#Beyond Canonical Extravaganza

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[itsscromp]

Hello everyone 👋🏻😄 my name is Jeff, or otherwise known as scromp. I see you have stumbled to my blog, Welcome. I am a writer dedicated to bringing exciting and thrilling call of duty stories. I am male and identify as aroace. Requests are open

I do have a few rules that I want to pass on when it comes to this blog.

1. Have fun 😄😄

2. I will write platonic stories, including some angst and original ideas too. I only write male and gender neutral y/n.

3. I will not write smut stories so please refrain from requesting them.

4. I will only write call of duty content, while yes I do have older work on this page, I will only write call of duty content. I’ll keep all my older stories here for everyone to enjoy.

5. While yes I will accept MWIII stories I will remain delulu then accept it as canon

Characters I write for: Simon ghost Riley, Johnny soap mactavish, captain John price, Kyle gaz Garrick, könig, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Gary roach Sanderson, Kate laswell, Alex Keller, Riley, Farah Karim and zombie ghost.

Characters I hope to write for: Phillip graves (but only as a villain) and Valeria Garza

Here you will find my master list for stories I have done 😄😄

Being best friends with Simon ghost Riley headcanons

Video games the 141 + König would play headcanons

Confidence (Simon ghost Riley)

Games night (Kyle gaz Garrick)

Furtastic friendship (Simon ghost Riley and Riley)

Dark times (task force 141)

Pec pop extravaganza (task force 141)

Comfort in need (Simon ghost Riley)

The almighty teacher (Simon ghost Riley headcanon)

Unexpected friendship (Alex Keller)

Home for Christmas (Alex Keller)

A close friend (Johnny soap mactavish)

More than just muscle (Simon ghost Riley)

New Year’s resolutions (Alex Keller)

If I lose you… (zombie ghost)

Seen and heard (Rodolfo Parra headcanon)

Home, a place where I can go (John price what if??)

I got you Kumpel (Buddy) (könig)

Sunshine (Johnny soap Mactavish)

You could use a hug (Simon ghost Riley headcanons)

Freedom fighter (Farah Karim headcanons)

Brothers in arms (task force 141)

Ink me up (Simon ghost Riley)

Drabble collection (Alex Keller and Rodolfo parra)

Being best friends with Logan walker headcanons

Your time will come (Farah Karim)

Teenagers scare the living s**t outta me (John price headcanons)

Happy birthday !!! (John soap mactavish)

Just the way you are (Kyle gaz Garrick headcanons)

What captain John price and Alex Keller are like around kids headcanons

Bond broken beyond repair (Alejandro Vargas/Valeria Garza)

5 stages of grief (Farah karim)

They were the best of us (Farah karim/task force 141)

Matchmaker (Kyle gaz Garrick)

5 months (Simon ghost Riley)

141’s favourite food headcanons

You’re such a tease (John soap mactavish PG-13)

Hola, señorita Bonita (Alejandro Vargas PG-13)

Loyalty to the cause (Farah karim headcanons)

My family (Kate laswell headcanons)

Beach day (141)

DJ ghost (Simon ghost Riley headcanons)

Movie time (John soap mactavish)

[sunjinjo]

The ascent was so swift it took his breath away.

He was floating. He was glowing. Lines of brilliant blue ran up his wrists, across his chest, under the fabric of his clothes. He looked down at himself, and his held breath abruptly left him in a huff of involuntary laughter – he was glorious. At last.

Find my writing here on AO3! Sunjinjo | Archive of Our Own

Currently writing for this series: ✨Mended with Gold✨ - both long and short Wanderer-centric Genshin stories, as canon-compliant as possible, featuring his healing and self-expression in Sumeru, with lots of Nahida, the Aranara, and other characters by his side.

These are chronological as events happened ingame, but can all be read as standalones!

🍃The wind guides, the forest remembers (39,510 words, 8 chapters) - right after gaining his Vision in Inversion of Genesis, Wanderer goes for his first flight, ends up somewhere he didn't intend, and gets adopted by the Aranara for a while. Much-needed forest therapy ensues, as well as an unplanned tutorial on his new powers.

🌷Dream Flower (2,452 words) - coming to terms with the name the Traveler gave him, and the one that wasn't given as well.

🍵Warm Care, Bitter Truth (3,432 words) - It's a cold night up in the Divine Tree. Luckily there are ways to warm back up, inside and out.

🌱It's Called Growth (1,786 words) - Nahida almost did something drastic when faced with the Dendro Dragon. Someone isn't taking it well.

🏅The Wishful Thinking of Idiots (56,724 words, 8 chapters) - The Akademiya Extravaganza, from Hat Guy's perspective. His (sharply opinionated) thoughts on the matter, what he was up to behind the scenes, and ways he interacted with the other contestants.

⚔On swords and those who wield them (10,902 words, 3 chapters) - Wanderer practices telling his true story through sword dance.

🌄Splendorous Skies (118,032 words, 17 chapters) - Khvarena of Good and Evil, with Wanderer in the Traveler's place by Sorush' side as her Yasnapati, standing against the Abyss.

📖Dark shapes flutter free (ongoing, chapter 1/?) - The Wanderer (re)starts a little journal of haiku.

🌠Vantage Point (1,821 words) - the Traveler (me) giving out a gift on my own birthday, Teyvat style. Also, wishing my way to C6 Wanderer. ❤

🎉The Return of the Sabzeruz Festival (12,641 words) - Happy birthday, Nahida. ❤ The Sumeran festival event we didn't get.

⛲A Cage of Your Own Making (84,189 words, 8 chapters) - ‘It is forbidden to release any flying objects during the first three days of each month.’ Nahida and the Wanderer visit... different parts of Fontaine.

🌊No adventures on the mountain (1,067 words) - I'm not salty about that giant empty mountain in Sumeru's north. But the ocean is.

🎂This sweetness isn’t so bad (5,631 words) - It's just another ordinary day for the Wanderer. Until people look up his birthday in the Akademiya records.

🐟Rainjade Ovation (ongoing, chapter 1/10) - After finishing his essay on Fontainian law, the Wanderer earns himself a little holiday, accompanying a certain star performer in search of inspiration in Chenyu Vale. A Hero's Journey ensues, because of course.

🐝Heirs of lightning, breakers of silence (3,077 words) - the Wanderer's first meetings with the leader of the Temple of Silence. Busy bees, flying lotuses. :P

🎭At the mercy of the mages (8,977 words, 2 chapters) - the Wanderer is summoned to the Imaginarium Theater. His disappointment is immeasurable and his day is ruined. Moreso in chapter 2.

🐉The Light Beyond the End (84,387 words, 7 chapters) - Summertide Scales and Tales, from Wanderer's perspective. Sometimes, becoming a Hero is about deciding to help just one person, even if the title feels like a mockery. <3

...and more to come because I'm far from done with this lad :D

Also, set before all the others:

🍀Sapienta Oromasdis (ongoing, chapter 2/6) - Nahida is freed from her cage, and experiences a few things for the first time.

Also also:

🍑Sunny Sky, an ongoing (GORGEOUS) comic drawn by the marvellous ✨Lumier✨ and supplied with written material by me, about her younger Scaramouche segment Kuni meeting my Kintsugi. Two rash puppet boys going on an adventure! :D

[m-oshun]

your amazing beautiful captivating gorgeous art made me think 'hm. maybe the incest ship of the incest show is actually interesting' so I went to look at the helaemond tag and it's 30% your art 40% the same 3 gifs of them looking at each other from afar over and over and 30% miscellaneous. help

Oh dear sweet anon, thanks for the love but this is not a ship of abundant content hahah. There is literally no canon interaction between them despite growing up under the same roof, with only a brief moment of one speaking of the other, yet the beauty is in the unspoken... tone and body language, a spark bringing forth creativity about a hidden design of what could be? What is, perhaps, a secretly tender but tragic doomed romance?? It is 99% delusion and 1% suspicious production choices, but it is a good time if you vibe with it and avoid ship wars/multi ship.

Aemond is one of the most popular characters but I think Lucemond is his biggest ship? Unless it is the femOC/self-inserts. For the show overall it is probably Daemyra that leads, which is canon and adored by locals. I am usually a nonshipper so I don't push the Helaemond agenda too hard beyond drawings, but the incest murder freak dragonkinning extravaganza show has no boundaries from the ships I have witnessed.

[lee-bella]

HP Winter Holiday & December Prompt Challenges

Updated on Nov 30: Added TTB presents the Twelve Days of Yule Bash.

I posted this on Potterfests on DW and LJ. Thought I'll share it here as well.

Here is a list of HP prompt challenges that are running in December and beyond. Some are themed around winter holidays and December; some aren't. Have fun!

