#and when i first brought it up they just kept saying different variations of how does it effect you why do you care what does it have to

[krispiecake]

soooo funny actually

[gilverrwrites]

If that ask was too long and elaborate, I have another one!

What about a fic with Batman, where the reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Bruce since he already has mature/ teenager kids and she doesn’t know if he wants to raise one from the infant stage to adulthood.

She kinda overthinks about it and distance herself from Bruce. He notice it and when she would confess, to her surprise, Bruce would get super exited!

What I don't understand

AN: I'm back baby! At least partly, my hand is still on and off achy so I won't we posting as activiely as I have previously. I've done so much research on pregnancy that all my adds are now of pregancy tests, fertilitie test, baby stuff, I'm worried my bf might start to suspect that I'm pregnant which would be akward Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 3.9K words CW: Husband/Wife dynamic, pregnancy, feet (none sexual), mentions of vomit, body dysmorphia, lying/sneaking around, prenatal anxiety/depression, martial problems, swearing. Fluffy ending tho!

Pregnancy brain is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Or maybe that's insanity, who knows? You ponder the thought as you fidget with the flimsy cardboard packaging of the pregnancy test you're awaiting the results of as if you don't know the answer. You'd already taken countless tests, trialling different brands in the hopes of a different outcome but every single one of them had confirmed your situation with variations on lines and plus signs. They'd never offered you a negative, and yet you keep trying.

There was no denying it, and pretty soon there would be no hiding. You were fast approaching the end of your first trimester at 9 weeks but had only found out about a month ago. The task of informing Bruce while there was still time to act seems to grow bigger and scarier with each passing day. Not to mention; it's becoming increasingly obvious that he already suspected something is wrong.

3 weeks ago:

The cold tile against your aching feet felt like ecstasy. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and lean against the wall, relishing in every second of release as you awaited Jason’s return.

You’d spend hours hiding your pain, precariously balancing in a pair of heels as you kept up appearances during a charity event being held at the manor. Bruce was currently being cornered by a visiting dignitary, and as bad as you felt leaving him alone, it might have been your only chance. You’d slipped away to an off-limits hallway, grasping Jason’s who had drawn the short straw for event appearances along the way. Once out of view to your guests you’d begged him to retrieve a pair of pumps from your bedroom, the petty prospect of keeping it secret from, and thus getting a one-up on his adoptive father being the primary motivator. That and he owed you, a lot, for defusing many situations in which he and your husband had butt heads.

The weight of your discarded shoes hung heavily from your fingers, you hadn’t realised how weighty they were. A shame, because they were so pretty. They were a gift from Bruce, strappy and bedazzled, the perfect colour to match your dress. Another pair for your ever-expanding collection, he’d always favoured gifting you shoes and purses, and you certainly didn’t mind, at least not until your ankles had begun swelling at the mere notion of being used for their primary function.

“Are you okay? You seem off.” Jason’s voice returning to the hall made you jump out of your stupor, and he watched with concern as you tucked your heels behind a curtain and slipped into the flats he’d brought you.

“Fine, fine.” You smile, patting his arm with a reassuring smile. “Just didn’t wear those in properly and now I’m paying the price.”

“Right.” He still seemed dubious and was about to say something else when a door creeks open, redirecting both of your attention.

Bruce stood in the doorway, stern, arms crossed. He glares at the both of you, he and Jason have a very similar glare. His eyes focus in on you, identifying you as the main culprit, his gaze roves across your form, lingering on your feet for an uncomfortably long time before speaking.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do the two of you.” He points behind him. “In.”

Jason’s face is obscured as he takes the lead, but Bruce must not like his expression because his frown seems to deepen.

You followed close behind, careful not to step on the hem of your dress now that you lack the additional six inches the heels had offered but your integration back into the crowd is halted. Bruce traced his hand along your back, cupping the curve of your waist and directing you to a lesser populated spot amongst the outskirts of your visitants.

The stony look on his face was gone, replaced with a polite smile for the crowd and softer eyes for you.

“What happened to your shoes?” His voice was low, in-perceivable to anyone but yourself.

“My feet were sore is all.” It’s not a lie.

“Too sore for dancing?” He asks, voice as slick as silk and you don’t want to agree but yes, they are too sore dancing. Not to mention you’d gotten nauseous from standing up too quickly only hours earlier but damn if you didn’t want to dance with your husband. Want to feel his chest against yours, his hands on your curves, admire the smile on his face. There are few things you enjoy more than any form of intimacy with Bruce.

“Maybe later.” You sighed, “I think I need to sit down for a while.”

2 weeks ago:

‘Breast changes are another very early sign of pregnancy. Your hormone levels rapidly change after the egg is fertilized. Because of these changes, your breasts may become swollen, sore, or tingly.’

You groaned aloud, rereading the entry on WebMD once more. You hadn’t expected your breasts to change so early on, incorrectly assuming any swelling or pain would be a result of breast milk, but you were wrong.

Believing you had the house to yourself, you figure now was as good a time as any to read up on more early pregnancy symptoms, to correct any other misconception you might have. You were midway through reading about progesterone and how it causes constipation when your laptop pinged.

A notification popped up in the corner of the screen, a DM from UserDC27, Bruce’s bat-server codename. You click to open the message and audibly gasp when a screenshot of your browsing history greets you, framed in red with its own ‘suspicious activity’ notification in the corner.

‘Pregnancy trimesters in weeks’ ‘Swollen breasts pregnant’ ‘Early pregnancy symptoms’

Amongst all the suspicious browsing habits of this family, of course yours had flagged up! Fucking ridiculous!

UserDC27: ? UserRI01: For a friend UserRI01: dw UserRI01: Love you x UserDC27: is typing… UserRI01: has signed out.

1 weeks ago:

“Good morning.” A familiar voice greeted you, strong hands slink around your body, brushing against your back and hips before settling on your stomach. What should have been a sweet moment frightened you, disturbing you from your train of thought and causing you to almost spill your morning decaf coffee.

“Woah there.” Bruce laughed, the warmth and proximity of him soothing you quickly. He effortlessly took the mug from your hands and settled it on the kitchen island so he could pull you closer without spillage.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, turning your head to rest it against his chest. The strength of his cologne is always so much stronger in the mornings, the scent of the man you love, of citrus and woodsiness does wonders to comfort your frantic brain no matter the time or place. “Just lost in thought.”

After a second you realise your mistake, you’ve allowed him an opening to ask what you’re thinking about and that exact moment certainly did not feel like the right time, what with Damian in the next room. You should be alone, completely alone.

He surprises you however, always one for keeping everyone on their toes, by spinning you around to face him and telling you, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“What do you think it is?” You tried to keep your voice airy, relaxed, unsuspicious but even you can hear the guilt in your tone.

“I think you’re tired.” He watches you with a playful glint in his eye, but the next words out of his mouth are accusatory no matter how light his tone is. “Where are you sneaking off to in the mornings, oh wife of mine?”

“W-what?” You heard him fine, you were stalling while you calculated a response. You had been sneaking off in the mornings and the fact that he’s asking so playfully, as opposed to interrogating which he is not unknown to do even with you, means he knows more than he’s letting on.

Bruce isn’t exactly an early riser, often too tired from long nights of crime fighting and case filing, but he is a light sleeper. Always on alert. He’d already caught you in a bought of morning sickness once. Roused by the unpleasant noises you’d been making. You’d lied about it, citing an upset tummy from something you’d eaten. You weren’t sure which was worse, the vomiting, the sombre expression he’d given you as he approached to rub your back throughout, or the look of horror on Alfred’s face when Bruce had brought up your supposed food poisoning later that day.

Ever since you’d purposely been rising early and sneaking off to dispel any nausea in one of the many guest bedrooms.

“Nowhere, I’m just becoming more of a morning person I guess.”

He eyed you sceptically, and you thought you might crack under the pressure. His hands reach up to cup your face, preventing you from turning away. His touch is so gentle, so soft for a man of his stature. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”

“Of course.”

As if you couldn’t feel worse he adds; “I miss waking up to you beside me.”

“Oh Brucie-“

You’re already on your tip toes, ready to concede, to apologise, to shower your sullen husband with kisses when you’re saved by the signal. Literally, a call from Duke 'The Signal' Thomas, with a reminder of your apprehension; an active situation that needed Batman’s participation.

Your relationship, and now marriage to Bruce had always hinged on an unspoken understanding that Gotham comes first. Even with Tim taking over most of his responsibilities at Wayne Tech, Bruce simply does not have enough time to raise a baby. You can't expect him to take turns with the nighttime feeds, with the frequent nappy changes, with the constant attention an infant will need.

You’ve no doubt Alfred would delight in assisting you, he's been dropping hints about wanting a baby Brucie since the engagement, and you love him very much but if you’re to raise a baby, you want to do it with your husband, not his butler.

That’s presuming your husband even wants a child. Another child. He already has enough children to populate a small village. Children with lives of their own. Children who in some way or another have followed in his vigilante footsteps. You think of the stress and trauma each of them has faced, and how it has affected them and their father. You think of Steph and her tremulous relationships with Bruce and Arthur. Of Jason’s deaths, plural. Of Dicks ineptitude to form meaningful relationships with anyone outside of the lifestyle. Of all the childhoods so many, but especially Cass and Damian missed out on. Could you be responsible for putting another child through any of that?

Furthermore, if your child wanted to live this life, could you really stop them? Nobody stopped Tim. Nobody stopped Barbara, when Jim had tried it only caused the rift between them to grow bigger.

Could Bruce stop your unborn child? Would he want to?

Speak of the Oracle. The chime of your phone draws you out of your spiral of perinatal anxieties. It’s Barbara, informing the girls-only group chat that she’s running late for lunch. Crap. You’d completely forgotten that you’d promised the girls lunch and shopping. Barbara had some tech on hold, Steph wanted to try the new caramel cookie waffles at Goodilicious, and Cass needed new boots whether she knew it or not.

Hurriedly, you shove the used test into a previously disused makeup bag that is now full of other used tests. It's starting to smell, but you don't have time to figure out how to stealthily throw it out, so you hide it at the back of a cupboard behind a basket of sanitary products before rushing out the door.

Later

Catching up with the girls had been fun, it had really helped you forget about your predicament and just relax for a while, but it had also taken a lot out of you, keeping you out well past dinner. Your body just was not functioning as well as it used to, for obvious reasons.

Upon returning to the mansion you’d made it to the ground floor lounge, feet too sore to even consider the stairs, and collapsed on the closest couch, exerting just enough energy to pry your shoes and sock off of your swollen feet prior to falling asleep. Just a quick nap you tell yourself, to regain some energy, you’ll be right as rain in time for Damian’s bedtime. He’s old enough now to put himself to bed, especially given that he often patrols with his father until the early hours of the morning, but tonight is his night off and you’d always make the effort to wish him sweet dreams when you can.

You’re awoken by the feel of calloused fingers pressing into the arches of your feet. You hadn’t heard him enter, but Bruce is sitting on the arm of the couch, in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. Between his bare chest and cowl hair, he is a welcome sight, bruised chest and freshly cut lip and all.

“What happened to you?” You ask, voice husky from your impromptu nap. You manage to draw your eyes away from Bruce long enough to check the time on an antique wall clock, it’s 4 AM. You’d far exceeded a nap. “Where’s Damian?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Damian is asleep. When you didn’t wish him a goodnight he came to look for you, that’s how I knew you were here.” He asserts. He looks at you with a furrowed brow and pinched lips, working his thumb into the arch of your feet with just enough pressure to make you mewl in relief. “Are you punishing me for something?”

The question hits you like a ton of bricks, it’s not without merit. You hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch, but you can understand how it must look to him, especially in tangent with the ways in which you had intentionally been avoiding him; sneaking out in the mornings, not allowing him to see your naked body for fear that he’ll notice your swollen breasts, and growing belly. You hadn’t had sex in at least three weeks.

All at once you are overcome with remorse. You’d been so consumed with the pregnancy and how best to approach the subject with Bruce that you hadn’t stopped to think how your actions would weigh on him. He’s so strong, your anchor, an unchanging presence for the whole family. He locks himself and his emotions behind the big bad bat or billionaire Brucie so well that sometimes he forgets he has them. Sometimes you forget. Even now, clearly hurting and concerned for his marriage, he’s rubbing your feet.

“No of course not Bruce, I’m sorry…” your mind starts to form the end of your apology ‘I was just so tired’ or ‘it’s been a long day’ and they wouldn’t be lies but they’re not the right thing to say. You can’t keep postponing for the ‘right moment’ that will never come, can’t keep chickening out. He needs to know the truth. “I’m- I’m pregnant.”

You’re not sure how you’d expected him to respond really. You’d feared anger, hoped for joy but instead, he continues to stare at you, his brows raising in a way that implied he needed more information. He swaps your left foot for your right as he awaits your resumption. When you don’t speak he nods and states; “I know.”

“You know?” As though possessed your tired body launches into an upright seated position. “How could you know?”

Bruce smiles in response, an amused, tight-lipped ‘Are you kidding?’ smile.

“Well, to name a few things;” he counts off each observation on his fingers. “You’ve stopped wearing heels because your ankles are constantly swollen, your breasts are also noticeably swollen even under your clothes, you now only drink decaf, you seemingly have ‘food poisoning’ every morning and at no other time of day, a massive increase in urination, and my personal favourite, the bag full of positive pregnancy tests behind a crate-full of menstrual products that haven’t been used in almost three months.”

He’s trying to hide it, but he’s smug about his own detective skills. His mouth might be straight but there’s a fire in his eyes that has you drawing your legs away from him with a huff, abruptly ending the massage you had been enjoying. “How long have you known?”

“I’d had my suspicions for about 6 weeks, but I wasn’t certain until I found your stash last week.” Typical of Bruce to have figured out you were pregnant before you’d known yourself. “What I don’t understand, is why you didn’t tell me. Why you’ve been lying.”

