#i am slowly becoming increasingly interested… possibly

[handledwithgloves]

me : *minding drarry business*

tedromeda : 👫

me : …oh!

[wasteofpain]

my convoluted review of saltburn

this movie left me with a lot of complicated and maybe contradictory feelings. it’s a very flashy and style-driven piece that really wins you over with its aesthetics. overall i enjoyed it but I had so many thoughts about it that i decided the only way to make sense of them was to try and write them down. for some reason writing things as if i was explaining them to someone else makes more sense than thinking, so welcome to me analyzing my own feelings about a movie i watched at 4 am.

saltburn starts out with the meek oliver as he arrives at oxford and inevitably has his eyes directed towards the center of the world: felix catton. felix is a charismatic handsome boy with generational wealth pouring out of every orifice, he’s a magnet of attention, everyone wants him and oliver is no different. after some unnoticed watching, oliver manages to grab felix’s attention by lending him his bike when felix has a flat tire, and even though felix’s friends aren’t particularly kind to oliver and his poor social and financial status, they start to build a friendship.

as their bond develops oliver becomes more and more obsessed with felix, becoming a sort of voyeur. he watches felix when he’s away and when he’s around, his admiration turning into boiling desire. 

he wants

and he wants

and he wants.

oliver’s smothering presence eventually gets to felix’s nerves who starts creating distance between them, no longer entertained by the poor boy he socially adopted. oliver is heartbroken and tries to find solace in a girl also heartbroken by felix, but the girl leaves early after oliver is an asshole to her and he spends the night alone. 

when he wakes up he receives some terrible news: his father died.

in a moment of vulnerability oliver goes looking for felix who welcomes him with open arms, the ever so kind felix now finding oliver interesting again. felix embraces oliver in these tough times, becoming closer to him as he learns more information about the boy’s troubling home life. at times, felix’s curiosity over oliver’s life seems as voyeuristic as oliver’s developing obsession, he hangs at the edge of his seat shaking with desire for more dirty details of this world that exists so far away from him. moved by a mix of this arousal and compassion for oliver’s poorness and addiction filled home, felix invites oliver to his family’s estate home in saltburn and after some insistence oliver agrees.

this is where saltburn really starts to become what it was building to, the previous arc functioning as a flirtation. oliver and felix becoming increasingly intertwined and oliver’s obsession establishing itself with it while from felix's point of view it seems mostly like the normal development of a friendship. this first part felt very intriguing, i felt like i was being courted by the movie and its infinite possibilities, which here really felt infinite, like this could lead anywhere no matter how dark.

in saltburn oliver meets the cattons whose curiosity isn’t accompanied by nearly as much kindness as felix’s. they probe and pull apart at every information he gives them in addition to what felix already told them, probably while salivating at the mouth. in this new territory oliver is more of a pet than a stranger in the nest and in this nest he finds: elspeth, the mother; sir james, the father; pamela, the family friend; venetia, the sister; farleigh, the cousin and duncan, the butler.

as oliver gets used to the place and it’s rules he begins to understand how to play this family’s game and slowly worms his way into their minds, convincing elspeth right after pamela leaves the estate that she was lying for compassion about her complicated situation, sleeping with venetia, creating disbelief in felix about farleigh’s honesty after farleigh tells him about seeing oliver and venetia together and eventually manipulating the family’s trust in farleigh so he’ll be kicked out.

in this chaos, oliver’s obsessive desire takes new highs. in between creating distrust and new narratives among the members of the catton family, oliver’s craving for the golden boy becomes voracious. sleeping a room away from the other one and sharing a bathroom, seeing him naked and being constantly aware of his body. this takes him to the more traditional understanding of voyeurism, much like an earlier scene where he watches felix have sex with a girl in his room, but this time it’s just felix. oliver watches through the slightly open door of their shared bathroom as felix touches himself in the bathtub and then waits anxiously for him to leave the bathroom. meanwhile, the water slowly goes down the drain. 

oliver kneels on the tub, rubbing his face near the drain, eyes closed and completely lost in desire. he rubs, licks and drinks, slurping up any hint of felix’s cum in the bathwater. this moment of all consuming hunger representing a more definite dark turn to oliver’s desire that up to this moment hadn’t seemed to reach this level of carnal worship.

shortly after the halfway mark we arrive at the moment that best represents my contradictory feelings about this movie. in the morning of oliver’s birthday party felix takes him on a mystery road trip, a mystery for most of the way at least because as they arrive at a sign that points to his hometown it dawns on oliver that felix is taking him to see his mother. oliver is terrified but no begging stops felix’s kindness. 

once they arrive, felix notes on the nice house and look it seems your mother has cleaned up her act. felix soon realizes that’s not the case, there was no act to clean up. oliver’s father is very much alive, his family may not have the sort of aristocratic wealth the cattons do but they’re very well off, they travel often and have other children contrary to oliver’s previous assertion of being an only child.

this twist divides very well what i think the movie excels at and what it fails at. oliver created an entire persona that would interest felix, he built a poor, traumatized and lonely boy who could get felix hard with his sad stories. he shaped an entire life story for the object of his affection. this the movie does very well and if it had done more of it i could possibly even say it did it perfectly. but when we arrive at its attempt at class satire the movie falls somewhat flat.

while revealing oliver’s lies works really well for the homoerotic obsession aspect of the movie, it makes the difference between him and the cattons feel almost insignificant, especially as the movie develops into darker twists.

once the two go back to saltburn felix desmisses oliver’s attempts at a conversation and demands he leaves after the birthday party.

the party is stunning, with its lavish debauchery and eye-catching costumes it sells very well its gothic inspirations. oliver in his all white outfit with deer antlers right after crying his eyes out in what is a clear moment of some sort of decision making. and felix in his white shirt and beautiful wings, looking like juliet from the 1996 romeo and juliet movie while rudely dismissing oliver. 

i’d like to talk about the costumes for a moment because i'm a little obsessed with them. they’re not the most elegant but their themes are so interesting: oliver as not just the stag, an important figure of masculine horror, domination, man vs nature but also a sort of devil. oliver seizes felix from afar, cautiously following him as he leads a girl towards the maze, mainly the silhouette of his horns visible as he hunts felix through like an animal hunts its prey. and felix, the angel, the juliet, being hunted by a hungry creature. it rubs in the viewer's face felix’s constant position as an object of worship for all the other characters, but especially for oliver. 

this to me is one of the best scenes in the movie. oliver seemingly drunk while acting like an animal as he follows them, getting lost and finding his way by paying attention to his prey's giggling, unaware of the thing after them, and eventually finding them mating. but oliver doesn’t pounce just yet, he watches for a couple seconds as he always does, before calling out felix’s name.

the girl leaves and felix is mortified but most importantly angry, reaching his limit. in a moment of confrontation, a breath away from felix’s face, oliver says: “i just gave you what you wanted, like everyone else does. everyone puts on a show for felix. so i’m sorry if my performance wasn’t good enough” and after felix fearfully tells him he should seek help, oliver continues: “no. no, i don’t. i just need you to understand how much i fucking love you. you're the only friend i've ever had, felix. i mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend i actually am? how well i actually know you! i'm still the same person! yeah? i’m still the same person!”

this confrontation is ultimately where oliver’s obsession would always lead: finally seen for who he is as he tries to convince felix in a shaky voice that this is fine, that he should forgive him. it’s a beautiful mix of feelings coming from both of them. although felix’s desire for oliver never seems to leave the realm of the common homoeroticism ever present in cishetero male friendships, always seeming unaware of the tension between their bodies, in this moment it seems like something else exists among his current feelings of fear and disgust: lust. while still ridiculously close to oliver, he whispers: “i don't know what you are. but I do know you make my fucking blood run cold.”. he looks at oliver’s lips, similarly to how oliver had been staring at his the entire time.

giving up, oliver gives his champagne to felix as he goes to throw up in the corner. felix takes a defeated swig, no longer seeming angry, just defeated.  “better?” he asks oliver who tells him to go fuck himself and walks out, making sure to let him know that he no longer cares what the other thinks.

when oliver wakes up it’s already noon and it’s chaos as everyone looks for felix. he walks around the house aimlessly and watches everyone running around and shouting felix’s name in search for him, until suddenly elspeth screams. in the middle of the maze is felix’s body as a dramatic orchestra plays in the background. it truly looks like someone killed an angel, we barely even see felix, it’s mostly his wings. there’s a stunning shot of his wings with the big statue and it’s huge horns in the middle of the maze looking over him, indistinguishable from the oliver of the day before who is now standing next to it (almost sitting on it), wearing felix’s robe.

while the cops are still looking at his body the family sits down for lunch, the parents attempt to have a normal conversation about the party while venetia and farleigh understandably break down. oliver is the only one who indulges them, making conversation about cake as the tension rises in the room with the interruptions from duncan about what’s happening outside and emotional interferences from farleigh until it blows up and oliver puts his little paws to use again, making farleigh be kicked out from the estate once more.

this scene, i feel, is one of the few that kind of succeeds at satirizing the cattons. they are mostly worried about appearing put together, the aesthetics being much more important than the severity of the situation, afterall, breaking down in raw grief is not particularly elegant. there’s a pattern throughout the movie of the catton parents always avoiding inelegant confrontations and feelings, for example, when farleigh is first kicked out because oliver framed him for stealing they pretend nothing happened, making small talk with smiles on their faces. although this scene succeeds when i pull it apart and analyze it, there’s still a glaring issue with it: although it is a powerfull scene, it happens after almost 2 hours of not satirizing the family nearly as much as they should be satirized for this scene to hit the way it was probably intended.

similarly, there’s a scene during the party in which farleigh rubs in oliver’s face that to oliver this is all some big dream but to him this is just his home and at the end of it all he’ll come back just as he has for the party, but for oliver this is all just gonna be an exciting memory. this scene falls completely flat since we now know none of this means much because regardless of if oliver becomes part of the family, he’ll be fine. he has well off supportive parents and attends one of the best universities in the country. there’s no weight to this scene when we think of the end goal as the luxury he seems to aspire to as a person who would hardly struggle without it.

it now becomes tremendously obvious the place from where this story was written. the director emerald fennell fails to look at these people and their absurd wealth with enough distance to satirize them without satirizing herself, as expected from an oxford graduate who may not come from an aristocratic family but who has been rich enough her whole life to be accustomed to extreme luxury and has most definitely spent her life with people like the cattons as close friends. in a buzzfeed interview she says:

“A huge amount of this film was about humanizing these incredibly inhumanly beautiful, rich characters and reminding us all that even if you were the richest person in the world or the most beautiful person in the world, you still had a bad St. Tropez tan, terrible extensions and really bad dye job. Or better yet, you had a cringe carpe diem tattoo and you were wearing a live-stong bracelet.” 

when i read this i just proceeded to stare at a wall for 10 minutes. i think it perfectly shows the address where this attempt at a class critique lives in: right down the street. fennell tries really hard to satirize these impossibly rich people but loses herself halfway by constructing them so cautiously that it’s hard to find them nearly as interesting as she intends. like yeah they’re cruel in many of their interactions and by just the essence of their wealth and their fetishization of poorness but it doesn’t feel like fennell veers into it nearly as much as she should.

i fully understand that her intention is the everpresent desire, even in those of good enough financial configuration, to be part of the richest of rich and bask in the disgusting power they hold but it just feels like a privileged person trying really hard to perform an understanding of the eat the rich sentiment without involving herself in the narrative too deeply.

