#Hound-reader's backstory more or less

[thegnomelord]

I desperately need MORE background on how hound became the vicious beast (that I love just the way he is) and how Makarov tamed him!

Please

It's kinda hard to come up with background when I literally made hound on the fly lol, I didn't plan to give him any backstory and that blurb about being betrayed by price just came at the last moment.

But here's my current ideas:

CW:SFW ish HUGE SPOILERS for Hound's backstory (not cannon yet but the major themes), angst, discussion of torture, conditioning, SA, and Hound just having a very bad time.

Hound already had behavioural/aggression problems when he joined the military (the reasons for which are left open for the reader to imagine). Price pissed off some top brass officer and got Hound dumped on him as punishment and because no one else wanted Hound. But Price figured out that all Hound needed was a firm hand from someone he could respect, and with Hound, respect was a hard thing to earn. But Price earned it and in turn got himself the most loyal Sargent he'd ever seen.

Now for the angsty Makarov bit.

Hound was loyal as hell to Price when he thought he would be saved. It took Makarov like a solid year just to make small dents in Hound's will. Since Hound didn't know Russian, he'd get annoyed at the commands Makarov used, leading to more beatings. This was around the time Makarov started using shock collars and really leaned into turning Hound into his dog.

The whole conditioning thing was similar to how cult indoctrination works, Makarov made himself look like the only 'safe' source of comfort Hound had. He especially liked making Hound fight in a pit, be it putting him against actual dogs, people trying to join Konni, or other Konni members, with the prize being that whichever soldier won would get to use Hound however they wanted. And while Hound may be big (hc Hound around Konig's hight/whatever the max height for being in the army is), being regularly beaten, starved and sleep deprived meant he lost more fights against the soldiers than he won.

This made it easy for Makarov to effectively 'save' Hound, rough orders making his soldiers stop, giving Hound soft touches and a low soothing voice to listen to while he lay on the floor covered in blood, gore, cum, and god knows what else, just trying to recover. And Hound's brain hated it, was disgusted by the touch, but his body craved any form of comfort it could get regardless who it came from.

The real conditioning began when after a year in captivity the files for Hound's mission were released, and had been rewritten to make him K.I.A. and a traitor. And they were official documents too (Makarov had eyes and ears everywhere, including the C.I.A). Makarov had been putting the idea that Price had betrayed Hound for a while, so those docs just confirmed it.

Hound became a lot more anger prone and aggressive after the betrayal, going back to his old ways before Price became his CO, something Makarov played into.

Violence became both a coping mechanism and a way to survive; the more violently he fought and killed in the fighting ring, the better the rewards he would get (more food, more rest, more of Makarov's affection to distract him from what was happening), the stronger he would get and the more his body would recover, the more violently he could fight. Leading to a type of cycle where physically getting healthier turned him more violent.

Makarov was very keen on training Hound, taking away the small comforts as quickly as he gave them if Hound stepped one foot out of line, steadily conditioning him to be eager for his touch, his praise, his affection, to want to pleasure him and silence the parts of Hound's brain that begged him to stop.

In six months or so, Hound was already kneeling at Makarov's feet, head tilted back so Makarov could cut his initials into Hound's throat, desperate to have a collar wrapped around his neck, to belong to someone who wouldn't betray him like Price did.

And in another six, Hound was utterly devoted to Makarov, carrying out any orders given with extreme precision and violence all in the hopes of just getting a scrap of his attention.

Or something like that. The thing I like about reboot Makarov is how charismatic and tactical he is in comparison to the unhinged Makarov from the old series. This one gives me like cult leader vibes, which is why I think he would have been able to condition hound into being his. Makarov values loyalty and saw how loyal hound was to Price, so sought to have the same.

[rainrot4me]

Do You Think About Her?

Summary: Jeff liked to tease Toby about his lack of experience with women. So when coming home from a mission with the two, you decide to tell Jeff off, spurring him into a jealous fit to see how far he can push you both.

Characters: Jeff the Killer & Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Teasing, Toby is inexperienced, Jeff’s an asshole, fingering, eating out, embarrassment, dub-con, blowjob, fucking in/on a truck, voyeurism, double penetration, vaginal, slight power struggle

Words: 5.0k

Jeff was known to make Toby the brunt of his jokes.

Whenever the twitching boy would stutter too much or laugh a little too hard, Jeff was always quick to jump on his ass and say something. Whether Toby took the remarks seriously or not, the pale killer never let up.

So whenever Toby accidentally let it slip that the farthest he had ever gotten with a girl was a blowjob, the whole mansion groaned with the frequency Jeff brought it up. Whenever he got a chance to embarrass the brunette you best believe he was going to, despite your belief that Toby could easily lay his ass out but just chose not to.

You had been sleeping around with Jeff for a while, the horny killer always willing to show you a good time whenever you asked for it. But that also meant dealing with his obnoxious mouth, and whatever bullshit insults he had conjured that day. So when you got wind of Jeff’s hounding on the boy, your heart ached. You and Toby were about the same age, and your backstories for how you ended up under Slender’s care were more or less the same. Bad home life turned murderous. There was a sense of familiarity in him, so you couldn’t just let your obnoxious fuck buddy run his mouth without you saying something.

“Listen, Jeff.” You groaned, curling your legs under you in the passenger seat of his old truck, heading back to the mansion after a particularly aggravating mission. Jeff eyed you, head propped on his fist as he leaned against the open window, the cool night air wafting in as he drove down the familiar back roads. Toby sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window as his brown curls swayed in the wind. Slender had assigned the three of you together, apparently unaware of the high tensions between the two boys. It just made completing the mission that much more difficult. “You’ve gotta lay off Toby. The poor kids gonna cut your head off if you don’t quit talking about his dick.” You mumbled, staring at the dense trees flying by. Jeff groaned, sitting back against his seat as he turned a sharp curve, cringing at you. A slow rock song mumbled through the radio, the atmosphere nice besides the sour mood in the truck.

“Ain’t my fault the stutter’s practically a virgin.” He laughed dryly, looking into the rearview mirror and catching Toby’s nasty look at him, neck jerking. You were assigned some bullshit job to take out a couple of guys who vandalized the mansion, how they ever got that close and lived you had no idea. But with Toby bickering with Jeff’s snarky attitude, it was nearly impossible for them to focus. Two hours longer than it should have taken, you were finally headed back to the mansion, praying to get away from the two. 

“Don’t be acting like you weren’t a virgin before I came along.” You huffed, turning to catch Toby snickering lowly, looking back out the window quickly before Jeff could see. Jeff grits his teeth, rolling his eyes as he leans forward, staring daggers at you. “Oh, come on now. You’re talking real big for someone that begs for me to fuck them once a week.” He snarled, reaching his arm across the console and gripping your thigh tightly, glancing between you and the road. Toby was still laughing quietly, amused by the bickering not focused on him for once. But this time Jeff heard him, whipping his wide eyes around quickly to laugh at the boy. “No fucking way the virgin’s laughing!” He hollered, throwing his head back as he laughed annoyingly, just loud enough to prove a point. You slapped his arm, pushing his hand off your thigh as you hissed.

“Jeff.”

He rolled his eyes, glancing between you and the rearview mirror, snarling at Toby. The brunette just stared awkwardly between you two, back pressed flush against the seat as you turned to look back at him, nodding your apology. Toby smiled at you, his cheek twitching at the movement. But as you turned back forward, Jeff’s pale face sat shocked and angry as he glanced between the two of you. You glared at him, but that felt all too much as he faced forward quickly, shoving the wheel to the left and throwing the truck off the road, pulling next to the thick treeline and slamming on the brakes. You yelped, bracing your hands on the dash as he threw the truck in park and shut the engine off, the low rock song still beating through the old speakers. Toby cursed, groaning as he pushed himself off of Jeff’s seat and shook his head.

Before you could berate the pale killer, he was already throwing open his door, jumping out and quickly shoving the back door open as well. You watched as Toby struggled frantically against him, punching his shoulders as Jeff hauled him from the truck and onto the grass below. You yelled, throwing open your door and dodging to the opposite side of the truck. Jeff was already on top of the boy, loud grunts and curses ringing as they pushed against each other, fists flying and grappling the other. Toby was holding him off, but with Jeff holding his knee on his stomach, there was little Toby could do to fight him off. They were throwing their palms into each other’s faces, pushing their necks and nearly hurting themselves. So you yelled, instincts thrown as you gripped Jeff by his messy hair, tugging him back by the head until he was hissing. 

As you pulled him off of the smaller boy, you beat his chest with your fist, furious. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You snarled, pushing his chest back against the side of the truck with a loud thud. Thankfully this road was practically abandoned, nobody having any reason to travel back this far unless it was a hunting season, so no one just saw the throwdown that you just broke up. Toby panted behind you, your body standing between the two so Jeff had no choice but to focus on your angry face. “Fu- fuckin’ psycho…” Toby grits, spitting onto the ground as he sits up on his elbows. You still stared at Jeff, your questioning expression enough to make him groan. 

When Toby began to cough, you turned, reaching an arm out to help him stand. You gave him a once over, making sure Jeff hadn’t done any serious damage as you hauled him up. He was slightly taller than you, his goofy smile thankful as he pulled his mask down under his chin, wiping the dirt from his cheek. You sighed, turning back to Jeff and glaring, but getting caught off guard by his disgusted expression. Jeff towered over the both of you, his nasty scowl making you worried. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you two were fuckin’.” Jeff growled, pushing off the truck and shouldering the two of you apart, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and staring into the woods. Toby and you awkwardly glanced at each other, the brunette stepping out of the way as you shuffled to Jeff’s side. “Jeff. You’re being unreasonable.” You grit, shoving his shoulder as he glanced at you, groaning. But he turned back to Toby, glaring daggers at the boy until he glanced back at you, a small smirk appearing on his sullen face. The pale killer shuffled to Toby’s side, throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders, making him flinch away. Jeff held his head tight against his side, making the boy stare through his messy hair at you as you nervously watched. “Tell me, twitch. You ever thought about my girl before? While you’re jerkin’ it, maybe?”

There was a nasty grin on Jeff’s face as you blushed, crossing your arms as the brunette stared at the ground. Jeff didn't appreciate the silence so he hauled Toby’s head up, gripping him by the back of the hair and making his eyes face you. “Jeff-”

“Ah, ah. I’m asking him.” Jeff cut you off, nudging Toby by his side until his shoulders twitched under the pressure. “Whaddya say, Toby?” You glanced nervously between the two, both of their eyes on you as you waited for either an answer or for Jeff to shove off. Music still thumped from the truck, the cool night air blowing your hair gently until there were goosebumps on your skin.  Toby’s eyes frantically glanced between you and the ground, his freckled cheeks a dark tint as he searched for an answer. You had no idea what had gotten into Jeff, but you were growing tired and more embarrassed by the second. Toby closed his eyes, shaking his head as Jeff scoffed, shoving him back to the ground

“I guess we’ll just find out then, huh?” Jeff smiled wildly, stepping over Toby to move to you, your body subconsciously taking a step back before pale hands wrapped around your waist, pushing you in front of him. Jeff stood flush behind you, hands on your hips as he looked down at Toby, the brunette perched against the rear tire of the truck. You pushed against Jeff's hands, protesting lightly as he hugged around your waist, nudging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing lightly, keeping his eyes on Toby the whole time. You groaned, trying to squirm away from his grasp as he nibbled on your neck, kissing small pecks up your jaw and to your ear. Your cheeks grew hot, anxiously glancing between Jeff and Toby, the brunette’s eyes having a hard time looking away from you as Jeff ravaged the side of your face. 

You stifled a groan when Jeff’s cool hands slid under your shirt, pressing light touches against your skin. You gasped, tugging your shirt down as his arms pushed the fabric up, panicking against him. “Jeff- Stop-” You huffed, tugging at his arms, but the pale killer only laughed, nibbling behind your ear as he watched Toby carefully become flustered. You glanced at the brunette, his cheeks dark and knees pressed close to his chest, unable to do anything but watch you fidget under pale arms. Jeff was making a spectacle out of you, teasing the poor boy at your expense. But there was little you could do as he tugged your shirt up, despite your protests.

When he got your shirt over your head, you could literally see the panic in Toby’s eyes. You screwed your eyes shut, whining as Jeff reached behind to unclip your bra and tug it off your shoulders. The brunette was quick to look down, finding your feet inches away from him far more interesting. Jeff didn’t appreciate that, taking your tits in his hands and kneading roughly. “Oh, don’t get shy now, twitch. You gotta own up to how much of a pervert you are.” The killer smiled, pinching your nipples until he heard you hiss, your cheeks hot and breath heavy. 

“The o- only pervert here is yo- you, Jeff…” Toby grunted, eyes glancing up quickly to your tits but back down nervously as he caught the fingers on them. You desperately tugged on Jeff’s hoodie sleeves, teeth gritted as he finally let go and ran his hands down your waist. His cool hands were quick to unbutton your jeans, pushing his hand past your waistline and down into your panties. You yelped, grabbing at his arm and begging the perverted hand out, Jeff only groaning. “Oh, stop acting like you don’t fuckin’ love this, babe.” He hissed in your ear, gripping your wrists and tugging them behind your back, his left hand securing them between his body as his right reentering your panties. You whined, hips bucking frantically as his thick fingers slid between your folds, pushing your wetness onto the digits. Jeff chuckled lowly, pressing his right knee between your legs and forcing your thighs open as his fingers prodded against your clit. 