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I was going to but…” You trail off,  straightening your thoughts as best you can and finding your composure, preparing to begin monologuing about your concerns. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, what with you know, already having so many kids. Everyone but Damian has flown the nest, Dick and Babs are married! They’re all so grown up, do you really want to start again? And then…”

Conscious of your rambling you cut yourself off, looking to Bruce for reassurance that you’re not talking too much, that he’s not offended by your worries. He consoles you by coming closer, sitting on the cushion beside you and easily coaxing your legs over his. His firm hands are gentle as they grasp your knee.

“And what?” He questions.

“I wasn’t sure how I feel, I wanted to figure that out before talking to you.”

“What do you think you feel about it?”

“I think I want to have your baby Bruce, our baby.” So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed your husband’s hands creeping higher and higher up your body until a hand settles on your stomach, his thumb stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You’d been so self-conscious of its growth but as you look at it now, under Bruce’s sturdy fingers, you realise it isn’t much bigger than it had been pre-pregnancy. How tedious your problems seemed when voiced and put into perspective, except maybe one. “I’m just not sure about how… well I guess I never thought about raising a child within your lifestyle.”

“I understand.” He nods, confirming his statement. He’s done well to keep his face soft but neutral throughout, a staple of his Batman facade but also a careful way not to let his own emotions interfere with yours.

“What do you think?” He looks down at your abdomen as he considers his words. You follow his gaze, watching as his fingers lift your top, exposing your skin to him. Without warning he lowers himself to pepper your belly with gentle kisses, the ticklish motion causes you to giggle and writhe beneath him.

When he looks up at you again he’s smiling, the motion causing the scab on his lip to split and bleed. Without thought you pull yourself closer to him, using his broad shoulders as leverage. Once close enough you dab at the minor wound with your thumb soaking up the fluid as best you can and examining the cut to ensure no further damage.

Bruce watches you intently the whole time, cupping your face in his hand when you appear satisfied. The adoration in his eyes makes you feel sheepish even after everything you’ve been through together.

“I think,” his voice is low, sincere. “I couldn’t be happier to be growing our family together. I think this child, like all our children, will be lucky to have you as a mother, whatever life they choose to lead.”

The amount of pent-up tension in your body had not been apparent to you until now. Until your body noticeably lightens in response to his words. The relief of no longer sneaking around, no more fretting over how he might react has you wishing you’d done this a long time ago.

“Bruce?” You sag into his chest, breathing him in. His arms unconsciously wrap around you in response, pulling you in for a tighter embrace. “We’re having a baby.”

“Were are having a baby.” He confirms, pressing more, tender kisses to your neck, the curve of a smile apparent as his lips press to your exposed skin. "I've been waiting for this moment since the day we me. But, I think it’s time we got to bed, it’s late.”

Swift and practiced, Bruce lifts you from the couch, cradling you in the bridal position. You stretch to check the clock, 4:34 AM.

“Technically it’s early.” You jest, expecting him to punish your cheek by jolting you in the air or throwing you over his shoulder as he normally does, but instead, he chides you with an amused glare, clearly too concerned about the baby for play fighting.

“Neither of us has been to bed, it’s late.” His grip tightens on your body as he makes his way up the stairs, one steady step at a time. “And I expect my wife to be in our bed when I wake up.”

“Hmmm.” Your morning sickness has eased in the last few days, you’d only persisted in sneaking out to be safe, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet. “I’ll try, but I might be in our bathroom.”

“I can cope with that. At least then I can care for you. And we can throw out your hoard.” You don’t fuss over the likelihood of him having to rush off to save the day or for an urgent board meeting, you just throw your head back, laughing at yourself for trying to hide anything from Bruce.

When you reach the bedroom he lays you in the bed and climbs over your form. He’s in full caretaker mode, a manner you could get used to. He carefully removes your clothes, offers to redress you in your sleepwear and to bring you your lotions, or anything you should need from the bathroom.

Dawn is breaking behind your blackout curtains by the time you’re both settled in bed, entangled in each other’s arms. Sleep has nearly taken you again when Bruce whispers; “I do have one other thought.”

“Oh?" You peer at him curiously over your shoulder. "Yes dear?”

“I think you should be the one to tell Damian.”

His request hangs heavy in the air as you consider the implication. “Tell Damian that he will no longer be your only blood child?”

The room remains silent, he doesn’t expand because you know what he’s getting at. Damian probably won’t mind, because he’ll still be the oldest, the first in line and you’re certain he’ll be a wonderful older brother, he’s great with animals, so why not babies? Right?

“… That's not fair.”

“Think of it as penance for lying to me all month.” There’s an air of humour in his voice as he pulls you closer still, squeezing himself into your back and planting sleepy kisses against your neck. “Besides, he’ll probably take it better from you. I think he likes you more.”

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

"Directors of the Monsterverse" notes

The one featurette exclusive to the 4K Godzilla/Kong Monsterverse 5-Film Collector's Edition set is also just up on Fandango at Home (formerly Vudu) for free. It's possible that the disc version is longer, but what's on streaming has a hefty 49:06 runtime, so I doubt it.

Notes on the discussion:

The venue is Warner Bros. Stage 11, "where Casablanca and ER were shot."

No closed captions, boo.

Skullcrawler egg props from Godzilla vs. Kong were present, as well as the goofy Godzilla suit used to promote King of the Monsters.

Mike Dougherty brought one of his dogs. (Recall that the his dogs inspired the personalities of Ghidorah's three heads.)

Jordan Vogt-Roberts took Adam Wingard out to dinner shortly after he was hired to direct Godzilla vs. Kong, warning him what to expect on his first mega-budget movie (a "Scared Straight thing"). That led to the Monsterverse directors meeting up more regularly.

Vogt-Roberts relays an analogy from producer Eric McLeod: trying to do something spontaneous on a larger film set, like changing a shot angle, is like steering an aircraft carrier.

Gareth Edwards described the feeling of visiting a Godzilla set that wasn't his own movie (King of the Monsters) as like "walking in on your wife cheating on you."

The ever-escalating zaniness of the Monsterverse films wasn't carefully considered, it just happened; Wingard, for one, felt it wasn't possible to return to the tone of Godzilla (2014) after King of the Monsters.

Dougherty describes a Toho Studios visit where he wore part of a Godzilla suit.

Vogt-Roberts never imagined that the Hollow Earth introduced in Kong: Skull Island would become so integral to subsequent films.

The opening credits for Godzilla (2014) were inspired by the JFK credits.

Edwards ordered a ton of G-Fan back issues to prepare for directing Godzilla, and was surprised when the package included a note from J.D. Lees apologizing for bashing Monsters in one of those issues.

Wingard carefully maneuvers Edwards away from saying that following King Kong vs. Godzilla was a much easier task than following the original Godzilla or King Kong, as he should.

Dougherty says he's glad that they as a group gave Kong a happy ending ("for now").

Vogt-Roberts doesn't accept that Kong lost against Godzilla in Godzilla vs. Kong because their battle against Mechagodzilla was part of the same fight; embarks on a lengthy military analogy. Wingard disagrees vociferously. Dougherty tries to say something but Edwards advises him to "let them fight."

Vogt-Roberts wanted Kong to have brown fur to reflect the rabbit fur used on the original stop-motion model.

Edwards jokes that they kept trying variations on Godzilla's design until "someone came with a gun and went, 'If you don't stop now, the movie doesn't get released.'"

I think there's a behind-the-scenes shot of Mothra (showing the layers of VFX that went into her waterfall emergence) that wasn't in the King of the Monsters bonus features.

Ready Player One was released just as Wingard's team was settling on Mechagodzilla's Godzilla vs. Kong design; he was dismayed to hear about it at first, then relieved to see how different it looked.

Vogt-Roberts really wants to see Hedorah turn up in the Monsterverse.

[inksandpensblog]

AvA Sticktober 2023 | Prompt 1: Sticks

"And this," Orange proclaimed, flourishing the object in his hands, "is the master stick. Whoever picks this one up can use it to move other sticks during their turn. It also has the most points out of all the colors."

"Oh," Yellow's brow furrowed. "It's not just one point per stick?"

"I thought the colors were just so we could tell them apart," Red chimed in.

"Nope." Orange glanced at the rules. "It says that each individual stick has a set value of points, based on color: yellows are one, greens are two, blues are five, and reds are ten."

Yellow frowned, staring at the collection of sticks on the floor between them with a thoughtful hand held to his chin. 

Green seemed to be of a similar mind, pulling out his phone and swiping his hand across the screen. "Greens are only two?"

"Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Are you mad that yours aren't worth as many points?" Blue guessed, a smirk dashing across his face at Green's answering pout.

Orange stared. "What? They're not- the colors aren't assigned to players. Anyone can pick up any color; otherwise there'd be a way to eliminate players. And there aren't any orange sticks, so I wouldn't be able to play if—"

Orange cut himself off when Green scowled at his phone, swiping at the screen with more vigor.

Red leaned in, peeking over Green's shoulder. "Huh, different variations?"

Green pushed him lightly away. "Yeah, I was just checking the numbers. There's other versions of the game where the colors are a different amount of points."

"But it's the same order every time," Red persisted, trying to lean back in as Green kept shoving at him. "See, look, red is always the most, and—"

"Shush, you're ruining this!"

"Green does have a point," Yellow ventured.

"Yeah, I do!"

"No, he doesn't," Blue maintained. "You two are just grumpy that you aren't more points."

"Guys," Orange insisted, "the colors have nothing to do with you."

Yellow shook his head. "I didn't mean like that! I mean it doesn't make sense that some colors are worth more when the game has the same number of sticks in each color!"

"Oh," came the answering chorus, followed by everyone joining Yellow in squinting at the collection of sticks on the floor. 

"...huh, that is a good point..."

"Yeah, shouldn't the sticks that are worth more be rarer, or something?"

"That is odd..."

"...maybe we should just play it as one point per stick, then?" Blue suggested.

Orange scratched his head. "But where's the challenge, that way? If everything's worth the same value then there's no reason to not just go for the easiest ones every time." 

"And speaking of easy, what about all the ones that end up outside of the pile?" Red gestured at the floor around which the collection of sticks lay. "Whoever goes first can just sweep all of those up on their first turn, they'll have a head start." 

"Oh, we don't need to worry about that, actually." Green looked up from his phone. "This says that a lot of people have it so that those loose sticks are removed from play before the first player goes." 

Orange nodded. "Okay, I like that, we'll do it that way."

"Hey, what if we use that to determine the value?" Blue volunteered. "We look at those loose sticks that get removed from play, and measure the value of each color based on how much of each one got taken out?" 

"That...that could work, actually," Yellow mused.

Orange nodded again, a smile beginning to form on his own face. "We'll make it so that whichever color is present in the greatest volume is one point, next two, then five, and then the least-available color will be ten. If any of them tie, we can just re-drop the pile."

Green grinned. "Well, since you brought it up...this also says that there's a version where, on their turn, a player can decided to re-drop the pile instead of picking up a stick."

Orange froze. "Uh, I don't know if I want to worry about the value of each stick changing partway through the game."

"Oh, fine, play it safe."

"I'm not being safe, I'm trying to keep it fun for everybody. Including the scorekeeper."

"Eh, fair point."

"How many points is the master stick worth?" Blue piped up.

"None, right?" Yellow reasoned. "It helps you pick up more sticks; that's it's value. Oh, but wait," he frowned again, turning to Orange. "You said it had more points than the others, didn't you?"

Orange winced. "Yeah, actually. It's, uh, twenty-five."

"What?!"

"How is that fair?!"

"It's- it's not an automatic win! If it's at the bottom of the pile then—"

"But what if it isn't? What if it falls on the top?"

"Oh forget it just falling on top, what if it's one of the ones that rolls away? If we were keeping those in play, whoever had the first turn could sweep it up with the rest of 'em and then they'd have it for the whole game when they already have a head start!!"

"But we already decided we're not keeping them in play!" Orange raised his voice, waving his hands. "Why is it an issue then?!"

"Because points!"

"There's only one! It being more points is actually justified!"

"Maybe it would be, if that was all it did. But it also helps you pick up other sticks. Anyone who picks it up is already gonna be getting more points, even without it having twenty-five pre-attached! You have to admit, that's a little unfair."

"Well, I'm not hearing any better ideas! What, should we just set it aside and not have it in the game?"

"No, no!"

"What? Oh, no."

"No!!"

"Nobody's saying that."

Orange blinked at the sudden shift. "...no?"

"Yeah," Red insisted. "It's the only stick that can move the other sticks."

Green nodded. "Having it to obtain during the game is, like, it's own prize, regardless of who has the most points by the end. That's why we don't think it having its own points is fair."

Orange considered, taking a moment to breathe. 

"Okay...what, then? Should we just have it be worth no points?" 

They all spent a moment in thought.

"...what if we passed it around?" 

Everyone looked at Blue.

"You mean," Yellow inquired, "once it's picked up, it has to be passed to the next person at the end of the turn? That kind of takes away that challenge, if everyone has it. And the prize-aspect."

But Blue shook his head. "Not quite; I mean, what if it gets passed around every time another stick is picked up?"

There was a pause, then everyone leaned forward.

"That way, it can't be used on every turn," Blue elaborated, "so whoever picks it up first isn't just guaranteed an easier time picking up sticks as the game continues. It'll be up to chance, whether anyone has it when their next turn starts." 

"...I think...I like that," Orange murmured cautiously. 

Blue nodded excitedly. "It also means that whoever is holding it by the end of the game will also be up to chance."

Orange's eyes widened. "So, it could still have the twenty-five points?"

"And it wouldn't be unfair," Green caught on, "because it wouldn't go into effect until the game ends."

"You know, if the master stick is only passed along when a stick is picked up, then if someone holding it were to purposefully botch their turn, they could prevent the person next to them from having the aid of the master stick at the start of their turn..." Yellow grinned.

"Ooh," Red wondered, "what if instead it starts at no points, but then has another point attached every time it's used successfully?"

"Whoa," Blue marveled. "So you can botch your turn and keep the master stick from your opponents, or increase the overall value of the master stick as you pass it along."

Orange felt his own grin form. "Oh. I do like that. Alright, are we all agreed?"

The quartet nodded enthusiastically.

"There's just one more thing: we need to repaint it."