i will say that i think that farleigh’s place in the family makes a much more interesting critique. his whole life is paid by the cattons, including his education, and he is the only black person in the estate that doesn't work there. generally he seems to try his best to keep the peace with the family as to secure the life he and his mother lead and he becomes a character that oliver is in constant squabble with. he seems to be put in a position of outsider just as much as oliver is, maybe even more at times, even tho he is literally family.

when the topic of differing treatment is brought up felix gets mad at him for “making it a race thing” and says somewhat threateningly that “maybe they’ve done all they can''. farleigh is clearly in a much more vulnerable position in this family which makes it so he understands in a deeper level the privilege of being a catton, and in the end that makes a much stronger point about class than anything else.

we now arrive at felix’s funeral which feels like overall a series of performances of acceptable expressions of grief until oliver gets a moment alone at the grave. sobbing, he kneels on top of it, than lays on it. oliver embraces the grave as if it was felix’s body, eventually taking his shirt off in an attempt to feel felix as much as possible. in this ritual he caresses the grave, overflowing with want while symbolically stroking felix's flesh, now finally allowed to express what had before been met with disgust. his hands go lower until they reach what would be felix’s crotch, he rubs as if there was an actual penis there. oliver takes his pants off and while simultaneously moaning and crying he fucks the dirt right above felix’s buried coffin, desperately seeking satisfaction in an unfulfilled love but finding only frustration.

this scene encapsulates what i think this movie does very well because although very controversial, it perfectly demonstrates the insane obsessive love oliver has garnered for felix. he wanted him so intensely and he wanted every and any bit of him, so even after death he still desperately wants something of him, even if it’s the dirt he’s buried under. this amazingly dark and erotic representation of love and desire hits really well, it fits perfectly with the overtly erotic tone of the movie.

ultimately, i think the movie carries a lot of value for its pure perverted horniness in times of a call for purism in the media. from the scene drinking bathwater and cum from a drain, or the incredibly steamy one with venetia where oliver spreads her period blood on both of them while calling himself a vampire, or this one at felix’s grave, the movie explores an interestingly thin line between disgust and arousal. something which is also noticeable in the maze scene where felix seems to also desire oliver while being disgusted by him. and this eroticism isn’t only left to the more controversial scenes, it’s embedded in so many interactions in this movie, but most notably the ones between oliver and felix, venetia or farleigh. had this been the end goal of the movie it would’ve been much better as this is truly its biggest selling point.

before the movie derails out the fucking window there’s the scene that leads to venetia's demise. in the bathroom he once shared with felix, oliver stumbles into a drunk venetia in the bathtub who confronts him about his suffocating presence in the family. just like pamela, oliver has long overstayed his welcome but dissimilarly to her, oliver is much harder to get rid of. it becomes extremely obvious to venetia how strange oliver is and how obsessed he is with felix. she says: “isn't that his aftershave?… you are a fucking freak! i bet you're wearing his underwear too, aren't you? you disgusting little nobody. oh my god. you ate him right up. and you licked the fucking plate.” 

venetia finally notices the extent of oliver’s meek and overtly polite façade and in a moment of weakness kisses back when he puts his lips on her, possibly as an attempt to feel close to her brother again. she stops in disgust of herself.

the next morning she’s found with her wrists slit in the bathtub.

from this moment onwards the movie goes a little crazy and i just started to maniacally laugh about it. sir james convinces oliver to finally go home after god knows how long he's been there after venetia's death and we are finally led to the conclusion of the movie.

a timeskip leads us to years after the horrible events of that summer. right after sir james dies oliver meets elspeth seemingly at random in a coffee shop and in the middle of small talk she flirts with him, hinting at the development of a romantic relationship. we are then brought to the present and shown who oliver has been talking to the whole time while narrating the movie: a bedridden and unconscious elspeth.

while he performs his grand villain speech about doing it all for the money and estate the movie shows you a series of montages of unseen moments of him architecting the “accidents” that happen throughout it's run that look right out of a saw movie, except here, contrary to how it goes in the saw franchise, it just feels like fennell thinks the audience is stupid.

the bits that make some sense are the ones of him manipulating the situation to get closer to felix early on in the movie, although even then i would have preferred the movie without them. scenes of him framing farleigh and putting poison on the champagne bottle felix drinks out of seem like a slap to the face. 

does fennell think we as the audience haven't figured these events out by ourselves? 

the bit of him leaving two razor blades behind for venetia in the bathroom feels like an attempt at a big shocking moment as well but all i thought was okay?? what does this add??

i will say this: there's one part that was very interesting to me and that's when he concludes his persistent self-inquisition about his feelings for felix. while several moments of felix from his point of view are shown, he says: “i wasn’t in love with him. i know everyone thought I was. but i wasn’t. i loved him. i loved him. by god, i loved him. but sometimes i... hated him. i hated him. yeah, i hated him. i hated all of you.”

oliver completely loses himself in reminiscing about felix while his expressions, line deliveries and the images being shown drive the melancholy very well. as he starts talking about hating felix he sounds more like he’s trying to remind himself of the hate than actually feeling it. i don’t doubt one bit of the hate he garnered for felix but it seems so wrapped up in his love for him that they’re barely different feelings. it is my interpretation that he was absolutely in love with felix but i think it’s too much for him even after so long so he created loopholes to make things easier. and, also, as it's established throughout the movie, oliver is a liar.

i know that for a lot of people it's a problem that oliver keeps himself in this weird gray area of confidence and repression about love and sexuality but i think it makes perfect sense for him as a person and i most especially think it makes sense how unsuccessful their relationship is. if oliver had managed to consummate their relationship with something like a kiss, the scene of him completely desperate and destroyed with grief trying to find some emotional satisfaction in felix’s grave wouldn’t have nearly as much weight. and despite the fact that the movie sometimes really loses itself when establishing oliver’s character, making him inconsistent at times, i feel like this works really well with the more shocking scenes some people have wrongly deemed as just for shock value.

in the conclusion of the movie, olivers takes the tube helping eslpeth to breath out of her mouth and waits as she dies, finally leaving saltburn to him. in triumph he dances completely naked around the empty estate to murder on the dancefloor (great song choice btw). fennell intends that we are left feeling somewhat victorious with oliver in his final dance but instead i feel nothing, this feels hollow. i don't feel like he got anywhere and all i imagine is this man feeling completely pointless in this big house all alone, slowly going insane as he re-lives one summer forever. what farleigh says to oliver in the party reverberates in my head: “...you know, it’s not for you. it is a fucking dream. it is an anecdote you’ll bore your fat kids with at christmas... oliver's once in-a-lifetime, hand job on a haybale, golden, big-boy summer... and you'll cling onto it and comb over it and jerk off to it and you’ll wonder how you could ever, ever, ever, ever get it back. but you don't get it back... because your summer's over.”

—----------------

i've been thinking about this movie way too much for someone who's currently at the end of the semester but saltburn just found a place in the corner of my brain and it won’t leave no matter how much i try to evict it. i criticized the shit out of it mainly because i really enjoyed it and that made ignoring the big problems with it really hard. overall i think it would´ve been so much better if it completely veered into the psychosexual homoerotic obsession and stopped trying to make critiques it can’t commit to. but i also feel like many of the critiques about it being completely vapid or queerbaiting are very silly. so again: complicated feelings.

saltburn also had a lot of potential in exploring the entitlement of many privileged people who aspire to power and wealth beyond what they've had access to and look at those who have it with a sort of envy that here turns into head turning desire. in oliver's little disney villain speech at the end he can't stop himself from overflowing with bitterness as he talks about how, contrary to the cattons, he knows how to work and therefore deserves what they had more than they did. it's definitely a much more interesting focal point for the movie than the weak route fennel ended up focusing more on.

generally i'm a person who likes to take the content i consume into my own hands and analyze it beyond the original intentions, so i'd like to add that i find very interesting to think of oliver as a pathological liar way beyond what we are shown, doubting his honesty about the plan he carried out. i think it's interesting to think of this plan as much more inconsistent than what he makes it out to be as he tells it. maybe at first he only wanted to be part of the luxury but not completely own it alone by getting rid of the cattons, maybe he wanted to become felix's biggest confidant and closest friend and consequently have the luxuries of the cattons shared with him more intimately. maybe the decision to kill felix was made from the very beginning but it was one oliver constantly grew to hesitate as he became more enthralled with him or maybe he only decided in that moment before the party when cries to himself after being told off by felix. i think it's all very interesting to think about and i'm glad saltburn gives me so much room to think and write an infinite amount of self indulgent meta analysis about it. the movie lingers a lot with you after finishing and is very rewatchable so i’m sure that will be happening.

[swaggy-lee23]

Damian hates participating in pe, he has a hard time working with other super powered highly trained vigilantes, there is no way he’s going to put on a team with useless civilians and have the class end without bloodshed.

The thing is he can’t just refuse to participate. Sure he could just say no and refuse to take part, but the thing is that his teacher would probably ring home and he really doesn’t want to hear another lecture from Alfred about being showing respect to his teachers.

So every week without fail Damian shows up with some new increasingly unhinged explanation as to why he couldn’t possibly take part in today’s lesson. Leading to some interesting conversations..

Damian: Good morning Mr Smith.

Teacher: What is it today Wayne? Let me guess.. an ingrown toenail that become infected with a rare bacteria that is now slowly spreading throughout your body turning you into a zombie?

Damian (smirking): Of course not Sir. In all actuality I have found that I am extremely allergic towards the particular brand of wax that has been spread around the gym. So I unfortunately won’t be able to take part.

Teacher: Is that right Wayne? Alright I suppose we will just have to take this lesson outside for this class.

Damian: Sure sir but I still won’t be participating. You see I have a note from my dermatologist and she says that it’s very important that I stay out of direct sunlight because of the risk that my whole face would fall off. Courtesy of the procedure that I just had done.

*he hands the teachers a note that he expertly forged*

( this goes on until he graduates. ) He takes part in exactly one pe class at the very end of the year during the running portion of the class and ends up beating the schools pr and refuses to join the track team after they beg him to join.)

[madamepestilence]

About My Blog

This is a remade version of the old post, "Welcome to my blog!" both to update information and because the prior one was cluttered.

Note for Palestinian blogs:

I'm currently in poverty and unable to donate, but I'm willing to share fundraisers. If at all possible, please include a link to where it's been verified; thank you!

Note: I do understand if it's difficult to get a post vetted, especially with false scam flags. It's okay it you can't get it verified for a while - I would rather reblog from someone siphoning funds than deprive someone in a genocide of assistance.

Table of Contents

About Me

Donation Link

Current Projects

Special Tags

Political Philosophy and Heoism

Other Notices

Art Showoff

Israel and Palestine

Since it has to be said, I would like to publicly display my stance. Israel is a fascist government quite literally mimicking the Nazi party - the government of Israel using Judaism as a shield is inherently contributing to increasing antisemitism.

Israel does not have the safety or interests of Jews in mind, especially with how they treat Orthodox Jews.

At time of writing, Israel is committing a genocide in Falastine with heavy military and economic support from the increasingly fascist United States of America, as well as receiving additional support from the United Kingdom and Germany.

Falastine is not an Islamic monolith - especially given one of its more notable characteristics is having the oldest community of Christians. This was never about religion, and the actions of Israel are not to be pinned onto Judaism.