TTB presents The Twelve Days of Yule Bash *ADDED* A HP canon-compliant prompt challenge for the winter holiday. Self-posting and reblogs will run from December 11 to December 22. Tumblr | AO3 | Rules & Prompts

Rare Pair Shorts Winter Prompt Extravaganza 2023 *ADDED* A HP rare pair prompt challenge for December, January and February, hosted by the Rare Pair Shorts community. Maximum word count is 2000 words. Posting to Dreamwidth is optional. For a list of banned ships, see here. Dreamwidth | Tumblr | AO3 | Info & December Prompts (also on Tumblr)

dracoharry100 Christmas Challenge 2023 *ADDED* A Draco/Harry Christmas prompt challenge hosted by dracoharry100 on Dreamwidth and Livejournal. No word count limit. It runs from December 1 to 31. Dreamwidth | LJ | Rules & Prompts (also on LJ)

Liquid Luck Roll the Dice Challenge Winter Edition A winter themed HP prompt challenge. To recieve your randomly generated prompts, send the mod a message on Tumblr. Request a prompt: November 15 - January 24 Self-post to AO3: December 1 - January 31 Tumblr | AO3 | Rules | How to get a prompt

HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 A HP fic prompt challenge celebrating the winter season. It runs from December 1 to 31. Tumblr | AO3 | Rules & Prompts

Marauders Christmas Fest A 12-day winter holiday fest focusing on Marauders era characters. The fanwork doesn't have to take place in the Marauders era. The challenge runs from December 20 to 31. Tumblr | Twitter | Website | AO3 & Rules | Prompts

25 Days fo Draco and Harry 2023 A Draco/Harry winter holiday challenge. Self-posting runs from December 1 to 25. Traditional format prompts, which will be a bit different from early bird prompts, will be released daily from December 1 to 25. Livejournal | Dreamwidth | Tumblr | AO3 | Rules (also on Tumblr)

Snolidays 2023 A Severus-centric holiday challenge hosted by snapecelebration on Tumblr. Any medium is welcome. The fest runs from December 1 - 31. Tumblr | Info & Prompts

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[vivacissimx]

elasticity and dark red coat for the WIP game please x

hi!

elasticity

okay so this was meant to be a modern greysnow au for theon month that i got sooo excited about that i started typing it straight into the ao3 post box. then i deleted it by accident. worlds smallest violin plays.

trying to reconstruct is hard for me hence why this is a wip but i have some excerpts to piece together. basically the setting is the night before robb's wedding during a nice sordid get together that robb is missing from / for offscreen reasons greysnow have agreed to hook up throughout the wedding prep to ease off stress, although there's like a million rules they've come up with in order to do so

the real crux is that this is the most "public" event they've both been part of since theon escaped ramsay who is basically who he was in canon i.e. tortured/mutilated/abused/onwards theon. theon is visibly affected with various prosthetics such as dentures, a reconstructed nose, robotic finger prosthetics, a chunk of skin missing from his arm for a skin graft, and scarring in places.

jon in this is also post-captivity because he went [equivalent of beyond the wall] with his grad school cohort to collect whatever specimens and they ended up being taken hostage by an environmental group. & jon became the sort of spokesperson for the group as the person who was forced (but also chosen) to interact with the authorities & communicate back and forth. the reporting on the incident made him super recognizable and he's got this ongoing paranoia from the time he spent there.

i kinda wanted to do a thing on greysnow having a second adolescence of sorts, because neither of them really sleep so much so in this fic they stay up this whole final night talking and living in their nervous bodies and having a two-man dance party and being fidgety jumbles together. i think there is a specific joy in meeting someone as an adult who you maybe didn't get on the best with but nonetheless grew up with, like an accounting or cataloguing you can do together except in this fic it's on steroids because there's this other trauma they can explore together. Welcome To The Worst Club Nobody Wants To Be A Part Of ! vibes.

okay here is a lil excerpt:

“You aren’t saying shit,” Jon laughs, pressing his ice cold feet against Theon to both introduce a nonthreatening touch and give himself leverage to pull off his shirt. For a moment Theon stops breathing. He relaxes so quickly that most people wouldn’t notice, but Jon always noticed anyway. Maybe it was unkind to do so but he had his own moments of inescapable grasping, didn't he? From youth he’d been the attentive sort, the type to take pleasure in small moments, but there’s a razor’s edge to it all now.

A slice of paranoia, of protectiveness. Pandora’s box never did close quite right.

Yet Jon had been noticing things about Theon for ages. Force of habit, as it was. And Theon… well, Jon doesn’t know what Theon notices, or even thinks of him. Used to assume he did. Isn’t sure he wants to venture beyond those blue eyes, to know what it is that turns them from cloudy to sharp at a moment’s notice.

dark red coat at the side of my throat

CATELYNCERSEI GHOST WEDDING NIGHT!! this was meant to be for ladies night but life, man. it's actually 2/3 done and i hope to bang it out in the coming month but we'll see.

okay basically it's the night of tommenmarg wedding when cersei burns down the tower of the hand and then returns to her chamber. she does a lot of ruminating on the men she's outlived, the harms they did her, & generally having an internalized misogyny extravaganza hour as our cersei is wont to do. i wanted to connect the wildfire / borderline sexual arousal moment to then having this sort of oddly magical encounter with a lady stoneheart apparition. both of them full to the brim with thoughts of vengeance, as well as finally having the cersei-catelyn faceoff scene that catelyn once spoke of.

here's a lil excerpt:

Idly, Cersei wonders if Lyanna Stark had haunted Catelyn Tully too, when the woman first went to Winterfell. If her husband had wept and raged for his sister as Robert had, in the early years of their marriage.

Wonders if Lady Catelyn ever seethed to herself as her lord snored beside her. Robert had always said that it was only Eddard Stark who understood his grief, so who was to say? The man was made of ice, she’d thought, but perhaps he was as much slave to his baser instincts as Robert. Lord Stark had himself that bastard, did he not? 

Did Ned Stark ever hold his Catelyn down as Robert had done Cersei, searching for their precious Lyanna, pathetic and half limp? Had Ned Stark ever wrapped his hand around Catelyn’s throat, as Robert did once, not so rough as to choke but certainly with no thought to her comfort in his mind? Cersei touches her own hand to her thin neck, rubbing her thumb at the pulse.

Would he have done that? The Stark sigil was a direwolf, no? Yet Lord Eddard had never shown much of the wolf in him. It was him the floppy fish, and his wife the one who snarled and gnashed.

They said Catelyn Stark had fought off a man who sought to kill her crippled son with her own hands. 

[nimata-beroya]

It's Friday, so it's time to bring back another of my old fics. This is one is the fluffiest I've ever written, imho. Cuteness overload it's guaranteed (With baby Omega and 99 together, what else can you expect, right?). I hope you enjoy it!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 713 words Relationships: 99 & Omega Characters: Omega, 99, Nala Se (mentioned) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Toddler Omega, Fluff, Flufftober, Day 2, Prompt: Sneaking Out Together, it's fluff but with unintended underlying angst, What Did You Expect, it's about clones, Omega is a toddler, the bad batch wasn't even cloned yet Series: Part 2 of Star Wars X-tober Extravaganza 2k21, Part 3 of Good Soldiers Follow Orders, Good Brothers Disobey Them Summary: On a rare stormless night, 99 and Omega go for a little adventure.

ON AN ADVENTURE

Omega giggles as she scurries away from Mistress Nala Se’s lab. The happiness swelling in her chest for having evaded the Kaminoan’s watchful eyes is more than she can control. Her little feet take her fast as they can through the long tunnel and toward the upper level of the city.

It’s hard for Omega to understand why Mistress Nala Se wants to keep her in the lab all the time. It makes her sad being alone. Besides, she’s curious about the other clones. She wants to make friends. She wants to explore, to know what’s beyond the lab. 

At the end of the hallway, Omega finds an obstacle. The door is closed, and the panel to open it is out of her reach. She tries, anyway. Lifting herself on the tiptoes, she stretches her arm up, her fingers barely brushing the panel’s surface. Not even with a little jump, Omega can reach the buttons.

Shock replaces the bitter disappointment when the door whooshes open and a man, a clone, walks in. Her breath gets tangled in her throat and her heart does a weird thrum-thrum inside her chest. She looks up, stunned, sure that she’s about to be taken back to the lab. Her dismay at being found out so soon changes to a pleasant surprise when she recognizes him. It’s one of the few clones, not to say the only one, with which she has contact.

“Nin’ty-nine!”

He goes rigid with shock, then sweeps his gaze around until he finds her. A slow smile breaks into his lined face, his eyes warm and kind. “Vod’ika, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?"

She half-shrugs, sweeping her gaze around and avoiding 99’s eyes. “I’m not sleepy. I wanna go outside!”

Keep reading

[m39]

Beyond Canonical Extravaganza - Pre-Hiatus: Chapter 15

Two days ago

I mean, it can’t actually end up that bad, right?

Today

I…

What in the…

There is…

THERE IS NOTHING!!!

Gasps everywhere

I’m serious, there is little to no… ANYTHING that actually moves the story forward! All I can remember is how Dave’s pink clone asked him what will happen when they will all reach Doc Strider. But, if I remember correctly, this kind of talk already happen in the Davekat chapter, and that chapter, just like the one I’m reviewing right now, was a filler.

Is there something… new to talk about? Well… take a look at this:

There they are, officer! THERE THEY ARRRRRREEEEEE!!!

I mean, I’m surprised that Meat!Callie finally made their, sort of, physical appearance. I actually forgot that they were in this rotten comic.

And it is truly a rotten comic since it’s time to talk about… the artwork of this chapter. Everybody already said their piece of their mind about it so I’ll try to keep it short. To put it simply: it’s below average in many places. Say what you want about previous chapters, at least they looked good. This chapter? I-I mean I… Look at this:

LOOK AT THIS SHIT!!! LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BABY GIRL!!! And that’s not the only picture. No no no! I also have this:

What is this thing next to Dave?! His hand?!? Or his foot-long shlong?!!