"Huh?" Orange looked at Green, then at the others, then down at the black stick still in his hand. "Repaint it?"

"Like you said," Green teased. "There aren't any orange sticks in this game. Let's fix that."

[ask-the-royal-absol]

(Hi everyone! Mod Goomy here! So, 300 followers. That is absolutely wild to me. I know I still had my 200 follower event but I’m gonna be honest with you, I kinda ran outta steam on that one. I’m really sorry but it was just a lot for me to draw. I feel bad because when I first began it, I wanted to do it. I really did. But, things kept happening and that meant I couldn’t draw for it and I’ve just kinda lost interest. Sorry. I’m definitely not very good when it comes to big continuous events like that.

Anyway. 300 followers. Hi hello. That’s is a lot of followers. I’m genuinely just incredibly thankful that so many of you want to follow me. I'll go over just some bits on how I started this blog and some things I want to say.

This blog started out because I needed a creative outlet for my story telling. Especially with the stories I was listening to, there were some that were very character-driven and I loved all of their interactions and how they would react to the world around them. I used to run a dnd campaign and I was still missing doing that.

So, that’s when I started planning my own ask blog. The main event that inspired me to do it in this style was the giant event that @/askthetraveller did with their rayquaza and what @/asksavel did with fighting Dravol. I’d been following the traveller since the beginning of their blog and when savel was a gastly, before the mod decided to have a break in their story. Those events just seemed like so much fun. And I loved the fact that they brought the community together where everyone could join in and be a part of it.

It was wonderful to see and it inspired me to want to be a part of this community. This wonderful community filled with so many incredible and kind people. You all inspire me and encourage me to keep going. You all fill me with that excitement of wanting to continue. The reactions I have gotten to Destino have been so much fun.

The wild variation of relationships Destino has been able to build with some of your characters has been great. From being enemies with Snow and Galadriel hating Destino's guts, to Gizmo and Indigo playing along and sharing in the banter too. I love how each character has such a different reaction to Destino.

And my other characters too. Felix, Hope, Mistress Mirage, King Nox and Queen Karma, the Bisharp brothers Roy and Hershel. I have so much fun showing them all to you and how they interact with you all.

Speaking of that Absol, Destino was originally inspired by my dnd character Xave. Xave was a rich, stuck-up and egotistical bastard who only cared for himself. He was inspired by the bastard characters I'd seen and liked in media. So, I wanted another bastard character.

At first, Destino started as just an absol drawing. And then I drew them with more personality. And it began to fall in place. What was this character's name? Backstory? What adventure would I want them to go on? And then the cogs started turning. A story started being made with story beats being planned out. Other kingdoms stared to fall into place and suddenly I had this whole world where I knew I wanted to turn it into an ask blog. I was excited. I was talking to my partner about it and they were asking world-building questions I'd never think of.

This was in October last year. Destino character has definitely changed a bit since I first created them. Still an ass back then but was definitely a bit more friendly and a huge nerd. I'm glad I changed that because of how well you've taken Destino. I took a pause from my world and the creation of it until the end of December. I looked at it again and all of the stuff I had done for it and said to myself, "I wish I had turned this into an ask blog."

And then it clicked that I could still do that. What was stopping me? Anxiety. That was what. I asked my partner if they thought I should start it. And they said, "Yes. If that's what you want to do. I'll even push the button for you to make it if that's what will get you going." And then it was made. And I was busy drawing my very first post.

And it took off from there. I met loads of people, enjoyed the interactions I was having and started to really enjoy myself. It was nice just to be able to get my ideas down.

And I still am. I still am enjoying each and every moment. This is the longest I have consistently enjoyed a project like this. So, thank you all. Thank you to each and every one of you who like, reblog, comment, send an ask or even just look at my posts. I truly do appreciate you all.

And I truly appreciate the people I speak with in this community too. This community has definitely changed my life for the better. I'm so happy to be a part of it. I feel the community is in a really good place at the moment. I'm aware that in the past, it has had its troubles. But, as someone who's only joined this year, it has been a fantastic and kind place to be. And seeing apparent veterans of the community also coming back, this truly is a good year for ask blogging. I mean, you've all definitely been a good influence on myself as a newbie.

And with how this is going, I hope I can continue to be a part of it for years to come. I've got a huge story planned (three arcs (with arc one split into two parts) with stuff in between (kinda filler and kinda character development)) and hope I can take you on a fun (and perhaps sometimes emotional) journey with you all. You are all truly special to me. Thank you.)

[intersexbookclub]

Summary: Queen by JS Fields

So there comes a point in every book club where a book is picked that people are pretty meh on. This is the first book we read as a club where the general consensus was disappointment in the book. 🤷

Upfront we’ll say our collective disappointment was not in the intersex representation, which is the usual issue intersex people about intersex books, but rather in issues of storytelling and editing.

Liking book picks is not a requirement to participate in this book club! Art is subjective, and finishing the book is not an expectation in this book club.

Overall impressions:

Michelle (@scifimagpie): It read like a very meh episode of Star Trek. I didn't feel like it didn't accomplish what it set out to do in terms of intersex/trans experience in a woman-only planet. It tried to be quirky, but it was a slog. 

Bnuuy: definitely not a perfect book but I enjoyed the experience. It's weird around the edges. If you do read it don't expect it to be perfect. It has some interesting ideas even if it doesn't explore or execute them well.

Elizabeth (@ipso-faculty): This just wasn’t my cup of tea. I found the protagonist, Ember, just too unlikable, and the narrative kept going in ways I found confusing in an unpleasant way. I got a third of the way through before deciding to stop - might as well role model that you don't have to finish the book for book club 😅

vic: I didn’t really have many thoughts on it, was neutral about it. It wasn’t really my thing, and I agree with the points about it needing some editing.

The intersex content

The main character, Ember, has a chromosomal mosaicism. Does not have genital differences, does have hormonal differences, and has one ovary. 

Elizabeth shared that “it is nice to see a book where there’s an intersex character with a well-defined intersex variation that *isn’t* a genital one given that so overwhelmingly intersex representation in fiction is people with ambiguous genitalia, it’s completely incommensurate with how many intersex people do/don’t have ambiguous genitals. It gives perisex - and sadly a lot of intersex - people a skewed idea of what intersex is to a point that many people think intersex means ambiguous genitals.”

The main character’s intersex variation becomes a plot point when the main character pretends to be a dude, and passes a cheek swab because of her mosaicism.

Michelle opined that “on one hand the intersex representation was very casual and I liked that, it was just an intersex woman living life. On the other hand I didn't like how it felt like there was one plot point where her intersex matters and that was the only reason for it and so that didn't feel good.”

We all agreed it was disappointing the book didn’t get into gender more. 

There is a bit where Ember, the main character, does not really identify as female. But as Bnuuy put it, “it feels weird that would get brought up but Ember never talks about it… maybe Ember should have gotten the opportunity to say what her gender identity is.”

There is a scene where a character essentially asks the main character “since you’re intersex do you still identify as female?” and this felt pretty rude! 

The colony of plenty of trans and non-binary characters, which made it made it feel even more odd that Ember did not have discussions about her preferred pronouns, or talk about her feelings about gender.

Michelle voiced disappointment about this as a piece of ownvoice fiction: “the representation was there but ... you don't have to be comfortable with your identity when doing your #ownvoice or even authoritative-y, but there was a level of comfort that I expected to see that I didn't get out of the book. Also, why mention it if you're not gonna grapple with it?”

In terms of other intersex themes, Michelle saw a theme of the planet itself being kind of intersex. It was capable of more than people expected of it, it has unexpected fertility, and just felt intersex to xer. In xis words, “I had to squint, but it [the theme] was there.”

Michelle felt the book didn’t really deliver in terms of intersex representation because it was so incidental and under-explored

The main issue we identified with the book was editing

There were a lot of things we didn’t like about this book, sadly. 

We spent a bit of time speculating about the editing process, since so many complaints seemed to come down to an editing issue. The pacing was not very good, and there were too many plot sequences that came up in the discussion because people felt they were unrealistic or jarring.

Michelle felt it didn’t really come together.

The book had issues with genre

Michelle: this book has the bones of a horror novel, but then it didn't happen.... like hey was Ember’s relationship with her dead wife actually that good?

Bnuuy: the Taraniel imprint AI sliding more and more into making decisions against Ember's will could have been explored more

Michelle: there was so much potential in story, colonialism and having your land sold from out from you. A story of ‘this planet sucks but it's what we got so we're making a home of it’ rather than going back to Earth would have made for a more intersex story

Elizabeth: I read Manhunt recently and had expected from description that it'd be an intersex take on that kind of story but then it was instead a workplace drama, then it was a pirate kidnapping story, then it was a land rights drama... Overall it wound up feeling like a bad space colonization story with highly implausible science

Michelle: would have been better to just have it magical realism!

Elizabeth: from what I read and hear in this discussion the book needed to narrow down its purpose, like to be a horror story vs space romp vs pirate story

Michelle: I thought it was supposed to be a rip-roaring space adventure that had gender themes, but I don't think author understood difference between nodding at something and exploring them

Worldbuilding was another thing that we didn’t like about the book

We all agreed the collapse of Earth felt implausible. For example, the bit in the book that humans could live without vegetation got a strong “NO WE CAN'T” from Elizabeth. The order of things felt very sus to Elizabeth (“why would it start with trees and shrubs dying?”)

Michelle: why are rabbits and beetles the main fauna on Queen? Doesn't make sense to me, why are there no rodents, how are they making it work in -40 conditions

Bnuuy & Michelle felt the rabbit cult was weird (Elizabeth did not read that far)

We all agreed the book fumbled at exploring the authoritarian government of the planet.

Bnuuy: I wanted more of an explanation of what is up with those rules on the planet. I did not understand the structure, the presidium, etc. Not sure I processed the backstory but the timeline of Queen was also confusing to me.

Bnuuy: the second equator thing was not explained well, nor the mella, wanted a map

Michelle: I don't like books that assume the Earth is fucked

Michelle: not sure I feel about the concept that the Earth is falling apart so we're sending people to different planets to colonize, here's your women only planet.

Character issues

Elizabeth: the characters felt unreal, what kind of sister leaves her husband for the sister? And Ember just is completely incapable of working with the pirates or adapting to the situation, yet she is supposed to be an adult scientist

Bunny felt there should be more stuff of Ember grieving over Taraniel: “she doesn't seem like the person who would move on quickly. Would have been better to write [the romance with Asher] as a potential romance that needs a significant amount more time.”

Michelle didn't like it played for laughs to have partner sleep on the couch

Michelle: the pirates didn't feel piratey, they kind of resource hoard, expected underdogs

What we liked

The character Varun. He was Bnuuy’s favourite part of the book. Michelle liked that Varun's masculinity is not questioned, though society around him is invalidating him.

Michelle liked the shenanigans in the workplace, the friendship between Nadia and Varun.

Bunny liked the composition of the characters: there's a lot of female characters and some trans guys, and while not liking how it was set up, liked the resulting mix

Elizabeth liked finding a book where there’s an intersex character with a well-defined intersex variation that *isn’t* ambiguous genitals, and spoke about how sad it is this is where the bar is.

Bnuuy liked the dynamic between the colonists and the mella [pirates], and the colonists being forcefully marked as mella; as well as how the mella are pretty queer.

Michelle liked the concept of terraforming not working.

Bnuuy: one thing I did really like was the start of each chapter having a little short text of background

Michelle: I did like that storytelling element, but the actual content made me go "aaaahh?” 

Final thoughts

Michelle: I went into the discussion thinking this was a three-star book, and discussing it has me bringing it down to two. Still glad I read it, if nothing else glad I read a book I wouldn't have otherwise!

[ghirahimbo]

For the writer ask game: 13, 17, 18, 27?

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

HATE writing about myself—profiles, bios, etc. Impossible. LOVE writing inciting events. Very easy.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

Ha ha, so I knew where I wanted the last BBN chapter I posted to end up, but I had a very hard time getting there? Anyway, these were all my various attempts at writing it 🤣

There's not necessarily huge variation between all of the files, but I played a lot with the idea that Link and/or Ghirahim, or possibly the reader, could still hear Zelda speaking to various degrees (lol hence the file names). In one version, Ghirahim and Zelda were basically able to converse while Link refused to "acknowledge" it. Wrote another that was the same, but the reader didn't get to see what she said. In another, Zelda’s voice would only come through in fragments, usually pre-flicker where Link’s mind was trying to churn through some idea that challenged reality. I stuck with the idea for too long, tbh, probably because it made aspects of exposition easier, and there were bits of the writing that I liked? But it kept turning the chapter into a big old Ghirahim-Zelda fight/debate, even when I tried limiting her presence, and cut out the tension of wondering what had happened to Zelda. Anyway, the focus in that segment really needed to be Link and Ghirahim’s interactions, which couldn't develop unhindered with Zelda chiming in, so I had to cut it out :')

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

I don't know if stressful is the right word, but I think Link from BBN just because there's so much to keep in mind? Trying to balance Link's levels of internalized ableism without carrying it too far or making the narrative itself ableist... trying to determine what Link could realistically do, and what he might need help with... trying to not accidentally write visual descriptions from his point of view 😂

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

Sooo Pinesong almost went in a very different direction, with Revali's restlessness leading him to go pick a fight with a Lynel, break his one bow he brought along, and experience a series of events that led him to remembering his own death? :') It wasn't that it was a bad direction, necessarily, and some of it was fun writing, but I realized that I wanted Pinesong to have a softer tone overall, so I scrapped it... all 4500 words :') In hindsight, this might be why some chapters take so long to finish 😭

Anyway, I just rediscovered the file that has that version written out (titled "Pinesong Chapter 5 Dramatic Version") so maybe you read a few excerpts and see for yourself how it changed XD

--

Progress at the Flight Range had finally stalled, coming first in inches and then not at all, and though Revali told himself there must be unavoidable mortal limits to what anyone could attain, he knew that his focus had become fractured, scattered to the winds by the very Hylian who had inspired it in the first place. Harth had accepted the broken pieces of his Great Eagle Bow with no mention that he’d ever seen them before, saying only that he would try to have a new one finished soon. Link had vanished into the wilds without a word of where he might go next, unreachable to Revali even had he wanted to find him—which of course, he did not—and the princess sent out no new invitations. It was as if the world itself were advising him to wait, to hold on, to be still… but Revali had never liked waiting, and refused to sit still.