Oppressed people have a right to violence, and therefore Falastine has every right to resist. While their government may be heavily flawed, that does not mean its people deserve to be victims of a Holocaust. Never again means NEVER AGAIN.

Zionists are unwelcome on my page. Jews do not, "have to be a Zionist," to be a, "true Jew," nor are Jews a monolith. It should be rather clear that defending the actions of Israel as inherently Jewish is only going to bolster antisemitism.

The fall of Israel will liberate Falastine and the people within Israel as well. Both Israel and the United States need to be held accountable for their actions, and they should not be above international law.

About Me

I'm a queer, transfem Communist. I use she/her or She/Her pronouns, and you can call me Holly.

I'm autistic with the common combination of also having ADHD. I came from a christofascist family that practiced within a cult based on Baptist Christianity.

My experiences with this combined with the real world outside of helicopter parenting, extreme poverty, and my father encouraging me to read The Communist Manifesto heavily backfiring, I've become a massive Communist.

Donation Link

I'm pretty constantly dealing with poverty, so if you'd like to help out, you can donate to my Ko-Fi here. It currently goes through PayPal, so keep in mind that I lose ~10% of all payments between KoFi and PayPal fees.

Current Projects

Note: Due to a struggle to maintain focus on projects and frequent burnout, these are worked on incredibly slowly. As such, I can't guarantee any time frames.

The New Communist Manifesto

Not to be confused with New Communism.

I feel that while Marx's and Engels' work The Communist Manifesto was a very important development of Communist political philosophy, the manifesto being 200 years old makes it difficult for the modern proletarian to relate to lost historical context.

Hypixel Skyblock but it's played by an idiot

Currently on hiatus

A YouTube series documenting my very slow progress in Hypixel Skyblock. I am very bad.

Video Essays

I have several video essays I'd like to create for YouTube. These will range from serious topics to gaming analyses. Video essays take an extremely long time to research, write, record, edit, and subtitle.

Minecraft Misc

I occasionally make Minecraft skins, resource packs, and am currently researching how to make Fabric mods due to their greater efficiency, small mods pool, and separating from CurseForge, whose parent company Curse donates to Israel.

I may look into making Minecraft maps, and I quite like working with obscure redstone mechanics.

Special Tags

#mdmp art, #mdmp art (year) - A rarely-used set of tags where I may put my art into occasionally

#fav - I use this tag to help me find posts I'd like to come back to later

Political Philosophy and Heoism

I'm an amateur (i.e. unpaid) Communist political philosopher heavily influenced by the works of Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, and Malcolm X.

When I discuss Communism, I'm talking about a stateless[1], classless[2], moneyless[3] society. When I discuss Socialism, I'm talking about the transition stage between capitalism and Communism.

[1] A stateless society in this context refers to a political milieu[4] in which the government, i.e. state, does not fundamentally hold power over its people. The job of the state has transitioned from controlling the people to providing human rights for them, and is completely at the whims of democratic control by the people.

Members of the state can be voted out of their positions at any time, and inversely, snap elections can be held at any time to replace political candidates.

This is fundamentally compatible with Anarchism, a milieu in which there is no state at all, wherein people self-organize and self-govern according to commonly agreed rules. (Note: Anarchy is most compatible with Neotribalism, and may suffer on a global scale)

[2] A classless society in this context refers to a socioeconomic milieu in which class systems have been completely broken down, allowing all people to be on an equitable field. As Karl Marx wrote, "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs."

This will be the longest stage of transition from Socialism to Communism - a stage of transition which will take years, and may possibly extends decades or centuries down the line.

To achieve a classless society, all people must be provided their needs, prejudices must be fully shed, and we must be at a political stage in which we can work out our differences with fundamentally incompatible cultures.

If you would like a direct example of this, I highly recommend analyzing the government of the Federation of Planets set in the sci-fi series Star Trek, in which a post-WWIII human society decides to shed capitalism entirely and migrate into Communism.

This society has many ways of cooperating with incompatible cultures (Deep Space 9 navigates a post-fascist previously slave-ship and the tensions of shedding a racial hierarchy, Voyager navigates maintenance, morale, and growth when separated from one's mother country, The Next Generation navigates using political philosophy and diplomacy to prevent wars, etc.) and isn't afraid to show that it's not perfect.

Even the Ferengi, who are meant to be a criticism and reflection of modern capitalist humanity, grow throughout Star Trek, most notably granting women's rights, increasing democracy, Quark unionizing and gradually putting morals before capital, and Rom becoming a Communist in Deep Space 9.

[3] Contrary to how right-wing media portrays it, moneyless does not refer to poverty in this context. Instead, it refers to the socioeconomic milieu in which all human rights are provided directly to people, and people work for societal and their own personal growth.

This disincentivizes the need for money, which breaks poverty barriers by eliminating capitalist classism entirely. People democratically elect employee positions, collectively own their businesses, and can leave their jobs at any time to demand greater worker rights or find more fulfilling work.

[4] A person's social environment

Other Notices

US 2024 Election

Joe Biden is directly participating in a genocide and has lied about every policy he promised. Biden is a fascist. I will not tolerate those who justify voting for a fascist committing a Holocaust.

"Those who choose the lesser evil forget very quickly that they chose evil." - Personal Responsibility Under Dictatorship, Arendt, 1964

While I previously supported Dr. Cornel West, it has become painfully clear that he does not have enough ballot access. However, a backup candidate I previously advocated for, Dr. Jill Stein, at time of writing has ballot access in 22 states and Washington, D.C., meaning she can achieve 279 electoral votes.

For Biden apologists who still believe Biden can actually win this election, I implore you to consult the evidence demonstrating otherwise. For some context, FiveThirtyEight is conducting meta-analyses, i.e. data from all known polls, not just one.

Additionally, 270toWin shows that the only demonstrable change between the 2020 and 2024 elections is that Biden is now less popular, with 1 less electoral vote to Biden and 3 more electoral votes to Trump.

This means that we have two options: let Trump win the election, or fight hard as hell to replace the Democratic Party with the Green Party.

For those curious about how the fourth (bottom right) chart would cause a Green Party win, this would move the voting process to Congress, where the House of Representatives would vote between the three highest vote-receiving candidates.

With Dr. Stein in the lead, they would have the pressure of the threat of mass rioting to vote Dr. Stein into office.

Your key demographic is primarily converting non-voters into voters, but you should also talk to Biden voters and get them to vote for Dr. Stein instead. If possible, attend protests and raise awareness for Dr. Stein.

You may feel free to use the two images at the top of this section to promote Dr. Stein. Even if you believe that Dr. Stein would be blocked by Congress and unable to enact policies, she would at minimum be able to make the immediate improvement of halting all military aid to Israel as Commander-in-Chief of US militaries.

To increase ballot access for Jill Stein, here are the requirements (at time of writing, 1 July 2024) for the following states:

Alabama: 3,000 more signatures needed, deadline 15 August 2024

Alaska: Complete, awaiting confirmation

Connecticut: 3,250 more signatures needed, deadline 7 August 2024

Delaware: 41 more signatures needed, deadline 17 August 2024

Illinois: Deadline missed, 13,000 signatures short

Indiana: Deadline missed, 11,944 signatures short

Iowa: 3,350 more signatures needed, deadline 29 July 2024

Kansas: 4,330 more signatures needed, deadline 5 August 2024

Kentucky: 4,800 more signatures needed, deadline 6 September 2024

Maryland: 3,000 more signatures needed, deadline 5 August 2024

Massachusetts: 5,700 more signatures needed, deadline 30 July 2024

Minnesota: 2,000 signatures needed, deadline 20 August 2024

Missouri: Complete, needs submitted

Nebraska: 2,500 signatures needed, deadline 1 August 2024

New Hampshire: 3,000 signatures needed, deadline 7 August 2024

New Jersey: Complete, needs submitted

New York: Deadline missed, 5,000 signatures short

North Dakota: 4,000 signatures needed, deadline 2 September 2024

Ohio: Complete, needs submitted

Pennsylvania: 700 more signatures needed, deadline 1 August 2024

Rhode Island: 1,000 signatures needed, deadline 6 September 2024

South Dakota: 3,502 signatures needed, deadline 6 August 2024

Tennessee: 125 more signatures needed, deadline 15 August 2024

Washington: 900 more signatures needed, deadline 27 July 2024

Wyoming: 3,891 signatures needed, deadline 26 August 2024

Vermont: 590 more signatures needed, deadline 1 August 2024

Virginia: 4,100 more signatures needed, deadline 23 August 2024

It is entirely possible to grant Dr. Stein 24 more states for a total of 46 states and D.C. for a combined potential of 473 eligible electoral votes with a likely cap of 256 electoral votes.

Jill Stein ballot access if all eligible states gain enough petition signatures

Jill Stein maximum vote likelihood (discards Republican majority states and does not include currently Republican swing states)

We absolutely have the capability to do this. We need to organize. Don't give up, and don't give the same we'll try next time platitude. We should, need to, and can do this right now.

You can find state-specific ballot information for Dr. Stein here.

Art Showoff

Here's some random stuff I've made that I'm proud of

[whoreviewswho]

Gratuitous violence, Philip Hinchcliffe and why Mary Whitehouse was right

There are some things, though not many, that the Doctor Who fandom seems to universally agree on. Everybody can agree that the Weeping Angels are a great villain. Everybody seems onboard with the notion that The Caves of Androzani is one of the best stories of all time. Everybody will attest that the Hinchcliffe era is one of the most consistent runs in the whole show. 

You can probably see where I am going with this. 

Let's take ourselves to 1977, before the beginning of the fifteenth season for Doctor Who. Season fourteen has finished airing in April and it has turned out to be the most popular to date with average ratings of approximately eleven million viewers tuning in each week. Tom Baker’s fourth incarnation of the eponymous hero was riding an enormous wave of success that had slowly climbed during the Pertwee era (seasons ten and eleven were raking in respectable figures of around eight million) and seemed to peaking under the current regime (figures were climbing by a million viewers a year until season fourteen). 

You would think it would be in the BBC's interests then to keep this current team of Tom Baker, producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script-editor Robert Holmes together for as long as possible. That would make sense even now. After all, this is the team that gave us two and half seasons of Tom Baker and Elisabeth Sladen. They introduced Leela, produced Genesis of the Daleks and Pyramids of Mars. This is the era that cemented Tom Baker, the Fourth Doctor, as the most iconic of the original Doctors and still one of the most iconic of all-time, only rivalled by David Tennant and Matt Smith (to date). Even those who could never name him or know exactly what he looks like will know the silhouette off the floppy hat and long multi-coloured scarf. Doctor Who as produced by Hinchcliffe had become a powerhouse production and left an incredible impact.

However, the other thing that Hinchcliffe's run had had become with the public was controversial. Or, at least, that would seem to be how the BBC felt about it. During the mid to late '70s, the Doctor Who production team were under more fire than ever before from public critics (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the fire of one, extremely vocal critic) for the increasingly horrific tone and excessive violent content deemed unsuitable for Saturday teatime family viewing. Mary Whitehouse, founder of the National Viewers and Listener's Association, has gone down in Doctor Who fan history amongst the like of Michael Grade as one of the show's most infamous detractors. Let me make it very clear that there are innumerable reasons to dislike Whitehouse. It is not without reason that The Goodies' response to receiving positive feedback from her about their programme was to craft an entire episode around a grossly unflattering caricature of her. I have no interest in delving any deeper than this into the beliefs of such a person beyond the confines of this silly blue box show but if you are unfamiliar with Whitehouse or only know her from her Doctor Who association, I implore you to undertake your own research to paint as full a picture of her as a human being as you see fit. 