So, yeah, it doesn’t look good. It looks like nobody was overlooking it and/or they hired some newbie to do the job. Or like Caliborn himself actually drew it. After all these months I thought that they fixed the problem and replaced it all with something better, but NOPE.AVI. it seems.

But the artwork isn’t the only problem of this chapter if you haven’t noticed already. Dave feels like he reverted back into being some kind of 90’s kid caricature even bigger than Pink Dave.

Oh yeah, I forgot. His personality now is also nothing but being half of Davekat. Because hey! Who cares about some quality control in this official continuation? In writers’ minds, all that fans care about is Davekat, Davekat, and MORE DAVEKAT! These two don’t need any character development! Just shove them doing UwU UwU kawaii desu! Most of the Twatter will eat it out.

By the way, Dave is now also brain-dead too:

Yes folks! You see this right. David the walking 90’s stereotype, just called Dirk, his ectobiological father, who’s homosexual… a homophobe.

DIRK!

A HOMOPHOBE!

giggles

Have I reached Nadir? Is this what a complete shithole looks like? Is there something actually good in this chapter?!

Oh… oh my god… I think I found it… I think I found a golden nugget in the pile of shit! It won’t make this chapter good but at least it’s something.

You know, I almost feel bad for Pink Dave in this chapter. Check it out:

This is a (poorly drawn) face of a man that screams:

And you know what? That’s probably how I can describe my feelings right now. This chapter is like taking every bad thing from the Cesspool timeline spiced up with bad artwork. Say what you want about the chapters that happened in that timeline, at least there I could, somewhat, see how the story connected to the Cesspool was moving forward. Here, the story just stops dead on-road and refuses to move forward unless you listen to its rambling about meta-narrative or/and Davekat.

My guess on what happens in the Meat timeline when we come back to it will be Dave leaving Jade/Pink Dave/anyone other than Karkat to die because they are not Karkat.

Only one chapter to go and I’ll take a long (hopefully) break from anything related to this comic. Good news – I heard it’s better than this one. Bad news – it takes place in the Cesspool timeline.

sigh

You know what they say: You can’t have everything.

See you next time.

Bye.

[therealvinelle]

Hi, your metas are super interesting, and even if I really enjoy fanon twilight, it's really cool to read opinions based only on canon too!

So my question is about the sexual orientation of the Cullens, do you think they all straight?

For example i saw someone saying that Edward maybe was demisexual and it left me thinking, so i just wanted to know your opinions about it :)

In short, no.

In alphabetical order:

Alice is with a man, but without getting into the mess that is Alice/Jasper here, I don’t think theirs is a particularly physical relationship. I mean, if Alice wanted to get laid, she could just decide to fuck Jasper, enjoy the vision, and bam. Itch scratched. Thanks, Jazz. Alright, I’ll be serious. Alice and Jasper are with each other because the other represents salvation, not so much because of a personal or physical attraction but because of mysticism. So to me that doesn’t really say much about Alice’s preference. All the same I can’t see Alice having a particular preference, she’s too... Alice. Although it is easier to picture her with women. She is also the second half of the Alice/Bella homoerotic extravaganza, which makes heterosexual Alice even more farfetched to me. So, bisexual or lesbian Alice.

Bella shows clear attraction to women as well as men. She’s attracted to Rosalie, Alice, Edward, and Carlisle. I’ll just give you guys quotes: Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. (Twilight, page 9) This is the Cullens’ introduction. I won’t spend much time on it, just notice the difference between Rosalie and the others. Rosalie is highlighted in a way Alice is not, and Edward is at first glance only the boyish one of the guys. Rosalie was the Cullen whose beauty immediately stood out to Bella. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. (sic.) Bella has realized by now that Edward’s a grade A hottie, but she’s still torn between him and Rosalie. Bella then gets to know Alice, and they become friends who take showers together(!). Rosalie may be the most attractive Cullen woman, but Alice is the one Bella gets emotionally close to. We get this in New Moon:  UNNATURALLY STILL AND WHITE, WITH LARGE BLACK EYES intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the halt, beautiful beyond imagining.  (...) I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of the scent of her skin as possible. It wasn't like anything else—not floral or spice, citrus or musk. No perfume in the world could compare. My memory hadn't done it justice. (New Moon, page 191) Bella never thought she’d never see any of the Cullens again, so for her to be hysterical and ecstatic upon seeing her second favorite is not by itself damning. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to see Emmett too. It’s that fact that she’d missed Alice’s scent that’s interesting. The scent of her skin was something Bella was aware of before they parted. And while it may be tempting to say “it’s because they’re vampires, Bella’s admiring them like she would a work of art!”, Bella never dwells on Esme, Jasper, or Emmett in this way. Jasper and Emmett especially are not admired beyond the introduction of their characters. We never hear about what any of them smell like, nor does Bella remark upon their beauty after waking up a vampire. Carlisle and Edward, by comparison, are men she keeps noticing. Bella finds Carlisle blindingly beautiful when she first sees him as a vampire, and there’s this from New Moon: Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. (New Moon, page 18) There’s thinking someone is pretty, and then there’s gazing lovingly upon their face instead of pain killers. Bella is bisexual.

Carlisle moved in with a very gay man, had a close relationship with him, lived with him for the sake of his company for decades, and only left because of dietary differences. We don’t know for sure whether they actually had an affair or not, but the fact remains that of all the Cullens, Carlisle is the one who is implied to have had a homosexual relationship in canon. He loses his straight card based on that alone. Also gonna link this clip, because I’m Mac listening to Edward talk about how young Carlisle lived with this sexy Mycenaean Greek for a few decades when he was young. Aro is all the santas. Carlisle is bisexual.

Edward... oh boy. His brain is supposedly seventeen, and yet this very interesting thing happens in his relationship with Bella where he never notices her body. Not ever. By body I mean curves. Edward notices Bella’s skin, her frailty, her humanity. He praises her blushes, her doe-like eyes, her warmth, her softness, her swan-like neck, her delicious scent. The feminine aesthetic. He does not once notice her tits. The only tits he is on record noticing belong to Siobhan, and it’s because she has an impossible to ignore rack: She was profoundly female in shape—aggressively, forcefully female. (Midnight Sun, chapter Probability) It’s one thing for him to be old-fashioned and too quintessentially Edward to even think the word “boob”, but in 700+ pages of Midnight Sun there’s just this absence of this seventeen-year-old noticing her curves. More damningly, when seeing Alice’s vision of vampire!Bella, Edward is horrified at the sight of his love cold and hard. He doesn’t describe vampire!Bella by any of the positives, like “flawless”. Edward is attracted to the human, not the woman. What that means for his sexuality... well, I’m going to go ahead and point out that he is very weird about Carlisle, and it’s damning that the personality he projects onto Bella is so similar to Carlisle. I hesitate to apply a label here, but in my own, personal, headcanon we’re veering towards homosexual. Deeeeeeply closeted homosexual.

Emmett is straight. Straightest guy ever to straight.

Esme is pretty clearly taken with Carlisle. Though if she were to feel attracted towards another woman, I imagine she’d have no idea what to make of that, if she even recognized it for what it was. She’s from a very different time and still living in that time, and she continues to be very sheltered. Still, as per my personal headcanon, I see her as straight.

Jasper, who knows. Though if he’s into guys, he has probably gone for it in the past. I suppose I should write a meta on vampires and sexual norms in general, but in short I don’t think they all live monogamously like the Cullens. STDs and pregnancies are unheard of, as is social ostracizing. Vampires are hedonistic, Twilight vampires more so than any other. Which in turn means I don’t think Maria and Jasper were monogamous. A couple, sure, but I don’t think Maria would say “oh noes, I can’t, I’m with Jasper!” if someone she was attracted to made an overture, and same goes for Jasper. So, if Jasper was into guys, then sure. I can see Jasper/Peter happening, or even Charlotte/Jasper/Peter. Jasper is certainly into women, with the possibility of guys as well. And if so, then it’s probably happened.

Rosalie I’m shocked is with a guy in the first place, everything about her screams lesbian. However, she’s clearly into Emmett, so apparently she’s bisexual.

(I’m not including Renesmée in this, since she’s three months old by the time the series conclude.)

This all being said, several of these people are from very different times and wouldn’t have the same concepts of sexuality internalized as we do, so how they’d identify is a very different matter.

[terrence-silver]

Terry with pets?

― I think Terry has a penchant for whatever is the post common denominator pet. Cats, perhaps for their grace, cunning and overall Bond villain esthetic he tends to embrace with a trace of comedy and healthy self-awareness as he conducts calls with whatever overseas business partner he has while a feline companion is in his lap with a diamond collar; dogs, because yes, devotion and yes, because he likes them feral and bloodthirsty and the image of five, big, black wolf-hounds on silver chains, for example, conjures the images of power and fear; how said dogs only obey him and his orders and would gnaw at anyone else hits a particular sweet tooth of sadism and thrill Terry has (not to mention that he understands the image of him with a pet people often keep makes him relatable whenever that is what he needs to be) but that's not where his arsenal of kept animals stops --- even though these animals are seldom witnessed by anyone. That's just the surface level people who aren't exactly too close to him are allowed to see.