Day after day, Revali wandered further from the familiar cold updrafts of his home, his Falcon Bow set securely against his back and his quiver bursting with arrows. All he needed was some reminder that his training was not without purpose, that he was worth more than his ability to pilot an old machine that he could no longer even stand to look at… but as he’d halfway feared, those scattered enemy camps he’d seen tucked away in the mountains and canyons were long since gone, with only the vacant, skull-shaped rocks and eerily empty forts left to prove that they had existed at all. The only “battles” he managed to find against straggling monsters barely deserved the term, though that didn’t mean he gave up his search. Stubbornly, he persisted, setting up camp in the frigid Hebra Mountains and no longer bothering to return for the night. Teba might have taken him up on his offer to train at the Flight Range, or even moved in there for all he knew or cared. He’d had enough of those stationary targets—it was time for something more.

The Lynel he stumbled across by accident, no matter what Teba would accuse him of later, although his first reaction upon spotting it was relief. Revali almost blundered straight into the creature while rounding the northmost edge of Hebra’s mountains leading into the Tabantha snowfields, but an unnatural stillness in the air made him halt just in time, taking quick shelter in a copse of trees as he spotted it prowling the frozen tundra, its enormous club in hand. Few animals were foolish enough to make their homes anywhere near a Lynel’s domain, and his surroundings were so silent that each careful breath he took rang painfully loud in his ears. Luckily, it seemed the hulking beast had not spotted him yet. If it had, Revali was certain he would know.

“So, Link missed one, eh?” he muttered to himself in satisfaction, heart racing as he eyed the creature’s silver coat and vividly violet stripes. Fear would have been the logical reaction to coming across a silver-maned Lynel, but instead, Revali found himself grinning. It had been a long time. “Typical.”

--

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” A soft snow had started to fall, but Rito were made to withstand the cold… for a little while. At least he would have plenty of ice to pack against his wounds. “I’ll just be sitting here dying.”

“I didn’t mean I would leave you here, idiot,” Teba grunted, standing to bend over, and before Revali could so much as protest, he’d been lifted up and draped across Teba’s back. “I’ll die myself before I leave you bleeding in the snow.”

He wanted to ask why Teba cared one way or the other, but suspected it might be taken the wrong way.

“That was a sharp descent from ‘master’ to ‘idiot,’” he said instead, and with his head resting almost on Teba’s shoulder, he could see Teba smirk.

“Would ‘master idiot’ be preferable?”

“Tempting.” Revali leaned forward with a sign, shifting so his wing wouldn’t be jostled. “I’d really just prefer Revali.”

--

“Revali!” Link called out as soon as he’d materialized, immediately catching sight of Revali’s fire and running towards it. Resigned, Revali leaned back against the cold stone. He should have been surprised, he thought, but somehow he was not.

“I had a feeling it would be you,” he sighed as Link approached. “Of course, making me wait all night seems a bit… indulgent.”

A vaguely out of reach memory and the expression on Link’s face made him wonder if he’d said something similar before.

[depravity-n-savagery]

Tears for the Brave

🔹️Pairings: Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader

🔹️Summary: As someone who cries easily, you deal with a lot of bullying and don't often fight back. Until you see the school 'Freak' being ganged up on.

🔹️CW: Angst, Bullying, Violence, Lots of crying, A bit of fluff in the end, Strangers to Friends/Possible Lovers

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

🔹️Word Count: 2k

🔹️A/N: Realized I haven't really written anything deep/emotional for/with Eddie and wanted to fix that. ♡ Granted, the upcoming series will also have a lot of that. So I guess this is just a quick start lolz.

Sensitive little bitch.

It wasn't the first time you've heard it, or a different variation of it, but the words still hurt all the same. It hurt because it was true. Blame it on your upbringing, or Astrology, or whatever makes it easier to cope with. Ever since childhood you've heard the same thing. Different faces, different houses, different schools. Yet somehow, always the same result. 

It all started on the playground, after getting dirt kicked in your face for the first time in kindergarten. "Crybaby." The bratty little asshole Margaret spat at you. She was shorter than you, but her shadow loomed over you from your curled up position on the ground. Little hands covering your face in an attempt to hide your tears. Tears that came whether you wanted them to or not. Spilling out of your eyes no matter how much you blinked and tried to will them away. You could never control them. It was a curse that stayed with you all these years. 

Now, even in your late teens, just stepping through the front door of adulthood - you couldn't stop crying. Assholes loved that. It's like they could smell it on you. Bringing you to tears was more important than their morning coffee sometimes. Or whatever bubbly drinks the cheerleaders and basketball guys consumed. It could be poison for all you cared. Anything to make them stop. 

The girls bathroom was cold, and dead silent. A row of vacant stalls and leaky faucets. Not a peep, even in the empty halls outside the door. Turning the knob on the sink, and the rushing water that followed, all seemed like it was on high volume. It made your heart race. Maybe the noise would bring them back to finish the job. The three cheerleaders that just left only ten minutes ago, after cornering you and emptying out the contents of your bookbag. Notebook pages and writing supplies still littered the filthy bathroom floor. 

One of the cheerleaders was upset with you for not letting her copy your work during the test last week. She apparently failed, and now won't be able to cheer at tomorrow's game. 'Boo-fucking-hoo, maybe do the actual work sometime' or 'Tough shit' was what you wanted to say. Instead, you just stood there and stared at your shoes until the screaming tirade of insults and accusations was over. When that didn't satisfy her rage, well, she slapped you. Cackling when the contact immediately brought tears to your eyes. "What a sensitive little bitch." Her friends joined her, like your humiliation was comedy gold. Then snatched your bookbag and emptied it to keep the tears flowing. A fountain of youth that kept their wicked thirst satisfied. 

The cold water you splashed on your cheek did little to ease the red mark that was forming. Great. Now everyone will know… There wasn't any way to hide it. No makeup in your bag (as if you ever wore it enough to carry some). Eyes bloodshot, puffy and just plain tired. Most you could do was wear your sunglasses and pray no teachers gave you shit about it. 

After gathering whatever papers didn't get ruined, you tip-toed out into the hall. You were more than late for gym, but that didn't bother you much. Every gym period was spent sitting on the bleachers and reading anyway. If it weren't for you still wanting to keep your attendance record, you would've just skipped. You should've just skipped. Because the decision not to, is how you ended up seeing something you were never meant to see. 

"What did I tell you, Freak? I said the next time I see you talking to her, I'm gonna make you pay for it. You just don't listen." 

Jason, the school's golden boy, wasn't as squeaky clean as he went out of his way to appear. Hence why he kept the violence here, in an empty corner of the school. Away from all prying eyes, except yours and the two basketball team members currently holding up his target. How cowardly. You'd only hit a guy when you have people holding him still for you? 

The sounds of impact, bone colliding with flesh, twisted your stomach as you peeked around the corner that kept you hidden from sight. You caught a glimpse of brown hair, so long it covered the guy's face completely, until he shook it off the side. Eddie? The infamous repeat-senior was a stranger to you, but you've seen him before. Marveled at the brave way he taunted the bullies instead of falling prey to their nasty words and rumors. He was coughing, trying not to retch up his lunch after being punched in the gut. Eyes narrowed, full of fire and refusing to back down. It was enviable. You longed for that kind of strength. Maybe if you had it, you would do something to help. 

"I already told you." Eddie spoke between deep breaths, gruff and sharp. "We barely spoke. She just asked me for help with something." 

Jason's jaw was tightly clenched, just like his fists. Ready to strike again, rather than believe that for once he wasn't the center of Chrissy's every need. "Bullshit! No, if she needed anything, she would ask ME. Not go to a freak like you!" He cocked back, aiming to land his next punch right into Eddie's face. Probably into that pretty, loud mouth of his. 

"STOP!" 

It happened before you could even realize you'd done it. Stepping out from behind the corner to stand there, fully exposed. What the fuck am I doing? WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?! No no no… This wasn't you. You?! The fucking coward? It was too late to call it back. You can't snatch the word back and swallow it. Or slink back into the shadows. The bewildered look Eddie gave you wouldn't allow it. Because he looked at you, in this moment, like nobody else ever has. Like a saving grace. The angel of mercy, coming to pluck him out of hell's flames. 

"Move along and mind your business." One of his teammates said, but you ignored him completely. Taking a step forward even though every muscle in your body screamed 'RUN'. 

"I- I know the coach wouldn't appreciate his star player having to sit out the big game tomorrow, a- after getting suspended." 

It wasn't stern, or very threatening, but it was something. If nothing else it bought time for someone else to come along and witness this. The two stooges holding Eddie up looked to Jason with a newfound concern. "Shit. What if this bitch rats on us? We're all screwed, man. My dad would kill me if I get another suspension." 

The blonde ringleader shook his head, turning his full attention on you now. "She wouldn't do that. Right?" He put on his charming tone, getting the opposite effect from you. Especially knowing how fake it was. "Maybe I can get those cheerleaders to lay off. You'd like that, wouldn't you? After all, Chrissy seems to like you… for some…unknown reason. Wouldn't be hard to convince the others to play nice too." 

The underhanded insult didn't miss you, and turned your shocked expression into a deep frown. "I don't care about that.." It was a lie. You'd give almost anything to be free of the torment, but this wasn't one of them. It wasn't about you right now. It was about him. The boy still being held a foot or so off the floor. "The gym is right there." You nodded your head to the right, in the direction of the large double doors just a short walk down the hall. "I could go tell the coach right now, or- or you could let him go." 

The seconds felt like hours, ticking by as Jason glared into your eyes. Eyes that were doing what they always did during conflict. Tears welled up in the corners of your vision, slightly blurring your sight. You did not move. You didn't move to hide them, or fold into yourself. You just glared back at him as the first few tears ran down your cheeks. 

"A crybaby and a snitch too. Go figure." He signaled for his teammates to drop Eddie, and they obeyed. Quite literally dropping him onto the floor, where he was free to cross his arms over his sore midsection. Jason got him good, and there had to be some possible internal bruising awaiting the poor guy when he was well enough to stand. "Next time, mind your own business." 

Next time? How often did they do this to him? For the longest you thought it was only harsh words and the occasional petty bullying. Knocking his tray out of his hands, or tripping him as he walked by. This was something else altogether. This was extreme, un-checked jealousy. No wonder Chrissy sought friendship in people that were nothing like him and his friends. 

Once the jocks were gone, disappearing into the gym to catch the last half of the class, you made your way towards Eddie. The brave and eccentric man you were used to admiring from afar, now up close and broken. Allowing himself to quietly shed the tears he didn't let fall when Jason was present. "Eddie? Do you… want me to take you to the nurse?" It felt stupid of you to ask, but you didn't know what else to say. The nurse would ask questions, and I can't answer them without explaining what happened. 

Eddie sat upright, still wincing from the pain but masked it with a weak smile. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me. I'll just skip and go home. Nothin' left to do here anyway." Even though you knew the smile wasn't genuine, it still gave you butterflies. Thank goodness you were able to stop Jason from possibly marring the beauty of it with a busted lip. 

"I could- Maybe, if you don't mind… go with you? Just to make sure you get there okay. You look really hurt." Truth be told, you didn't want to stay there either. The whole day needed a reset, and maybe tomorrow things would return to their regularly scheduled string of events. So why not venture further off track for the time being? 

"You've never skipped a day in your life. I can tell." The chuckle that followed seemed painful, but he couldn't hold it in. Joy always found a way back to him in the worst ways. "I'm already being a bad influence." 

"No reason to stop now then. The deed is done." You extended your hand, helping Eddie up to his feet. The feeling of his rings against your fingers imprinting themselves into your memory. "I wouldn't wanna run into them again anyway." A pinch of truth, just to reassure him that your decision to leave had to do with more than just him. Even if it brought him only a smidge of comfort, it was worth saying. 

The two of you walked, or shuffled, with his arm over your shoulder for support. Saving the questions for a later time. Like, what happens now? It concerned Eddie that he unintentionally might have gotten you swept up in his feud with Jason. Piled on top of whatever you had going on with the cheerleaders. Your rep would be tainted by association. Same with everyone that he befriended. But none of his friends have done what you did for him today. 

Stood up to Jason with his backup behind him. Even after witnessing the violence he was capable of. Turned down an offer that he would've probably leaped at (having the bullies off his back), to save someone you barely even know. Most of all, what he envied the most, was your ability to cry openly. To bare your emotions in front of them, and stand your ground regardless. It didn't seem weak or like giving up. It was resilient. It was goddamn brave, and it made him see you in a way he never did before. 

You had a lot you wanted to learn from the 'Freak' of Hawkins High. Now the Freak wanted to learn everything he could about the school Crybaby. 

♡

🔹️A/N: As someone who cries a lot, this felt kinda special. (would you guess I'm a pisces? Lmao) ♡ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ~

Masterlist, Ao3 ☆

[chthonic-cassandra]

It's such a tiresome cliche to reread/rewatch something as an adult that you first encountered as a child or teenager and go "actually these sexual dynamics are more disturbing than I thought," but unfortunately I did just rather have that experience with the Schumacher Phantom.

[cut for discussion of csa and trafficking dynamics, also this gets personal]

Phantom was never actually My Story, even as an adolescent. I was saying to @child-in-her-eyes yesterday that the musical and then the novel were among my first introductions to the gothic, which of course was revelatory; I ended up in the fandom and witnessed all the acrimonious ship wars, but then I read Dracula pretty soon afterwards and it mattered so much more to me and I sort of left Phantom behind.

At this point, I still think the novel is doing some pretty interesting things, especially when I put it in conversation with Hugo; I think the musical is an effective seething Rorsach test of psychosexual energy that can mean whatever you want it to mean and that I still feel fondness for.