I mention all of this to propose the simple conjecture that perhaps, despite my disagreeing with the foundational reasons of why she opposed programmes like Doctor Who (if she had any amount of media literacy, she would have realised that every aspect of Doctor Who was in opposition to her), she was, in fact, onto something. It feels apt to be writing this so close to my posting of my The Invasion review because there is a similar comparison to be drawn between the Troughton era and the Hinchcliffe/Baker years. Both have been held on a pedestal by the fan community at large as shinning examples, golden periods for Doctor Who where the stories were rarely ever so consistently good and their impact is still being felt to this day. In both cases, these things are somewhat true but it is also true that these periods are a lot more flawed than fans are comfortable to admit. Putting aside the very genuine criticism that Hinchcliffe era Who leaned too heavily upon classic literature and genre film pastiche, there remains a misconception that the show's willingness to portray violent and horrific content at this time equates with it being a mature and compelling drama programme. Torchwood should be all of the evidence you need that this is a fallacy. 

Doctor Who has always contained violence and action and it almost certainly always will. I do not object to this but it has to be said that an alarming pattern emerged throughout the Hinchcliffe years that, I think, would have proved detrimental to the show had it continued any longer*. From the moment the Hinchcliffe era begins, with season twelve's The Ark in Space, it strikes a markedly different tone of the preceding tenure. The story is moodier and unsettling in a way that the show had not been for quite some time. The combined efforts of the production team's sensibilities with Baker's distant and unpredictable performance pushed the show away from the innate comfort that had come from the later Pertwee years. The Doctor was no longer a paternal, authority figure and the threats had shifted from power-mad conspirators and identifiable systemic threats to Lovecraftian forces of nature. Right from the start, this run establishes itself as leaning into primal horror and physical threats with the serial's threat being a creature that uses human bodies as an incubator. It is a terrifying idea and one that a pre-watershed serial airing on the BBC should not have any business attempting to depict. 

But this is still a fantastical horror. Even if the effect did look good, it is still an alien experience. Mercifully, nobody in the real world has had a Wirrn lay eggs in them so the threat becomes a rather soft kind of scare. This is still a fun, for lack of a better word, form of horror and violence. Perhaps Mary Whitehouse agreed with me since her first notable move against the show came a few weeks later with Genesis of the Daleks which she described as "teatime brutality for tots". Season twelve was the last to have pre-production overseen by the outgoing team of producer Barry Letts and script-editor Terrance Dicks. Season thirteen was when the Hinchcliffe/Holmes duo finally found themselves with full creative control. And so, the Hinchcliffe era TRULY begins with the production of Pyramids of Mars (Planet of Evil was produced later though aired before). Now we see where things truly kick off with a distinctly gothic aesthetic, more graphic and realistic violence all in service of a classic film pastiche, The Mummy in this case. Season thirteen closed with The Seeds of Doom, a story Whitehouse strongly objected to; "Strangulation—by hand, by claw, by obscene vegetable matter—is the latest gimmick, sufficiently close up so they get the point. And just for a little variety, show the children how to make a Molotov cocktail". 

The violent depictions in Doctor Who were impactful, of course, The backlash is evidence enough of that fact. But was it necessary? After all, is violence not an essential component in the action-adventure serial? Eric Saward, somebody who would receive very similar criticisms several years after this, claimed that "the Doctor is involved in adventures that deal with violent people" and "that if you display violence you should show it for what it is. I don't think you should dwell on it, I don't think it should be gratuitous, but I think that when you do display violence you should show it hurts".

Regardless of how violence was handled in his own tenure as script editor, I am inclined to agree with this sentiment. If violence is to be portrayed in Doctor Who, or any drama, it should come with an impact on the narrative and the characters. The nature of that impact can wildly vary from story to story but the instant that violence is depicted without consequence, it becomes a gratuitous and unnecessary representation. To use an overdone but high-profile example from contemporary media, this is the problem with violence in Batman v Superman, for example. Characters engage in violent acts, the violence is graphic in nature but the impact fails to be felt by the audience because the acts themselves frequently fail to inform or challenge the characters and/or plot moving forward. Violence is essential to action and can be a very useful component of adventurer fiction but it can easily lose its impact and become unnecessary without proper consideration.

It is in this way that I would agree that the violence and horror throughout Hinchcliffe Doctor Who had started to become gratuitous and frequently unnecessary.

Take The Brain of Morbius, for example, which Whitehouse called; "some of the sickest and most horrific material seen on children's television". The character of Solon, as played in the serial by Philip Madoc, is wonderfully drawn. He is a fanatical and cruel sociopath. A malicious and pathetic shell of a man whose arrogance and obsession dominates his every action. I could draft this description from episode one alone. In episode four, he kills his assistant Condo by way of blowing a bloody hole in his chest with a pistol. The moment is certainly gory and it is a tragic end to the story of Condo for him to be killed in this fashion but the act itself, the depiction of a hyperrealistic blood-splatter coming out of this child-like character, ultimately adds very little. Nobody mourns Condo's death, the violence is hardly an escalation given that we know Solon practices dismemberment before the story even begins and it reveals nothing about who he is as a person. All that matters is that Condo tries to stop him and fails. The violent death is simply an aesthetic choice.

So let us get to season fourteen. The one where the final vestige of the Pertwee years, investigative journalist Sarah Jane Smith, leaves the show to be replaced by a savage descendent of humanity's far future. A hunter and killer who travels armed with a knife and poisonous darts whose introduction sees her quickly chased down and hunted for murder. It has surely become clearly by now that yet another year on, the violence in Doctor Who has seen an enthusiastic uptick.

The Deadly Assassin is the story that killed the Hinchcliffe era and epitomises the problem that had emerged with violence in Doctor Who unlike any other. Despite being a political thriller set inside the Time Lord Panopticon, the entire third episode becomes a survivalist thriller seeing our hero shot at, dropped off of cliffs and bombed inside a virtual reality. Functionally, this means that an entire quarter of the serial is a deviation from the main plot into what is thrilling but entirely unnecessary surrealist horror and violence. The action exists simply to generate visual excitement in an otherwise very dialogue-heavy story and the acts of violence themselves never lead to any story developments or impact the Doctor or Goth in any meaningful way when it ends. It also has a walking emaciated corpse for a main villain for no readily justifiable reason. The Deadly Assassin troubled Whitehouse so much that her uproar led to the BBC censoring the third episode's cliffhanger for future broadcasts. 

Just as Michael Grade became infamous amongst fans for cancelling Doctor Who, Whitehouse would be similarly reviled for ending the most popular period of Doctor Who. After all, it is on record that it was her continued, vocal criticism that influenced the BBC's decision to move Hinchcliffe on from Doctor Who. After all, who else is there to blame? Her opinion was so highly regarded by the BBC that the Director-General offered a personal apology for how offended she was by The Deadly Assassin. As noted previously, season fourteen saw Doctor Who at the height of its popularity and a cultural phenomenon that was soon to be on a downward trajectory until 2005. I also observed that this particular run as a whole, the three seasons produced by Philip Hinchcliffe, has been revered by Doctor Who fans ever since it ended on the second of April 1977.

Given the decidedly different direction that Doctor Who was taken in when succeeding producer Graham Williams came onboard, it has become one of the big 'what ifs' to speculate on what Hinchcliffe might have done with another year on the show. Big Finish has attempted to answer that question with a handful of unmade scripts from his time being adapted with a full cast and an additional series of dramas whose plots were conceived by him. The answer is that he would have continued to produce very creative and compelling science-fiction adventure serials. No surprises there. Season fifteen saw a drop in viewership of around two million on average and season sixteen dropped even further. Perhaps it would have been great for the show to see Hinchcliffe's vision continue just a bit longer. Perhaps his time was preemptively cut short.

Or perhaps the biggest threat to Hinchcliffe era Who was the Hinchcliffe era itself. Perhaps I sound like a bit of a hater and I can understand that impression coming across but I must insist at this juncture that I do love this period of Doctor Who. I think that the consistency of quality at this time was absurdly good and many of the stories remain among my favourites as top-shelf examples of what Doctor Who is capable of. Like a lot of fans, I also wonder what might have happened if this team stayed on for another year and how different the timeline of the show would be. However, it is undeniable that like the earthbound format and the base-under-siege before it, the violent thriller pastiches would have tun their course with enough time too. In fact, I would argue that they absolutely did. in 1977, Doctor Who was in desperate need for a change, although it probably didn't know it, simply to save itself from becoming a victim of its own success. I shudder to imagine the six-part finale that is even more violent and even more macabre than what had already come before.

Then again, perhaps we don't have to imagine. We do have season twenty-two to know for sure.

*Even in the previous era, violence played a major role. After all, this was the time when Doctor Who was allying himself with the military. This is an important thing to mention though not strictly relevant to what I am talking about here. I will just explain for now that I think this violence serves a different purpose which I might get into in more depth in some later post. Let's just say that I have no doubt that Mary Whitehouse would have found less objection in presenting Mother England as a noble, defensive force than depicting disfigured nazi scientists.

[veryrealimagination]

Hanging by a Threat

Day No: 17

Prompt: Reluctant Caretaker

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: Fic

Trigger warnings: surgery in a morgue

SFW

The morgue was quiet as Violet finished the last paperwork on a suspicious death that came in earlier. Heart attack in the wrong place. It would be a relief for the family, and a lull in the department. It wasn’t good for her, but better for the detectives. It wasn’t hard to see that Detective Murdoch had become increasingly protective over everyone in the department, Watts getting the worse of it. She had heard gossip around the constables. George and Henry were silent, but there was a name running around everyone’s lips.

The ‘body’ of Ralph Fellows had been acutely interesting, even with Doctor Ogden over her shoulder. Most of his body had been dissolved by the solution they had brought in. The tests run on it had come up with disturbing results. Animal fat, possibly human fat as well, ash from burned bodies, numerous herbs that were connected with witchcraft, Violet had an interesting time testing and researching all the strange ingredients from the tub.

Of course, the blood from the unwilling victims she also noted. Detective Murdoch was still paler than normal thanks to the amount drained out of him. Llewellyn hadn’t given as much, considering it was Murdoch that was apparently meant to be fully drained, but the carving on his skin let out a decent amount. James Pendrick and Doctor Ogden both said that apparently he would have those until the very end of his life possibly. Fellows had mixed in salt with the solution he rubbed on Llewellyn’s skin, permanently scarring him.

In the middle of her musings, something clattered at the entrance of the morgue. Wondering if there was a late night case, she walked out from the office to see a man stumbling around. She almost thought he was drunk, and was considering how lax the security was before she smelt the sharpness of blood. There was a trail behind him.

“You’re making a muckery of my floors,” she said. Better to be slightly annoyed then terrified. Who was this man?

“I am so painfully sorry,” the man said, smiling up at her when he managed to get into a position that lessened his injury. “Being that this is a morgue, I thought it would be easy to clean.”

“Only if you’re not the one doing so.”

He laughed. “Oh, you are much nicer to spar with Julia. She just smacked me when I mentioned helping her get rid of that dreadful Darcy.” Slowly, he had been heading to the cadaver table. “Oh, I haven’t missed this thing.”

The name on everyone’s lips. “James Gillies?” she inquired.