― Other that, I think he enjoys exotic pets. He enjoys exotic cars. Exotic liquor. Exotic clothes. Exotic jewelry and exotic pursuits. Exotic sex, undoubtedly. Why not exotic pets too? Furthermore, expensive pets. Pets difficult to acquire. Not for everyone's pocket. Of course, not everyone knows this, as mentioned above, but Terry seems like the type to maintain a private terrarium in the lower bowels of whatever estate he's currently inhabiting. Spiders? Tarantulas? A tank full of snapping crocodiles imported from Colombia? Iguanas and lizards? Salamanders? A shark basin in front of which he can conveniently have a chat with people which he doesn't like as a way to scare and intimidate them? We've actually briefly seen an aquarium of fishes canonically behind him in his office. Maybe some walled off part of his estate where he keeps a rare, near extinct Panther? An albino Lion? Sure. Why not. Rare beasts have a rare killer insisting and he can respect that. He finds he relates to animals more than people anyway.

― Then there's snakes --- can't talk about Terry and nature without snakes being involved. Boas. Anacondas. Yes, you guessed it --- Cobras. Now, I feel it took years for Terry to unlearn an innate fear of snakes post-Vietnam, seeing as how the snake pit and its contents down below never ceased to haunt him even though he'd never admit to it, Terry forced himself to confront a fear forcibly, and thus erased it forcibly as well. Training it out of himself with willpower and discipline alone. This of course included keeping a dozen venomous serpent species under his very roof in glass enclosures. State of the art. Notwithstanding that he had an actual artistic recreation of the same wartime snake pit John and the other soldiers fought over somewhere in his backyard. Naturally, people assume it is extravaganza and Terry being excessive, but they never know how dark the meaning really is. It is a monument and a living reminder so he'd never forget how close he came to falling and how he must never be that weak again.

― Beyond all of that, I think Terry thinks there's a lot to be learned from animals as a whole. Of course, he'd have a full team of handlers, cleaners and expert staff maintaining these habitats immaculate because he's a perfectionist who doesn't enjoy a mess and things spiralling out of control, but yes, knowledge can be cultivated from a cobra as much as it can from a gerbil. Terry could analytically observe the behaviour of a deadly, hissing Rattlesnake devouring its meal in full, throaty gulps, and he can observe a quiet gerbil he keeps in a maze and bribes with cheese to see just how it'll behave when faced with the concept of reward and that reward being removed. Maybe placed at a remote part of the maze? Terry implements a lot of these things seen and noted and uses them on people as experiments. Turns out, the personalities and reactions of people as compared to animals aren't all that different. Some people are gerbils. Some are Cobras.

― But, does Terry threat animals well and does he like them? I think he takes care of them in the way everything his must be finely preserved. Cages clean. The best of food. Veterinarians on stand, because his pets do cost a smaller fortune, mind you. Elaborate habitats that align with their nature that all by themselves could account for an entire wealth when you consider he had rocks from Galapagos brought over for his Galapagos Turtles. So, yes, he does. As for liking...I think Terry feels, again, silently understood by animals even though the aren't the same specie. With animals, he can simply be. There's no past Terry. Present Terry. Rehabilitated Terry. Fake Terry. Real Terry. Terrence Silver as opposed to Terry Silver. No cordial Terry mingling at social events. No coked up Terry. No Terry in remission. He can simply be Terry and be free through it. As natural as the animals themselves are. They're wild and at heart, so is he. They're caged by him, and fundamentally, so is he, by himself. It is like looking into a mirror.

[gondorosi]

ASOIAF v/s GoT - Part 1: The  Disdain for Vulnerable Heroes

Book to screen adaptations are tricky as it is. Adapting high fantasy is even trickier as visual artistry quite often takes precedence over plot and characterization. It’s difficult to adequately portray complex morality, hard decisions and internal agony. Characters are often simplified and pared down to only a few most visually arresting characteristics (mighty king/queen, unbeatable warrior, mysterious magic person, wise-cracking smartass etc etc etc). Plotlines are reworked to make them non-controversial, consequences are ignored and the more difficult subplots are simply done away with. Such actions are common across adaptations, and GoT is no exception. 

The distancing of the show from the books started becoming significantly observable S5 onwards. At a certain pivotal point, the obvious heroic characters began to get pigeon-holed - the noble (Jon), the badass (Arya) and the conqueror (Dany). Crucial characters like Tyrion and Bran also began to lose all trappings of individual motives to dedicate themselves to a ‘greater cause’. Characters canonically unreliable and/or unfavourable such as Jorah, Sansa and Varys get painted in a far more positive light than they deserve. 

Of course, in Martin’s world the characters are far more layered and conflicted. And thus, to stick to the massively simplified (almost bastardized) show characterizations, D&D quite happily chunked off LARGE plot points essential to the main characters, in effect neutering everything that makes ASOIAF so fascinating to begin with.

Let’s first consider the two most obvious leader-heroes of the saga. Both Jon and Dany start out handicapped and subjugated in their own way, before quickly discovering that they have innate capabilities suppressed by their respective environments. Both of them find a role they are good at and use that role to accomplish something revolutionary. Both of them disregard the dangers posed by proponents of tradition and both of them are brought down or grievously hurt by those resistant to change. However, both of them are young. Both of them struggle with self-worth, purpose and identity. They’re two deeply traumatized young heroes who keep the truths of their hearts to themselves. However, the show begins to distance them from their vulnerability somewhere around the middle of its run. There’s a deliberate choice made to move away from complex characterization and focus only on heroics - whether its raining down fire from atop a dragon, or cleaving through enemies with a sword in hand. And while this makes for arresting and unforgettable visuals, you have to wonder why two such beautifully layered characters had to lose their tender facets to continue being badass heroes. 

Dany

No two ways about it - the show has done an exemplary job of building up Daenerys Targaryen the Queen and Conqueror (Season 8 exists only in the Upside Down). Her fiery nature, her courage and her incredible journey from a prized possession to a radical force commanding the very air around her. But before she earned all her titles, she was Dany - a quiet, observant and highly intelligent child who just just wanted to go home. The house with the red door is instrumental to Dany’s psyche as a person - and never mentioning it, or alluding to it takes away something vital from Dany’s story.

That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

The red door features prominently in Dany’s thoughts, dreams and visions. To a young Dany, her name is as much a burden and a cage to her as the lack of a name is to Jon. He thirsts for the recognition and dignity of a true name, she dreams of the unfettered lightness of a life without the heavy legacy of her name.

It might sound contradictory, but for all that the show played up the power and near invincibility of the dragons, they skimmed over their ACTUAL importance to Dany’s entire Essos arc, and subsequently her identity. The show posits her as the Dragon Queen almost from the very beginning - whereas in the narrative of the books, it’s a realization she must come to after losing almost everything she’s fought for in Slaver’s Bay.

Remember who you are, Daenerys. The dragons know. Do you?

This line means much more in the context of Dany’s journey of self-realization than the show ever bothered to address. Through her entire arc Dany is struggling to place herself. She’s caught between the ‘Last Targaryen’ - the rightful ruler of Westeros set to take back the Throne stolen from her family by scheming enemies; and the Mother and Queen of the freed slaves of Slaver’s Bay who look to her to destroy a society which has progressed on the strength of broken bones of slaves. Beyond it all she is the Mother of Dragons - which brings all the boys to her yard. Dorne, fAegon, Victarion and Euron don’t give two hoots about the young girl who overturned the age old practice of slavery - they want her dragons. By the time she’s stumbling across the Dothraki Sea delirious, in pain and hallucinating, she knows not which of these three identities is who she truly is.

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings.

That’s what the show misses. The crux of Daenerys Targaryen isn’t that she HAS dragons, it’s that she IS the dragon. The issue with this interpretation in the show is that to truly take Danerys being the last dragon to it’s intended narrative conclusion, you have to admit that her journey would not, and could not end with her becoming Queen of the 7K. The show turned her magic into a political prop which is entirely incongruous with the world-building elements established by Martin. ASOIAF’s magic doesn’t exist as a plaything and a tool for those desiring power. Magic exists to combat magic. Daenerys Targaryen is a conqueror, a queen and a rescuer but she is also more. (I could go on and on about Dany as the Last Dragon but that would be derailing the intent of this post.)

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. “It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.” 

This is not a Dany the show allows us to observe. The Daenerys Targaryen of the show is not allowed to be vulnerable or uncertain or crumble. She’s not allowed to question her purpose and path in the world. After all, how can the most powerful character in the show ever falter? This is where the show takes the easy way out of putting more emphasis on the visual extravaganza - dragons burning down ships and Emilia Clarke walking through flames unscathed are easy crowd pleasers. But these are also just surface level considerations of Dany’s power and importance. She isn’t who she is because she has dragons - she has her dragons because she is who she is. 

But a major point of contention is - who DOES she need to be? See, Dany has always known she’s ‘important’ - in the way political prisoners are important. In the beginning it’s only her family name which holds her value. Her gradual journey from being only symbolically important as a Targaryen, to owning her own narrative as herself is fraught with considerable internal turmoil. The identity Dany cherishes most is that of Mother. Choosing to free the slaves in Astapor and Yunkai is the first decision she takes as a player with power and resources, and this decision has NOTHING to do with her destiny as a Targaryen. You identify a hero by their choices - and it is in this moment, uninfluenced by magic, or a greater power, this young girl sees the horror in a long established custom and CHOOSES to fight it. I would anyway have been invested as Daenerys as a character - but that one action firmly placed her on a pedestal .