I don't need now to relitigate the myriad flaws of the 2004 movie; I was in the fandom, after all (though yes oh dear gods Gerard Butler can't sing). But until this rewatch it never registered for me quite how young Emmy Rossum was when she played Christine, or how profoundly disturbing Madame Giry's enabling of Erik's access to Christine is (which is, of course, emphasized in the movie with Giry's expanded role). There are good reasons why I wouldn't have seen any of that as a teenager; Giry was my favorite character, and I also really really didn't want to think too closely about any of those kinds of trafficking/procurement dynamics. I was also rewatching this with my partner, a dancer who kept yelling throughout the whole thing about the historical reality of 19th century ballet girls being pressured into sex work, which brought this home differently.

There's also something I'm trying to grapple with, thinking about this alongside the Dangerous Liaisons Daily emails, which I am finding a lot more emotionally fraught than the Dracula ones (I think this has to do with how I have the Dracula dates memorized, so nothing truly creeps up on or shocks me). Merteuil and Giry are not at all the same archetype; Giry might arguably be complicit in something but she's not actually orchestrating or taking pleasure in it; they're also in profoundly different socioeconomic positions, which matters a lot here.

But there's something here about the particular archetype of female perpetrator that Merteuil most perfectly exemplifies, that overlaps closely with the role of the trafficker but is not synonymous with it, this kind of indirect exercise of abusive power, these variations on enabling, watching, taking benefit from the abuse of younger and more vulnerable women. It's at its psychologically clearest with Merteuil because she's not actually a trafficker, she doesn't need the financial benefit, though she does psychologically need the experience of aligning herself with the libertine so that she is not aligned with the victim.

She wields Valmont's capacity for sexual violence like an extension of her own will. When he rapes Cecile it is like she is doing it without having to trouble herself with the act itself; she gets the voyeuristic pleasure of being the one to whom both perpetrator and victim narrate themselves, the one Cecile goes to for comfort and help making meaning of what happened. It would be easy and correct to write Merteuil also abusing Cecile sexually within the context of what the novel gives us, but the element of relational triangulation and indirection would, I think, always be there, always be crucial to the pleasure of it for her.

I struggle with all this. Merteuil is hot, even (especially?) as she's also scary. I've always found female villains hot, but some of my own experience with female perpetrators is closer to the Merteuil-type than to the evil sorceresses on whom I had intense preadolescent crushes (still do, I write as I think wistfully about Achren). Giry isn't nearly as bad as Merteuil, but why as a teenager did I think she was so cool, why did I decide she was my point of identification in that story? At the same time my mother, who has zero capacity for strategy or deliberate psychological manipulation and so can't ever be a Merteuil, was telling me all these fantasies which edged right up against some bright-colored sex positive version of a trafficker archetype, fantasies that thank all the gods she never acted on but that I needed to figure out a way internally to distance myself from. It was all very tangled. It still is.

Maybe some of it is that I don't think anyone reads Dangerous Liaisons and wants to be Cecile. And I don't think I ever was Cecile, or Christine for that matter. It was more like I was in the middle of Clarissa and then Lovelace invites over his good friend from the continent the Marquise de Merteuil (I mean, that bears some resemblance to the actual plot of Clarissa, which also has complicated triangulated representations of female perpetration, but that's a reflection for a different time).

I don't know. It's all hard to talk about, think about, look at. I appreciate Dangerous Liaisons for representing this thing so clearly, so that I can turn out from different angles and try to understand it. But there's a lot here.

[northern-passage]

hi kit, i hope you’re well! i rly enjoy tnp and how many trans characters the game has, it’s so great to see. i do feel slightly concerned though about the existence of f!lea… it feels very weird and uncomfortable that there is basically an option for the reader to choose for lea to be a cis woman or a trans man and it ends up equating the two. so i’m just wondering why you’ve chosen to continue having lea be gender selectable? like it makes sense to me that merry is not, she’s a trans woman after all so shouldn’t the same apply to lea, a trans man?

i would never "equate" the two in any way - f!lea and m!lea are separate people that do not exist in the same timeline, if that makes sense. f!lea is a woman and m!lea is a man, just like any other gender-selectable RO.

obviously, i do understand what you're saying - it is different when one variation is trans, and that being said, i have received one other message before about this and i've talked to quite a few people regarding these concerns both in relation to lea & merry, though none of them have been trained sensitivity readers and of course everyone is going to have different opinions, especially with something as complex as gender. i've kept this criticism in mind since i first received it a while ago and it's still something i'm undecided on.

i really like having lea be gender-selectable for player inclusivity, but honestly, for me personally, i do really like expressing gender through the mechanic this way, and how each lea has a different relationship and experience with it. i like how lea shows that gender is something that is questioned in the tnp world and that people are encouraged to explore and experiment and it's just a natural part of growing up, and i like having f!lea be gender non-conforming. i briefly considered having lea always be trans, but at that point it felt as if i was tokenizing them, and above all i want to avoid that - i want my characters to be genuine and i don't want anything to come across as forced or insincere, and doing that to lea felt... well, insincere.

all of that to say: i am aware of this and i have Thought A Lot about lea's identity and how it may come across to different readers. i want to make it clear that i've always planned for this story to center nb, trans, and gay characters. i've tried to be careful with my language in game and done my best to avoid any kind of harmful narratives, and i've been very lucky to have a lot of people give me a lot of great feedback and advice about both lea and merry, but i'm never going to be able to hear every single opinion on the matter; so i'm always open to learning more and having a conversation when it comes to this kind of thing.

tl;dr - this is something that has been brought to my attention before and i've thought about it a lot and still haven't made any final decisions one way or the other.

[underatedcharactersunite]

The Iron Queen

Summary - The Iron Queen is a legend, a myth even. However, Ivar the Boneless wants to prove her existance. When he does, it's almost as if Fate brings them together, so the two of them can become legendary together....

Pairing - Ivar the Boneless x Female Reader 

WordCount - 2, 919 

Warnings - Angst, mentions of upcoming battles.  

For @youbloodymadgenius 1K Writing Challenge. Congratulations!                                                          »»————-　♔　————-««

Before the Iron Queen became to be, she was a legendary warrior Princess. She was a ruthless and tactful warrior in every sense of the word. There was no weapon she couldn't master, sword, shield, bow and arrow, axe or spear. She could use it all and use them well. In many minds, she was the perfect warrior, a combination of talent and intelligence. Y/N was loved among the warriors alike.

However, that all changed when Y/N became the Iron Queen of Mountmead. Unlike the other Kings, Y/N's Father final wish was to abolish their eldest law. From this day forth, until the end of time, whether the firstborn child is a son or daughter, they would be heir to the throne. Y/N's Father adapted the law to give his only daughter and child the throne.

This angered the surrounding Kings and Lords. Their ideologies were simple. a woman was not fit to rule. A woman was far too emotional to make rational decisions. They were unfit to lead armies and clueless in battle strategy, so the death of the King of Mountmead brought the potential to expand their lands despite the crowing of a new Queen. They had no respect or loyalty to her. They saw Y/N as a weak and passive woman, but they didn't realise how wrong they were.

Within the first several months of her coronation, Y/N and her army encountered six different battles. In every battle, Y/N was there leading her army to defeat the enemies that threatened her people. She refused to be seen as weak.

These battles created and enforced the Queen. She was to be cool and calculating, skilled and intellectual. Y/N made certain she surrounded herself with her closest and loyal advisors. Ser Favian was the head of her Queensguard. He'd also been the head of her Father's Kingsguard. A man who had been there from the day her Father was coronated. Secondly, there was Ser Conadus, head of her army and key battle Strategist. Ser Conadus was also her loyal confidant. After all, he'd been there for every major milestone in her life. There was no circumstance or situation Y/N couldn't speak to Ser Conadus about.

As Ferocious as Y/N was on the battlefield, she still maintained kindness in her heart. She often walked the streets, discussing the issues that were arising and how they could be solved. Y/N was able to provide reassurance to her people. Y/N made time in her day as frequently as possible to see people, to converse with traders. She kept a brave face for them all.

Hidden behind that brave face laid the devasting truth. Life as her people knew it was threatened. The surrounding Lords and Kings made a collective decision to bring their armies together to create an army of the thousands. While the Great Army of Mountmead was no easy defeat. Their numbers were no-where near as large. Y/N didn't know how to solve their issues. Repeatedly, she reached out to offer a truce to the other Lords and Kings, but it was no luck. They all desired Mountmead for themselves and they believed they were going to take it from the Iron Queen. They shared no resources and implemented laws in their Kingdoms. If any person was caught trading with the Iron Queen or any member of Mountmead, they were executed without question. This restricted the Iron Queen to land. No boats, to sail in search of allies. They were stuck. All of them in mortal danger.

Unbeknownst, to Y/N someone, had been looking for her. As fate would have it, the idea of a legendary warrior Princess turned Queen had become a legendary story. It had spread through many Kingdoms and lands with several different variations. Most believed these tales of the Iron Queen to be nothing more than that, tales.

Except one, Ivar the Boneless believed different. Ivar believed the Iron Queen, Y/N of Mountmead, existed and, he was determined to find her. In the beginning, Ivar had no idea where to begin his search, so he sent scouts to the North, South, East and West. When they returned, they came up empty. However, Ivar refused to give in. Ivar proceeded to continue to send his Scouts out each time, further and in different directions. Each time they came up without sight of the Iron Queen.

This continued until one trip the scouts returned to Kattegat with news of the discovery. His latest scouting mission had been a success. With this new information, Ivar knew hr needed to act quickly. Instructing the scouts to gather his brothers into the Great Hall, he sat down and waited for them to arrive. Ivar waited and waited for his brothers when they finally walked in.

"How do I always arrive before you?" Ivar questioned as all of his brothers took their seats.

"Because you decided to meet us here Ivar." Ubbe retorted as he paid attention to his youngest brother.

"Ivar, why have you gathered us here?" Bjorn questioned.

"Because I have found the Iron Queen."

"Your lying!" Sigurd yelled as Ivar smirked. Ivar didn't mind being underestimated. Sigurd was only jealous, he hadn't been able to do it.

"Why would I lie, Sigurd? My scouts have drawn a map to her Kingdom, and I wish to go visit her because she is in terrible danger?"

"Is she as beautiful as they say she is?" Hvitserk questioned. All of his brothers turned to look at him.

"Ivar informs us the Iron Queen is in danger, and that is the first question you have, Hvitserk." Sigurd responds as Hvitserk shrugs."

"A man has to know these things, Sigurd."

"Yes, the Iron Queen is more beautiful than she's described as. However, if someone doesn't help her, then no-one is going to see her beauty in person."

"Why is she in danger? Ubbe questioned as he poured a horn of mead, taking a large sip.

"The surrounding Lords and Kings do not respect her as Queen. When they're from, they believe women are unable to lead and participate in the battle. Although Y/N has been in more battles than most of the surrounding Kings and Lords."

"You say she's been in many battles, so why is she in danger?"

"Because Ubbe, the surrounding Lords and Kings have grouped to create one large army. According to the scouts, the Iron Queen has a decent sized army, but not one large enough to defeat them."

"What's in it for us?" Why should we help a stranger?"

"Isn't it obvious, Bjorn? We go to the Iron Queen, offer ourselves as an ally in exchange for the first selection of any the lands we conquer."

"That seems to be a fair trade. Whatever lands we take can be used as a new settlement and a base for further exploration. I say we go."

"Thank you Hvitserk. Anyone else?"

"I am coming with you," Sigurd responds to Ivar's surprise.

"I will come just to keep an eye on all three of you. Perhaps we should extend the offer to Harald and Halfdan. They could be useful to us."

"That is a good idea, Ubbe. What says you, Bjorn?"

"I shall stay here, make sure Kattegat remains running smoothly. If the God's desire us to meet, it shall be."

That night the sons of Ragnar began to create plans to set sail to Mountmead and the Iron Queen. They set sail with a small part of their army, with the plan that more men would follow days later. Help was coming to the Iron Queen and she didn't even know it.

                                           »»————-　♔　————-««

Y/n had been in meetings all morning, they'd already attempted to plan out their defence attacks, but there was always a weak spot in their armour. There was no use, they simply needed more men. Men they didn't have.

"My Queen, we will figure it out. They haven't beaten us yet." One of the small council commented as Y/N examined the map once more.

"What we need is a miracle. Unfortunately, they don't happen often and early enough" It was as if someone was listening to her desires as Ser Favian came bursting through the door.

"My Queen, men have arrived on the shore. They hold no banner or sail. They don't appear to be apart of any of the surrounding threats."

"Lord Pollack, will you continue to lead this meeting in my absence. Ser Conadus will you accompany me to the Thron, Ser Favian will you gather some of the Queensguard to watch the remaining men. Bring the leaders to the throne room."

"Yes, of course, My Queen." They nodded and bowed respectfully as Y/N already stepped away from the meeting with Ser Conadus flanked her as she feared the worst.

"Nicholas, I don't think I can deal with any further setbacks. We're already at war on land, we can't compete with threats from the ocean as well."

"Relax my dear. ;Perhaps this is a beneficial meeting. You need to keep calm, just because we're at war doesn't mean everyone's a threat. Remember, your lessons." As the large, solid oak doors opened, someone announced the Iron Queen as she raised her head high, removing any emotion in her mind and gaze.

Although Y/N's attention was already directed towards one of the men in front of her. All of the men had knelt except one."

"I told you to kneel." Ser Favian attempted to force the man onto his knees, but Y/N noticed the glimmer of the buckle her pace quickened.

"Ser Favian, can you not see the restraints on his legs . Since when did we treat our guests so poorly." Ser Favian backed away immediately kneeling.

"I'm sorry, forgive Ser Favian it was a simple misunderstanding." Noticing a chair in the corner, Y/N walked over and picked up the chair and brought it up towards the man, placing it behind him.

That's when Y/N caught the first proper glimpse of the man. The piercing blue eyes, the muscular arms, his smirk etched onto his face as he observed your expression scan all over him. You hadn't glanced at his brothers, Harald or Halfdan or Floki. Just him.