His face brightened as he realized he was recognized. Granted, not because she had seen a photo. They had some good ones from his mugshots as well. “Indeed I am. Always nice to be known,” he said, “Now, you are the current coroner for this part of Toronto, but have you any expertise in sowing up live bodies?” Oh, apparently he thought that coming to a coroner would be better than say, a vet, in getting stitched up and back to his criminal ways. “Now, before I am kicked out of his fine room, I would like to let you in on a very good reason on why you should help me out.”

She’ll play. “Why?”

“Because if I die, so does Detective Watts.”

Violet paused at what her plan was going to be. Slipping him under and slicing his heart apart was her idea. But if he was telling the truth and Watts may die…

The phone going off was what she wasn’t expecting, and she moved backwards to keep him in her view before pulling it off and answering. “Hello?”

“Miss Hart?” Detective Murdoch asked, “Is James Gillies there?”

She stared him straight while he watched. “Yes.”

“Is he injured?”

“Yes.”

James looked up, because he was figuring out some of the conversation. “Oo, it’s my left side. Knife wound. Cut right by the Sigil of Transference,” he informed, grinning manically.

“Left side, by the Sigil of Transference.”

There was a sigh on the other side. “Llewellyn showed up with the exact wound. He hadn’t incurred it. Miss Hart-” She hung up. Hearing Detective Murdoch call Watts by his first name was enough to startle her. Even if it wasn’t what she projected to the other person.

Walking back into the room, he had helped himself up on to the table. The man was taking off his shirts and shifting his clothing enough to reveal a three inch stab wound that started giving out small gushes of blood. “At least I didn’t have to ask,” she commented. Doctor Ogden had shown her a kit for patching up officers that came down, if they so thought that she would patch them up. The only ones that had done so were One, Constable Crabtree after a fight and Two, Watts after a nasty suspect left him with a slash wound along a shoulder.

Violet wasn’t very nice. She didn’t talk to her dead, although she commented and made notes aloud that she would then write later. James also didn’t talk, although it was clear he wanted to. She only gave him a local to numb the area. Apparently, he was somehow connected to Watts and she wouldn’t give him any more pain.

It would be so easy to just end his life. Snip an artery, stab the heart.

She first checked his wound to make sure nothing vital was damaged. The first thought had been to just sew him up, but if something had been nicked, she would end Lle Watts’s life. And she wouldn’t do that to him. So, after making sure nothing serious was harmed, she pulled out stitching materials. Violet chose quick, small stitches to close up the wound. Nothing like the ones that she made for y incisions and closing rips after the body was examined. Those she made smooth and clean, for families and funeral showings. Mr. Gillies didn’t deserve that.

“Not the talking type?” he asked. The room must have been too quiet for him.

“I feel no need to talk to the deceased, I need only to listen to their bodies.”

Gillies hummed. “Not the emotional type. Not like Doctor Ogden. I heard she has my brain in a jar. Can you believe that?”

“Had,” she said, tying off the last bit, “Ralph Fellows stole just a day before raising you.”

“Oh,” he said, thinking about it. “How interesting. It was seeped in formaldehyde. That’s likely the major reason why I haven’t had that much degradation of motor control, memories, or thought processes. Although he would have had to get rid of the formaldehyde since the chemical would have thrown the ritual off. Meaning it would have had to been rinsed somehow. Curious.”

He swung up when he realized that Violet was done and packing away the materials she used, with the needles and syringe being placed aside to be boiled. “Well, thank you, Miss Hart. I hope you manage to keep your position here,” James congratulated, sorting himself out. He either wasn’t feeling the wound with the numbing agent still working, or he was hiding things incredibly well. “It would be a shame to lose something that can play a game just as well as William.” He slowly, but safely, walked out, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Violet rummaged her memory to see if she ever said her name aloud. She had not. Bastard.

[dimdiamond]

Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

[marwankenzarisgaylittleearring]

“I’d like to end up as a tree”

Marwan kenzari (31) won a gold calf last year for his role in the movie Wolf. As of next week he is to be seen in Bloedlink (/reckless), opening’s act of the Dutch film festival. “It’s not my place to say I’m good.”

Bloedlink

“Acting offers the chance to become well acquainted with the complexities of being human. The Moroccan kick-boxer Majid in the movie Wolf had a fascinating interior life. His character was even easier to understand when he said nothing at all - I don’t think I’ve ever had as little lines in a movie. Rico in Bloedlink is completely different. He accidentally finds himself swept up in criminal business, but he’s actually just someone who’s had a whole slew of bad luck. In the movie his character undergoes a few very surprising U-turns. In my portrayal of him, I interpret all those different sides as honest, I find that interesting. In the movie, Rico does some paradoxical things, but he means all of them. Of course that’s simply not possible. That’s what makes him fascinating and tragic.”

Journey

“If I’m a good actor? That’s not my place to say. Sometimes you do the most interesting things you think are worthless in the moment. A movie is a collaborative journey, which, in the case of Wolf, I underwent with director Jim Taihuttu among others. Although I secretly did think during shooting: this will be fun. Wolf is an honest movie. The kick-boxing, the hits to the body, very little of that is pretend. Not that everything should be real in a movie, but this story required that. At a certain point I felt: this could be something really fresh in Dutch cinema. And it was.”

Peanut Butter

“Ever since that role, which I trained for quite extensively, I’ve found it increasingly important to stay in shape. It wasn’t a complete transformation; even beforehand I would exercise six times a week. But now I’m slightly addicted, yeah. It makes you mentally stronger, too. If I’ve been training on a Sunday at 7 am and then at 8 am I’m outside again, showered, refreshed and in shape while the rest of the city’s asleep, I’m 1-0 ahead. Scratch that: 10-0. I pay attention to my nutrition as well. Bread for example gives false energy. But I’m not always so strict. I get plenty of enjoyment from a good, white slice of bread with calvé peanut butter. And then fold it over, don’t cut it! You shouldn’t cut a sandwich, everyone knows that. Then you miss the first bite.”

Toneelgroep Amsterdam

“After the acting academy in Maastricht I was immediately invited to Toneelgroep Amsterdam. I was with them for three years, but found my attentions pulled towards film during that period. When the actors from TGA are - rightfully - expected to be fully available. We “broke up”, though that sounds too serious, with full, mutual agreement. I see the company as family and will be playing in Angels in America at the end of the month, in New York. Director Ivo van Hove has been very important for my development. I admire his knowing exactly what he wants, but also his ability to be unsure and searching, and to be able to be vulnerable about that. But I have to be fair to myself. I’m 31 now, and these are my most important years in film. While I hope to be an even better stage-actor when I’m fifty. I’m slightly further ahead in film than on stage. That development is tougher, needs more time and possibly total dedication. Stage is the motor in the actor’s car; film is a different muscle. But if Ivo calls me in two, or ten or forty years, he’ll be the first stage director I’ll say yes to.”

Pierre Bokma

“As the son of Tunisian parents in the Hague painters-quarter I didn’t come into automatic contact with theatre. As a kid I was mostly interested in football, the emotion you see on a player’s face when he scores - fantastic. At a certain point I realised that movies can affect you the same way, even though you know it’s fake. That’s the magic of acting. Through contacts I ended up with De Nieuwe Amsterdam, an in-between theatre course for teens for whom the leap to theatre school was perhaps a bit too big. I learned everything there: playwrights, Dutch actors, repertoire. You’re also taught which acting schools exist. And I thought: where did Pierre Bokma go to school? And Fedja van Huêt? That was Maastricht. It also appealed to me that they implemented Bijltjesdag: you might still be sent away halfway through the first year. I decided: if I’m going for this uncertain profession, maybe the best trial by fire will be going to a school where you aren’t sure if you’ll be allowed to stay. I was allowed, in the end. At the theatre academy I came into contact with art, philosophy, poetry. All of that was new. But it didn’t feel as if I was behind, I only saw it as a fantastic source of riches; as if I could try on all sorts of new glasses.”

Huntersfamily

“I never thought that this path wasn’t laid out for me, I just always let myself be lead by my passion and my dreams. My parents are happy for me; I have a good connection with both. My father is an amazing person - an accumulation of beautiful ingredients. He’s honest with himself, doesn’t spare himself and laughs a lot, that’s important to me. He might be made out of simple components, he’s from a huntersfamily, but for me these are the components that build a strong character. My dad can tell beautiful stories, about his life in Tunisia, about his old friends who aren’t with us anymore. Every year death takes someone new, and in that way a beautiful group of people slowly disappears, the protagonists of a generation. One lives close to the elements there, I find that fascinating. It’s so different to our life here. I’ll also never interrupt my dad when he starts on a story like that. Even if I’ve heard it before.”

Vampire

“I’ve always said: I want to play a woman, a vampire, a Moroccan kick-boxer. I’ve succeeded in doing the last one. A vampire is a wonderful character. The beauty of their faces, the sensuality, the tragedy of never going outside during the day, and of course their never ageing; never dying, in fact. I’d like to never die. When I was a kid, I suffered a lot of nightmares. About falling and never landing. I had a hard time in the dream world, I wasn’t a big fan of night. It was, I think, a sort of inexplicable fear of dying. At a certain moment I grew familiar with those dreams, figured out how to influence them. I could for all intents and purposes check-out whenever it became scary. I became the director of my own dream world. When I was twelve, I fell in love, and then I was over it. I still have nightmares, like everyone else, but now I find them fascinating instead of threatening. Beautiful how your mind can make a story out of all sorts of ingredients. Sometimes I call my mother to talk about what a dream might mean. For example, I recently dreamt about my grandmother. ‘She thinks about you and loves you,’ my mother says.”

Tree

“I still know fear and uncertainty, but they don’t hinder me anymore. They’re two trusted companions now, who walk with me. They keep me sharp and hungry, and in a good way, they keep me on my toes. As long as they don’t hold me back, they can be here. Fear of dying is now simply fear of no longer living. If a way to live until you’re 377 is discovered tomorrow, I’ll be the first to sign up. I’d like to end up as a tree. Then you only need to have a care for wind, rain and sun.”

[its-snicket-here]

Yandere scp? With Kain, The plage doctor, hard to destroy reptile, and Dr.Gears w/ guard obsession of theirs

You know. It'll be interesting if you have a total of 4 Yandere going after you. One a kuudere yandere one, one believes that you're highly pure, one angy Yandere, and the other a caring Yandere :)

I'm really sorry if this seem to be really rushed, or that any of the characters you requested doesn't have any more dialogue in this story, or that this seemed to be more sided with Dr. Gears. ;-;

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: ◼️◼️◼️

Age: 27

Sex: Female

Notes: A women who have been taking training early at age 22 after being chosen from the ◼️◼️◼️. Held no hesitation on agreeing to be apart of the MTF forces. Willing to be instead be chipped with a drug that give her cardiac arrest when activated then amnesticized.

(7/15) After 2 year being part of the forces, scientists noticed that SCP-049 and SCP-632 had reacted positively than per usual when ◼️◼️◼️ is in the room. Furthermore, now ◼️◼️◼️ is required to be in the room whenever further testing and integration is required while doing her duties. ◼️◼️◼️ is allowed to shoot if needed when inside the room.

(8/17) Strangely enough, SCP-073 also reacts much more positively than usual. We are keeping a close eye on ◼️◼️◼️ and her interactions with other SCPS for a reason why.