Toby couldn’t look away now, his flushed cheeks dark as his eyes widened. He was twitching frantically, his neck jerking against the mental override he was experiencing. You stared at him through heavy eyes, embarrassment tugging at your stomach as you begged the boy to look away. Jeff was always one for proving a point no matter the expense, so as he pushed his fingers into your entrance, stretching you wide, he was quick to snap at the brunette. 

“Well look at that, twitch. You ever fingered a girl before? Ever made her squirm this much?” Jeff teased, Toby’s head shaking slowly as his lips fell open, his eyes refusing to look anywhere else. Your arms protested against Jeff, but his strong grip held both of them easily, keeping your chest out and ass pressed back against him. His bulge was already evidently, his psychotic personality getting him excited at your struggle. His thick fingers curled inside of you, pushing little whines and hisses from your lips until you were hunched over, gasping as pleasure racked your cunt. Jeff was chuckling against your neck, nibbling on the skin and leaving little red marks wherever his teeth grazed. It made you whine, your eyes growing heavy and your face hot as you were forced to face Toby, hunched over so your face was right above his. A cool palm nudged against your clit, making your hips grind down and relish in the friction. Toby was so lost in the scene, his knees rubbing together nervously as he glanced quickly between your flushed face and Jeff’s hands shoved into your pants. His bulge was evident against his jeans, his hands gripping the grass below him as he nudged his thighs together, desperately trying to grasp at some sort of friction. 

Jeff ground his hips into your clothed ass, his bulge rubbing against you as he huffed against your neck. “Come on, tell the boy how good you feel.” He grunted, slotting his thick fingers in and out of your cunt quickly, your hips bucking against his palm. He was pulling gasps from you, every curl of his fingers making you mewl your pleasure. Your embarrassment had faded, excitement coursing through you as Toby began to palm himself through his jeans, his hitched groans making you whine as you locked eyes. “Ah… Jeff…” You groaned through gritted teeth when his thick fingers pressed deep against your walls, gushing your arousal around his cool fingers. The killer chuckled, letting your wrists go to snap onto your hip, pulling your hips back so he could grind into your ass easier. You felt your stomach knotting, your hips stuttering against his fingers as you began to whine, biting your cheek. “Toby…” Toby gasped under you, eyes wide as he ground into his hand, mesmerized by you. Eyes locked, you could feel yourself close to that familiar edge, chasing Jeff’s fingers as they curled deep. 

But as if he could sense it, Jeff tugged his fingers out of your warm walls, sliding them out of your pants and chucking wickedly as you whined. You were shocked, hips still bucking as he held your hips, refusing to let you move. You were teetering on that lovely edge, so close to getting off but so quickly stripped of that feeling that you could’ve cried. 

Jef tugged your pants down, pulling your damp panties with them until you kicked them off your ankles. You were completely exposed to the cool air, goosebumps riddling your skin as Jeff bent down, hooking his hands under your knees and tugging you up quickly. Your back was pressed flush against his chest, laying all your weight as your held your knees apart, your throbbing cunt face first with Toby’s face. You whined loudly, hands reaching back to grip Jeff’s messy hair as your cheeks grew dark, eyes pleading as you stared at the boy under you. “Go on. Make her cum.” Jeff commanded, holding you up easily as he watched Toby, beckoning the nervous boy. 

The brunette sat up unsurely, climbing onto his knees as he watched your dark face. He stripped his jacket, letting it fall to the ground behind him as he pressed closer, heavy breath brushing against your sensitive folds. You whined, hips trying to buck to his face but Jeff’s hands holding you still, tsking. “Go on, twitch.” Toby nodded nervously, sliding his fingers up to press your folds apart, eyes flinching to your face worriedly when you gasped. His freckled face looked so cute under you, his goggles pushing his bangs off his forehead and letting you see the flushed skin as he pushed closer. His tongue pressed first, licking a thick stripe between your folds before his soft lips pressed in, sucking on your sensitive clit. Jeff growled, pushing your hips closer to the brunette as you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, God-” You hummed, eyes slamming shut as Toby flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud. 

Your back arched against Jeff, fingers gripping his hair tight as you rutted against the warm tongue lapping at your arousal. Toby spread your lips with his fingers, flattening his tongue against your entrance as humming against you. He pushed further, slipping his tongue into your warmth and making you groan, your hand instantly shooting down to rub your clit and push you close. Toby’s eyes stayed hooded, watching eagerly as your fingers brushed against his nose, his tongue shoved into your cunt. “Le- Let me…” He grunted, sliding his hand up to shove yours away and take its place, slowly circling your clit with the pads of his fingers. You could barely breathe through all the gasps and whines that spilt from your lips, Jeff’s fingernails gripping your leg as he watched the scene unfold. He was smiling and huffing his arousal, teeth nibbling against your ear as he pushed your hips against Toby’s tongue, pulling your knees back further to give the brunette more access. “Does his tongue feel good, babe? You gonna cum on his face?” Jeff cooed, rutting his hips up against your bare ass as Toby lapped at your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to push deeper.

Nodding frantically, you could already feel yourself clamping down, Jeff’s lewd words making your core twitch as fingers rubbed against your clit. “Toby-” You whined, bucking your hips up as you felt your orgasm crash into you. Toby was quick to hold your hips, burying his face deeper into your cunt as he soaked up your arousal on his tongue, groaning at the taste. Jeff growled, teeth digging into your shoulder as Toby’s fingers rubbed your orgasm out, your thighs trying to twitch shut. When you finally breathed deep, Toby slipped his tongue out, hooded eyes gazing at your hot face, your cheeks flushed and sweaty. He smiled goofily, fingers spreading your soaked lips as he admired your still throbbing cunt, palming himself. Jeff slowly let your legs down, hooking his arm around your waist when your knees buckled from your sensitivity. 

“Damn, Toby…” He groaned, unzipping his jeans and freeing his heavy cock, the tip already smeared with pre. The pale killer gripped you to his side, staring down at the brunette still on his knees as he began to fist his length lazily. Toby sat back on his calves, eyes flicking nervously as he watched Jeff tug you towards the truck, pressing his back against the door and holding you in front of him. Toby stood awkwardly, fidgeting his hands as he watched Jeff push you back, gripping his hands around your head and bringing your mouth to his cock. You didn’t even think, mouth opening almost on instinct as you bent at the waist, bracing your hands against his thighs and taking the twitching length in your mouth like you had done it a thousand times before. Jeff sighed, gripping your hair into a ponytail and bobbing you slowly as he began to talk. 

“You wanna fuck her?” He grinned, grunting as you moaned your approval around his girth. Toby gasped quietly, eyes focused on watching you take Jeff so easily as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Jeff spread his legs wider, pressing his shoulders back against the glass of the door and cupping your cheek, forcing you to bury your face onto his cock, gagging against him. The pale killer groaned, eyeing Toby expectantly as the brunette nodded, his nervousness fading as he watched you submit to Jeff so easily. He wanted that. He wanted you to want him that way. 

Toby had always thought you were cute, his aggravation with Jeff spreading when the killer claimed you for his use. Toby thought the guy was ungrateful for such a pretty girl as you, wishing it was him who was dragging you upstairs to his room after a bad day. The bad thing about all living in the same hallway was the lack of noise privacy, so every time Toby heard your little whines echoing against his wall, there was little he could do against his straining arousal. 

But now, with your hips in the air and your cunt so beautifully waiting, Toby would show you. Despite his lack of experience, the brunette had watched enough porn to know what he wanted, to know exactly how he needed to treat you. The boy nodded, unzipping his jeans and sliding behind you, awkwardly gripping your hips. Your back muscles twitched and pulsed as you strained to bob at the pace Jeff was wanting you to go, the killer’s dark eyes grinning as he watched Toby nervously slip out his cock. The tip was red and leaking, twitching desperately as the brunette bent his knees, angling his head to press between your soft folds and find your entrance. You gasped, immediately pressing back against him but Jeff’s hands held your head, giving you little room to move as you slobbered on his length. 

The killer was being possessive, inspecting the brunette's every move as he pushed into you slowly, watching your expressions for any sign that you weren’t enjoying it. You moaned around his cock, tongue flattening against the underside and flicking against the gaudy veins that ran up it. Jeff huffed, relishing in the way your slobber pooled at the sides of your mouth as you screwed your eyes shut, focusing on not choking on his girth. But he wanted you to. He wanted to put on a good show for the kid. 

Placing his hands on either side of your head, he thrust quickly into the heat of your mouth, head knocking against the back of your throat and making you gag. He smiled, pulling back to the head before slamming back in, trying his best to pull any noises he could from your constricted throat. 

Toby watched carefully, mouth hanging lazily as he bottomed out inside of you. You were so warm, the heat swallowing him impossibly tight as he struggled not to move. His cock wasn’t as long as Jeff’s, but fuck did it still stretch you so good. You ground your hips back, moaning at the way the boy’s nails dug into your hips desperately. You had already ruined porn for him, your cunt gripping him the way his fist never could. He was already hooked. “God… O- Oh my god…” Toby gasped, shallowly thrusting into your cunt and drooling at the way your entrance tugged against him every time he pulled out. You were so pretty, your flushed skin warm under his scarred fingers, he couldn’t help but knead your ass apart as he ground into you.

In your opinion, the two boys were so impossibly different. Jeff was an ego trip, dick thinking before his brain did and making him a cocky little bitch who loved to show off. But Toby, on the other hand, was an awkward kid whose brain ran faster than the rest of him. It made him sensitive, but so dangerously impulsive at the same time. But right now, with their cocks buried on either side of you, their differences were even more prominent. Jeff was rough and loud, even on his best days caring only if you ended up babbling his name out of overstimulation. But Toby was nervous, inexperienced and trying his best to fulfill those urges he so desperately had. It was dizzying how differently they treated you.

You ground back against Toby, arching your back against his small thrusts and begging him to dare faster. He panted behind you, neck twitching and face contorting with every stretch he could feel inside of you. “Faster, twitch,” Jeff grunted, angling his cock in your mouth so he could fuck your throat, smiling at the way you gurgled on your spit. Toby hesitated for a minute, looking at the killer unsurely. 

“She wants you to go, ah, faster.” He hissed, snapping his hips as you gripped his jeans, begging for air. After so much time sleeping around, Jeff could read your body language like a book. It was beyond annoying, especially when he could tell you were aroused despite your bickering that you weren’t. But in this case, you thanked him by pressing your head down further, pushing your nose into his pubes. 

Toby nodded frantically, spreading his feet wider so he could angle himself up, slowly snapping his hips faster. He gripped your hips, his fingerless gloves nipping against your skin until you were whining loudly, gut-clenching in pleasure as his cock nudged against your g-spot. You arched your back, letting the brunette groan and hiss his pleasure behind you as you thrust your hips back, matching his pace. It wasn’t long before he was ramming into you, skin snapping loudly as he gave in and abandoned his nervousness. Jeff was eager too, nearly matching the brunette’s pace as he forced his cock down your throat, only pulling back every so often so you could suck on the head and catch your breath. “So- So warm…”

Jeff grits his teeth, challenging the twitching boy opposite of him as he stares daggers through his hooded eyes. “You gonna cum, twitch? Gonna spill in her?” Jeff was teasing him, the killer’s own orgasm quick on his heels as he slipped out of your mouth, slapping the wet length against your cheek. You were gasping, whines mixing as Toby snapped his hips, hissing. “I- I, ah, can’t-” He whined, your walls clamping against his aching cock, milking him quickly. Jeff grinned, popping his cock back in your mouth and letting you suck on the head while he talked. “Sure you can. Had her on the pill for a while now. Get to fill her cunt full whenever I want.” 

It was true. Jeff was so insanely horny that he had opted for stealing birth control pills from the pharmacy off the highway nearby just so he didn’t have to pull out. But you couldn’t complain, cumming around a cock was heavenly. 

Toby stared wide-eyed, a new fire igniting in him as he pressed his hands around your waist and began to slam his hips brutally. You yelped, eyes rolling as the boy thrust deeply into you, his teeth gritted and grunting. Jeff laughed wickedly, tugging your chin down with his thumb as he pushed his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, grunting as he matched Toby’s pace in your throat. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight when Toby gripped your hips and hauled you up, your feet leaving the ground. He hunched over you, breathing raggedly as he fucked up into your cunt, squelching and slapping loud in your ears. 

It was all too much, so many sensations and so full your body couldn’t resist itself anymore. You buried your around Jeff’s cock as you came, eyes rolling hard as your cunt clamped down against the unfamiliar girth. Your legs were spasming, feet kicking in the air as Toby moaned, digging his nails deep. 

They both buried in you at the same time, their ragged moans and loud breathing making your gut twist as you felt warm seed spilling into you. You tried to swallow quickly, choking on the salty liquid as Jeff hunched over you, gripping your head tight in his pale hands. Toby’s cock twitched inside of you, knees shaking as he let himself spill into your warmth. Jeff pulled out first, letting his leaking head rest against your swollen lips as tears spilt down your cheeks, your mind so hazy you couldn’t breathe straight. He chuckled, hooking his hands under your armpits and tugging you up against his chest, Toby slipping out of you with a groan. You panted against Jeff’s shoulder, eyes heavy and cunt throbbing as he picked you up and snapped at Toby to grab your clothes. 