Ivar was just as mesmerised by her as she was him. Y/N was just as beautiful as his scouts had told him she was. She was both assertive and confident. Ivar wanted to know her and no-one was going to stop him from getting what he know desired the most.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, My Queen. My name is Ivar the Boneless, these are my brothers, as well as Harald Finehair, Halfdan the Black and Floki. We are here to offer our services." Ivar confidently took ahold of Y/N's hand without, hesitating brought her knuckles up and brushed his lips against them. Ivar did not miss the way her eyes widened in shock, momentarily before her composure regained.

"Y/N lowered her head as she stepped back towards the steps to her throne once she was seated, she called for everyone to raise as she once more looked towards Ivar the Boneless.

"You wish to offer your services to me, and the Kingdom of Mountmead, why?"

"I believe together we could be an unstoppable force. We have all heard of your battles and the current threat that you have surrounding you. My Queen, we have the numbers you need." Tuning to Ser Conadus, Y/N examined his gaze as she attempted to read his expression.

"What would you receive in return for your men?"

"First choice of any land that is gained in the result of war." Truth be told, Y/N was beginning to run out of strategic options and perhaps Ivar and the rest of them was her only hope.

"I accept your terms Ivar the Boneless. Ser Favian will see that the rest of the men are given a warm place to sleep. Ser Conadus, would you see that Ivar the Boneless and the rest of his party settle in well."

"Wait my Queen, I have a gift for you." One of Ivar's brothers, called someone forward as they laid a box onto the ground, standing Y/N walked down the stairs as two of Y/N's guard lifted the lid. In the box, it appeared to be a shield with bright colours painted on it.

"Thank you-"

"Hvitserk, my Queen." Smiling, Y/N could already tell that Hvitserk that was the most mischievous out of all of the brothers.

"Thank you Hvitserk." Once more, another brother stepped forward, this time he insisted on carrying the box towards the Iron Queen. Once the lid was lifted it, it revealed a strange looking instrument.

“I an teach you to play it, if you’d like my Queen.” 

“Thank you, that would be lovely-” 

“Sigurd, my Queen.” 

“Thank you, Sigurd.” 

“My Queen, I have one last gift for you. Unfortunately, it does not fit through the castle walls.” Ivar’s voice broke Y/N’s concentration and soon the two of them were accompanied by Ser Conadus and Floki. As Y/N continued to walk silently, Y/N kept pace with Ivar as the two appeared to be heading to the docks. 

“Your Grace, why are people so threatened by a woman?” Floki questioned as Y/N turned towards Floki. 

“In these parts, a woman is believed to be unable to rule. Women are unable to rule because they believe they are unable to think clearly or learn the ways of War. According to them, they shouldn’t have to fight to take my Kingdom, I should bow and give it to them,” 

“We can’t let that happened now can we. Don’t worry Iron Wueen, we will bring them to their knees.” The four of them stepped onto the docks, Y/N glanced around them, wondering what it could be. 

“Turn around my Queen.” Turning around, there was a boat. It was unlike any boat Y/N had seen before stepping closer, was her gift on the boat? 

“What do you think my Queen?” Ivar questioned as Y/N was still unsure what Ivar had given her. Then it dawned on her. 

“The boat, it’s mine. I couldn’t possibly except it.” 

“Why not? The other boat builders refuse to build you a boat so Floki build you a boat. It could be one of many perhaps, if you so desired.” 

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about sailing or running  a boat.” 

“Don’t worry. we can show you, your Grace/” Floki replied as the wind blew while the flag gushed in the wind. 

“Thank you, both of you. You have no idea how important and appreciated this is for me and my Kingdom.” 

“You are more than welcome. I believe this is a start to a beautiful relationship.” 

                                »»————-　♔　————-««

The next few days, were manic, as new voices gave new insight and strategies. Their culture was vastly different from Y/N’s, they’re war and battle strategies gave Y/N a unique way of seeing the up and coming battle. 

One thing that Y/N noticed immediately was the high intensity of the sons of Ragnar sibling rivalry, specifically between Ivar and Sigurd.  

Each time she began a discussion with either one of them, she could practically feel the glares at the back of her head. It only proved her point, they were always trying to compete with one another. 

One morning in particular, Y/N had broken her fast early so she could take a peaceful morning walk, before chaos ensured. 

What should have been a peaceful walk turned into Sigurd following her around discussing how terrible his younger brother was/ Y/N kept quiet while she listened to Sigurd go on about how vicious his brother was. According to Sigurd, Ivar was a monster who had no right to be in her company. Sigurd told her to listen to his words carefully.

Y/N had listened to his words closely, except she’d drawn a completely different conclusion. It was clear to Y/N that Ivar did have his fair share of problems, he was often angry and nearly always had a sombre attitude. Except Y/N was able to dig through the initial layer and realise how much more there was to him. 

While Y/N had appreciated Sigurd’s advice, she’d informed him that she could make her own judgement on Ivar and the rest of them. When her and Sigurd parted ways, he warned her once more. 

                                »»————-　♔　————-««

Later that night as Y.N headed to her chambers, tired from yet another day of back to back small council meetings and war strategy meetings. Y/N had grown tired and in desperate need of sleep. 

Y/N should have known that nothing was ever that simple as she was walking past Ivar’s room, she heard a commotion. Barging through the door, she became quickly aware that Ivar was one the floor in some form of distress.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I don’t need your help!” Ivar snapped, however, the Iron Queen knelt onto the ground beside him.” 

“Okay, then I shall sit with you then.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather spend time with my brother, Sigurd” Y/N rolled her eyes sitting down on the floor, she stretched her legs so they were diagonally with each other. 

“I gather you never heard the end of the conversation. If you had you would have heard myself inform Sigurd that I am capable of making my own decisions. For sometime now Ivar you had my curiosity but now you have my attention” Ivar smirked, this conversation was about to get interesting. 

[lexwritess]

incorrect quotes anon, i have a super angsty idea that i think you’ll LOVE. so basically michael x reader but she died at on of the outpost, and were basically the only good part about michael and him not caring about anything anymore (even more than usual lmao). and it’s just grief and sadness and anger. it’s fine if not, if you do i’d love to make incorrect quote for it also! have a great day/night!!!! ❤️❤️

broken promises [m.l.]

pairing: michael langdon x fem!reader

warnings: angst, death, swearing, blood, i don’t think this is accurate i tried to research on lilith but it was difficult but i liked the idea so this version of lilith is mostly based off the one from caos

a/n: i got a little carried away lmao

words: 1.6k

slightly au! i’m going to pretend michael can’t bring dead people back ✌️

y/n is a witch. but she’s a different kind of witch. she was born for a very specific purpose, one that she didn’t even understand yet. she knew she was different though.

she really knew she was different when her supreme, cordilia, tried to kill her.

she ran away from her sisters that night. she didn’t need cordilia to kill her. she already felt dead. defeated. the only real family she’s had wanted her dead.

that’s when she met michael.

michael despised all witches, but there was something about y/n that dragged him to her. the two of them were like magnets and they both felt it. the world always pulling them towards each other.

she met michael when he was at a loss. y/n wasn’t the only one cordilia hurt that day.

y/n found michael in the woods, he looked ill and lost.

y/n brought him to a dark church she saw a couple days prior. they found a woman there that was eager to help them back on their feet and get them well and nourished.

that was a big step for michael. after that visit michael finally got sense of himself. unfortunately, y/n still didn’t understand her purpose.

“i want to help michael, i really do but i don’t know what i’m suppose to do. you’re the antichrist! i’m just a rejected witch.” y/n tells michael gloomily.

tomorrow was a big day for him, he was getting back his ms. mead. of course y/n was happy for him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t need her anymore.

“you are so much more than that. you are more powerful than you think and you are a big help to me. and even if you don’t serve a purpose for the apocalypse i care about you and want you by my side.” michael looks into your eyes and grabs your hands.

that’s where y/n and michael shared their first kiss.

“can you help him or not.” you interrupt the two idiotic coke heads.

“oh. who’s this?” mutt said cockily.

“she’s a witch on my side. her coven tried to kill her. don’t get any ideas though she’s mine.” michael said protectively.

you can’t help but smirk to yourself.

“alright, sorry. please don’t light me on fire.” mutt says defensively.

this is the second time michaels been here. this time he decided to bring you along so maybe you could get an idea what to do next if jeff and mutt didn’t.

“do you have some special marking on you, or have demonic fire powers?” jeff asks you while mutt looks for something to help michael.

y/n shows him the upside down triangle that appeared on her wrist about a month ago.

“not going to lie, that’s kinda lame.” jeff says disappointed.

y/n gives the man a glare and with the wave of her hand the glass bowl of cocaine was now broken across the floor.

“WHAT THE FU-.” jeff yelled before mutt stepped in.

“we can worry about it later. look at the book of revelations. have you read it?” mutt asks.

michael looks at them before opening the book with his magic.

y/n flips through the book when michael is done looking for anything else.

“who is lilith?” y/n ask monotone.

“lilith is technically a witch. she was the wife of adam but refused to sleep with him. eventually she went and sided with the devil. the devil turned on her. lots of variations and stories of her. no ones quite totally sure.” jeff explains.

y/n looks at michael with a skeptical look on her face and he gives one back.

“holy shit, you’re totally lilith! but for the new world!” mutt exclaims.

y/n stands up and look down upon the two.

“how would you know?” y/n raised her eyebrows at them.

“you’re coven tried to kill you, you just so happen to be with the antichrist, the triangle on your arm...makes sense.” jeff says.

y/n stays still staring at them. they gulp under her gaze before she walks out of the room.

michael hurries after the girl, needing to know what’s on her mind.

“y/n, what is the matter dear?” michael asks, linking his pinky with hers.

“i do not want to be lilith.” y/n says strongly.

“if being lilith means i will lose you in the end i don’t want it!” she lets go of michaels pinky and storms off to the car.

“darling you will never lose me! i may have to follow my fathers plans to end this world, but i’m still in charge!” michael yells to y/n.

“promise me!” y/n yells back, finally walking towards micheal.

“promise me.” y/n repeats, this time her tone barley above a whisper.

“i promise.”

-

2 years later

present time

the apocalypse is here. the world is gone. hell is on earth.

and you’ve been by michaels side the whole time.

he kept his promise

and now you were standing in front of your ex-coven.

they were back to kill you, again.

“come back to finish the job?” you bitterly ask cordilia.

“i had no choice! you were made for evil, i was never going to be able to peel you away from him and you would always choose him over your sisters!” cordilia yells.

“well michael never tried to kill me like you did! you were the only family i had!” you yell back, tears brimming your eyes.

you furrow your brows trying to hear what cordilia was mumbling but before you realized it’s too late.

“ms mead!” michael cried.

cordilia had killed his ms mead again.

“fuck you!” you say angerly stepping closer to cordilia.

as you walk closer cordilia is pushed back by your magic, a trail of fire leading behind you.

“how are you doing that?” madison asks in shock.

“because i’m the new supreme.” you smirk.

cordilia laughs bitterly and you look back at her.

“you can never be the supreme. you are a demoness! you are and never will be a real witch!” cordilias words burn in your brain as the realization hits you.

“mallory.” you whisper to yourself.

“precisely.” cordilia smiles.

while michael was having his last moments with ms mead, in the corner of your eye you saw madison grab the machine gun and go to point it at michael.

“repellendum malum minitar, ut nobis!” you quickly shout the protection spell.

you repeat the spell and step closer to michael.

“tutela eorum vinculum!” cordilia starts chanting against your spell.

you repeat the spell but as she gets closer the sheild starts breaking.

“et defendat mea!” you shout louder. the shield starts breaking as the other witches join in on cordilias chants.

“amans vitae meae praesidium.” you say quietly before the shield breaks.

bullets shoot throughout the room before your bloody body slumps against the wall. you feel awful, they shot you enough to make you weak so you can’t heal, but strong enough to let you bleed out.

“y/n?” michael says quietly, before he is shot as well.

myrtle cuts a piece of michaels hair and walks back to mallory.

“hurry mallory, before he heals.” cordilia rushes, and the witches leave the room.

michael wakes and looks over to see y/n’s bloody body.

“y/n! no, no, no!” michael lifts you up so he can hold you.

“michael you have to listen to me.” you cough, as the metallic taste fills your mouth.

“i can save you, i know father can. just stay with me a little longer.” michael pleads.

you smile at him and shake your head.

“listen, don’t kill cordilia. i’m not the supreme it’s mallory. she will go back and kill you in a past timeline, so none of this will never happen.”

“i have to! look what they did to you!” tears fall from his face.

“michael baby, i’ll be okay. i’ll be okay, but you got to make sure you don’t kill cordilia. it’ll bring mallory’s powers to full strength.” you assure him.

michael shakes his head as more tears fall from his crystal blue eyes.

“i love you, i love you so much. i’ll be with you soon.” michael squeezes your hand.

“i love you too michael, so much.” you let out a shaky sigh and squeeze his hand back.

“goodbye michael.” you smile as your eyes start to close.

“no, don’t say goodbye! baby please open your eyes again.” michael weeps.

“fuck! i wasn’t suppose to lose you. i wasn’t suppose to leave you, i fucking promised!” michael screams, while his sobs continue.

“it’s too late langdon.” cordilias chill voice fills michaels ears.

michaels sadness quickly turns to anger as he turns around to see the bitches smug face.

“you killed the love of my life!” michael shrieks.

cordilia hums and stares back at michael before waving the knife out of his hand into hers.

before michael can do or say anything cordilia rams the knife into her chest.

michael is at a loss for words.

he have lost

“no!” he screamed as cordilia fell to her death.

“no.” he repeated while falling to his knees.

he puts his face in his hands and starts sobbing.

he has lost everyone and now he lost the war.

he lost everything because of a job he never asked to have.

“poor michael.” myrtal said quietly while walking over to him.

“please! please just kill me.” michael says defeated.

“you’re the antichrist at his full form. i’m afraid killing you is impossible. you’ll have to live knowing you’ll never have her again.” myrtal says while waking away.

michaels cries continue.

he’ll never see you again.

you’ll never see him again.

in the new timeline he doesn’t exist to you and never will.

that’s what truly killed him.