(◼️◼️◼️) After the incident at site ◼️◼️◼️ in ◼️◼️◼️, her last known whereabouts with scientist Dr. Gears is unknown. As well the disappearance of SCP-049, 682, and 073. We are still throughly searching through the world to find the SCPS as well, possibly, an alive ◼️◼️◼️ and Dr. Gears. When looking through the database, it was seen that ◼️◼️◼️ had her chip off. Any indications where Dr. Gears and ◼️◼️◼️ could be was her body camera. This is the footage where ◼️◼️◼️ and Dr. Gears were last seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You held your firearm tightly, peaking over a corner preparing to shoot on sight if a Chaos Insurgencies, D-Classes, or any SCPs appeared. The alarms blared, flashing red. A breach has occurred.

It felt sudden, out of the blue. Rarely a containment breach would appear as the site is unknown and the fact it was kept under watch 24/7. It's damn near impossible to get a breach happening. You were split apart from your squad, aside a professor, Dr. Gears. He suck beside you when the two of you were split apart from the squad from a rouge SCP. Blood were smeared, and many dead bodies from scientists, guards, all alike littered the floor. Some where even filled with lead, while some were missing half of their bodies.

Dr. Gears still behind you, following closely behind. Too close for your liking, but you don't want to peep a word. The last thing you want is to have some chaos, D-class, or even worse, and SCP to hear you. Especially SCP-682, 049, and hesitantly, SCP-073. All three of them gives you extremely bad aura. Despite SCP-073 being a class Euclid, you can't shake off the feeling that he has a much more darker turn for you.

"Do you know the way out, doctor?" You whispered quietly. The alarms still blared in a rhythmic way, flashing red. But before he could say a word, you heard a roar and blood being ripped out. Gun fire could be heard in the distance. The doctor doesn't seem to have any response to the terror, only coldly stare at the corridor in a blank response.

"There should be an elevator that'll take both of us-"

"W̷h̶e̴r̵e̵ ̸i̶s̷ ̷s̶h̶e̸?̸!̴" The voice roared off into the distance. Though it sound rasp and barely auditable, both of you two know that there will be no survival when facing that creature. That is, you don't get killed by the other SCPs that escaped. Swiping you card to a reader, you urged the doctor to go in first before entering after. You could hear the reptile bulking angrily forward to where you two are at. You ushered the doctor more, getting increasingly worried with each more step you could hear thumping over. "S̷h̷e̵'̶s̶ ̶h̵e̸r̸e̶!̷ ̴W̴h̴e̴r̸e̷?̷!̶"

The doctor seem to held no fear or suprise in this, and continued on with his sentence, "-up to the first floor. Gate A." You nodded as you quickly ushered him to the elevator. You rather not meet that lizard ever again. You already keep getting bad vibes from him whenever you come near. Though, that short peace soon come forth to end as you heard zombies groaning and the grinding of a small knife.

"You'll be cured soon enough..." murmured a voice. You froze again as you remembered who that voice belongs. Slowly easing by the distracted plague doctor with the corpse, you still held the doctor behind you - but seems like SCP-343 wants to edge you along. The plague doctor lifted up his head, seeming to sense that there were people behind him. Though... what he recognized is you... You are pure from the pestilence. He needs to take you away from the horrors of the pestilence before you too get infected too. You're still the only one pure from the pestilence. He needs to protect you from the pestilence. Though you weren't taking any of this. You just want to go get the hell out of here right now.

Immediately pulling the trigger on your firearm, allowing yourself to go nuts on the zombie horde and possibly hurting SCP-049 in the process. You roughly shoved Dr. Gears behind you, "Go, Gears! Get the hell out of here!" Though usually you would have to burn SCP-049-2 to get rid of them, but this isn't the time now. If you're going to die, at least you're going to die with a fight. Dr. Gears grunted a little, but he stood there watching you go Rambo on the SCP in admiration. He sees you a woman to be admired and praised, as well... Well, that's for a thought for a later time. You turned your head around, scowling a bit.

"Are you too fucking stupid, doc?! Fucking run!" You yelled. Corpses of SCP-049-2 piled up in front of you, but SCP-049 was nowhere to be seen. Hearing footsteps going away from you, you turned your attention towards in front of you. You let go of the trigger, taking heavy breaths. The hallways is already painted with violence. Searching your vest for a lighter or anything to light up with, you pulled out a small flask of rubbing alcohol, as well some gaze rolls and a lighter. Grabbing your knife, you cut off a piece of a finger from a dead SCP-049-2, wrapped it up with gaze, and soaked it with the alcohol. Lighting your mini source of tinder, you hastily threw it to the pile of corpses. Hoping that it'll cut off the plague doctor and any other possible SCPs away from the elevators.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening the door to an office place from Gate A, you huffed in annoyance seeing that they're all the same. It feels like you're going around circles in this damn place! Hearing metal taps on the ground, you ducked over a tipped over desk, peaking over the corner. Ready to attack if it's human. Though, you are running low an ammo too... The door opened with ease, as a dark toned man appeared. His arms seemed to metallic from an unknown source, accented with a softly blue glowing hue. Ah yes, SCP-073, or titled as "Cain." Though the containment members can interact with SCP-073 safety, you had gain a bad feeling from him. He always seem to be always by your side or following you whenever you do your patrols. Always gazing you... almost in an obsessive way. You frowned, as you hesitantly withdrew your weapon away.

Stepping out of your spot, SCP-073 smiled as you do. "I thought I've seen you somewhere in the corridors, Ms." You grunted, as you rolled your shoulders. Easing your sore muscles and joints from the stress going on. Although the alarms didn't blared annoyingly loud unlike underground, the lights continued to blink red.

"What can I say? These corridors are the same, perhaps you have been walking around circles, SCP-"

"Please, call me Cain."

"...Cain..." Though, despite you being at ease with a very calm and helpful SCP. You couldn't help it but feel uneasy with him. You keep having a feeling that there is much darker tone whenever... SCP-073 is near you. Always chatting you up and worry about your health. Every. Single. Day. It's like he has an obsession with you or something...

"Ms, I can lead you where Gate A is. I've explored around the facility enough to know where it is. I know you don't trust me because I am not-"

"Lieutenant, there you are." Behind you was Dr. Gears. He seem disheveled slightly, but still maintained his stone faced. Unbothered that he managed to get some blood on him and had his clothes crinkled up. In his hand is a pistol, probably from a fallen MTF, D-class, or Chaos. The tension in the air thickens even more, as you could feel that the two of them seem to have a disliking on each other for a much darker reason. "Lieutenant, we need to leave, now." You were rather shocked, upon hearing the doctor's voice to dip down. Almost into a threatening snarl.

SCP-073 still maintained his cheerful attitude, but even then. You could tell that this is becoming dangerous. His smile seemed more forced, almost holding back the urge to attack Dr. Gears. You glanced between the two of them, thinking if you should just instead sneak away and let the two have some form of threatening stance fight or just run away fully and possibly lose your job if Dr. Gears survived the encounter. The tension between the two soon broke when distant growling and scurrying footsteps through the hallway that SCP-073 came out from. SCP-073 turned around, giving you the chance to grab Dr. Gears and dashing off where he can from. "I̴ ̷s̸m̴e̷l̴l̷ ̸h̷e̸r̴! G̸i̶v̸e̷ ̶m̶e̷ ̵h̴e̸r!" Dashing along, you found the elevator that lead to the final upper floor where the gate A is supposed to be. Rapidly spamming the button to summon the elevator, Dr. Gears was still beside you. Though... He look more agitated than being stoned face. His knuckles grew pale from holding the pistol tightly.

"That... SCP. What was he exactly doing?" Your ears perked up, as you hear a hint of venom in his voice. This is the first time you heard the doctor to break in some emotions.

"He... Was offering to lead me to where Gate A is at."

"You shouldn't habe trusted him, Lieutenant. You'll never know if he's actually truthfull about it. Expeciaaly from an SCP."

"Dr. Gears. I admire your worries, but SCP-073 means no harm... He is proven by multiple facities members that he is fri-"

"Before I found you. You could tell there was something dark with him, didn't you?"

"Well, yes. But-"

"He's planning something to do with you. You know it too. Why exactly are you trusting him?"

"I wasn't, Dr. Gears!" You growled lowly. You were already annoyed and tired from running away from danger and protecting his ass already. "Before, you came along and managed to distracted SCP-073 mid sentence. I was about to pretend to follow him to only go to the opposite way. Honestly, what the hell is up with you?!" This seem to caught off the doctor with your sudden burst of anger, though obviously he didn't seem to react to it. Before he could respond, SCP-682 burst in. His blood drips down from his matted fur... skin... thing, face, and claws. His tail swayed dangerously as he admitted a growl. "T̶h̵e̸r̸e̸ ̶y̷o̵u̵ ̴a̷r̶e̸..." The elevator opened behind you as the two of you cautiously pulled back.

Quickly, Dr. Gears pulled you inside. Firing a few shots at the beast to at least distract him momentarily. You quickly mashed the up button, hoping that the beast doesn't come in pissed and maul the two of you, or even worse, destroy the elevator. SCP-682 roared loudly at Gears' attack and him daring to touch what SCP-682 considers his. Your breathing became rapid when you saw SCP-682 dashing towards you. Though the doors closed shut, SCP-682's claws went through - almost slashing your chest. Dr. Gears pulled you closer to him, as the beast's hand left scrapes on the floor. With a groan and metal being scratched together, the elevator slowly went up. You pushed yourself away from Dr. Gears, already feeling sick and lightheaded from the near death experience. You're going to quit after this whole thing comes to an end. Leaning against the bars of the elevator, you slowly pulled in deep breaths. You looked over where the doctor is at, lo and behold, unsuprisenly the fucker is still unfazed on what just happened - despite showing some emotion earlier. The elevator groaned as it came become to a halt.

Dr. Gears slinked in-between the pried doors, as you began to reload your firearm. This is your only last round of bullets... Gonna have to go melee for a while until then... Stepping out of the elevator, suddenly your head got hit by something blunt. Vision hazy, you tried to get up but it hurts too fucking badly. You tried to move away only to end up passing out, before a blurry figure appeared.

Dr. Gears carefully took off your body camera and smashed the lens before picking you up bridal style. Though he doesn't want to hurt you, this was the only way to neutralize you. If he tried to take you far away from the foundation life, he knows that you won't go down without a fight. He finally broke into a small smile as he now realized that you'll finally be with him. No longer have to be cold and collected for professionalism. The two of you can now rest together...

"Que penses-tu faire au juste?"

"What are you doing?"

"L̵e̴t̸ ̸g̷o̸ ̶o̶f̶ ̴h̸e̸r̷!"

Oh... Seems like Dr. Gears have a competition...

------------

Que penses-tu faire au juste? - Just what do you think you're doing? (French)

[jerrienelock]

Mad At Disney- Kendall Jenner

For as long as Kendall had lived, she had always believed that a prince was all she would ever need for her happily ever after to come true. To her young self life was nothing but an incomplete fairy tale just waiting for the ending to come too and make her dreams a reality with a loyal and faithful man by her side.

As time grew on and the girl flourished, the gracious future she had planned out for herself had been picked away as she was slowly revealed to the cruel and harsh reality of the world around her. The boys in her school were nothing of a prince portrayed in all those Disney movies she had loved. In fact, they were quite the opposite, they made themselves out to be more of the villain in her story like the horrid stepmother and stepsisters in Cinderella, or like Jafar and Gaston and Claude Frollo except they hadn't the even tiniest of likings to her.