So when Toby climbed into the passenger seat and Jeff sat you sideways on his lap, tugging you close to his chest, you breathed deep. Toby’s bangs were stuck against his forehead from the sweat, his red freckled cheeks watching you so closely as he ran his hand between your thighs, your head falling onto his shoulder as he fingered his cum inside of you. Jeff grinned as he started the truck, hauling it back onto the road and speeding towards the mansion, occasionally reaching over to press his thick fingers in with Toby’s and make you cry. The brunette pressed his chin against your head, rubbing your clit as Jeff’s fingers pressed Toby’s cum deep into your cunt, tugging yet another orgasm out of you as the same slow rock music pounded against the speakers. 

You could barely think as they dressed you, pulled up to the mansion and hauled you inside, Toby carrying you to your room and setting you between them as they cleaned you up. Jeff still bickered with Toby, rolling your eyes as you slipped into sleep below them. 

But as the weeks passed and Toby began showing up at your door with that pleading look in his eyes as frequently as Jeff, there was little you could do to resist. Even when the two showed up together, scheming some new position they wanted to try and arguing the whole time, your heart fluttered.

So when their sharp words turned to breathy groans, you realized that maybe the only way they could stand each other was if you were distracting them, giving them something better to focus on.

This is a birthday present for @carmoronic! Live it up!!!!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[erisweekofficial]

Tonight we're delighted to highlight @jules-writes-stories 🧡

If you're looking for a truly exceptional Azris fic, you have to check out Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows. The writing is absolutely beautiful, and it strikes the perfect balance between hurt and comfort. Every detail feels so carefully crafted, from the portrayal of Eris and Azriel to each moment they share. 😭

Also if you are into myth retellings, we are begging you to read this Azris flavored Hades and Persephone retelling that she wrote for Azris week this year. 👀

And be sure to check out allll the fics on her masterlist!

Read on to learn what drew Jules to Eris and what the hounds would say if given buttons. 🐶

Give us a name for one of Eris's brothers!

Sylvan Vanserra is the youngest Vanserra (other than Lucien). He’s quick to laugh, never takes himself too seriously, and readers have called him a cinnamon roll, which is fair. Eris tried to shelter him and Lucien, so he’s less guarded than the other brothers, but don’t sleep on Syl. He definitely has fire in his blood.

Give us a name of his hounds!

Chunky Possum. But let me explain, lol. When I was drafting Just Enough Light, I named Eris’s hounds after (just a few) of my favorite Azris writers. They were meant to be place markers while I thought of original names. But the hounds liked their names, so I left them, and gave some of them back stories. Naming the hounds became a way to show my appreciation for a corner of the fandom that is dear to me. My favorite is Chunky, only because of his backstory. And yes, it will tug at your heartstrings. 

What do you think it was like trying to raise Eris when he was a child? 

Short answer: he was a little fire starter with a smart mouth. Being so brilliant, the fireling likely found ways around doing what he was told and bent the rules to suit his needs. Eris asked questions that stumped his teachers (sometimes on purpose and other times because he was clever and curious). He was full of mischief and a prankster. That said, he was probably under constant pressure to perform, making him highly competitive. I could see little Eris as being lonely, learning at a young age that attachments are liabilities and love must be earned through accolades. 

What drew you to Eris? 

I love monsters and for me, Eris Vanserra is one of the metaphorical monsters of this fandom. He’s both a scapegoat and a martyr. He’s sexy and fetishized: put on a pedestal as often as he's reviled and burned at the stake. I love how Eris can possess all these contradictions and still exist as a character with traits we all universally recognize. He’s interesting and I’m always left wanting to know more. 

Who do you think Eris would want in his inner circle, if he was given a chance to build one?

Lucien. His favorite brother is a clever fox with ties all over Prythian and I want (need) them to be close with an urgency that’s not normal. Nesta Archeron. Eris is canonically drawn to her power and who wouldn’t want Lady Death to have their back? Bonus for Eris: it would piss Cassian off. Lastly, nothing would bring Eris more joy than stealing Azriel from Rhys...for so many reasons. 

If Eris gave his dogs buttons to communicate, what would their options be?

If one wants Eris’s respect, they’ll have to earn it. And one way to do this is through his hounds because they are excellent judges of character. Eris believes that his smokehounds are likely more intelligent than most of the brutes he’s forced to associate with. No, he prefers not to give names– very demure, very mindful.  After meeting someone, the magical canines communicate their first impressions of said individual by pawing at certain buttons with ratings spanning from “burn them alive” to “lukewarm, might burn later” to  “that’s your cauldron blessed mate.” I wonder what the hounds would say about us… 

[ilikereadingactually]

Asunder

Asunder by Kerstin Hall

i've been seeing a LOT of marketing for this book, so i was pretty excited to get around to reading it. i think there are many really intriguing ideas here! the world Hall has created certainly feels broad, and her characters are distinct and each have their own charms. I can definitely understand the kind of reader this book is for! unfortunately it didn't really make full enough use of the ideas and world and characters for me, and what was probably intended to be a heartbreaking ending instead felt somewhat confusing and a little bit flat.

the cosmologies and political/social divisions in this world are quite complicated: there are dead (or mostly dead) old gods, the Bhatuma, who were slayed by the newer demonic Ephirite, and humans might work either Bhatuma or Ephirite magic depending on their culture. the main character, Karys, has sold her soul to a horrifying Ephirite in order to be able to communicate with ghosts and see the inner workings of both kinds of magics by opening the Veneer. there are also clearly political divisions, marked by borders and by bias; Karys's status as a deathspeaker clearly holds different connotations to different secondary characters and in some cases puts her in danger, while other kinds of magic—like the Hounds, dog-like taxis with bowls for backs, and the Silkess, a giant spider that serves as a kind of train—seem ordinary, or at least not scorned. i wanted to know so much more about every single one of these elements! this is the sort of fantasy that drops the reader right in without a lot of exposition up front, which i personally adore, but that method requires eventual payoffs for the trust we're asked to extend. i was very willing to go with the flow, but i never felt that any of the underpinnings of this world were adequately explained or demonstrated.

then there's Karys, and the man she is accidentally sharing a body with, Ferain. their banter is very charming; as i've said on this blog before, romantic plotlines are not really my thing, but the slow building of trust and camaraderie between them will definitely appeal to many readers! we get to see bits of their backstories, particularly Karys, and i did grow fond of them both as the story went on. but the side characters who gather along the quest felt charming but a bit shallow to me; i wanted to know them, and wanted to like them, and by the end still felt that i didn't have a good handle on who they each were as people at all.

i have to say though, this was a pretty long book, but it was a speedy read in spite of my struggles with it! the plot moves along at a good clip, and it was compelling enough to carry me through. i often felt a bit unsure as to why plot points were happening, and how they connected to the rest of the story, but the prose itself was very readable and hooked me right in. that said, the ending really didn't do it for me, emotionally or narratively—but again, romance is not my thing, and the book took a much more romantic turn at the end, so ymmv.

i think my final takeaway here is that i had a really good time reading this book, even though it didn't blow me away—and i think for readers who are less invested in the whys and hows and more interested in fast-paced action, some h/c goodness, and the romance of it all, this will be a hit.

the deets

how i read it: an e-galley from NetGalley, as per usual these days!

try this if you: dig a big-feeling fantasy world, enjoy some demonic horror in your books, love a fraught and fun "there was only one body" situation, or are into bi tsundere heroines.

a line i really liked:

Marishka watched her eat, smiling slightly. She stroked her rabbit's pale ears. "I heard an interesting story this morning," she said. Karys swallowed a mouthful of dipped bread. "Oh?" "Apparently Scuttlers was visited by a Lure during the night. A naked woman rose out of the sea, tempting the good people of Psikamit to a dance below the waves." Karys finished the last bite of her bread, and reached for another piece. "I wasn't naked," she said.

pub date: August 20, 2024! it's out there, go forth and find it!

[no-name-district]

Not tryna start any Discourse TM but after the leaks i have some Thoughts:

"H*wks can't be an abuse apologist!!! He was abused!!!" I understand the sentiment... but that is false. From his backstory, we the reader would assume that H*wks - a victim of parental abuse and neglect - would understand and empathize with other victims and that his opinion regarding the Todoroki situation would be more well informed and well meaning than the average person. That is not the case. By saying that what End*avor did is in the past and that all that matters is that he is trying to make amends, he minimizes the abuse that occurred and sides with the abuser ie abuse apolgism. Even though he doesn't deny that the abuse occurred nor does he deny the Todorokis victimhood, he is essentially telling himself that they should get over it, which again, is to the benefit of the abuser rather than the victims.

On a similar vein, H*wks opinion on the matter is incredibly biased and, in the grand scheme of things, isn't actually important. This chapter heavily emphasizes that End*avor was H*wks' "Symbol of Hope". That hasn't changed. In H*wks' mind, End*avor is a hero that might have made mistakes in the past while Dabi is a villain that is doing harm in the present. With that framing coupled with his emotional attachment to the image of End*avor, it makes sense that H*wks would side with the abuser over the victim because in his mind the abuser is the victim and the victim is the perpetrator (a role reversal, if that makes more sense). Even though this conclusion is understandable and very human in context, that doesn't mean that H*wks is right. If anything, the narrative is gearing up to prove him wrong because the main narrative isn't Dabi vs. H*wks, it's Shouto saving Dabi. H*wks in this situation is a third party who has nothing to do with the Todoroki household. His thoughts on the matter don't affect the main narrative because Shouto has already decided to save Dabi.

This observation is more meta/fandom related, but the framing of Dabi's backstory when compared to everyone else's is ... confusing to say the least. I've held off on mentioning it till now, but H*wks backstory has really cemented that most readers need to see things for themselves to understand the gravity. Because H*wks backstory is explicitly shown to us, more people comprehend his struggles and understand his psyche. Because we've seen him suffer as a child, we understand the mistakes he's made as an adult and frame them as a byproduct of the abuse he endured. But because we have yet to see the details of Dabi's abuse, people are less likely to give him the same treatment. Obviously there are other factors that affect how we view characters, but I would assume that upon seeing a man slowly burn himself alive to enact revenge against his abusive father that we as an audience would conclude that something really fucking bad happened, no flashback needed.

Last little bit which is 100% a personal complaint, but did we really need to dedicate an entire chapter to H*wks backstory right this instant??? This chapter gave a bit of insight into the current situation following the war debacle, but it wasn't anything that we couldn't have deduced from the previous chapter. We already knew that heroes are under fire and that the media is hounding them for answers. I wouldn't be upset if there weren't more pressing problems . Off the top of my head we have a) a massive chain of prison breaks, b) AfO has almost fully possessed Shiggy and is on the loose, c) the MC is in a fucking coma, d) the Todoroki family reunion. So was now really the time to focus on H*wks???

No hate towards any of the characters. These are my opinions. Please don't hate me

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {10/?}

Chapter 10: Face Value

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: Steve gets himself into trouble and nobody is really surprised by that. But there’s only one little flower that can get him out.

Word Count: 2,392

A/N: Wow I’m back to being awful with updates, I’m sorry my lovelies, uni and mental health have been kicking my ass but this was half written and while i procrastinate with everything else in my life I wanted to get it done for you all. I hope you enjoy it!!

Everyone caught wind about what Demeter was up to pretty quickly in the following weeks. Steve heard it from Bucky who heard it from Natasha who heard it straight from Thor. From then on he was constantly looking over his shoulder, the curtains were constantly drawn shut and he feared leaving the apartment. 

Bucky stopped visiting him so often, it wasn’t safe and Steve understood that but it didn’t make it hurt any less. He was lonely, he was scared and every day when the walls creaked or there was noise outside he held the black dahlia in his hand just in case. 

Hades heard the news too, Peter kept her updated on what he heard and as the messenger of the gods he heard quite a bit. Nobody suspected he was helping Hades at all, nobody suspected where his loyalties lay. So he told her how she was searching for Steve, about how Demeter demanded Hades be blamed for his disappearance, about how she had nymphs and monsters searching the mortal world for her son. 

Demeter claimed, even if it was of his own accord he was not safe. Hades had brainwashed him somehow, Hades was going to hurt him somehow. She was losing her mind and people were letting her go crazy because of it. 

She tried to drag Quill into it, tried to get him on her side because Hades punished him and he must hate her but Quill refused to go anywhere near Demeter. Bucky knew why, Bucky knew it was because Quill had already chosen his side and he knew Demeter was all talk, especially compared to Hades who he had seen only as a person of action. 

Most Olympians, they avoided Demeter, they kept working, they left Thor and Jane to deal with her because Thor hadn’t chosen a side yet. He listened to Demeter’s demands, but he also claimed there was no evidence of wrongdoing, which there wasn’t. From an outside perspective, Steve had run away from his controlling mother. From a slightly more inside perspective, Steve had run away from his controlling and abusive mother. 

From Bucky’s perspective, he had saved his friend from a lifetime of torture, and knowingly put into motion a prophecy he knew about. If he wasn’t the god of fortune he would have suspected that the consequences for his actions be dire, but he didn’t care about the prophecy, he cared that his friend was safe as long as Demeter didn’t get her dirty hands on him.  

Because Bucky couldn’t leave Olympus as often to bring Steve supplies Steve had to venture out into the world on his own. He kept a dagger on him at all times, he keep the black dahlia in his pocket wherever he went and he was constantly aware of his surroundings. 

He had some money, nothing extravagant but Bucky had left him with an emergency fund. It’d been two days since he last ate and he needed food soon before he started to starve. He’d put off going out for too long and now he had no choice. So he took all precautions as he ventured out to the streets of New York. 