In spite of where her destiny may pull her she wants to retain her softer dreams, her yearning for an uncomplicated happiness. At the same time, she’s voluntarily taken on the burden of ruling in Mereen, despite the responsibility very clearly chaining her. At the end of ADWD, her fevered dreams seem to suggest that both her softness and her duty are pulling her away from her true destiny. Dany’s struggles with self revolve around choosing between her identities as the Dragon, the Mother and the Conqueror - I personally subscribe to the belief that Dany ‘finding herself’ would mean realising that her three identities are not separate, but feed into each other to create the Daenerys Targaryen she is meant to be.

The show puts the cart before the horse and ignores the reverberating impact of a piece of Old Valyria being reborn on the shores of the continent where the empire fell. Her trek through the Dothraki Sea once she escapes on Drogon’s back is such a crucial pivot point in her story - it is literally the point where the old Dany is being left behind for who she will ultimately need to become.

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

After that, for a long time, there was only the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars.

She woke to the taste of ashes.

The show does make it clear that Dany’s ultimate destiny lies in Westeros - but the Iron Throne can hardly be it. Why will the last dragon be so singularly focused on a crumbling monarchy? Unjustly attacked and exiled and now fighting to retake their ‘rightful’ place - that’s a traditional fantasy storyline and in a purely monarchical power struggle needs neither Dany’s magic nor her dragons. The Iron Throne is such a low bar - what Daenerys attempted in Slaver’s Bay is ten times more difficult and impressive. As of this point in the books Mereen is on the brink of absolute chaos and the situation is much, much more convoluted than the show made it out to be. The political uprising of Mereen was dealt with so laughably on the show - ‘Bring dragons, Burn shit’ doesn’t solve any problems whatsoever but let’s save that for the next part.

Painting Dany’s journey back to Westeros as simply an exiled royal returning to take back what’s theirs removed the poignancy in Dany looking for home in Westeros. There’s this sense of yearning in her desperately looking for a place to belong in a country that’s little more than a fable to her. She tried SO hard to make a home with the Dothraki and to find a place as the ruler of Mereen - but if there’s one takeaway from ADWD it’s that Dany’s fate doesn’t rest in Essos. I expect WoW to be a bloody reckoning, an agonizing choice between Dany’s duty and destiny. The new world order she’s established is far too new and fragile to sustain itself. As we see from Cleon’s ascent in Astapor, evil opportunists exists everywhere, regardless of societal class. To cement her order, Dany and her inner circle need to stay in Mereen for a lengthy period of time. But Westeros is calling - she has to choose. It’s nowhere near as easy as the three Yunkish Masters being the only figureheads, the Greyjoy siblings traipsing into the pyramids with the ships she needs, and alliances falling into her lap just so that D&D don’t need to put in any effort into creating plot and can simply throw spectacular CGI at us.

My point is - you don’t need a dragon (or three) to fight Cersei Lannister and a court jester on ADHD masquerading as Euron Greyjoy (not Pilou, its obvious the dude read the books and expected great things from his character). You do however need them to fulfil the prophecy passed down generations of Targaryens, beginning from Aegon the Conqueror. You do need the last living embodiment of the magic of Old Valyria to combat the foul, unholy magic wielded by the utterly terrifying Euron Greyjoy of the books. The reason Aegon began his conquest of Westeros is beyond mere ambition - and if we go by what Martin himself revealed about his intentions, the Others ARE the final War. We had only 2 episodes in S7 to show Daenerys understanding the gravity of the Night King (godawful mission beyond the Wall and polar bear wights aside) - and then arrives the wrecking ball of S8 with its ‘Northern Independence’ and ‘my Iron Throne’.

The trouble with legendary heroes is this - they save the world for everyone else. Dany defeats all other claimants to the Throne and takes back Dragonstone, King’s Landing and the Seven Kingdoms, as Viserys wanted, and she believes her duty to be. She and Jon lead the Last Alliance against the Great Other. Maybe they win and live happily ever after. Maybe they win, but only after losing everything they hold dear. And maybe they win, and only lose part of themselves. Does that end Dany’s story? Is a Kingdom and a reign what she’s been searching for? Dany’s story only ends when she finds herself in front of that red door again. 

Jon 

It’s an infuriating irony that despite portraying him as MUCH softer than in the books, Jon’s vulnerability is either non-existent in the show, or is turned into a weakness. Where does the show ever dwell on his deep seated issues with identity, duty and survivor’s guilt? Where does the show address the raw power of his love for Arya? And why does the show think that the progression of Hardhome, being fucking murdered AND resurrected, and then Rickon’s death in front of his eyes would NOT leave a lasting mental impact?

To its’ credit, the show did clearly indicate Catelyn’s hatred for Jon. What we didn’t see, and thus don’t have a ready reference for (in the show) is how Catelyn’s treatment affected Jon. In the books though, you can clearly suss out the emotional impact of the years of Jon’s childhood.

He reached the landing and stood for a long moment, afraid. Ghost nuzzled at his hand. He took courage from that. He straightened, and entered the room. 

He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head. 

This is at Bran’s bedside when he’s still deep in a coma, with no certainty of whether he will ever wake again. Jon’s leaving for the NW, and this may very well be the last time he ever sees Bran again. Jon loves his little brother with everything he has, yet the overbearing emotion at this moment is his fear of Catelyn Stark.

Keep in mind that every POV hides something or the other from the reader. Thoughts and feelings may seem disjointed as a critical memory which aligns the two is missing. In this case, Jon is actively NOT thinking of any particular incident. Yet his fear is all pervasive. It’s an uncovered wound and it hurts him. We may not know exactly what has happened between Jon and Catelyn in the 14 years leading up to this moment, but Jon’s fear of her is very real. This almost paralyzing fear of Catelyn placed against the overbearing love he feels for Bran at this moment makes this exchange stand out for several reasons, chief amongst which is that Catelyn has left an indelible mark on Jon’s psyche. 

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father’s sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them. Catelyn Stark had seen to that. 

By the time the moon was full again, he would be back in Winterfell with his brothers. Your half-brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King’s Landing either. 

The fear lessens once he leaves the halls of Winterfell, and bitterness takes its place. Jon’s feelings about her are tinged with fury and resentment. He’s long past hoping for affection from her, but what still rankles and will never stop being a source of anger, is that she deliberately tried to sabotage his relationships with others who most definitely were his family. 

Jon’s thoughts make it obvious that he is painfully aware that he doesn’t belong. For an awareness this heavy to be so deeply etched into a young boy’s entire being, the message has to have been reinforced intensely over the entire duration of his life in Winterfell. That’s not compatible with the assumption that Catelyn was only cold and dismissive of him. We don’t see the instances in either Jon’s or Catelyn’s viewpoints in the books, but the inference is all but thrown at us. 

Jon’s growth as a person, a leader and a revolutionary is dependent on his time with the NW just as much as his time with the FF. The show cut out far too many important aspects of his time with the FF, but atleast that part of his journey was treated with more respect than his accomplishments as a man of the NW. (Let me not start on the absolute blasphemy to turn one of the most decisive characters in the entire saga into a dithering, uncertain, meek fool in S8.)

Unlike Dany, Jon has never been important. He has no name, no legacy to uphold, no shoes to step into. All he has are his natural abilities - his startlingly accurate powers of perception for someone so young, his capacity for taking feedback to change for the better and his razor sharp practical intelligence. The text seems to suggest that Jon was indirectly forced to downplay his abilities due to his status - besting Robb was just not done.

With her deep blue eyes and hard cold mouth, she looked a bit like Stannis. Iron, he thought, but brittle. She was looking at him the way she used to look at him at Winterfell, whenever he had bested Robb at swords or sums or most anything. Who are you? that look had always seemed to say. This is not your place. Why are you here? 

It’s at the Night’s Watch that Jon first starts to become someone more than Ned Stark’s bastard - in his OWN estimation. The world will continue to see only a bastard and Ned Stark’s shame, but its here that Jon learns to accept and move beyond it. It’s in the yard of the NW training yard that Jon receives his first harsh lesson about himself - he’s lording the privilege of his castle education over boys far less fortunate than him. It’s at the NW that he has the opportunity to use his abilities. It’s here that Jon finds his calling as the champion of the misfits, the ill-begotten, the unwanted and the reviled. He becomes the de-facto trainer of the boys Alliser Thorne deems beneath his dignity. He’s the one convincing Maester Aemon of Sam’s worth as his squire. And it’s at the NW that Jon first begins forming his opinion of the wars of the south - something which he will carry till the end. 

When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?

The staggering impact of his experience in the NW to his character is an essay in itself. For the purposes of this post, suffice to say that without the NW Jon would never have grown to the position to have an impact on the greater story. As of ADWD, the Wall under Jon’s leadership has become somewhat of a rallying ground - hosting a King, a highborn Northern lady looking for deliverance and support, as well as the center for revitalizing the Watch, rebuilding the Wall and rekindling hope in the North.

At some point after his resurrection in the show, Jon’s portrayal starts edging over into the ‘noble, sacrificial hero’ archetype. This wouldn’t necessarily have been a BAD thing – if this ‘goodness’ and ‘nobility’ didn’t come at the expense of Jon’s overall characterization.