It was a good thing she reciprocated their feelings.

Since the discovering of the villainous demeanour most of those had reeked, she had found herself lying in her bed from days on end just questioning the trance the unrealistic realities Disney had managed to print into her head. It felt almost wrong to her about the fact that maybe she just wasn't destined to be happy.

Well, that was until Kylie brought you over for a sleepover that one fateful day. And just then Kendall thought that maybe the reason she had thought that her original destiny was false was that maybe she just wasn't interested in boys.

At first, when the girl had succumbed to the realisation, she was so confused about it all as Disney had always taught her that a romance between a man and a woman was natural and was always bound to happen at some stage in her life, and nothing about a possible romance forming between those of the same sex. For that ever so reason, she had ended up thinking that something was wrong with her.

She practically ended each day crying herself to sleep afraid to ask those around her if it was deemed acceptable for what she was feeling at that exact moment. Nobody had noticed the change in mood the girl had not so subtly been eliciting except for you.

Kylie had always had you come to the house just to hang out or whatever reason she could come up with, so it wasn't strange for you to notice the peculiar way Kendall had been acting since you first met her.

At first, you had shrugged it off just assuming the girl was going through something and just wanted to be alone. But as time flew by you had become increasingly worried as you had seen less and less of Kendall every time you had come over.

Initially, you had asked the youngest Jenner what was wrong with her sister but she shrugged her shoulders and muttered something along the lines of "being moody" before going back to her strawberry kombucha. You rolled your eyes at your best friend swiftly pushing yourself away from the kitchen counter and stalking all the way to Kendall's room.

You didn't even get the chance to even announce your presence when you heard a soft voice telling you to come in.

Kendall sat up a little straighter on her bed, the sheets pulling down slightly whilst she clutched the white cloud-like pillow to her chest. She sent you a weary smile before pushing the tip of her chin into the pillow, resting her head.

Her eyes were red and swollen, an evident sign that the girl had most likely been crying. You gazed at the girl sympathetically, moving yourself over to her bed and sat near the bottom. Kendall delicately removed her hand from her pillow and gently patted the barely touched covers beside her gesturing for you to move closer to her.

You oblige and make yourself comfy on top of the duvet. Just as you relaxed into the headboard Kendall dropped her head down onto your shoulder, her hair falling past her face slightly.

"Are you okay?"- You questioned the girl softly, Kendall nodded, head rubbing against your clothed shoulder.

-"I just feel alone"- the dark brunette confessed, gaze stuck on the now slightly crumpled bedsheets.

"How so?"

Kendall shrugs, -"It feels like there's something wrong with me, and I don't want to tell anyone in case it really is true."

You knitted your brows together, shifting in your spot so that your body was tilted in her direction. You lift her head so that she was now looking at you. -"There's nothing wrong with you candle"

Kendall took her bottom lip between her teeth and diverted her gaze away from you, a sullen look taking over her. -"There is, and its the fact that my family might not accept me for who I am is what is worrying me"

"Oh"- you breath out somewhat finally understanding what she was talking about. -"It just feels wrong to feel this way about girls. Disney didn't tell me anything like this would happen."- Kendall continued bottom lip quivering, not really understanding the fact that she had just come out to you. Kendall tried to blink the tears away but before she knew it they had already escaped and were now slowly tumbling down one by one, like a raindrop on a car window that you would bid on to see if it wins a race against others.

You brushed her tears away and gently place her head back onto your shoulder. -"Disney didn't prepare you for these feelings, it only prepared you for the doomed alternate future you would have if you stuck to being with men"

Kendall continued to sob into you but let out a nod showing that she acknowledged your words. -"I'm just so mad at it,"- her voice broke slightly, -"I don't know why I ever believed in it"

Kendall's sobs resolved into sniffles and she let her head drop off your shoulder momentarily before nestling it into the crook of your arm. She pushed herself further down her bed so that her arm could wrap securely around you. -"Cuddle me. Please."- She whispered.

You were obliged to shift down so that the girls head was properly placed on your shoulder and wrapped your arms around her.

Kendall knew she couldn't be mad at the cartoon company for long, no matter how upset she was with it she wasn't able to hold a grudge. Instead, she just spent the remainder of her afternoon situated securely between your arms that moulded perfectly over her body without a worry on her mind.

***

Masterlis; Celebrities

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

Love Returned

Legolas x fem!reader

Summary: Some cute and fluffy Legolas and baby bunnies for your quarantine anniversary woes.

Authors Note: Life decided to throw me a few curveballs, but I’m back on track now! I will try to make a schedule for writing, but actually sticking to it is a completely different ordeal. Enjoy!

Translations:

•Meleth nin-My love

__________________________________________

After a long day of walking with the fellowship, Aragorn finally decided to stop and set up camp. As soon as you entered the clearing, you threw your pack down and stretched out on the soft grass.

“Finally,” you sighed. The fellowship had walked for many hours, and your feet were killing you. It was not often you could take a moment for yourself, and you wished to take advantage of this stop. However, your rest was short lived when Aragorn walked over and nudged your foot with his.

“(Y/N), would you mind collecting firewood for tonight?” He asked politely, as Aragorn always does, yet you knew you didn’t really have a choice. Traveling through the wilds, everyone had to do their part. Getting up and internally groaning, you nodded to Aragorn and made way for the tree line.

It was difficult finding good fuel for the fire. The spring rains making the sticks and leaves on the outskirts of the forest too damp to be used. To find anything useable, you would have to walk deeper and deeper into the forest where the trees would shield the ground below. Trying to find dry wood and kindling, you came across a small clearing. Your eyes widened and you let out an excited gasp when you laid your eyes upon half a dozen little bunnies playing in the meadow. Setting down the sticks you had gathered, you slowly began to approach the bunnies not wanting to startle them. You took a seat in the center of the meadow. Soon, one of the little beasties approached.

“Hey there, little guy,” you said, slowly extending your hand towards him. The rabbit twitched his nose and gave you a few sniffs. Deciding you were okay, he took a few hops closer and nuzzled into your hand. “Aw, you’re so friendly,” you cooed. You picked up the small animal and started stroking his soft, brown fur. You always had a soft spot for animals, and this was the just the comfort you needed to distract you from your perilous journey.

Back at camp, a certain elf was beginning to panic at your absence. First you had been gone for 10 minutes. Then 15. Then 20. Legolas was starting to get fidgety, and the others began to notice.

“Legolas, is something wrong?” Boromir inquired as he sharpened his sword.

“Well, don’t you think it’s odd (Y/N) has been gone for so long?” During your time together in the fellowship, Legolas found himself growing quite fond of you. He knew it was foolish falling in love while on such a quest, but he could not help for whom his heart yearned. Despite being a hardened warrior, you had such a soft and gentle grace when you wanted to. Legolas could not recall ever meeting anyone that piqued his interest so much as you.

“It hasn’t been unusually long. Finding kindling that is dry enough to use is next to impossible right now,” Boromir replied.

“I’m sure they are fine, my friend,” Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on Legolas’ shoulder and gave him a knowing smile. Aragorn was the only one to know of his feelings and understood his concern.

“Traveling alone has become increasingly dangerous, Aragorn. The spies of Saruman wait around every corner, hoping to catch one of us off guard,” Legolas worried.

Aragorn thought over what he said. He gestured to the direction that you had taken into the woods,”If it will ease your mind, I suggest you go find her. She can’t have gotten far.” Legolas turned to leave. “And maybe you could finally tell her how you feel,” Aragorn teased quietly. A light pink began dusting Legolas’ face and he hurried off in your direction.

You had been playing with and holding each of the baby bunnies. Having so much fun, you lost track of the time. You didn’t realize just how long it had been until someone called for you on the other side of the meadow.

“(Y/N)?” Looking up and seeing Legolas you jumped. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you having such a soft moment out here in the woods.

“Oh um, hello, Legolas,” you stuttered. You would be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely crushing on the elf. He came over and sat next to you, unsure of what to say.

“I was worried about you,” he started.

“Oh,” you blushed. “I’m sorry. I was...distracted.” You felt embarrassed now. “I guess it’s pretty childish for me to have been playing with bunnies when I should have been collecting firewood.”

Legolas couldn’t help but smile at your sudden shyness. “Please, don’t be. I think it’s quite cute that you like them.” Now you were both feeling bashful.

“Oh, I-um, thank you.” You looked up at the sky which was starting to turn to beautiful shades of orange and pink. “We should get back. Aragorns going to kill me for taking so long,” you joked. Legolas stood and offered a hand to help you up. Even once you were standing, he was hesitant to let go. You reached the abandoned pile of wood, and together began picking up the sticks and kindling. Your hand brushed against his and Legolas paused. You noticed him shake his head before he continued.

“Legolas?” You asked.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course! Why do you ask?” He stammered out.

“Well, it looked like you thought of something, but decided against it.” You noticed his eyes widened and he looked panicked. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You straightened up and started walking with your pile of sticks and kindling in arm. Before you could take more than three steps, Legolas grabbed your hand.

“Please, I-I’ll explain. I’ve been putting this off for too long.” Intrigued, you turned back to face him. You cocked your head as if to say ‘carry on’. “(Y/N), during these long months we have traveled together, you have captured both my heart and soul,” he started. “I realize that now is not the best time to confess such feelings, so I understand if you do not feel the same.”

Nothing could have caught you more off guard. You had only entertained the idea of Legolas possibly liking you back. Not in a million years did you think he would actually be the one confessing to you. Now, he had and all you could do was stand there, unable to get a single word out.

Legolas began to grow panicked at your silence. The surprised look on your face did not help to calm his anxiety. He started to let go of your hand and turned to leave before you took both of his hands in yours.

“Forgive me for my silence, Legolas. I am not so great with words, but know your affections are returned.” The look of happiness and relief upon his face warmed your heart. You brought his hands to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “I was unsure of whether my feelings were mutual or not, but knowing they are brings me great joy.”

Legolas stepped closer to you and placed a gentle kiss upon your forehead. “I am glad meleth nin.” He looked towards the sky which was growing increasingly dark. “Now, we should really return to camp or we’ll both be recieving an earful from Aragorn.”

“Hm, I suppose,” you giggled.

The two of you returned to camp hand-in-hand and received many looks from the fellowship that night. Everyone kept quiet, but you knew there would be questions in the morning. For now, you would enjoy the peace and sitting close by Legolas’ side.

[kaistarus]

Crush At First Sight

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 2K

Summary: Attending the boy's volleyball finals was a no brainer-you'd take any opportunity to ditch school. You didn't think you'd find yourself getting so attached to one of the players...

Notes: I don't believe that someone could watch Noya play and not instantly fall in love, so I did him right

Masterlist

The only time you’d heard about the boy’s volleyball team was when someone called them ‘flightless crows’ in the hallway, which you assumed was a bad thing. However, when your friends mentioned they were skipping class to apparently watch them play in the Spring finals you were all for attending.

You’d take any opportunity to ditch school-even if it was to watch some guys lose a volleyball game.

The stadium was more filled than you were expecting. As you slid through the crowd to find three open seats you realized perhaps this was a bigger deal than you’d anticipated. Once seated, Michimiya passed everyone noise makers she’d picked up from some guys near the stadium’s entrance. You tested the bright orange cone-shaped objects by lightly tapping them together.

“So, they must have really improved this year, huh?” You said as your eyes wandered around the packed stands, apparently you weren’t the only ones skipping school today.