It took half the trip before he noticed someone was following him. They had been since he left the supermarket, perhaps they caught sight of him when he had taken his hood off in the store. 

Nonetheless Steve’s steps quickened. He turned left instead of right just to see if they were following him. Their speed quickened too and they turned after he did. 

About 50 metres behind him the figure followed. He couldn’t quite make out what they were, he didn’t recognise them, he knew they were male from the reflection he caught in the shop window but that was it. No nymph he knew, probably a monster of some kind. 

Another left and a right. They’re still following him and he’s almost broken out into a run. At this point his new home was about an hours walk away. He didn’t know the area he was in and if he knew better he would have caught on that he was being herded as three other men followed his movement from various locations around him.

Steve was being hunted and he had a gut feeling things were about to turn bad. 

In his head he heard Hades’ voice; “use the dahlia…she has no eyes in the Underworld…I’ll protect you there…use the dahlia” 

He could protect himself, perhaps he was just being paranoid. His hand held the paper flower tightly in his pocket just in case though.

When Steve noticed a second man on the opposite side of the road, an exact replica of the man behind him, he knew he was in more trouble than he had initially thought. In a couple steps there was an alleyway, he turned down it, weaving past the bodies and as soon as he rounded the corner he tore off a petal and let it fall to the floor.

As soon as his foot hit the petal it was as if the ground swallowed him and immediately he disappeared. Seconds later the first man rounded into the alleyway but there was nothing there. Not even a trace of magic or a flower sprouting. He was gone.  

Steve appeared in the throne room of Hades’ home, his back to the throne itself, his vision was blurry as he regained his footing on solid ground again. A yelp came from his side and he spun around to meet Wanda standing by the window.

“This can’t be good,” she said but there was no worry on her face, just a welcoming smile. 

“I uh, I had to use,” Steve puffed looked around him but there was no one else in the room, his searching was cut short though as his eyes caught the window Wanda stood in front of.

It was large and so clean he thought for a second the windows were wide open but the slight breeze that swept through the grass told him otherwise. Underneath the window was a table decorated haphazardly in fruits, books and papers. Steve’s attention was on the view, the fields that he’d never seen so beautiful. He could just make out the moving souls, how some scurried around the field, how others stayed in one place. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful it would be if it weren’t for the overcast in the sky. He wondered if the sun ever did shine brightly in Hades, if the souls ever felt the warmth, if the light reflected off of them or went through them. But the sky was grey, it threatened warmth and rain at the same time.

“It looks almost sad,” he muttered to himself, “the grass needs sun…” he muttered about different techniques and plant types that would be better for this environment.

“None of us really have a green finger,” a deep and annoyed voiced sounded behind him. Sam stood tall and protective with his arms crossed, glaring at Steve while a boy, who looked to be the same build as Peter stood behind him, copying Sam’s protective stance.

“Is this him?” The boy asked Sam.

“Sadly. Hades know he’s here?” He directed his question to Wanda but the boy spoke first.

“I thought the Underworld was shut from any outsiders, he’s an Olympian, better yet he’s the reason she’s in this mess!” The boy’s voice rose with anger and disapproval at Steve, he looked the god of spring up and down and shook his head. It was clear he blamed all the trouble Hades had been through on Steve, as he should. “Harley!” Wanda scolded.

So this was Harley. This was Hades son, that was Thanatos, that was the one she trusted to bring souls to Chiron. No one knew much about Hades family. They knew she was the oldest of the three, Thor, Loki and her. They knew she was never the leader. They knew she saw her judges as family and treated them as such. The gods knew that Harley was her son. They also knew that he and Peter were friends, that they worked together often. Yet no one really knew anything about the relationship between Hades and Harley. 

There were rumours of course, some said that he was born similarly to Natasha, some thought he was the product of an affair with Pietro or some other lesser god in the underworld. Some even thought he wasn’t hers at all and she just saw him as a son. They were wrong. He was her blood. There’s no sad backstory, there’s no deeper meaning to the dynamic between Hades and Harley. They are mother and son. They are the centre of a wider family. That’s all there is. Steve was just surprised to see the boy he’d only ever heard about.

“She doesn’t know,” Wanda’s eyes moved around the room nervously Steve bowed his head, he missed her glance to the thrown but Sam caught it. 

“I had to use a petal from the-“

“I figured as much.” Sam bit back though his tone wasn’t as harsh as it was initially, perhaps his stoic exterior was more habit than his actual feelings towards the god of spring. 

“I don’t understand though, she said it would take me to her but she’s not here?” 

“You’re friends with Bucky, you should know not to take things you’re told at face value.” Sam was right about that, Bucky always told him that in magic and prophecy things are never quite as they seem, ‘don’t trust the words themselves’ he’d told him one night. 

“So why did she bring me here?”

“You’re coming to Asphodel with me, you want to learn about the fields and it’ll distract you.” Wanda spoke up as she pulled a jacket over her shoulders, “don’t worry, you’re safe here. Come on then.”

The pair walked past the men and out the front door towards the fields, from the window where Steve had stood in the throne room Harley watched them walk down the path towards Asphodel while Sam lounged across the steps at the base of the throne.

“Why are you letting him hide here?” Harley asked.

“Because it’s the least we could do. He doesn’t deserve to be hunted Harley,” her voice was soft and understanding. She knew Harley didn’t trust easily, especially Olympians. It had taken a millennia to convince him Peter was a friend and that was only after Hades had openly shown her acceptance of him. 

Hades sat on the large black throne, her legs draped over the arm rest and her helmet hanging off a spike above her head.

“You’re really doing this then? Letting him stay here?” Sam questioned as Harley sat beside him, they both looked up at the queen. “Do you want to start a war with Demeter?”

“Could be fun to have him here,” she shrugged and Sam stared at her with his mouth hanging open.

“it cOuLd Be FuN that’s what you sound like.” Harley mocked.

“You’ve officially gone fucking crazy. Does Thor know he’s here? Are you going to tell him? You were told to stay out of this as much as you can, this doesn’t prove your innocence at all!” Sam cried out, he tried to reason with her but she brushed him off.

“You know the prophecy-“

“Oh come on! You’re trying to prove it wrong then? Indulging in his fascination with you or this place doesn’t do that. Getting close to him doesn’t do that!” Sam was getting more and more irritated with Hades as her attention stayed on Harley who had turned back to look out the window from his seat on the steps. He couldn’t see Steve and Wanda anymore. “Were you not listening to what I said to Steve? You can’t take these things at face value, you’re not who the prophecy says you are!” 

Harley’s eyes squinted in the sun as it shone through the window making it even harder to find Wanda in Asphodel. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem with him being here.”

“What?” 

“Exactly, thank you Harley.” 

“Sam’s right,” he said.

“Yes, thank you” Sam beamed.

“What do you mean?” Hades asked, her legs swinging off the armrest and her feet dropping to the floor. 

“You both are in a way,” he turned back to them suddenly, worry and excitement on his face. “Him being here could be a good thing, it could also start a war if Demeter found out. And the prophecy, we don’t know it’s actual meaning we only have speculation and theories but we shouldn’t just assume the worst from it.”

“Harley I don’t understand, you know what it says, you know what it means for me, for the Underworld?!” Hades furrowed her brows as Harley stood and pulled her hands to bring her to the windows. 

“Olympus is in the northern hemisphere yes?” 

“Yes?”

“It’s almost October, it should be getting colder. It has been for weeks now here because we have the same seasonal calendar as the northern hemisphere of the mortal world just like Olympus.” Harley kept explaining as the three of them stood before the windows, Sam felt it first, the warmth on his face, the sun in his eyes. “So tell me why the sun is shining.” He paused as Hades gulped and squeezed his hand. “When the wind is still…”

“…and the air is cold…” Sam continued.

“…the sun will shine in Hades,” she choked out. 

“Maybe you’re right to be wary of it mum, but I don’t think it’s all bad.” Harley said, he tried to ignore the tears in his mother’s eyes as she nodded her head.

“I think you’re right. You’re too smart for this world,” she smiled at him. 

There was no stopping the prophecy Cassandra and Bucky had given her all those years ago. It was here, it had begun and whether she liked it or not, it put her and everyone she loved in danger. But for now, for now as they looked out at the fields of the Underworld and saw Wanda, Steve and Pietro walking along the outskirts, at least the sun was shining. Even if she didn’t quite know what that meant for the days to come.

Chapter Eleven: Wine Plays Tricks on the Tongue

Permanent Taglist [28/50]: @witch-of-letters @buckysmischief @marvelsangels @momobaby227 @weirdlyokaywithit @disgustang @bucky-blogs @geeksareunique @stuckonjbbarnes @victorianvampirebf @mushyjellybeans @lovesmesomehiddles @this-kitten-is-smitten @itsunclebucky @kitkatd7 @lokisironthrone @supraveng @thinkoutsidethebex @binkysteebnpewter @starbxcks @agent-barnes40 @theannoyingnightmarecollector @starkerhowlter @fckdeusername @murdermornings @thefridgeismybestie @wonderlandfandomkingdom @aikeia @laneygthememequeen 

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[talesmaniac89]

Easter Eggs

Pairing: Dad!Crowley & Daughter!Reader

Summary:  Crowley celebrates Easter with the five-year-old princess of hell.

Triggers: None, just father/daughter fluff

Y/N = Your name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour | Y/H/C = Your hair colour

A/N: Suddenly Easter was here, and I decided to dig up an old duo that I liked writing little fluffy oneshots for! You can find all the stories with this father/daughter duo here. All these fluffy stories can be read separately from each other or together. Just fluff, no strict story-line, though I would recommend starting with Fatherhood, which has the most extensive backstory for the pair.

---

Considering his role as King of Hell, most holidays didn’t really sit right with the crossroads demon turned ruler of hell. After all, any holiday celebrating a god, be it Pagan, Christian or otherwise, wasn’t really his cup of tea. But, over the last five years Crowley had come to appreciate the joys that came along with the holidays.

Ever since his favourite hellhound, Juliet, has brought the small hiccupping bundle of joy into his life five years ago, the King of Hell’s life had been turned upside down. Including how he spent the holidays.

When Juliet had showed up on his doorstep, filled with protective maternal instinct and carefully carrying the small human baby after collecting her foolish mother’s soul, Crowley had never expected that that same little girl would become his whole world. But that was exactly what his little princess was as Crowley had decided to raise her as his own. 

The king would do anything for the little girl who was in fact the true ruler of hell since the little five-year-old girl had him wrapped around her little finger. Including creating a full Easter celebration in Crowley’s brightly furnished private slice of hell. From crafts, to the bunny ears resting on her (Y/H/C) hair acting like the princess’ crown for the day.

Which was why the man that was feared by demons and humans alike was currently sitting in front of a table filled with Easter crafts as her latest Disney movie obsession played on replay in the background. 

Before hell’s littlest princess had come into his life, Crowley’s hands had always done more harm than good. He’d never needed to control his strengths as he found pleasure in crushing his enemies between clenched fingers. Yet, now his hands were achingly careful as they held the empty eggshell between two fingers and carefully painted the white surface her favourite colour. His eyes only glancing up from the careful work to look over at where his little chipmunk was painting her own, much less breakable plastic egg. 

A tiny pink tongue sticking out between pursed lips as (Y/E/C) bright eyes carefully added colours on the already brightly painted surface. Though, Crowley thought as he looked fondly over at his little darling girl with a warm smile, more colours were ending up on her tiny hands and the oversized shirt Crowley had put her in. His tailor would be heartbroken if he saw how the beautifully crafted white shirt had ended up as a five-year-old’s art smock. 

Easter had become a yearly tradition in Crowley’s private part of hell quite quickly after his family grew to include the adorable little girl. After an Easter Disney special when she was just three years old. Which had seen the little devil putting her puppy dog eyes to good use as she begged her daddy for an Easter egg hunt of her own. 

“That’s a pretty egg pet,” Crowley beamed, the pride he felt as his little girl’s father easily rivalling (and frankly beating by a mile) his pride for his role as ruler of all things wicked. His soft words breaking the little girl’s concentration as she gave him her best smile. The warm bright smile was one that was only reserved for the princess’ daddy. 

“Is Eas’er!” The little girl giggled, holding up the egg with paint splattered tiny fingers as she beamed with pride of her own at her little handiwork. As if the holiday itself was depicted on the formerly white egg’s surface amid rainbow splashes of colour.

“Yes it is! And… Daddy heard that the Easter bunny was by earlier, when you had your princess nap,” Crowley stage whispered conspiratorially. As if the overgrown bunny’s apparent appearance in the small two-person family’s slice of hell was some well-guarded secret. The laugh lines he’d developed after five years with his darling girl became even more prominent as he smiled. Finally moving along their Easter celebration to what he knew was his darling girl’s favourite part; the candy.

“Eas’er bunny?” The excited squeal was half question, half jittery energy as she carefully put down her paintbrush. Bright (Y/E/C) eyes alight with wonder at the mention of the mythological fluffy bunny in a way that had Crowley certain she was picturing one of her own many teddy bears cast in the role within her own active imagination.  

“Yes chipmunk. Do you think he left anything behind?” Crowley chuckled as he carefully put the final egg down with gentle fingers. Leaving it to dry as he grabbed the wet wipes next to him to clean the paint off his fingers as well as the little devil’s paint coloured… Well, everything really. Including the little streaks of paint that have inexplicably painted both her cheek and soft tendrils of her messy (Y/H/C) pigtails. 