[aquarii-writes]

Memories (Foolish x GN reader)

Notes: heavily implied AFAB as well as Reader being given different variations of momma/mommy. This turned out a bit sadder than I intended fuckin hell

WARNING: Death, pregnancy/after birth

Genre: angsty

WC: 1,864

Memories meant the world to Foolish. The memory of meeting you, your first kiss, and when you first spent the night were ingrained in his head. They were everything to him; especially since one-day he knew you wouldn't be here again.

Though seeing you now with his son? This might be the most special yet. Your baby boy sat wriggling in your arms. His eyes had yet to open but Foolish could already guess that they'd be green like his.

The baby's skin was already shining a gold color once all the blood was wiped away from his body. Tears fell from Foolish's eyes as he got closer to you. Sweat lined your forehead but you couldn't have been more beautiful.

"Can.. can I hold him?" Your husband's voice broke as he spoke to you. With a gentle chuckle you allowed your husband to take the baby in your arms; your precious son.

Holding the bundle in his arms, Foolish swayed to try and get Jr to open his eyes. "Common buddy. Lemme see your eyes" Foolish cooed at his son.

Puffy attended to you. Your bleeding had yet to stop but so far it was normal, just needed a few stitches to patch everything back up.

Jr kept wiggling around in his father's arms. Poor thing just wanted his momma so he cried out for them. Jr's crying broke his father's heart, did the baby already not like him?

With a swift hushing Puffy pulled the baby boy away from his father and placed him back to his momma.

"Dad?" Puffy turned to her son, a curious look settled on her features. "Are they supposed to be this tired? I know birth is hard but-"

Puffy cut off her boy. "Everything (Y/n) is experiencing is normal bubs. They'll get their strength back in due time"

But that was nearly two months ago. You had suddenly grown weaker. Puffy couldn't find a reason nor could Ponk. The two of them checked you over and over yet still found no reason why you got so sick.

However your baby boy kept getting stronger. After you and Foolish were home and got back settled into a routine Jr quickly found comfort within his father's arms. Sweet thing was passed around between aunts, uncles, and grandparents but he would cry and scream towards everyone of them till he was back in your or Foolish's arms.

Though Jr seemed the sense that his momma was getting weaker. His glassy eyes would only stop when he found you.

Time seemed to work in Foolish's favor. He tried everything he could think of but nothing seemed to make you better. Till eventually just four months after Jr was born you started to finally get better.

So everything got better. You started to become yourself again and eventually the two of you had another child. A baby girl named Fin.

Jr was around a year and a half when his sister was born and the boy wouldn't stay still as he wanted to see you. Once everything was said and done Jr couldn't wait to see his momma and sister.

His jumbled sentences calling for Foolish to let him see momma. "Calm down we're gonna see momma" papa's chuckles made Jr smile. Once finally in the room Jr cuddled up to you and asked to see Fin.

Finley was wrapped in Jr's old baby blanket and small fins poked out from her head and back. Tiny little scales littered parts of her skin and looked like freckles. She looked more like a shark than a totem, but she was very much still Foolish's daughter.

A familiar worry bubbled up in Foolish's stomach. Would you get sick again like you did after Jr's birth? Birth will always be hard, but maybe it was easier this time now that Finley was a second baby.

Sensing his worry you waved for your husband to come over. "I'll be okay love-" the sweetness in your voice could've made him cry, "But incase something happens promise me that you won't neglect the babies. They will need their father"

Foolish's kisses lingered longer than he intended. Your two children were now asleep in your arms, but Foolish still worried. Your smile, albeit rather tired, was still bright.

"Can I hold her?" the line brought a sense of nostalgia. A gentle smile rested on your face as you held your daughter out to your husband.

"Of course my love"

Rain fell in waves as your daughter slept against her father. He held an umbrella over himself and Jr. The little boy didn't understand what was going on but kept crying that mommy wouldn't be able to get up if they were in the dirt.

While somber Foolish didn't let his tears fall till well after his children's bed time. Finny was only 4 months old and Jr was almost 2 a widow in just a matter of months.

The atmosphere was somber as Puffy picked up her grandson and attempted to explain that mommy won't wake up again, but just gave up in the end. Silent tears would just run down the rams face.

Foolish wouldn't leave your grave for a while. His arms numb from holding his baby girl but she was still asleep; it was only her whimpers to the cold and rain did he think to finally return inside.

Once the children were down to sleep did Foolish finally let out a sob. Heart wrenching cries filled the living room as he poured his heart out to his hands. You had written a letter before you passed and he couldn't bring himself to read it, at least not now. Not after he had to bury you.

Memories meant everything to Foolish, and he didn't think that he could forget you any time soon. Though he could still see you from these memories and from your letter and he could still physically see you in your children.

Jr had your hair though it was much darker while Finny had your eyes. Beautiful (e/c) eyes always shined through the little girls iris'. He could see you in how Jr acted and the way he touched his sister; always so gentle just as you had taught him to be. Finny would always reach for the things she knew were yours.

It just brought him to tears however Foolish knew new memories would be made with you still in them. Your beautiful eyes and personality will always be present in your children.

After a few years, once he got a handle of caring for two children on his own, Foolish finally opened your letter. Elegant script was written on the page.

'My Dearest Foolish,

If you're reading this then I've died. Whether it be not long after I write this or after a long life I am still dead, though I have a feeling its the former. How have our children turned out? I don't know if Jr will understand and Finley will have no memory of me... Does Finny still have my eyes? Is Jr still gentle with Finny? I know little boys can be so rough..

But aside from such please know that I love you. If I held the choice I would've stayed longer, but I'm on my last life. Maybe Lady Death could give me a pass? Maybe I could come back and see my babies? Oh if I continue thinking like this I'm going to cry..

I love you more than anything in this universe and I love our children all the same. I know that some day you'll find another to love, maybe it'll be me reincarnated? Just.. don't dwell on my death too long, if not for me for our children. Jr and Finny deserve to see their father happy.

I do hope that the both of them know I love them very much.. I know memories mean everything to you so please make new ones with Jr and Finny. Let me live on through them.

Forever with love, your dearest (Y/n)'

Tears fell on the aged parchment. It had been weathered before, presumably from your tears, but new wrinkles formed. Foolish has new memories. Your children did keep you alive within them.

Finny's eyes, while hers, were still yours. Her eyes shown just as bright as yours once did. While Jr is as gentle as ever with his baby sister. Snowchester was a new home for them all when you died, but it now means so much to the babies.

Foolish covered his mouth as he leaned over the coffee table. He didn't notice the tiny feet padding towards him. Finley's small hands gripped at her fathers fore arm. Big (e/c) pools stared into him.

Acting as though he wasn't crying Foolish dried his eyes and picked up the little girl. "What are you doing here sweetheart?"

"I got cold" Finny mumbled to her father and curled into him. Her scales had turned a golden color after you had passed. It was a shame you couldn't have seen how pretty Finny turned out to be, even at 5.

"Where's bubbas then?" evening out his tone Foolish sat back with Finny. The snow outside had started back up again to add a new layer to the landscape.

"Bubba is playing with Michael still. Mr. Tubbo and Mr. Ranboo asked if I wanted to come inside, but I wanted to play with you" Finny looked up at Foolish. She was tired and wanted a nap so she cuddled further into her father.

"Well you look pretty tired, sweets, how about we just go to sleep?" Finny shook her head no and stared at the open letter.

"Why were you crying daddy?" Finny's voice was quiet. Almost like she wasn't supposed to ask the question.

"Well... I was remembering mommy and reading a letter she gave me.." squeezing his girl, Foolish rested his head on hers. Jr nor Finny had ever really asked about their mother.

"What was mommy like? Mr. Ranboo says she was really nice before she went to sleep for a long time.." Finny played with the ends of her hair as she spoke to her father. Memories of you flooded his mind. The most prominent thing was how loving you were. You gave up all 3 of your lives for people you cared for.

"Well.. mommy loved you and bubbas very much. She loved a lot of people. Mommy was also very kind and helpful.. She would do anything to make sure people were happy-"

"Do I look like Mommy?" Finley gazed at her hands. The golden freckles that glittered her skin were something she had seen on no one else.

"You look a lot like mommy, Finny" Foolish lied through his teeth. She had your eyes but looked very similar to him over all. But if his little girl is happy then what of it?

Seemingly satisfied with her prodding Finny became silent again, and soon enough her little snores alerted Foolish to the fact that she was asleep.

I don't think I'll ever forget you (Y/n), but Finny sure won't let me try

[jimines]

Whats actually happened between you and taemaknae? I read about it on the tea blog and still confused

This is an insanely long story so I'm going to put it below the cut so for anyone interested in this absolute shit show, continue on.

Essentially, I posted these headers about a month ago:

It was a set of like 8 colours and it was the first time I had ever posted any headers or anything. The issue nic had with these, was the ripped paper bottom. Because apparently you can trademark that. I had asked a (now ex) “friend” of mine if she knew where I could find the ripped paper effect because I had seen the effect on the header of her network blog and I had been trying to find a similar thing for months and google images never gave me anything good. She ended up referring me to google images anyways and after like an hour of dedicated searching, I found this ripped paper effect and used it. This ex “friend” went on to tell another friend of mine that I had "asked where nicole gets her resources for her headers" and then screenshotted my dm as "proof", which still confuses me because I never mentioned nicole there lmao. I've seen the screenshot.

Tell me where I said nicole. It was literally just a question born from seeing the header they had on their network lmao. I feel it’s important to mention I didn’t know this person ran said network at that time, which is why i said “these people”.

This other friend then came to me and just said my headers "may be seen as similar to nic's” and said she noticed it on her own and never mentioned my other “friend” approaching her. I was confused because other than that ripped paper effect that I know many people on tumblr use, I saw no similarities. Nic's headers are usually more complex and more than just a coloured background with a little effect in it. I just wanted to make some simple headers for fun because I was bored. But, regardless, I messaged nic about it to make sure she didn't feel the same way. I told her a friend of mine was worried nic might think my headers are similar to her's and I assured her that if she found them similar I would take them down, no questions asked. Nic told me she was surprised this friend brought it up and told me that it was entirely up to me if I found the headers similar. She never once told me she felt they were the same, never mentioned anything about them, she insisted it was up to me to do as I pleased. So, since I genuinely found no similarities, I left them up.

About a week went by and things between nic and I were fine, or so I thought, based off the fact that she was interacting with my posts, sending me cute asks and replying to a lot of my comments and stuff being kind and whatnot. Then, I decided to post a small list of my creations and the series I had running at the time. 

After that, all of a sudden I got an influx of rude hate anons:

To anyone I mentioned the anons to, they agreed with me, you cannot trademark circular icons. This anon also accused me saying “just the fact that you had an anxiety attack about it proves you copied them” Like no sweetie, it’s called three strangers walked into my house and I got anxious.

Despite me not seeing the issue, I messaged nic, assuming she wouldn't care about the icons (it wasn't like I was taking her exact work and copying and pasting them as my own) and that made her very upset. When she responded to me, she was incredibly heated and gave off the vibe she was waiting for me to message her about it. 

She said things like "this has actually been bothering me for a while", "i expected you to be able to read between the lines and delete the headers", "i don't know who that anon was but clearly they recognize my style". For starters, she never told me that she was annoyed with me, she was being very kind to me publicly. And I have no idea how I was meant to “read between the lines” of what she said especially considering how kind she was to me the following days. I also never accused her of knowing this anon, she just insisted it wasn't her and she didn't know them right off the bat. She also insinuated that I copied my gifs from others as well, which ticked me off because I made my 100+ layer psd myself thank you very much. But I kept my cool, and I told her I had no idea she felt the way she did, and I told her I would delete the headers (which i did as the conversation was going on), and that I would stop posting my icons and bringing attention to them because no one ever paid it any mind before that point. And I asked her “please tell me straight up the next time you have an issue with me because I am generally pretty dumb with social cues”, I have my adhd to thank for that. And instead of replying, she just blocked me. And conveniently, the hate anons stopped dead right after we blocked each other and I haven't received any since.

Also, these are the kinds of icons I posted:

Looks pretty generic and idk, universal, right?

Then, as I've recently found out today, she was in an "anti-loverjimin" groupchat with at least 2 other bloggers. 

Which explains why this all went and fell into place. I know who the two other bloggers are because of what happened two days later but I won't name them just yet, but these two people had been "friends" with me for several months. So, a day or two after nic blocked me, all of a sudden some good friends of mine were blocking me and not talking to me when I asked what was going on. I found out soon after it was because nicole and those two now ex “friends” of mine had taken old dms I sent them and were showing them to people. And I will go into detail about them but I won't name the people they are about for privacy reasons.

Before I move on, to clarify some lies nic has been spreading about me, I never once shit talked nicole to my friends. One of these ex friends also said I was trying to get people on my side. I would have reacted to this all very very differently if that were the case. I would be dragging everyone through the fucking dirt but I don't get off on drama or micromanaging what my mutuals do. My issues are with these people, if you're still friends with them that's your decision i could not care less. So, back to it, the only thing I said about nic was that she and I had a stupid small fight over icons and that she was spreading lies about me, based off of what nic said to jordan.

That exact message, or slight variations of it, was sent to anyone I interacted with because I didn't know if nic was going to stop at jordan or try and get to everyone I fucking knew lmao. Some of the people I messaged this to told ME nic had done this kind of thing before, that she has sent hate anons, launched hate campaigns, cancelled people, etc. Over stupid shit like icons lmao.

Here are some responses I received after I mentioned nicole:

And nic or one of her friends also took it upon themselves to send anons to that tea blog to blow shit up and named everyone and made it an even bigger mess when they saw no one was actively trying to fight me after the dms got out. 

I also love that in this following ask, they named my two “friends” that were behind the whole dm drama and backstabbed me, as well as two other people I never badmouthed, that story was twisted. But we’ll get into those details shortly.

