's tutelage and that occasionally entailing long days in the library reading over historical scrolls and the like that happen to sometimes be on the same shelf as a scroll on the history of cursed seals, which of course hinata begins to look into after the war because she wants this branch clan business over and done with for good and if there's a way to remove those seals forever she'll find it. the idea of the two of them on awkward library non-dates that eventually segue into something more and develop a rapport and friendship between them that can bloom into love is simply so special to me like urgh they make me Weepy. i truly love them so so much and most of my naruto fanfiction is actually about them lol i do think a lot of it is cringe and over the years i tried to rewrite some of it but if you're interested in reading all of it is here

[rubiatinctorum]

I’m crocheting a wool scarf (my biggest project!) for my sister and idk how she’s gonna feel about HOW scratchy it is. Do you have any advice on softening the wool a little?

I've never really tried to soften wool before! If you're looking for yarn for softer wool projects, something spun looser is going to be perhaps softer and fluffier than something spun more tightly, and something blended with merino wool or cashmere for example will be often softer than fully non-merino sheep wool. If you already have the yarn, and are beyond the choosing yarn stage, I'm not really sure what to do to it in additional processing, since I don't find scratchiness to be much of a concern so I've never sought out the information before. I usually find certain acrylics much more scratchy than wools, actually, which is part of the reason I've been avoiding acrylic yarns lately!

Maybe the way in which you crochet it might help? Some techniques may feel smoother than others once finished. I don't remember much about crochet technique names since I've been away from crochet for a few years, but the closest comparison I can suggest is like, how stockinette stitch in knitting while finished feels really smooth and flat, whereas garter stitch feels, to me, a lot more textureful and therefore makes any scratch from yarns more evident. So if there were a crochet style you've noticed or a certain set of motions that make it feel smoother at the end, maybe that might work?

I'm so sorry I can't be of more help with this! Best wishes for finding out how to soften the wool, and for crocheting the scarf!