His little girl, hidden from the evils of his job and from his enemies in his private slice of hell, would only ever see his big hands painted in bright colours. She would never see his knuckles scraped up from punishing some disobedient subject, nor coloured an angry red. Her world was one built on innocence, light and pastel rainbows. 

That was something Crowley had resolved long ago, when he took on the best job in the world; his role as her father. Which was why only a few of his closest confidantes even knew of the little princess hidden safely in the bright and warm corner of his kingdom. In the only place he could call home, simply because she was there.

“Choco eggs!” His little girl squealed, scrunching up her nose as Crowley gently removed the water colours painting a rainbow on her apple-round cheeks. 

“Really? You think so?” Crowley gasped in pretend surprise. Making a show out of looking around and under the table for any eggs as his little girl giggled and shifted impatiently in her seat. The sound of her laughter was sweeter than any chocolate treats to the demon as he easily lifted her up into his arms spinning around in a lazy circle to tease more sweet laughter from his little devil’s lips. 

“Yes! Daddy, les go ‘untin with ‘Ette!” Of course, there was no way the hellhound turned lapdog could be left out of the Easter celebration. After finding and rescuing hell’s little princess five years ago, the formerly proud hound had taken on the role as (Y/N)’s nanny and guardian instead. Spending most days, unless she had to go out to collect souls, by the little girl’s side. Playacting as the dragon to the little girl’s knight or joining in on imaginative technicoloured tea parties. 

Not that Juliet seemed to mind her new role. If how she was sitting patiently next to Crowley, waiting for the Easter Egg Hunt to start, was anything to go by. A matching pair of bunny ears balanced precariously on her head and as always making the King of Hell curious if his little daughter, though human, truly could see the hound. Since she would just point in Juliet’s direction whenever asked about it. Not willing to give up the secret to her childlike magic. 

“As my little bunny commands,” Crowley beamed, swinging his little girl around until she was holding onto him with little legs wrapped around his side like a tiny monkey. The bunny ears on her head nearly falling off as she let her head fall back in happy laughter. (Y/H/C) pigtails shaking as her impatient little head swung back and forth already looking for eggs on their way to collect her basket. 

“Daddy! Dun fo’get the bunny ears!” She added with a small giggle, a still slightly colourful finger pointing out Crowley’s own abandoned bunny ears on the table as he walked them towards her room to find a basket for the eggs. 

“Of course pet, thank you for reminding Daddy,” He hummed as he placed a small kiss on her cheek, followed by some surprise raspberries against her still paint covered neck to tease more happy laughter out of the girl.

“Welcome!” She beamed, her little colourful fingers going around his neck and hugging him close as hard as she could. Which was in fairness not all that hard, though she really did put her whole tiny little body and heart into it. Before placing a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek, copying her daddy.

Swiping up the ears along the way, Crowley let fingers tickle more laughs out of his little heavenly slice of joy as he placed the ears on top of his own head. Letting them replace his crown for the day as he temporarily stepped down from the throne to just be Crowley, father to the beautiful child in his arms. 

Vowing, of course, to make sure no one except his little girl knew this side of the King of Hell. As he was sure a certain Squirrel and Moose combo would find a ton of very creative ways to make use of that little piece of information if he gave them a chance. Including an extensive range of rabbit themed nicknames if he knew them well enough. And Crowley was certain he knew a lot more about the Winchester duo than what he normally let on. 

No, this Crowley didn’t belong to the world. With his Easter bunny ears on top of his head, a matching pair with his little darling’s own Easter themed crown, he was not a demon nor the King of Hell. He wasn’t the man loathed by most in the world. Nor the demon who disliked the holidays. Instead, as he hugged his world close to him, he was just Crowley. The luckiest father in the entire world

---

“Where do you think the bunny hid your chocolate eggs then?” Crowley said, placing a quick kiss on the crown of (Y/H/C) hair as he swiped up the little pink plastic basket and let his bouncy little girl’s tiny feet hit the ground again, ready for the hunt. 

“All o’er!” She beamed hands outstretched to include her whole little hidden world in the gesture. Eyes bright with promises of colourful eggs and sweet rewards as she rushed Juliet along. The cheeky little girl used the hellhound to her advantage as she made the usual apex predator into a bloodhound, sending her to search one corner of her bedroom before the princess ran in the opposite direction. Hunting for sweet treasures in the spoiled and beloved little girl’s toy chest. 

Maybe it was just the pride of a father. But Crowley was sure his little girl was the brightest five-year-old around. Seeing as how she knew exactly how to use the hellhound's superior sense of smell to her advantage. 

A wonderfully warm squeal filling the air as she lifted the first of many more chocolate eggs up to show her dad. As proud as only a five-year-old could be by her skills as a treasure hunter. A small furrow in her brow replacing the happy smile as she considered her choices; to eat the spoils of her treasure hunt straight away or place them in the basket. Clearly deciding that she’d rather enjoy the sweets later, on the couch with a Disney movie as she rushed over to drop the egg into the pink basket in Crowley’s hand. 

Watching as his little bunny bounced back over to keep looking for eggs, Crowley smiled down at the singular egg in the basket. Knowing it would soon be filled to the brim with all her hard-won Easter treats. 

On calm Easter afternoons like this one, it was much easier for the demon to find joy in the holidays he once despised. Since they gave him the sweetest treat he knew of. One that rivalled the many Easter eggs he’d carefully spent the evening before hiding for her to find. 

The smile of his little girl.

---

All Story Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27  @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ 

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall- Review

Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall makes the best of a bad storytelling decision and turns in a refreshingly entertaining, if not entirely successful, young adult novel.

(Review contains minor spoilers)

It’s been several years since Poe’s mother, Shara Bey, passed. Now a young man, the son of two rebellion heroes finds himself yearning for his place in the world and seeking out adventure and high adrenaline experiences. Much to the chagrin of his father, Kes Dameron, Poe has become a bit of a trouble maker on the forest moon of Yavin IV often coming into conflict with local law enforcement. When Poe is presented with a new life in the form of the Spice Runners of Kijimi, he jumps at the chance for an escape from the doldrums of his current life. Along with his new friend Zorii, Poe launches himself full on into a life of crime and in the process sets off the unraveling of a galactic conspiracy.

I think it’s fair to say that the revelations of Poe Dameron’s past in The Rise of Skywalker were an almost universally disliked storytelling decision. Lore hounds were frustrated by the washing away of years’ worth of shows, comics, and novels for a new, confusing backstory. Fans of the character were upset by both the seeming erasure of Poe’s hinted at queerness and also the deeply problematic decision to make the series’ first major Latino hero have a history in drug smuggling. There’s also just the added annoyance that the sequel trilogy’s smart mouthed and cocksure pilot was connected all the more to the specter of Han Solo. No matter how cute Babu Frik proved or how badass Kerri Russell’s Zorii Bliss appeared, almost no one walked out of Kijimi happy.

Alex Segura is saddled with unenviable task of cleaning up the mess. Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall has to find a way to not only fit in this period of the titular character’s life with the existing timeline, but somehow navigate the storytelling minefield the plot twist gave. For what it’s worth, Segura does an admirable enough job with what is given and Free Fall ends up being an enjoyably twisty crime saga that finds joy and pathos despite the fraught nature of its source material.

Segura writes Poe as the sum of all of his parts. He’s a caring and empathetic individual who has little patience for injustice on any level. He also has a wild and restless side to him. Dealing with the grief of losing his mother and wanting to live up to the heroic adventures of both his parents, Poe has a proclivity to launching himself into situations that are over his head but also thinking on his feet for explosive results. It’s a faithful interpretation of the character even if the general feeling of wanderlust that Poe starts the novel with can’t help but feel like well-worn territory for Star Wars protagonists.

As for how Segura manages to tie this all together with the existing material? He more or less tries his best to connect Poe’s childhood to his spice running adventures and eventually setting himself up to join the New Republic at the end. If anything, it’s this final transitionary period that feels the most shortchanged. This is very much the story of Poe’s time with the criminals of Kijimi and isn’t very much interested in whatever connective tissue may come afterwards. It’s a tad frustrating as the novel feels like it ends rather quickly with many potential plot threads and character arcs left dangling.

The Spice Runners themselves are a complicated subject matter. As a veteran writer of crime fiction, Segura’s narrative of different jockeying factions, daring heists and escapes, and the cat and mouse game of galactic cops and robbers is a blast. There are twists a plenty and Segura’s action scenes aren’t afraid of diving into the dirty details of these unsavory individuals.

There’s a bit of confusion however about the Spice Runners themselves. While it’s been firmly established throughout Star Wars canon that spice is a type of drug, Free Fall more or less ignores this idea. The fact that Poe’s allies are part of a major drug smuggling ring is never once brought up. In a way, this avoids the problematic aspects raised by The Rise of Skywalker, but it also leaves a general amount of confusion on the part of the reader. For those unfamiliar with Star Wars canon, it’s not exactly clear what the Spice Runners do besides all manner of various galactic thievery and skullduggery. For the initiated, it just seems odd that Poe would be unaware of this aspect of the organization or that it would never come in conversation. Segura essentially was handed a lose-lose story concept and he opted for the least problematic route even if it would be damaging for the story in the process.

It’s lucky then that the Spice Runner narrative proves so entertaining. This is in no small part due to the presence of Zorrii. Segura makes Zorrii an intriguingly enigmatic young woman that has a past wrapped in secrets and a flexible morality. Her story, primarily told second hand through Poe, carries much of the conflict of the narrative and it is thoroughly compelling. In fact, one can’t help but wonder if Free Fall may have been better served by a story that centered on Zorrii in full and featured Poe as a prominent supporting character.

Above all, Free Fall is simply a fun read. It’s filled with small but compelling characters, a crime mystery that proves exciting and surprising, and snappy, witty prose that crackles along with energy. It’s one of the rare Star Wars books that succeeds despite of its source material and not because of it. It will never not be a shame that this was a novel that had to be saddled with the storytelling sins of The Rise of Skywalker, but Segura has made an enjoyable enough adventure out of the mess.

Score: B-

[autolenaphilia]

A review of BBC Sherlock

BBC Sherlock is a terrible show. I’m not the first to say so, and I’m certainly repeating things here that other people have said, like Hbomberguy, who did a flawed but mostly fine critical look at the show. But I still think I have some original ideas to bring to the table, and even if this essay is long by itself, it is probably more approachable case against Sherlock than Hbomb’s long if compelling video (which I liked but don’t entirely agree with. He for example criticizes the show for not playing fair with its mysteries, which I think is fine for a Sherlock Holmes adaptation to do, because the original stories don’t “play fair” either. They pre-date that convention in mystery writing)

The main problem with the show, lies with its main character, Sherlock. The tv series had a problem with hero worshipping Sherlock and having an excessive and uncritical focus on him. The show revolved around the main character of Sherlock Holmes in a way that the original Holmes stories didn’t. Everything in the writing and the world it created was about Sherlock, and how cool he is.

The show makes airs of being a character study, but it is not interested in doing the work required for actually being that. Ultimately, Sherlock is the hero, and for Moffat & Gatiss this means he can do no wrong, even when he is wrong.

Sherlock is an arrogant jerk, being not only rude but outright cruel at times. He does this all the time, including to people who are supposedly his friends, like Watson. The good doctor actually gets the worst of it. In the show’s supposed “adaptation” of “The Hound of the Baskervilles”, Holmes drugs Watson without his consent or knowledge, just to test the drug out.

The show never reckons with all the cruelties the hero commits to his supposed friends. He never apologizes, nor is he confronted with his behaviour, never decides or is compelled to change. Instead Watson and co. remain loyal to the very end. He thinks it is permissible for him to act that way because he is a genius, and alarmingly, the very writing of the show seems to support him in that line of thought.

This is not at all due to the show reflecting the original short stories. The Holmes depicted in the canonical stories can be rude and inconsiderate to others, but seldom outright cruel. Compare the scene in Sherlock described above with a similar scene in The Devil’s Foot. In that short story, Holmes also tests out a drug he found on Watson, but everything else is different. Holmes explains the situation to Watson beforehand, asks if he wants to take part, and exposes himself for the same dangers as his companion. When things turn out badly, Holmes even earnestly apologizes for putting both Watson and himself in danger.

The Canonical stories weren’t afraid to make Holmes fallible either. He is a hero, but one with faults that can make mistakes and loses. Good examples are A Scandal in Bohemia and the charming anti-racist story The Adventure of the Yellow Face.

The original version of Holmes is genuinely heroic. The BBC show has in comparison a very warped view of heroism, being the hero means Sherlock is never wrong, even when he is wrong. The hero is a special person, who can’t obey ordinary rules. It feeds into a form of wish fulfilment. A male power fantasy (and this type of hero is always a man) where you are very clever and being that clever means you can mistreat people as you like.

This focus on Sherlock himself can also be seen in the diminished role given to the supporting cast. Martin Freeman’s Watson is used well in the first episode, as the normal person who acts as our introduction to the strange mind and world of Sherlock (the first episode is maybe the strongest of the entire show). This captures how he is used in the books and does that even without the intimacy of Watson’s first person narration. But that is all we get, he is a non-entity in the rest of the show. He doesn’t do much in the episodes that follow, and basically only exists to marvel and be shocked at how weird Sherlock is, and to be abused by him.

Mycroft exists mainly to provide missions for Sherlock and get him out of legal problems. There is an original female character, Molly Hooper, but the sexism of the writers means she matters even less. Her whole existence is determined by being a fangirl who has a crush on Sherlock, yet is treated horribly by him.