His ‘goodness’ comes in the form of forgiving Sansa for keeping the Vale army secret and keeping her as his closest confidant. This so-called goodness of heart is rank naivete the sharply perceptive and observant book!Jon would have been stupefied at. Jon knows to judge people by their actions – and Sansa’s actions made it obvious that she’s playing her own game and considers her brothers’ lives expendable collateral. The Jon who understood the heaviness of the mantle of leadership well enough to cultivate distance from even his closest friends in the NW would NEVER have allowed Sansa so close.

The ‘honourable’ show!Jon allows his Lords and his sister to question and challenge him openly. The ‘noble’ King Jon has to explain himself before undertaking a journey to gain a potential ally - the only possible ally against a War the North seems unwilling to believe despite the reports of the dead having been around since S1. The honest son of Ned Stark cannot lie to his House’s greatest living enemy. Lord Commander Jon would sooner have jumped off from the top of the Wall than take these decisions. He’s aware of the nature of power and authority, and that more than holding a position its important to make those around you believe you hold power. Power can do great good - but it is also fickle. 

Despite the NK and the AoTD being turned into a cosmic farce in the last season, the show did quite a good job of building up the horror, menace and sense of doom in the previous seasons. Hardhome is prime example of why the show was once the pinnacle of television – and what Jon saw there, coupled with the utter failure of his mission to evacuate all the FF would have pushed Jon to the brink of insanity anyway. From what we know of Jon, he carries the deaths of his father, Robb, Bran, Rickon and Winterfell close to him. Compound the steadily growing pressure of that loss with the fact that he loses Grenn, Pyp and Ygritte in the same night. Three of the people most important to Jon but a loss he was never given the time to process as Stannis’s army arrives the very next day. He’s still carrying this heaviness when Hardhome happens, and Jon is exactly the kind of man to blame himself for the people he was unable to evacuate. Not to mention, this is the first time he sees the Night King RAISE the dead – this is the point where the true power of the enemy is fully revealed. That was existential horror at its most visceral and not a sight a man is likely to forget, least of all a man who’s trying his best to create the only resistance.

Let’s forego the changed circumstances of Jon’s murder in the show and consider the act as is – Jon does the right thing, knows he’s doing the right thing and is betrayed and murdered for it. He’s dead and then he’s not and while he’s still struggling with resurrection, betrayal and the memories of Hardhome, Sansa arrives and he’s in the middle of the quest to retake Winterfell. It’s traumatic experience upon traumatic experience, a never-ending series of emotional turmoil with no outlet or time to grieve. This is the only reason I see Jon’s actions at the Battle of Bastards being true to his mental condition in the show – having Rickon die right in front of him when his little brother was pretty much the only reason he was able to gather the mental strength for the campaign would have unhinged him to the point of that ridiculously suicidal move.

But see that’s the last time we see any strong emotion from Jon. He seemed mentally and emotionally exhausted in the Winds of Winter episode, and that’s understandable but only at THAT point. That kind of exhaustion sets in only once you’re done with your battles and Jon’s true battle was just beginning. It’s just never acknowledged – when in truth he would barely have a handle on his temper and would be obsessed with the NK to the point of delirium. We apparently can’t have a functional main hero with his emotions all over the place, gathering the strength to do what must be done while falling apart inside. Or if we DO show him as someone struggling with himself, it’s to paint him as someone too weak to see the truth. Someone too blinded by love who should never have been in charge in the first place. 

Heroes are strong, brave, just and honourable. They are powerful and commanding and inspiring. And at the very core of it all, heroes are human. Wish the show had remembered that.

[monicawoe]

Fic Writer Tag Game

Tagged by the lovely @denugis and @ameliacareful Thanks!

AO3 Name: monicawoe 

Fandoms: My top 3 fandoms are Supernatural, MCU, and Venom, others include various Marvel comics and TV shows, Alien Covenant, Forever Knight, Good Omens, Hannibal, Legion (tv), Lucifer (comics), Preacher (tv), and The Mandalorian

Fic you spent the most time on: In terms of longest time spent writing? Probably Burdens Doublefold, co-written with @quickreaver just because it was such a beast of a fic: still my longest at ~67k words, and still one of my all-time faves.

The longest one from conception to actually completing the fic though was On His Head a Crown which I started thinking of while season 5 aired (back in 2009!) and then didn't write because canon went in such a different and also fascinating direction that I ended up writing more canon-adjacent fics at the time. This one veers off wildly from 5x03 with Sam as the Horseman Conquest, and was finally written last year as part of the Sam Winchester Big Bang featuring glorious art by @slytherkins. That means it actually took me a full ten years to get around to writing it. Glad I did though ; )

Fic you spent the least amount of time on:  A tie between Letters of Resignation, a cracky collection of letters written from the POV of the demons killed by Sam during My Bloody Valentine and Hunt, the first Sharp Teeth fill I ever did for the prompt Wile E. Coyote finally catches the Roadrunner.

Longest fic: Burdens Doublefold, as noted above, a 67k retelling of seasons 1 & 2 co-written with @quickreaver, aka the fic where I wrote myself into shipping Sam/Brady forever.

Shortest fic: a 100 word BuckyNat poem Mirror

Most hits: How They Make You a Weapon at 18,619 , Winter Soldier POV beginning with Bucky being captured by Hydra through and beyond the end of CA:TWS) This is the only fic I've ever written in second person but I found it worked rather well for the Winter Soldier's POV accentuating his missing sense of self.

Most kudos: Ink at 2165, Venom (movie), Venom admires Eddie's tattoos.

Most comment threads: Also How They Make You a Weapon at 133, likely largely due to the fact that this was posted as a WIP, which I don't normally do, but at the time I felt a burning need to immediately share all of my Winter Soldier Bucky thoughts!

Fave fic you wrote: Wow that's a tough one. I love so many of them for so many different reasons. If I had to pick one favorite from my top three fandoms it would be:

MCU: Bad Becomes Worse. I suspect it might be one of the best (albeit angstiest) fics I've ever written, you tell me.

Supernatural: Counteroffer and its sequel The King's Guard - I still really love the unreliable narrator POV in the first one and the unsettling tone I think I achieved there, and as for the sequel, writing Sam as physically containing all of Hell was just so damn fun.

Venom: Wedding Party (because this one was just SO MUCH FUN to write!)

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: So many. Early on in my spn fic-writing days I ended on cliffhangers a lot because that's what the show liked to do, and I myself enjoy the open-ended nature of them, but some of them really are begging for a sequel. If there's any particular one you'd like to see a time-stamp to let me know and I’ll likely add it to the list.  

I am currently working on a sequel to my most recent Venom fic Many Thousand Feet Beneath because I'm told I can't just leave those biotech millipedes under San Francisco! (and you're right readers, you're right!) It will take me a bit longer because ::gestures at everything this year:: but I promise I'm on it!

Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: (see longish excerpt of my WIP of Kale!Sam / King of Hell Sam under the read more tag below)

Tagging : @wetsammywinchester , @slytherkins, @brendaonao3, @rokhal, @tigerlilynoh, @hafital​

a WIP fill of a prompt for the 2020 round of Antichristmas: Sam Winchester's Birthday Prompt-fic extravaganza (still accepting prompts if you want to join the fun! fics due in May, for Sam’s birthday)

Sam stood in front of his new Mirror™ and smoothed down the front of his moisture-wicking tank top.  He could feel the increased definition in his abs, but it wasn't quite where he wanted it to be. Not yet. He was, as ever, determined to be his best self. That's what he'd built his whole career on, and he had to embody it wholly.

"Alexa, start Mirror, play Morning Pilates," Sam said, getting into starting position on his PVC-free yoga mat.

He moved through the first three exercises with ease, looking forward to the upcoming side plank with grim eagerness. He'd been getting better at the advanced version and was confident he could hold the position perfectly. When the time came he held the form without any quivering in his arm or leg, so focused on using his core to hold himself still that it took him a few seconds to realize the mirror was glitching. Sam's reflection wasn't doing a pristine side-plank at all it was just standing there. And it was wearing a suit.

A suit he was pretty sure he didn't even own.

"Alexa, restart mirror," he snapped, annoyed at this interrupt. He could hold side-plank a long time, but likely not all the way through the restart and plus he wanted to make sure his other side got an equal amount of attention, and— The mirror hadn't turned off. A bright red line was flickering down the middle. And his reflection—still wearing a black suit with a dark maroon silk shirt—was looking right at him, a crooked smile creeping across its lips. 

Unsettled, Sam pushed himself to his feet and moved to turn the damn thing off manually. He pressed himself up against the glass, reaching around the back with his left hand to find the reset button, and then the glass wriggled under him, and a hand grabbed him by the throat.

Sam choked as he was lifted two inches clear off the ground by himself. Or somebody who looked exactly like him. Except for the suit and his eyes which flashed golden-yellow just before he tossed Sam unceremoniously to the floor.

[anchored-in-high-tide]

Evermore

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock (TV)/Johnlock

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2068

Tags: Fluff, Post-Canon, Sherlock x Disney, Beauty and the Beast (2017), Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Parentlock, Rosie wants to be a princess, Sherlock sings, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers

Inspired by the song: Evermore from Beauty and the Beast (2017)

He will tell him today, John decides as he carries the groceries back to their flat. Rosie will start school in a couple of weeks. It’s high time she gets her own room, to invite friends, to do homework, to have a place she doesn’t have to share with her father. Sherlock will surely understand that, won’t he? Yes, John will tell him today that he and Rosie will move out.