And she also told people I clout chased big blogs and only cared about notes. At one point, yes, I did care a lot about my statistics. However, never once did I think clout chasing was worth my fucking time or energy, Nic is the biggest clout chaser on this damn site and there are receipts of that, ask jordan lmao. And I couldn’t give two shits about my statistics anymore lmao, much less anxiety that way. Do I still crave validation sometimes? Sure. But it's not a driving force of my tumblr experience like it used to be.

But, moving on to the dms, the first one was sent when I first came back to tumblr full-time and didn't understand why people self reblogged things, I found the pretence of self reblogging annoying and greedy and I complained about it and it was a comment fuelled by two bloggers that i would see sr a lot on my dash. But I never thought THEY were annoying, as these people are saying I did, it was self reblogging I found annoying and as you can see I have come to understand why people sr and I do it myself too. I didn't even know these two bloggers at this time either. That dm was cropped to hide the fact that this "friend" agreed with me and hid the date as well so it seemed recent, and was sent to one of the bloggers I mentioned as an example, someone I had since become good friends with. 

I didn’t befriend one of the people I mentioned there until mid to late June. That friendship is now over thanks to this drama and all the lies. The second friend of mine they went after was never spoken about in dms, they went and turned her against me through lies and manipulation so that friendship has ended too. And while those two were doing that, nic went off to try and turn jordan against me.

There was a particular user on here that I did say some nasty things about but we weren't friends, as many people have been made to believe. I was particularly mad at this person in those dms and was hurtful, I admit, and I have since apologized and owned up to all of it to these people. I did call them fake and/or two-faced. 

And what in the gassing me up bullshit was their response though lmao. I also sent this following dm before I even talked about the issue with this person. They urged me to continue and to name drop the person, and I stupidly thought they were trustworthy.

My reasoning for what I said wasn't unwarranted though, I don't make a habit of going around shit-talking people, unless they do something to me first. I vent when I am upset and this person had sent me a passive aggressive ask and then denied sending it when I asked and I thought that was just very fake, especially since she was so kind to me in dms before the ask came in. But all of these dms were cropped too to hide timestamps and responses, and in most cases, like those screenshots prove, these "friends" either gassed me up or egged me on to continue ranting or to name the people i was mad at and they had agreed with me on several, several occasions. Turns out they were trying to get dirt on me to use in their cancel campaign. But the point is, nic has made me out to be this horrible person that befriends "big blogs" (an overrated statement) and then shit talks them behind their back without remorse. Yet it was one person I said rude things about and I, again, owned up to it all and apologized to them the first day. I would've done it sooner had I a) remembered feeling the way I did all those months ago or remembered the dms themselves or b) felt that way still after meeting them. But neither is the case.

I find it really amusing though that these people wanted things to be kept quiet and didn’t want anyone they spoke to to talk to me about it because I was going to “out them on my blog” and “make a big scene”, then they three went and made it a big fucking scene and ruined my friendships. I’m familiar with this pattern of manipulation as it has happened to me in real life before and it’s the most childish bullshit to witness.

Before this callout day for nic, I had never once been directly rude to or about her, same goes for those ex “friends” that betrayed my trust and friendship. The fact that they plotted against me in a group chat while still actively talking to me and being all buddy buddy is just disgusting. Both of them were talking to me that day at the same time they were sharing the dms and shit-talking me to my friends. But yeah, that's my side, the untwisted side, of the whole story. I tried to be mature and talk to nic and when I didn't do what she wanted me to do, she blocked me and launched the hate campaign with dms and the power of photoshop. I’ve been hesitant to make any of this public because it was meant to be a silent ordeal but I’ve grown tired of her constantly publicizing everything without consequence while I remain silent like I promised.

[eagles-translated]

Answering questions about Eagles 4x03–4x04 (Part 1) 🏒

Thought I'd do another one of these so I can try to answer all the asks I've received about the two latest episodes before the new ones drop! I've gotten a lot of questions so they won't all fit into this post, which is why I'll also make a part 2. If you've sent in a question about the latest episodes but it's not included here, it will most likely be answered in the next part.

This question was sent in before the episode premiered, but you pretty much hit the nail on the head considering the scene we got in episode 4! I actually wasn't expecting a scene with Petra telling Elias about her past relationship with Mats but I guess he had to find out somehow.

I'm really curious to see if Amie will also find out about the relationship soon and what her reaction to it will be. I really enjoyed how Elias reacted by saying Mats was an idiot and then saying he wasn't like his dad. I think that's pretty significant evidence that Elias and Amie won't be a repeat of what happened with Mats and Petra.

Elias gets such heart-eyes whenever he looks at Amie and it's absolutely adorable. It was actually a little jarring to see Elias go from being totally head over heels for Amie to acting so aggressive when he got wasted at the party. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's still head over heels for her, but I don't think we've ever seen Elias behave like that before.

I hope that Elias's conversation with Petra means we'll get to see Elias and Amie find their way back to each other in the next two episodes. Even if that might be unlikely, this angst is already killing me!

Thanks for this ask @lovelygirlinbleu! I hope you're having a great day/night/morning as well. 💕

I don't think so, at least from what I remember! There was a scene in 1x06 where Elias and Felicia are watching a horror movie on Halloween and Elias has his "did you know vampires used to exist" monologue, but I think they were watching a different movie than the one Amie had on.

However, I do think we've all seen a variation of that scene where Amie watches the horror movie in some form or another—just maybe in a different show.

I thought the scene was funny so I'm definitely not complaining, but it's a pretty common trope to have a character be watching a horror movie and build up suspense to a minor jumpscare.

It reminded me a little of this scene from Mean Girls! It would've been hilarious if we saw Amie spill her popcorn like that too, because I've always found that scene so funny.

Elias is really adorable when he geeks out about stuff, like with the Norrsken movies! I can really relate to you saying you like Elias's lighthearted undertone, because that's one of the reasons why he's my favorite character.

Now that you bring up not rushing things with Elias and really exploring him, I'm starting to wonder if maybe this eating disorder storyline was introduced too late? I don't know, it's probably too early to tell and we'll see based on how the storyline unfolds, but I hope it won't feel rushed.

I have to admit, that was on my mind while watching the scene too! Otherwise it was really sweet, but I kept thinking that Amie should've at least thrown Elias in the shower first lol.

You're definitely right that the scene felt bittersweet considering Elias's problems, and it broke my heart when Elias said the whole thing was a stupid idea. But it was such a well-written scene overall.

Also, they really threw us for a loop by how they cut the "Then I'll break" line from Elias in the trailer. They made it seem like Elias would really be clinging to Amie, and then it turns out that Amie was the one who brought it up in the first place.

That was really clever editing on their part to cut out Elias's emphasized "then" in the trailer. In the trailer he says "Then I'll break", which made me assume that the whole concept of breaking would be Elias's idea. In the episode, where we get the full line and build-up to it, he instead says "Then I'll break". When the line is emphasized and in response to Amie claiming that Elias will break from his overworking, it totally changes the meaning of the line.

That's probably a tiny detail that doesn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things, but still! I wrote a whole post analyzing that line from the trailer only to be completely fooled lmao.

I hope it goes well too. But if I'm perfectly honest I would've preferred to not see Felicia in a romantic relationship this season, and instead just working on herself and not depending on other people for happiness.

This is probably going to be an unpopular opinion, but I just can't see any romantic chemistry between Felicia and Naima. I obviously knew the writers were building towards something with all the flirting, but an actual relationship? I don't really know. Their kissing scene felt strange to me.

Even if I did spot romantic chemistry between them, I feel like Naima wouldn't really be the right person for Felicia right now. I mean, we don't even know what caused Naima to end up in rehab. For her and Felicia to start a relationship when they're both right out of rehab seems like a recipe for disaster to me. I'm still not 100% sure about this storyline, but we'll see how things unfold!

I agree! I loved that Klara was immediately accepting of the relationship too. And now that you mention the detail about Amie hinting about her concerns about Elias to Klara, it got me thinking. This isn't entirely related to what you asked, but I'll write it down in case anybody's interested.

Maybe some people will disagree with me on this, but I hope Klara won't be the (main) person helping Elias with his eating disorder. That sounds bad, but hear me out. I definitely want Elias to get help, but I've noticed that the writers keep having Klara help people as a way to convince the audience that she's really changed and become a good person. I mean, she definitely has. But her character development should've come more organically instead of having Klara become this saint who solves everybody's problems.

So far Klara has helped Felicia after she attempted suicide, helped Ludde by taking him to the school nurse after he got injured and then helped him by (almost) reuniting him with Felicia, and also helped Amie with the contract. She even helped Mats and the whole Eagles team in season 3 by becoming their sponsor.

On top of all this she's a businesswoman at age 18/19, having no prior education about how managing a company even works. She's basically just learned things as she goes—all while balancing her studies and also managing to help all other main characters in some way or another. It's just a little too much, and that makes Klara an unrealistic character for me.

Anyway, back to your question! I think Amie's decisions really show maturity and that she's grown since season 1 and 2. She obviously loves Elias very much, but also cares a lot about his health and well-being.

I agree with you—I can't see Elias going back to train hockey in the US when hockey and elite sport in general has become such a destructive environment for him. My guess is that he won't be pursuing a professional hockey career by the time Eagles ends, and instead going to the US to pursue something else.

My personal prediction is that we'll see him follow Amie to the US to study at a university, with my guess being that he'll go to film school since Elias has shown an interest in movies. If he chooses to pursue a career in film, it would also make a lot of sense for him to go to the US (maybe Los Angeles?) with Amie.

It definitely wouldn't be healthy for Elias to go to the US to keep playing hockey. If that happened, I can see Elias thinking he needs to work even harder to prove that he deserves to be there and that would definitely break him.

I'm manifesting a happy Elias and Amie going to the US, with Amie getting a contract with Gabrielle and Elias going to film school. Imagine if Elias started directing Amie's music videos after finishing his education? That would be so adorable.

Same! I love all the Petra and Mats interactions we're getting in this season.

Petra really just appeared out of thin air in that scene, but it was fun to see her be so confident and straight to the point after all we know she's been through when it comes to Mats.

I think that Petra had a good reason to tell Elias to stay away from Amie, actually. She tells Elias that Amie has her career to think about, which is exactly what Mats ended up doing when it came to his hockey career all those years ago. My belief is that Petra was just reminded of her past experience and tried to be helpful to a young teenager who hasn't really got everything figured out. The dislike she harbors for the Kroons is obviously there too, but I also think Petra simply believes that pursuing your career trumps true love. Let's not forget that Michael also left Petra to study law.

In that scene with Elias, it almost felt like she was giving advice to her younger self. Petra isn't doing this to be malicious—she obviously just wants to save Amie from any potential heartbreak (and by extension, Elias).

Well, that's my take on it anyway. Coming from a very biased Petra stan.

Me too @lovelygirlinbleu! Things aren't looking too bright for Andreas right now, and they're probably about to get even worse when we find out what diagnosis he actually received. The scene where Andreas is singing about how his time is up and Sam is just sitting in the background looking completely crushed was so sad.

I definitely have mixed feeling about the scene where Felicia is crying in the trailer. She's gone through so much already and I just want to see her be happy for once. It wasn't just a regular crying seeing either—she looked absolutely broken in that shot.

This season really is bittersweet. I like what they've done so far with balancing it out with more lighthearted moments, so I hope they keep that up.

[mldrgrl]

His’n

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts.  Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21

The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity.  He missed reading to people that actually existed and weren’t just little boxes on a screen.  He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide.  He missed being the center of attention.  

The appearance was on a Tuesday evening.  He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night.  He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session.  He wasn’t terribly disappointed.  It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.

Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend.  They had a relationship built upon reciprocity.  Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.

The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it.  The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle.  Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.

Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years.  He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause.  Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down.  All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them.  He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages he’d brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.

“Any of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what I’m about to do, fuck you in advance,” he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity.  

Everyone laughed.  Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses.  

“Philip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,” Hank said.  “So I’m going to read an excerpt from a new novel I’ve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together.  A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when they’d really rather be anywhere else.  This bit I’m about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.”

Hank paused to smooth his pages again.  When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise.  He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face.  She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels.  She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well.  He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages.  Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.

“Uh,” Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat.  “Scott watched his wife at her computer from across the room.  She had her headset on and she was laughing.  He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d heard her laugh.  It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what it sounded like.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt.  He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle.  She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stella’s arm across her shoulders.  The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.

When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions.  All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career.  He could answer them in his sleep.  While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stella’s ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away.  He hoped she wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye.

“Gentleman in the green shirt,” Philip said.

“You said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?”

“Are you asking me if I based it off my own life?” Hank asked.  “Well, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general.  That whole ‘write what you know’ garbage that people, mainly professors, let’s be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit.  Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire?  Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal?  And believe me, I’m not saying that writers don’t cull from their real life when they’re putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if you’re writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.

“Unlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive.  We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different.  But, it’s not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write.  It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?

“I’ll say this, though, and then I’ll get off my high horse on the subject.  There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me.  I even read from that passage tonight, and I’ll read it again.”

Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted.  He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.

“He could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her.  It wasn’t a romantic moment.  They weren’t out on a date.  It wasn’t during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric.  It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and they’d both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world.  He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasn’t there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath.  He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.”

Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up.  He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella.  

“The fictional situation was different,” he said.  “But, the feeling was the same.”

Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly.  His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away.  He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.

As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella.  She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.

“Hey,” Hank said, sliding his arm around Stella’s waist and squeezing her hip.

Stella put a hand on Hank’s face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth.  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze.  She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Daughter,” he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella.  He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

“Father.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“We thought we would take you to dinner,” Stella said.  “When you’re finished.”

“I would love that.”

Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name.  “We’re ready for you,” Philip said.

“Philip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson.  And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca.  “We sold out of the hardcover of your last book.  Please, let me know if you’d ever like to do a signing.”

“Sure,” Becca said.

“You’d have to put twice as many chairs out,” Hank said.  He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.

“Go do your thing,” Stella said, putting her hand over Hank’s on her hip.  She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment.  He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.

“Love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see what you mean,” Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up.  “She is out of your league.”

“Right?” Hank said with a laugh.  “And she married me.  Unfuckingbelievable.”

The End