The show’s dubious idea of a hero is why the show has to make Moriarty into an overarching villain, who is behind pretty much every other villain they meet. Their Holmes is too important for ordinary crimes, he is a superhero who can only face a supervillain of equal stature, so Moriarty is changed into that type of villain.  

Certainly the original Moriarty has traits that predicts later supervillains, but ultimately he is just a crime boss, albeit a very intelligent and dangerous one. And making everything about this epic mind duel between Holmes and Moriarty contradicts the tone of the original stories. The cases Holmes takes on in the canon seldom concern more than the people directly involved and often don’t even involve murders. Holmes occasionally takes on bigger things, but the stakes are seldom world threatening. In comparison to the Sherlock show, the lack of empty bombast and faux-epicness in the original stories are very charming.

The character of Moriarty is played very energetically by Andrew Scott, but ultimately he is boring, because his motivations are simply that he is insane and gay. I’m not kidding. Moriarty wants to play mind games with Sherlock, because he is attracted to Sherlock and his intelligence. This, as bizarre as it sounds, literally makes most of the plot of this show caused by Sherlock being attractive .

(Hilariously, they later retcon this to Moriarty being mind controlled by Sherlock’s evil sister. Her motivation, incidentally, is that she is angry because Sherlock didn’t play with her as children.)

It is also unconnected to what Holmes actually does. In the original story, the reason Moriarty is interested in Holmes is because Sherlock was able to figure out that Moriarty is the head of a criminal organization, which is what makes him dangerous to Moriarty. In Sherlock, Moriarty knows of and admires Sherlock from before the first episode even happens and Holmes only figures out who Moriarty is later. It is treated as natural fact in this world that Sherlock is so awesome that people admire and are obsessed with him, without him even having to do anything that proves it.

I can see the appeal of shipping heroes and villains with sexual tension behind them, like Holmes and Moriarty in many versions. But when the hero-villain relationship in this case just reinforces the show’s excessive infatuation with its main character, it turns the whole thing distasteful for me (and that is not getting into the problems with coding your villain as insane and gay in general, as fun as this kind of villain can be).

I can also see the usefulness in setting up Moriarty by having him involved in crimes before he is actually introduced. The original stories don’t really do it, so Moriarty comes out of nowhere in The Final Problem. The Granada Tv show by Jeremy Brett did it by having Moriarty be behind The Red-Headed League case, and that worked fine.

But the way BBC Sherlock just drains the show of any interest in the villains except Moriarty. They are just Moriarty’s henchpeople, their motivation simply becomes that Moriarty pays them. The reason why the Granada version worked so well is that the villains in the orginal short story about The Red-Headed League were almost non-entities, the sole interesting thing about them is their scheme, so Moriarty being behind them makes things more interesting.

Sherlock however doles out the same treatment to some of the most interesting antagonists of the original stories, such as Jefferson Hope and Irene Adler. The treatment of Irene is perhaps the very worst thing the show ever did, and perhaps the worst adaptation of the character ever (and this is a character that is so often distorted in adaptations)

The original short story, A Scandal in Bohemia is the story of Irene Adler defeating Sherlock. She is not a villain, doesn’t actually blackmail anyone, and is not a love interest for Holmes. She actually marries someone else right in front of his face. It is a good story, with Irene defeating him teaching both Sherlock and the audience that women can also be smart.

The episode of Sherlock which “adapts” this story is pretty much the opposite. Irene Adler is a villain who blackmails people. Instead of being an opera singer, she is now a dominatrix, and this is treated with all the sensitivity of a Frank Miller. And also a lesbian with stereotypical man-hating tendencies.

Now a lesbian villain could still be interesting, but the writing makes sure she is not. She is not even a truly independent villain, instead she is like most villains in Sherlock on Moriarty’s payroll. And the lesbian thing turns out to mean naught, as she falls in love with Sherlock. Apparently Sherlock is so attractive that he can turn lesbians straight. This infatuation leads to her losing to Sherlock and afterwards becoming a damsel in distress that Sherlock rescues.

It is amazing how something written and broadcast in 2012 is far more misogynistic than a short story from 1891, but BBC Sherlock managed to do it.

Jefferson Hope isn’t treated as bad, because he doesn’t have to contend with the writer’s misogyny. But it is still a terrible adaptation of the character. In the original A Study in Scarlet, half of the novel is given to depict his backstory and his sympathetic reasons for killing the people he did.  Some readers dislike that part of the book, but it makes the story much better for being there. It gives the murderer a more complex character.

The show makes a hash out of this when adapting the character for the first episode. Now Hope is a simplistically evil character, who kills people because Moriarty pays him to. Thanks to some decent acting, he gets an ok Hannibal Lecter style confrontation with Sherlock, but it has more to do with Thomas Harris than Arthur Conan Doyle.

And it demonstrates maybe one of the most important differences between the canon and Sherlock. The Canon is very much interested in characters who are not Holmes. The stories are often more about the people Holmes and Watson meet while investigating their cases, than the detective himself.

Sherlock doesn’t give a damn about anyone who isn’t the main character. So despite having one of the most cruel versions of Holmes ever filmed, the stories are actually less morally ambiguous than the original stories. People who were antagonists to Holmes but not evil in the books are turned  into malevolent villains. The show isn’t concerned with creating relatable and complex motivations and backstories for them and make them into characters in their own right, they are only interesting as foils for Sherlock.

The show’s version of Charles Augustus Milverton, who is turned into a Dane named Magnussen, is one of the few villains which are not neutered by being a pawn for Moriarty. His episode, “His Last Vow” is therefore one of the better episodes that don’t directly involve Moriarty. It is helped by a delightfully slimy performance from Lars Mikkelsen, which is enjoyable in a similar way to Andrew Scott’s Moriarty. But the episode also illustrates the show’s problems.

Again the writers decide Sherlock is too important to deal with an ordinary if particularly reprehensible blackmailer, so the show turns Milverton into a supervillain who uses blackmail to control entire governments and has become one of the most powerful people on the planet.

Any tension that is created by the performance and the high stakes is however undercut by perhaps the most serious writing problem this show has: the nonsensical plots and mysteries. The episode’s big reveal is a case in point. The finale reveals Magnussen doesn’t have any physical or digital evidence of the stuff he uses to blackmail people with, he just uses his impressive memory to memorize the information.

The problem with this is that it turns Magnussen into just a huge bluff, with a blackmail empire built on sand. Anyone of his victims could have stopped his rise to becoming one of the most powerful men on the planet by just asking him for proof. Of course, this also means there is nothing stopping anyone from just killing him which is what Sherlock promptly does once Magnussen tells Sherlock his secret for no good reason. This show builds up this super-clever villain and reveals that he is actually just a fool with a good memory, except it treats this as if this ludicrous scheme makes him even more clever.

Sherlock shooting Magnussen is a change from the original story that is very emblematic of how this show works. Milverton is shot in the original story, but by a female victim of his taking revenge. Sherlock and Watson’s role in the story’s finale is merely destroying Milverton’s physical blackmail evidence.

Moffat and Gatiss have removed agency from a female character in the canon and transferred her actions to the male hero. They even suggest the original story by having Mary Watson break into Magnussen’s mansion and hold him at gunpoint.

And her shooting him would have worked so much better as well, for they had prior in the episode made the bizarre reveal that mary was once a professional contract killer. It is an absurd backstory for it comes out of nowhere, but it could have made sense as part of the plot if it explains why Mary is able to break into Magnussen’s home and kill him. But no, Holmes stops Mary from killng Magnussen, and sedates her.  The only reason for this seems to be the scriptwriter’s firm belief that women characters can not affect the plot in BBC’s Sherlock, only the male hero can.

And that seemingly minor change in adapting the story perhaps sums up the show perfectly. It adapts the original short stories with carelessness, picking the bits it pleases for the sole purpose to glorify and idealize its cruel male fantasy in the form of its supposed hero, who bears little in common with the character created by Arthur Conan Doyle.

[marshmallowgoop]

On Ragyo Kiryuin

Please note: This post will contain discussions of sexual assault and abuse.

I am not good at talking about Ragyo Kiryuin.

Every time I do, I mess it up. I don’t emphasize her atrocities enough. I emphasize her atrocities too much. I cause trouble for myself and others, and I always end up feeling awful.

My recent writing on Ragyo’s character—found here and here—proved no different. The reception for the first post was so overwhelmingly negative that it spurred on my first-ever legitimate anon hate, and the second post only made things worse. Even now, my inbox is being filled with dismissive, rude, heartbreaking messages that bring me to tears, and though my therapist has told me not to say that I hate myself anymore, it’s difficult not to in situations like these. I hate that my wording was so poor and that I stated my opinion so badly that I incited all this rage and aggression in someone (or someones, a thought that scares me more than I would like to admit).

It may be a mistake to try to explain myself further. But I hurt people with what I said, and that bothers me. I hurt people because I struggle to explain my feelings on a cartoon character well, and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed. I want to at least put in the effort to be kinder, more nuanced, and more sympathetic.

And maybe it’ll all blow up in my face. But I don’t want to not try.

So. Ragyo Kiryuin. Mother of Satsuki Kiryuin and Ryuko Matoi, CEO of REVOCS, and the ultimate Big Bad of Kill la Kill. Love her, hate her, or love her and hate her, she’s certainly made an impression in the anime-viewing world. And though I can’t speak for anyone else’s impression, my personal impression is... mixed.

Let’s go through this bit by bit.

A Good Villain?

Though I don’t see it much anymore, I remember lots of comparisons between Ragyo and the villains of Saturday morning cartoons back in the day. She was described as a generic, two-dimensional “evilz for the sake of evilz” baddie and criticized for her simplicity.

And though I did admittedly agree to an extent—I craved a lot more depth and insight, particularly in regards to her haunting line about “still having something of a human heart” whilst brutally attacking her own daughter in the final episode—I also found Ragyo to be a remarkably compelling, powerful, and horrifying villain even without tons of backstory and explanation. Perhaps my write-up on her first scene in episode 6 best details why; this woman has such a presence, and the visual language of the series amplifies that presence spectacularly. Ragyo’s intimidating and scary without the audience even needing to know anything about her.

And... I’d say that’s a good villain. That’s exactly what a villain should do.

Why Does This Matter, Goop?

I know, I know. My talking about Ragyo’s efficiency as a villain probably doesn’t seem all that relevant to the stuff that egged on an anon hate assault. But I think it’s important to mention that I do believe that Ragyo is a great, powerful villain. My previous posts were so bleak and cynical that I didn’t make this point clear. It does, in retrospect, seem as though I am crapping all over the character and subtly dissing anyone who enjoys her. I’m sorry for that, and I want to stress that that was not at all my intention.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with loving villains—even when they’re morally bankrupt, atrocious people like Ragyo—because loving villains, of course, doesn’t automatically mean that you excuse or endorse their actions. Villains like Ragyo also leave such a strong impression on the viewers, and personally, I’ve been so captivated by this awful woman that my first attempt at my years-in-the-making Kill la Kill fairytale AU featured about a 30,000-word backstory for her. There is a lot to respect, love, and love to hate when it comes to Ragyo and how she’s written, and I never, ever mean to discount that.

However, as with all things, it’s possible to love a piece of fiction or a character or what have you and also recognize that there are problems in the portrayal. And when it comes to Ragyo, as much as I think she’s a fantastic, engaging, terrifying villain, I do take issue with her depiction.

The Sexuality Point

I got a lot of heat for my ideas regarding Ragyo’s sexuality, and I admit: I didn’t express myself well. There was a lot more I should have said and elaborated upon. Maybe I’ll still fail spectacularly, but as I said before, I don’t want to not try.

So first, I want to take a moment to discuss intentionality. While I absolutely value Author is Dead and respect fan interpretations of any work, I also recognize that narrative decisions in fiction don’t happen in a vacuum. The fact of the matter is, Ragyo was originally designed as a father but was later changed to a mother so the relationships Ragyo shares with her daughters wouldn’t seem so “murky,” “gross,” and “perverted.”

And... that disturbs me. The idea, as I see it, is that a father abusing his daughters is, more than appropriately, disgusting, but a mother abusing her daughters is somehow less bad. In fact, writer Kazuki Nakashima outright states that he didn’t want to explore the “murkiness” of these relationships, noting that he “didn’t want to mix [that] ‘murkiness’ into the battle.” My impression—which I understand might very well be wrong—is that there’s the feeling that female-on-female abuse just isn’t as serious or life changing as male-on-female abuse. There’s the feeling that you can just not talk about how devastating this sexual assault is, and that’s totally okay, because the perpetrator is a woman.

I’ve written previously—and perhaps most overtly here—that female-on-female abuse seems to get brushed off way more than it should be. It’s cute when a girl grabs another girl’s boobs, even when that other girl is noticeably and visibly unhappy. It’s adorable when a girl forces a kiss on another girl. Charming. Sweet. If you have a problem with it, you’re a homophobe.

And I think that’s so, so damaging. I wish I had some statistics (oh anon hounding me about facts, if you’re here), but I recall reading about how this mindset—this idea that girls just can’t hurt other girls—ends up keeping wlw in abusive, toxic relationships. And that’s not even mentioning how the notion that women are harmless and can’t do damage is a totally sexist one that hurts men and other genders, too!