Maybe Sherlock already figured it out by himself. He has been a little quieter lately, has even declined some of Lestrade’s—according to Sherlock, absolutely boring—cases to spend more time with Rosie. Maybe he already knows and is just waiting for my final verdict.

That this arrangement had even worked for the past five years was a miracle, after all; Working on murder cases with a toddler on one’s arm was—a challenge, to say the least. In all those years following John and Rosie’s rather rash return to 221B Baker Street, neither John nor Sherlock have dared to talk about its implications for the future. They have simply enjoyed each other’s company, watched Rosie grow into a brilliant, funny girl, lived in the moment—because both know that those bits of happiness vanish faster than you can blink. You need to hold on to them as long as you can. The future will arrive soon enough and spoil all your plans.

And things have been fine, great really. Sherlock adores Rosie and the little girl, in return, is obsessed with her “Sher” that lets her ride on his shoulders and teaches her about bees and stars and disembowelment (if John doesn’t watch him very carefully).

John’s lips hurt a little as he smiles melancholically. Yes, they have had five good years. But even good things have to end sooner or later. Probably, Sherlock will even be glad to finally have his flat back, to experiment in the kitchen again and play the violin at all times of the night.

John just has to get it over with. It won’t be that bad. It’s not like they won’t spend time together anymore. He’ll make sure to find a place as close by as possible so that Sherlock can see Rosie whenever he pleases. He can’t separate them, not after everything Sherlock has done for them.

It has taken John longer than he cares to admit adjusting to his life as a widower, to cope with all the traumas and terror he has lived through. He couldn’t have done it without Sherlock—his help with Rosie, his friendship, his companionship. By now, he is factually Rosie’s second parent. John doesn’t want to break their bond. It would devastate all three of them.

But they can’t keep on living in denial about the lack of space for a rapidly growing child. They have to find a new place, to move on. They can make that work. They always have.

As he unlocks the front door and steps into the familiar hall, John can already hear the music floating down the staircase from their flat. He tries to remember the last time it has been quiet when he came home. Will there still be music in their new flat? Will the songs still sound the same without Sherlock?

John shakes his head determinedly, hoping that his painful thoughts would just fall off. He isn’t prone to sentimentality but having to leave Sherlock for a second time is bound to be an emotional train wreck, at least for him. Who knows what’s going on in that funny head of Sherlock’s? He wouldn't care, now, would he?

Following the soaring melody, John climbs up the stairs, trying to identify the tune. It’s either something from Frozen or Beauty and the Beast, probably.

Rosie is in the middle of her princess phase, ever since she has seen her first Disney movie. For the past weeks and months, she has barely talked about anything else than her favourites—Belle, Elsa, Moana, Cinderella, … She insists on watching the same films over and over again whenever John and Sherlock allow her some telly-time. The rest of her days, she spends reenacting her favourite scenes, soundtrack included. John can (more or less proudly) claim to know the lyrics to Let It Go even in his sleep by now.

At first, John was utterly horrified when his daughter for the first time expressed interest for something as far removed from science as possible, especially fearing that Sherlock might make some snarky comments about romantized and outdated gender roles, but, to John’s surprise and amusement, he has supported Rosie in her royal extravaganza with as much enthusiasm and diligence as he usually displays on a crime scene. He even convinced Mycroft to buy her a yellow gown—“Just like Belle’s! Thank you, Uncle Myc”—for her birthday. John has never seen anything funnier than Mycroft Holmes, the personification of the British Government, bowing to her majesty Rosie the First and graciously accepting her invitation to tea.

As he is half-way up the stairs, the music ebbs away and he hears Rosie’s high, demanding voice: “Now sing your song, Sher!” Her talent for bossing people around would do a real princess honour.

“As you wish, your majesty,” responds Sherlock’s silky baritone. He has never been one for strict parenting, John thinks as another melody begins. He would spoil Rosie rotten if John didn’t interfere, his heart being simply unable to deny her anything.

The lump in his throat grows with every step, the grocery bag weighing him down as if it were filled with lead instead of apples, toast, and beans. He will miss all of this. But what other choice is there really?

In the sitting room, only a few meters away now, Sherlock’s voice begins to sing a song John recognizes from Beauty and the Beast, the live-action version which Rosie has been only allowed to watch a couple of nights ago. She was a little scared of the howling wolves but the Beast won a special place in her heart right away. John must admit that he, too, enjoyed that particular film. Well, they can still have movie nights at their new place.

He mounts the last few steps, stopping on the landing to listen to Sherlock, the words now easily distinguishable:

“I was the one who had it all, I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.”

The fervency he lays into the lyrics makes John’s insides tingle. He has heard Sherlock sing to Rosie before but nothing has come close to this level of… honesty? The words drip from his tongue as fresh and true as spring water and make John hold his breath almost devoutly, a clandestine listener to a secret symphony.

With utmost caution as to not disturb them, John opens the door to the sitting room and peaks inside. The scene before his eyes is one to thaw even the coldest of hearts: Rosie, a head full of golden locks and mischief, is standing on the couch, her light blue dress playing around her bare feet as she bounces up and down in excitement. Sherlock’s slender figure is towering over her, the blanket the three of them cuddle under on cold nights draped around his shoulders as a makeshift cape. With melodramatic gestures and skillful vibrato in his honey-like voice, he entertains the little girl:

“I'll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but he's still there. I let him steal into my melancholy heart; It's more than I can bear.”

John stops short in the doorway. He? Him? That can’t be right. As far as he remembers, the Beast sings this song about Belle. Why would he use male pronouns? Or has he misheard?

He eyes Sherlock carefully but the singing detective doesn’t show any signs of flustering, nor does Rosie correct him. Surely, John has misheard then. When it comes to reciting Disney songs, Rosie is more than unforgiving when someone makes a mistake. Unfortunately, she has picked up Sherlock’s habit to correct everyone on everything, although not with the same air of smugness as her godfather.

“Now I know he'll never leave me. Even as he runs away. He will still torment me, Calm me, hurt me, Move me, come what may.”

There it is again. He! John is sure he has heard it right this time. The syllable rings in his ears, echoes in his chest, lets every sinew in his body vibrate with alarming anticipation. He can’t move. Glued to the spot, he just keeps watching the two most important people in his life, both completely immersed in their little show. Rosie giggles satisfied as Sherlock kneels down in front of the sofa in an overly dramatic fashion, clutching his heart with one hand.

“Wasting in my lonely tower, Waiting by an open door, I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in And be with me for evermore.”

The deep note makes goosebumps spread all over John’s body. Deep inside his bones, something is shifting, falling into place, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Why does this performance move him so much? It is heartwarming to watch, sure, but there’s something more, something significant going on. His breathing speeds up a notch without him being able to do anything about it. His whole body has become oddly rigid, no longer accepting orders from his mind. The bag full of groceries slips from his hand and lands on the floor with a thunk that makes Sherlock, at last, aware of his existence.

For a split second, their eyes meet and the hint of a coy smile tugs at Sherlock’s mouth but it vanishes so quickly that John is not quite sure if he has seen it at all. Rosie wins back his attention at once. Sherlock rises and swoops her off the sofa in one smooth movement, whirling her around in a pirouette that makes her squeal with laughter.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light. Though he's already flown so far beyond my reach he's never out of sight.”

Rosie wraps her legs and arms around his body like a little spider monkey, Sherlock securing her with strong arms as he keeps spinning them around. He lets his head fall back and sings at full volume as they twirl on the worn-out carpet, his voice saturating the air with its enchanting timbre. Every single word hits John like a wrecking ball.

“Now I know he'll never leave me, Even as he fades from view. He will still inspire me, Be a part of everything I do. Wasting in my lonely tower Waiting by an open door—”

Sherlock’s eager eyes fix on John and a hint of sadness and something apologetic flit across his face as he halts in the middle of the sitting room, the few steps between them, the safe distance they had kept all these years, this unsurmountable abyss finally being bridged by a delicate construct of wavering words.

John burns up under his gaze and is yet unable to divert his own eyes from the face of the man he shares his life with. Why would he ever give this up? Why would he ever let anything as mundane as a missing bedroom rip Sherlock from his side again? He can’t leave him, he doesn’t want to, he has never wanted to, since the first day they met. The realization crushes him like an avalanche, breaking bones and convictions like brittle twigs.

“I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in. And as the long, long nights begin, I'll think of all that might have been—”

Sherlock knows. How could he not? Sherlock knows how John feels about him. And if the pleading look he gives John and the confession he has woven into the song are any indicators, he feels the same. It couldn’t be clearer. John lets out a disbelieving puff of air—half laughter, half sigh. Why has it taken him so long to see it?

“Waiting here for evermore.”

The last note of the song hangs unfinished under the ceiling of their home as John crosses the sitting room with three swift steps, takes Sherlock’s face in his hands, and shuts him up with a long overdue kiss.

@itsalwaysyou-jw @drunk-rambles @barbsiebabe @blueeyesbitch @bugzy-boiz

[emeraldtawny]

✦⋆~500 FOLLOWER EXTRAVAGANZA!~⋆✦

we made it fam....I cannot thank you guys for supporting me enough. I love you all no matter how interactive or anonymous you are; you’re all so amazing and I’m so lucky for such an amazing following and how I even have this many people liking my blog is beyond baffling to me and surreal on the craziest level

But enough rambling, onto the main event! Instead of the usual follower fic giveaway, I thought I’d ramp it up a bit soooo....I’m reopening my ask box for requests!