With Ragyo, I actually think there’s a lot of powerful potential. Kill la Kill could have shown that there’s nothing sweet or cute or charming or sexy about female-on-female abuse. It could have shown that a mother sexually abusing her daughters is just as horrific as a father sexually abusing his daughters. Both good representation and bad representation are important, and I do see the value in an evil, awful lesbian; as noted above, the idea that girls can’t hurt other girls, that wlw can’t be bad, and that only men can cause harm is a dangerous mindset to have. I think it’s important to address it, particularly in anime, which attracts younger viewers.

In the past, I argued that Kill la Kill did address it. I wrote, “These scenes [depicting Ragyo’s abuses] are full of what may be typically used as fanservice—female nudity, fondling, touching—but they’re all incredibly disturbing, uncomfortable, painful, and tragic. The series makes no joke about just how violating these instances are.” I’ve seen similar arguments made today. 

But personally, now knowing more about the creation of Ragyo and being aware of the gushy, “Wow, this is so hot!”-type comments concerning the notorious bath scene in the official Trigger Magazine, I’ve since changed my tune. I think it’s undeniable that there is some “this isn’t so bad and maybe actually kinda sexy” appeal to Ragyo’s abuses, and that’s very, very disappointing to me. 

Further, being a survivor, I also find it incredibly hurtful. I’ve been too traumatized to even date ever since what happened to me happened, and to see situations like what I went through depicted in such explicit, detailed, fanservice-y ways... it disturbs me.

I understand that my opinion isn’t going to be shared by everyone, but I’ve come to believe in a “less is more” approach when it comes to these hard, real situations. Implication arguably holds far more power. For example, in all of my college film classes, Osama left one of the strongest impressions. In it, a young girl dresses as a boy to provide for her family. She’s eventually found out when she has her first period, and she’s then married off to a much older man. The ending scene of the film depicts the man washing himself just as the girl, in disguise as a boy, had been taught to do after having sex. Unlike in Kill la Kill, you don’t see the unspeakable scene at all. You know exactly what happened with just that one shot, and that one shot has stuck with me ever since. That’s a powerful, respectful way of portraying these very real, very horrific problems.

I know I cannot speak for every survivor, but I personally disagree with the notion that fiction should not discuss these topics. In my mind, fiction absolutely should because these things are real, because they happen. There could have been so much power in Ragyo’s depiction, in Satsuki’s depiction, in Ryuko’s. But the severity of Ragyo’s abuses is brushed off, and, as I see it, fetishized. That’s what I take issue with—not that there’s a potential evil lesbian, not that there’s a depiction of a mother abusing her daughters, but how this is depicted: not respectfully.

Referring more to my troublesome posts, I also want to address my point of how girls showing affection for other girls is often portrayed negatively in Kill la Kill, which could potentially send the message, “Hey, lesbians just be evilz.” Perhaps more than anything else, this hurt my readers the most. I wasn’t very clear and didn’t speak well, and I apologize.

Maybe surprisingly, I’ve also taken issue with the argument that Ryuko kissing Nui shows that a girl having an attraction towards another girl is bad. As I saw it, the kiss was simply a shocking way of showing that Ryuko is not at all herself; someone kissing the person they hate the most says more than words ever could. The scene isn’t an attack on wlw; the protagonist and the villain in this case just so happen to both be girls.

And I still believe this rebuttal. But I also have mixed feelings, which explains my previous responses. I once more have to question intentionality: if Ryuko were a boy, as shonen heroes so often are, would this scene have happened? Would Nui have been so flirty with him? Would there have been so much screen time and detail put into the kiss? Similar to my arguments about Ragyo, could there have been a potentially much more powerful scene whose power comes from its implications, not what it actually shows?

In all my years in the Kill la Kill fandom, I’ve seen reactions to that scene that find it hot, as “proving” that Ryuko/Nui is the only canon Kill la Kill pairing, and that see it in ways that I find to be unsavory. If the goal of that kiss is to cement the fact that Ryuko isn’t herself in the most shocking way possible, I could argue that it failed for a lot of viewers. In fact, one of my more looked-at posts is about why Ryuko kisses Nui. Its execution is confusing, and yes, I do believe it could potentially send some bad messages about wlw, even if that wasn’t intended.

Which, to bring this discussion back towards Ragyo, I want to take a moment to say that bad messages can be totally unintentional. As a writer myself, I think about potential bad unintentional messages all the time. For instance, in my aforementioned fairytale AU, I had a theme going (’cause it’s a fairytale and all): a healthy, beautiful baby is good, a healthy, ugly baby is bad, and an unhealthy, beautiful baby is good. Notice how there’s only one ugly baby, and they’re bad? I realized that this could subtly say something about ugly people, and I’ve decided to make a point about a heroic character being ugly in order to send the message that anyone can be good or bad, regardless of if they’re beautiful or ugly, healthy or unhealthy.

With Ragyo (and with Nui as well), I don’t at all think the intention is to show that girls loving other girls is wrong and bad. But the depiction, to me, leaves things to be desired. A lot of it feels fetishy, and the fact that Ragyo was purposely changed to a woman for “gross” concerns also greatly irks me.

And before I try to write up a conclusion of sorts, I do want to offer this: what if Ragyo stayed a man, but he was associated with white and rainbows as Ragyo is in the final cut? It was stated at this year’s Anime Expo that director Hiroyuki Imaishi has his heroic characters in black and villainous characters in white, which could possibly send messages like Darkness Isn’t Bad and the real villains are the ones who are perverting the purity, goodness, and so on that are associated with white. In the same way, if Ragyo were a man who seemed straight but had rainbow hair, it could send the message that the real villain is the one perverting this symbol of love and acceptance.

I don’t know. Just some food for thought.

Conclusion

I am bad at talking about Ragyo. I am bad at talking about serious topics. I’m sure this post proves as much.

But I hope I’ve done a better job of explaining my point of view than I did before. But if I didn’t—which, knowing me, is likely—I just want everyone to know that I don’t think you’re a reprehensible person if you like Ragyo. I don’t think Ragyo is “too evil” to be representation. I don’t think she’s some terrible, awful character whom nobody can love. (At least, in regards to the writing. I hope there’s agreement that she’s a terrible, awful person.)

While I have problems with Ragyo’s depiction, I don’t think anyone is horrible and wrong if they don’t and resonate with it. I know I certainly like things that others find horrible and wrong, like the Ryuko/Senketsu pairing that I’ve been attacked left and right for, and I more than recognize and voice my own problems with it whilst still loving what I love (and politely disagreeing with the problems that others see that I don’t!)

I know I’m not good at this. But I hope I’ve conveyed my thoughts respectfully, and that, even if you strongly disagree, you know I welcome and am open to your thoughts and perspective, if you would like to share. That’s why I write these posts at all.

[toasttz]

From the Tabletop #7

For all my one (1) reader(s), I apologize for the delay on this instance of From the Tabletop. Everything I said at the end of the last post was clickbait, too, as this time, we're actually going to ping-pong back to Exalted with a brand new circle! FUNTIME! This go-around, our circle composition was markedly different to start, as two of our players from last time dropped out - one couldn't make the first session of the new campaign due to work and the other decided to become a total bitch-baby and pussed out entirely. However, at the same time I recruited two close friends to take their seats. And, due to other meatspace shenanigans, our usual GM had to be gone for the session as well, so Valentinian's player once more took on the mantle of GM for the campaigns kick-off. To begin, let's introduce the first batch of characters we'll be following. First is Rakis. Rakis, according to his player, was inspired by Desert Punk, if you're familiar with that at all. He's a short, wild-child, driven from his desert town into the desert wastes as a child by a mob who murdered his family in cold blood, leaving just him and his brother. His brother then got eaten by a massive sandworm (mechanically, for those who care, a reskinned River Dragon, just replacing the words "water" for "earth"). The worm then seemed to take on a totally different demeanor toward Rakis, and the boy began to believe the worm was his brother reborn. Rakis is a Solar, a survivalist who battles with tricky melee tactics, in tandem with his worm, but struggles in social settings. Then there's Doran, a metalsmith of some repute, whose family was held hostage by some mafia-esque organization until he followed very specific instructions to forge a fairy weapon to their specifications. However, due to not fully knowing the origin of the materials at play and the true nature of what he was making, the weapon took on a ghastly and dangerous set of properties, making it extremely lethal but draining to use. When he went to make the exchange, it was already too late, and his wife and children were already brutally slaughtered. Doran thus swore a quest for revenge. Also a Solar, Doran is a skilled melee fighter, who tries his best to not use the dark artifact in his bag, knowing full well what it can do. And lastly (for now), was my character, Albin. Albin was a design I've had in the wings for a long time, as a scholarly sort who ended up being really heavy into craft, loving both first-age tech and woodworking, from whence he created his main weapon - a wooden longbow. For emergencies, I also have a Prayer Piece firewand, a sort-of rifle but one powered by prayers to Sol Invictus and very, very expensive ammo to make. I play Albin as incredibly deadpan and flat, as some of his flaws include that he doesn't understand metaphor or people very well. And despite that, this character ended up as the face of the party (due to Rakis being socially inept, and Doran being socially hostile) for the first session, at least. Anyway, we agreed the three already knew each other, as Albin worked as a field scholar for Great Forks University (Slogan: Go Fork Yourself!), and the three had reasoned that the MO of both groups that hounded Rakis and Doran made it sound like they might very well be one and the same, so the three agreed to pursue this lead best as they could. Rolling into a random town in the 100 Kingdoms, we asked around about local legends at the guild building, which got us sent to... a crazy hobo who began spouting UFO and "evil shadowy government cabal" conspiracy theories at us. Rakis, quickly tiring of the man's ranting, used his knife to intimidate the man, ultimately causing him to pass out from the shock of the threat. However, we did gleam some useful information - something about the castle outside of town, full of murderers and thieves. Which sounded just like the men we had been tracking. So, off we went. We ventured toward the castle as the sun sank (to mask our approach, this decision was made consciously) and we were accosted by zombies. Which Albin has a distinct advantage over, since Prayer Pieces deal Aggravated damage to undead and creatures of darkness. I also seem to roll freakishly well when I have a firewand on my character. I can't begin to account for that. But we mopped them up and in short order, were making plans on how we were going to enter into this dreaded castle, guarded by spirits and clearly a not-good place to be. Rakis leaped up over the castle wall and stealth'd his way inside, narrowly evading patroling spirits with really wicked-looking knives. Eventually ninja'ing his way around to open the door from the inside for Doran and Albin to enter. The three snuck past a sort of enclosed dungeon area, with a blond(e?) person inside, being beaten by a huge brick house of an aggressor wailing on them. The following exchange actually happened: Rakis: Yeah, this isn't for us. This is probably their fetish. Blond: No, it isn't! Albin: They might have consented to this. Blond: No, I assure you I didn't! Doran: We should ignore them. Blond: No, you shouldn't! Albin: My goodness, that prisoner has opinions on this. We actually started to walk away at this point, and then the captive began singing "All by Myself". So, eventually, we relent (somewhat for meta reasons and also because the GM made us laugh pretty hard on this), and provoke the prison guard to open the door, whereupon Albin lit them up with his Prayer Piece. It took some doing, but we eventually killed the guard and liberated the ma... wo... uh... Lunar within. For the sake of this session, a GMPC, but a welcomed member of the team, Kharas the Blade. Kharas also has a tragic backstory, but it involved markedly less familial homocide. He was betrayed by his old team, who left him to die, hence his Lunar exaltation. Anyways, as the four of us moved up the stairs, we got chased by one of the guards and backed into a room, whereupon I had the idea to invoke the gods for help. This roll was... passable but not amazing, as the god I summoned was a Mouse of the Sun. However, its presence was still antithetical to our pursuer, forcing him into a bottle-neck in the doorway, where Kharas attacked from one side and Albin, Doran, and Rakis held him from the other, eventually leading to our victory. Heading up the stairs, we eventually overhear a discussion between two of the "Six Guns of Black Heaven", which ultimately results in us having a shootout, and capping at least one of them (I actually had to step away from the table for a brief moment, and I missed part of this), and the other came back with us as a hostage. As we escaped the castle, just in time to learn that the castle's original intent was to be a portal between worlds... and it sank into a dark void abyss, just in time for us to learn its name: Castle. Vania. Hahaha... For context, this transitioned into session 2, our GM was back and Kharas was in full player-character role now. Returning to town, hostage in tow, we awkwardly make small-talk to get past the innkeep (barely worked), and then began interrogating her (didn't work), then she launched a surprise attack with a dark-enchanted weapon, which attempted to strangle Doran. She bolted for it, with Albin and Rakis in pursuit of the hostage while Kharas and Doran attempted to disarm the wire-weapon that was in hot pursuit of Doran's neck. Kharas: Wait, it's going for me now?! Wait! I'll turn into a snake! Snake's don't have necks! GM: But, Kharas, snakes are nothing BUT neck! Kharas: ... OH CRAP! Meanwhile, Rakis and Albin are tearing down the hall in hot pursuit. This exchange happens, nigh-verbatim. Me (OOC): I have an ability that can translate sentences into languages I don't know. You speak Flametongue, right? Rakis (OOC): Yeah. What's your idea? Me (OOC): I'll shout out our strategy in Flametongue using my charm. Thus, she won't know what we're up to. Rakis (OOC): I'll hit her high. Can you shoot low? Me (OOC): Yeah. That'll be our plan. I'll use a burning arrow on the floor to prevent her from evading your attack. GM: *Makes a noise that I can't tell is a sob or a laugh* Kharas (OOC): What's up? GM: We have a circle that DOESN'T SUCK!! Ultimately, we managed to plug an arrow into her head, ending her futile struggle. And we probably could've done something about the mess and gotten away largely undistracted, but Rakis then began bragging about what we had done to the barkeep, and we had to skip town. Kharas was even kind enough to transform into a dinosaur and gave Albin a lift, as Doran and Rakis piled onto Mr. Wormsworth and rode out of town. Ultimately, we planned to go to A'Barr up in the north, a large city where we could lay low and maybe find information on our group of serial murderers. En route, Kharas requested Albin make a hurdy-gurdy. Yes, that's a real instrument, look it up on Youtube. Albin, being very hard into craft, easily cobbled one together, and accompanied Kharas in a rendition of Maiden by the River. This means nothing to you, but let me explain about this song. Every time - and I mean every time - this song was performed, someone botched SOMETHING and it usually resulted in a town burning down or something. It was reportedly the song that played before the terrible plague wiped out Scarlet's hometown of the better part of its population, giving the pirate an extreme phobia of the piece. However, we both... rolled 5 successes each! We broke the curse of this damned song! Doran and Rakis didn't fully understand why this was such a milestone for us, but it was an amazing moment for us all. In fact, Doran's player was kind enough to WRITE AND PERFORM THE DAMN SONG. I include the link for your enjoyment: https://www.mediafire.com/file/adyf20gdd3cp5jd/MaidenByTheRiverDraft.mp3/file Not long after, we arrived in A'Barr and began setting to work. But this has gone on quite long enough for today. Join us next time in Exalted where: Rakis tries to burn down half of Great Forks! We battle an Indominus Rex! A fifth Exalt joins the circle! We meet one of Albin's siblings! Doran dies in boiling magma! See you there!

[thebluelemontree]

What does GRRM mean with this: "Q:[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?] A: Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There's only Alayne Stone". Because what he says doesn't add up in the actual text from AFFC. In the Alayne chapters 'Alayne' still has a lot of 'Sansa thoughts'. I don't see any indication that Sansa is 'dead' no more than that Arya is 'dead'. I know The Hound isn't dead either, but he is supposed to be but his comments about Sansa/ Alayne confuse me a bit.

Don’t we all want to know what that means exactly!  It’s a very cheeky answer that GRRM is want to give when he wants to skirt around spoiling something yet to unfold.  Very observant reading by the way.  More under the cut because this will be long.

Sandor’s part of the quote is a lot easier to understand.  The Hound is dead, but Sandor lives.  Obviously this isn’t about literal death.  His duality and struggle with the Hound persona was already well-established.  In hindsight, we can see this end to this persona is coming what with “a hound will die for you…”  Later when he’s mortally wounded, all his options to return Arya and find a way back to Sansa have dried up, and not until he’s completely broken and stripped down does he finally confess his regrets and take full responsibility for his moral failings.  This is the Hound’s death rattle.  This is Sandor getting back in touch with his humanity and noblest self.  

His time as the gravedigger is a direct confrontation of and penance for the Hound’s callous attitude toward human life.  Remember all that blustering about being a butcher and everyone else is meat?  Remember “if you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can?”  Oh boy, is he going to eat those words.  As the gravedigger he must labor for the innocent victims.  He must look them in the face all day long.  They were murdered by Rorge and Biter, two men who represent the Hound totally without conscience and gone fully broken man.  One is wearing the Hound’s helm while raiding the Saltpans for Pete’s sake.  Not only that he must serve food and clear the table for the penitent brothers.  These are people the Hound would have mocked as stupid and weak lesser men.  They believe in the gods, they openly acknowledge their trauma, and have chosen a life of nonviolence.  The villagers and the brothers are the kind of people knights are supposed to protect.  Now Sandor has to STFU, be respectful, and serve them on the humblest level.  Sandor is being rebuilt from the ground up.      

So “Sansa may be dead.”  That’s a lot less definitive than his statement about the Hound.  Like the Hound, we’re talking about the life and death of an identity, but which one will die in the end?  Alayne or Sansa?  You are right to notice that she has plenty of Sansa thoughts while being Alayne.  Sansa Stark isn’t dead, but she’s not in the driver’s seat either.  Hence why George might say “there is only Alayne Stone.”  It’s more like she’s dormant or sleeping for the time being.  The question is more like “will Sansa sleep for so long that she never wakes up again?”

Think of the snow castle scene in the Eyrie’s godswood where the statue of Alyssa lays broken in two and half-buried in snow.  That’s a metaphor for where Sansa is in the story.  Split in two with one half gone to ground.  As a “Stone,” she is in danger of eventually petrifying into a cold, stone statue if she abandons all of Sansa’s empathy and idealism and adopts Littlefinger’s cynicism and cold-hearted selfishness instead.  This also has applications to Catelyn turning into LSH. The Alyssa Arryn of legend was cursed by the gods to never know rest until she could openly weep for her dead family.  Specifically, her tears must fall upon the Vale of Arryn below where her loved ones are buried.  The waterfall known as Alyssa’s Tears turns to mist and is blown away by the wind before it can touch the valley floor, which is where the Gates of the Moon is located.  Sansa does weep for her loved ones, but only when she can’t help it and it’s always in private.  She actively tries to suppress thinking of them because it cracks her wide open.  Alayne Stone has no family except Petyr and she must be Alayne all the time.  Its clear though that Sansa’s tears have a direct relationship to her Stark identity.  More on Alyssa’s Tears toward the end.  

Before I get into the pitfalls, there is some good to be mined out of Alayne for Sansa’s character growth.  Petyr may have given her the name and the backstory, but Sansa has fleshed out Alayne into the person she wants her to be.  There’s a lot of fake it ‘til you make it going on here.  Alayne is older and more mature.  She’s pretty, but more practical and isn’t given to wearing too fine of gowns and jewels.  She’s had the bastard’s hard knock life, so she’s got grit and determination to not be crushed by the worlds scorn.  Alayne doesn’t take shit from Harry the Heir.  She doesn’t cry in embarrassment or blame herself for his rude behavior.  She doesn’t blush like a pomegranate over everything.  Alayne is clever, more world-wise, and self-confident.  Where Sansa was all cool and proper courtesy, Alayne is warm and engaging.  Can you picture early Sansa impulsively hugging a shabby sellsword like Lothor Brune?  No way.  The very idea would have been appalling.  Most importantly, Alayne looks straight ahead and unflinching at the path that lay before her.

“Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.”  – Alayne II, AFFC.

And as long as Sansa can convince Petyr that she has fully embraced Alayne, it lulls him into trusting her enough to let some of his guard down and trust her with more freedom than she had in KL.  By constantly emphasizing their father-daughter relationship, it helps mitigate some of his unwanted sexual advances.  

The danger lies in becoming his daughter in her heart, suffocating Sansa out in all but name.  Petyr’s philosophy and skill in dealing with adversity is seductively attractive, leading to conflicting feelings within her.  She isn’t comfortable with how he operates and she’s constantly pushed past her boundaries by him.  Yet “he is so bold. Sansa wished she had his courage.”  She mistakes his fearlessness for courage.      

And yet the thought of leaving frightened her almost as much as it frightened Robert. She only hid it better. Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. “All men live with fear,” he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave. She would need to be brave down below, where the chance of being unmasked was so much greater. Petyr’s friends at court had sent him word that the queen had men out looking for the Imp and Sansa Stark. It will mean my head if I am found, she reminded herself as she descended a flight of icy stone steps. I must be Alayne all the time, inside and out. – Alayne II, AFFC.

Of course this would seem appealing to girl who has been powerless, afraid, abused, manipulated, and wanted for regicide.  Petyr is never afraid.  He’s never the victim or helpless.  No one hurts him.  He deftly handles his enemies before they can strike, leaving them impotent.  He always knows what to do.  Petyr is the magic man that makes everything go his way and he’s going to show Sansa how to do the same.  All she has to do is become as cynical as he and be willing to use other people.  He teaches her the world is divided into players and pawns and you do not want to be a pawn.  Think of how this is reminiscent of Sandor dividing the world into butchers and meat.  Yeah, Sansa is being tempted by the warm, safe blanket of absolute freedom from conscience and all it’s “benefits.”  She might as well be handed the Hound’s helm and put it on herself.  As Lem Lemoncloak says when he explains why he took up the helm:  “the sight of it will make my foes afraid.”  If that happens, all of Sansa’s goodness might truly die along with her Stark identity.  Now I’m confident Sansa will find her back from the brink, but for the story’s sake, the danger and drama has to feel real and present.  As a writer, GRRM has definitely pulled off that feeling as there are many readers who are convinced Sansa has already checked out completely no matter how many of those Sansa thoughts she has. :/

Back to Alyssa’s Tears and bear with me as I go on a tangent.  I’m a subscriber to the theory there will be an avalanche on the Giant’s Lance.  My gut feeling says Alyssa’s Tears will come into play and here’s how those “tears” might finally reach the valley floor in a very appropriate way for Sansa’s arc.  We’ve already established the metaphoric connection between Sansa’s tears, identity, and the statue and legend of Alyssa Arryn.  In winter, the waterfall freezes and becomes 20 foot long icicles pointed straight down toward the Gates of the Moon.  That seems kinda ominous; however, the passage where they are mentioned is interesting.

The snow-clad summit of the Giant’s Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa’s Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.              

Like that falcon soaring above the waterfall itself in the glorious light of dawn, I think Sansa will fly away and escape again, just as she did King’s Landing.  Icicles are likened to weapons in the Eyrie and we’ve heard the phrase “tears are a woman’s weapon” often enough.  Lysa used Tears of Lys as a weapon, but Sansa’s tears may be very different.  I think we’re meant to make a connection between those 20 foot icicles and Ned Stark’s longsword Ice, an instrument of justice and her father’s philosophy.  Recall that Ned was beheaded with Ice, likely because Littlefinger influenced Joffrey to change the plan from Ned taking the black.  If one of those bad boys were to crack and crash to the ground, not only could it cause said avalanche that would effectively “behead” the mountain’s peak, but “Alyssa” would finally be set free from her “curse.”  Not that I’m saying Petyr would literally die by getting impaled by an icicle, though that would be nice.  I think it means his time as her father is quickly coming to an end.  Sansa’s tears, her best weapon against Littlefinger’s psychological hold on her, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  She needs to be brave, dispel the web of lies that binds her to him, and openly reclaim her identity despite the risk of capture.  

Now I don’t think the Alayne persona really needs to die completely so Sansa can live.  It’s possible she synthesizes the two into a newly remade Sansa, one who possesses the best traits of both identities.  Sandor isn’t going to take vows and devote himself to quiet and celibate contemplation.  Stranger is kicking down the stable walls and refuses to become a gelded plow horse.  Some of Sandor’s old ferocity and his moody temperament will still be there, but he’ll definitely be changed by his experience as the gravedigger.  It think it will be the same with Sansa.  She’ll keep Alayne’s courage, strength, brains, and feminine wiles, but Sansa’s core values will guide her choices and actions.      

[oosteven-universe]

Commander Rao #1

Commander Rao #1 Scout Comics 2021 By Fell Hound Backup Art by Jeremy Simser Lettered by Lettersquids    On the final dawn of an exhausted war, a rogue commander sets out on a warpath to confront a tyrannical baron.  A year later, stories are sung of her heroism, but the mystery of her motives remains.    I wasn’t sure what this was going to be about.  Visually it reminds me of Captain Harlock with less of a manga feel but it's impressive nonetheless and it really drew me into the issue and the story beautifully.  I’m really rather impressed with how easy the story is to follow along to and with a section with such few words happening it’s even more impressive to me.  There is a really great blend in the mix of backstory and current story happening that allows the reader to really get the full knowledge of Captain Rao, her motivations and just the general overall oomph that the story needs to have.  I found myself wishing that this were going to be more than a one-shot on multiple occasions and then got me thinking that it would be really nice to see more from Fell Hound in the future.      I’m very much liking the way that this is being told. The story & plot development that we see through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is presented exceptionally well.  The character development that we see through the narration, the dialogue, the character interaction as well as how we see them act and react to the situations and circumstances which they encounter does a magnificent job in establishing their personalities.  The pacing is excellent and as it takes us through the pages introducing us to the characters, the story and this world it does an exemplary job in piquing the curiosity and getting us involved in what we see.    I’m really rather impressed with the way that we see this being structured and how the layers within the story emerge, grow, evolve and strengthen, this includes the backup story as well as the two tie together nicely.  That the layers open up different avenues to be explored, of which some are addressed again in the backup feature, and how they manage to add some great depth, dimension and complexity to the story is extremely well achieved.  How we see everything working together to create the story’s ebb & flow as well as how it moves the story forward are exceptionally well handled.      The interiors here are interesting.  I like that we see manga influence in the artwork and the linework itself has this simple yet effective and how we see the varying weights being utilised to create the details within the work is really rather nicely rendered.  I also appreciate the mix of colour and black & white work in the same story and what that adds to the overall mix of then and now.  I do wish we’d see more backgrounds being utilised but the way we see everything within the composition of the panels brings out the depth perception, sense of scale and the overall sense of size and scope to the story is well orchestrated.  The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a talented eye for storytelling.  The various hues and tones within the colours being utilised to create the shading, highlights and shadow work shows a great understanding of how colour works.     The backup illustration is really rather impressive.  This has a more traditional comic book feel to it and the detail within the work is utterly amazing to see. The black & white with gray tones looks absolutely stunning.   ​    This is a great little world that we see created here.  It is also a great introduction to Fell Hound for me and I look forward to seeing what else they have to offer us in the future.  The writing is impeccable and the interiors are expressive & delightful.