I’ll be keeping them open for a bit so hopefully anyone who wants to get a request in will be able to. However, in the name of fairness, I ask that you please only submit one request. Don’t be greedy please~!

Fandoms

Ikemen Sengoku (all characters)

Ikemen Revolution (all characters)

Ikemen Vampire (all characters - I will attempt but please take their characterisation with a grain of salt since I haven’t played the game yet)

AU Options

Canon AU

Modern AU

University AU (IkeSen & IkeRev)

Coffee Shop AU

Prompt Lists

Quickfire Prompts (bringing these back and with some new additions now, woop woop!)

Song Lyric Prompts (inspired by a separate list, but I wanted to make my own)

Ordinary things that are intimate with the one you love Prompts (...the name says it all)

Send in those prompts if you feel so inclined! Once again, thank you all for your support! I wanted to do something nice for everyone’s endlessly kind support so what better than to make fics rain? XD but uhhh....ye. Love you all and hope you have a good day/night/life~! ^w^

[m39]

Beyond Canonical Extravaganza - YEAR 1: Chapter 11

A moment of silence for this poor bastard.

I forgot how fast I am while making reviews/first impressions related to Homestuck. Maybe because they are small in content, maybe something else.

Anyway, we are still in the Meat timeline… I think. It’s not completely stated if Alt!Callie and her crew are in this timeline but hey! It’s not Candy (asides from a small cameo from the Epilogues) so big thumbs up from me already.

Remember the Davebot from Candy cesspool? The one who is supposed to be the Ultimate version of Dave? Yeah? Then have a look:

Even though I saw his design coming, I’m still shocked at how he looks. I was expecting him to look closer to his original God-Tier outfit, closer to how Rosebot looks but nope, something completely different. I’m not saying he looks bad, far from it, I think he looks sick as fuck. I’m just surprised that he looks different than I could imagine.

Aradia is, of course, also here. She’s fucking adorable in these space/cherub-themed pajamas.

I’m kinda struggling between deciding if she or Neppers is my 2nd most favorite Post-Scratch Troll. I warmed up for her after a while.

Alt!Calliope is still the same, mostly non-humorous cherub. I like how Davebot interrupts her pretentious narration without even trying:

Also, she has some sass despite all the odds against it.

There is also, of course, dialogues worth mentioning. For instance, there is a dialogue that mentions Aradia’s adventures in Pesterquest:

I honestly forgot if this stuff that she said happened since I played her route almost a year ago when Volume 8 was released and my memory is iffy sometimes. Also, Calliope says that the Pesterquest events were non-canon (which now that I think about, it’s more like a dubiously-canon stuff like in Homestuck^2’s case) so some of the more nonsensical stuff like Sollux being Trans (which contradicts the bipolarity-related joke about him possibly having two dicks) should, more likely, be taken with a grain of salt.

There is also this dialogue spoken by Calliope:

Call me an idiot but I think that it indicates that Calliope can possess multiple bodies at the same time and that headache at the very last page of this chapter indicates that it happens right when Meat!Jade is fighting her over the control of the former’s body.

And that’s pretty much it. Getting rid of K*** was a good choice. This chapter seems to be even better than the last one and let me remind you that I found the last chapter good. It also looked like the writers tried to minimalize the use of the purple prose addict calling themselves the narrator.

But unfortunately, I’m afraid this is going to be the last good update of YEAR 1. Because the next is Chapter 12 and… It’s pretty clear what it is about since people were not subtle about it...

You are holding your head. You are frightened to the bones.

sigh

Let me tell you something folks, this is how the nearest future will look like:

Yyyeeeaah… I’m gonna check with Liquid Bogan if we have enough alcohol and guns for the next few days. Let’s hope there will be more of the former.

See you next time.

[themikewheelers]

People exaggerate Hopper being protective to the max. Hopper knows how much Mike and El love each other. Of course he's gonna wanna be protective but he is not possessive. Hopper is also highly aware that El risked her life to visit him at the school that day. Its deeper than two kids just liking each other and he knows that. He will be protective but he probably also embrace Mike along the way.

Yeah like Hopper is protective but he’s not like possessive or anything? Like I’m not gonna deny that Hopper is a little protective of El (like the scene where he interrupted her when she went to kiss Mike) but there’s a line between protective and overprotective, and Hopper doesn’t even come CLOSE to that line. He trusts Mike a lot, and he knows that Mike just wants the same thing that he does, for El to be safe and happy. Hopper is definitely an intimidating person in general, but he’s not the “Let me start cleaning my gun when a boy comes to pick up my daughter for a date” kind of dad. He gives El a LOT of freedom. She has three rules, and those three rules are ones meant to keep her safe so she doesn’t get KILLED. Other than that he’s a very lenient dad because he knows El has had enough of her freedom stripped away in her life. All these headcanons about Hopper basically never letting El around Mike and other super possessive shit like that, they’re so wildly out of character and just plain wrong. I hate to break it to y'all, but Hopper actually canonically supports Mike and El’s relationship? He spent a year listening to El talk about her visits to Mike in the void, and he checked up on Mike so El could know if he was okay, and he was the one responsible for making sure El could go to the Snow Ball because he knew how important it was for El that she was able to go there with Mike. Hopper is a VERY supportive dad, and he knows how much Mike means to El and he’s not about to try and stop that. He’s gonna be protective, but it’s protective to a point. It’s not at all crossing into overprotective or possessive territory.

And just in general, the possessive dad trope is so completely sexist and absurd and I can’t stand it. Eleven is not Hopper’s property. He might be a little protective of her, but that’s again just to keep her happy and safe. He certainly doesn’t view her as his property he can control. El has her own freedom to do what she wants and what makes her happy, and as long as she’s SAFE, Hopper doesn’t infringe on that. That’s something I really love about their dynamic. Hopper focuses a lot on El’s immediate safety and besides that, everything else isn’t as important. I don’t think I can word it well myself, but I’ve seen other people talk about this before so I’m gonna edit this in a little bit and link some posts about it.

[Edit: It's discussed a bit in this post in a much more eloquent way than I know how to put it http://themikewheelers.tumblr.com/post/167756608565/brainspacevsmeatspace-zombeesknees ]

Hopper cares about El’s safety first and foremost, and as long as she’s safe, he gives her a lot of freedom to do whatever she wants. And sometimes that freedom means she’s allowed to have a bad day without judgement. She’s allowed to go non-verbal or eat a 3000 calorie triple decker Eggo extravaganza or spend the day on the couch watching soap operas. And other times that freedom means she’s allowed to do whatever makes her happy. As long as she’s safe, Hopper gives her the freedom to do whatever she feels is best for her. El’s immediate safety is Hop’s top priority, and outside of that, he is not strict whatsoever and he gives her a lot of freedom.

Hopper is protective of El, but at the end of the day he just cares that she’s safe and he gives her so much freedom because he understands that’s what she deserves and as long as she’s safe, he doesn’t really care what she does because he trusts her to do what she feels is best for her. This stuff applies to her everyday life, and it also applies to her relationship with Mike. Hopper may be a little protective, but that protectiveness is just a result of the fact that he’s not used to being the dad of a teenage girl and he’s struggling to see his daughter grow up, but it has nothing to do with him being possessive of El and he’s absolutely not gonna limit her relationship with Mike because of it. As long as she’s safe, and there’s nothing jeopardizing her immediate safety, Hopper gives El the freedom to handle her relationship the way she wants to. He is very supportive of her relationship with Mike and he’s not about to turn into this possessive overprotective dad around Mike because that’s just not who he is and that’s not what his dynamic with El is like.

And then outside all of this about Hopper being possessive or overprotective, there’s also the people who turn this into this really creepy sexual thing where Hopper has this obsession with protecting his daughter’s virginity. That’s sexist enough to begin with. In general, girls should be able to make their own decisions about their sexuality without being policed by the men in their life, but honestly when we’re talking about this topic in regards to Mike and El, the sexism isn’t even the biggest problem, it’s the fact that these are literal children and sexualizing them and thinking about them that way is so beyond creepy. Mike and El are 13 years old. They are BARELY teenagers and they are still children. The thought of them having sex shouldn’t even be on anybodies minds. When people reduce Hopper to be just this dad who’s obsessed with making sure his daughter doesn’t have sex, it’s honestly so uncomfortable to read because why is the person who wrote this even THINKING about the possibility of El having sex. Even if they’re not explicitly writing her have it, it’s still sexualizing a child and it’s so inappropriate and creepy.

To conclude: Hopper is protective of El because she’s his little girl and he’s not ready for her to grow up, but he is certainly never overprotective or possessive of her. He’s not strict whatsoever and outside of concern for her immediate safety, he gives her a lot of freedom in making her own decisions about her own life. He’s completely supportive of her relationship with Mike and he’s fully aware of how much the two of them mean to each other. Hopper is a good dad and he’s will never be the kind of dad who limits his daughter’s freedom just because he’s possessive over her having a boyfriend. And it’s absolutely not okay for people to reduce him into this misogynistic trope where a father becomes obsessed with “protecting” his daughter’s virginity because Mike and El are children and none of you should even be thinking about them having sex.