“They got a new coach,” Michimiya said, bouncing lightly from nerves and anticipation, “and a lot of talented first years.”

“Not hard on the eyes either,” Aihara nudged your shoulder and gestured towards the team congregated on the sidelines around their coaches. You nodded slowly as you scanned the group, lingering on the unfortunate boy who got stuck with the orange jersey.

At least he could pull it off.

The teams took the court, their anticipation radiating into the audience and extending even to you as you clutched your noise makers tightly. After the whistle was blown, and the first serve made, the game of Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa officially began.

A few minutes into the match you found your gaze latching onto the guy in the orange jersey. Shiratorizawa was terrifying, especially the big guy with his powerful spikes. You winced the first time you saw it because you couldn’t imagine receiving something like that without breaking your arms, but the libero guy was doing it like it was nothing. He had adapted to the playstyle and for every ball that made your stomach drop he would appear from seemingly nowhere and make a save.

There was something about the way he could go from intensely focused on the court to relaxed on the sidelines within moments that had you mesmerized, as well. You couldn’t help the weird fullness in your chest as he guzzled down water and smiled goofily to some of his teammates after their first set as if the pressure wasn’t weighing on him.

“What are you so focused on?” Michimiya asked while bopping you on the head with her cone.

“Nothing,” you said as the boys began to take the court again, preparing for the next serve. “Hey, what was number four’s name?”

Aihara’s brow quirked. “Nishinoya, why?”

“I’m just wondering...” You said, subconsciously smiling when he slid and barely saved the ball with one hand. “He’s just pretty good is all.”

“Daichi said he’s their ‘Guardian Deity’,” Michimiya wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Boys are so dramatic.” Aihara scoffed.

You couldn’t argue that one.

As the sets continued you found yourself growing increasingly attached to Nishinoya: heart dropping if he missed a ball, swelling with pride anytime he made a play, and you’d even find your cheeks warming whenever you caught sight of him smiling to himself or a teammate. It was becoming embarrassing, truthfully, considering you’d never even talked to him.

“Alright, at least pretend you’re not obsessively staring at him.” Aihara nudged you playfully as the fourth set wrapped up and the boys were switching sides on the court.

“I’m not.”

Michimiya giggled, bopping you on the nose. “You geek out every time he touches the ball. It’s not hard to notice.”

“You’re one to talk. As if you haven’t been fangirling over Daichi.” Aihara leaned back, sighing dramatically. “I’m trapped between a pair of lovesick fools.”

“I don’t even know the guy,” you felt your cheeks warming. “Even if I did he probably wouldn’t be interested in--”

“Have you ever met Nishinoya before?” Aihara interrupted you. “Like, at school or in any context? Heard about him or talked to him… anything?”

You shook your head and they both started laughing lightly before Michimiya put a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head in confusion, but before you could form a retort the ref’s whistle signaled the start of the final set. Your grip on the noise makers were tight as both sides fought strongly, neither willing to lose a single point and give up their chance for nationals. It felt surreal when Karasuno pulled that final point. Everyone erupted into cheers as the three of you held onto each other, jumping and shouting, unable to contain your excitement while celebrating the boy’s well earned victory. Boys who were currently dogpiled in the center of the court while the third years had tears streaming down their faces in disbelief.

It was an honor to be a part of and you couldn’t have been prouder to have them representing your school. When they lined up in front of you and bowed to thank you all for your attendance you clutched your hands against your chests. They really earned the win.

You were pulled out of your randomly emotional train of thought by Aihara’s grip tugging you behind her as they shuffled out of the stands.

“Where are we going?” You asked when they left the gym opposite the stadium’s exit.

“We’re going to congratulate the guys!” Michimiya sent a smile over her shoulder and your heart accelerated to an unhealthy pace.

“I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared for that scenario,” you pointed toward the opposite end of the hall. “Maybe I should just meet you guys outside and-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Aihara began pushing you forward by your shoulders and you started to whine in protest. “You are strong and fearless and no boy shall knock you down.”

Michimiya giggled ahead of you where she remained completely useless in your time of need. You let Aihara guide you through groups of people finding their way toward the exit until you all spotted the boy’s team in their telling Karasuno volleyball club jackets.

You did a quick scan of everyone, but didn’t see the spiked hair you’d been observing for so long. You weren’t sure if it was relief or disappointment you felt.

“There he is,” Aihara gave you a squeeze, pointing near the far wall where Nishinoya was digging through his duffel bag on the ground, eyebrows furrowed and tongue stuck out adorably in concentration. Your heart started pounding at the sight of him so close. The bizarre realization that he was in fact a real person finally hit which made your palms sweaty.

“As it turns out. I have decided to denounce myself from boys and am going to live a life of celibacy.” You nodded confidently, trying to make a u-turn, but Aihara annoyingly spun you around.

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Just talk to him. I promise it will work out.” She patted your shoulder. “Trust me.”

You glared at her, mumbling insults under your breath as you slowly walked over to where Nishinoya continued to dig through his mess of a bag. You took a deep breath and decided your best move was to just deep dive straight into your doom. What could possibly go wrong?

“Uh, Nishinoya, right?”

He glanced at you briefly, looking you up and down before continuing to dig through his bag.“Yep, do need you help finding someone?” He triumphantly pulled out some IcyHot before pointing toward where the rest of his team lounged. “Most of the guys are over there.”

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” You winced as you noticed the bruises that decorated his arms when he started to peel off his jacket.

“Why? Is something wrong? Do you have a message for me or something?”

“No… I just wanted to tell you how amazing I thought you were today.” You quickly glanced away in embarrassment when he finally looked up at you with wide-eyes. You dug your toe into the ground as you urged yourself to continue, “I was watching you and just thought you were really cool and--”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and put a hand up to stop you. “I was actually wearing the orange jersey. Number four.” He pointed to the others in the center of the hall again. “The guy you're looking for is probably over there.”

You blinked. “Nishinoya. Orange jersey. Number four. Libero. Guardian Deity or whatever.” Your embarrassment was dissolving into frustration. “Is that you?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’m looking for you.”

He stared at his bag as his brain tried to process the situation you’d presented to him. Suddenly, his gaze whipped up at you. “Holy shit,” he pointed his finger at himself. “You’re talking to me.”

“Have been.”

He tensed and locked his eyes on the IcyHot he was currently trying to rub on his back. He quickly threw it near his bag and you felt another fond smile growing on your face. “I’m Nishinoya,” he said, extending his hand toward you before shoving it down to his side. “Wait, you know that. Shit, were you complimenting me? Did you just call me cool?”

“I did do that, yeah.”

His face turned a bright shade of red, “but you can’t do that it goes against all the rules.”

“What are you-”

“Look,” He pointed his finger between the two of you causing you to raise a brow. “I’m supposed to flirt with and compliment you, then you say something mean that hurts my feelings.” He smacked his shoes for finality. “It’s a strict formula.”

“What’s the formula for when I flirt with you then?” You asked, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. His shoulders went up to his ears and he stared at his hands longer than you felt necessary for such a simple question.

He looked up at you defeated. “I don’t know I’m bad at math.”

You covered your mouth to hold back the laugh trying to force its way out. He was just so cute though. “Well, so am I, but mutual flirting seems like a good solution. If you were an interested party that is.”

“I’m a very interested party…” He murmured under his breath while narrowing his eyes at you. “Did Tanaka put you up to this?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

He furrowed his brow in thought before pulling a flip phone out from his duffel and holding it out to you, “can I have your number?”

Your cheeks dusted pink as you created your contact under Nishinoya’s intense gaze. He hurriedly checked it’s existence when you returned the phone to him, staring at it skeptically while he cradled the phone in his hands.

“I promise it’s mine.” You reassured him and he embarrassingly snapped the phone closed.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“(Y/N)!” Aihara yelled from where the rest of Karasuno’s team was grouped and not so subtly staring at you both. Your face slowly blossomed red and in your peripheral you saw Nishinoya flip off the ones waving at him. “We’re heading out. Are you done or do you need more time with your-”

“I’ll be right there.” You interrupted, glancing back to Nishinoya. “I’ll, uh, talk to you soon?”

He shot you a double thumbs up and you couldn’t stop from snorting at how adorable that was, especially when he started at them in shame. You waved a good-bye and narrowly dodged the small group already sprinting to Nishinoya while you weren’t even a few steps away.

Aihara wrapped an arm around your shoulder as your eyes lingered on boys rubbing Nishinoya’s head, bouncing around excitedly, or giving him suggestive looks. You felt your stomach rolling from embarrassment at all the attention he was receiving from such a small interaction.

“Ignore them. They’re just stupid boys.”

“I guess…”

“But one of them’s your stupid boy.” Michimiya said, poking you in the stomach. You swatted her hands away, and chewed your lip to keep down a smile when your phone vibrated. The ‘hello :)’ from an unknown number made your heart flutter.

Yeah, one of them was your stupid boy.

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 10

A/N: Thank you guys for all the continued support on this series. It’s seriously such a joy to write that I cannot even express it! I’m so glad you all like it too. It means the world! 💕 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: some almost s*x 😌, egregious use of italics, the sweetest prince 💕

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-«

The rest of your stay in Hellholt had shifted from awkward and stiff to comfortable and pleasant. It was amazing how quickly things had changed, and much to your delight it was in the right direction. It wasn’t something you could have predicted at first, but you were glad, thankful even, for the change. More importantly, you were happy with the change in your relationship with Oberyn. He was slowly turning out to be, and this definitely not an exaggeration in your mind - everything.

Gone was the awkward tension, and the constant questioning of does he feel the same? No, now you had your answer, as he had his, and you knew. You knew he felt the same. Was it love? Of that you weren’t positive, but you were sure it was something. Maybe it was. You weren’t ruling out any possibilities just yet, and were more than happy to let them play out naturally.

The atmosphere was pleasant now, a happy environment, and everything felt...golden, like the sweetest daylight. You weren’t just an outsider anymore, you had quickly become a part of the family. Family, you came to realize, wasn’t just about sharing blood or a name, it was so much more than it. It was about love, caring, respect, so many more things than just the shallow ties attached to the term. That was something you always understood, but many others, like your mother and most of the Seven Kingdoms didn’t. It didn’t matter whether you were born into a family, family could be found, it could be chosen. Family was what you made it, and this was your family now.

»»————-　♡　————-«

On your last morning of your stay, you found yourself having a late breakfast in the gardens with your two youngest fans, Dorea and Loreza. They had taken to clinging to you like glue, and for a short moment you had been worried that you had taken them away from Oberyn too much, but he had insisted he was getting plenty of time in with them and he was glad that you were bonding with them too. Besides, this time it wouldn’t be months before he (or now you) saw them all again. The older girls had completely opened up to you as well, but their interests were different from that of their little sisters, so they found themselves naturally gravitating towards Oberyn. They were going to be fierce and cunning, just like their father; he was already so proud of them. His eyes practically lit up whenever so much as a word of them was mentioned.

“And you promise we’ll get to plant the flowers before you and Papa leave?” Loreza asked as she popped a handful of berries into her mouth, a few spilling out as she grew eager with excitement. She reminded you of Oberyn in so many little ways, their small mannerisms almost identical. 

“Of course, my little viper,” you promised her, and her dark eyes widened with excitement. You’d gone into the marketplace a few days prior, Oberyn and all the girls in tow, and had found a small stall that sold plants, bushes, and flowers from all over Dorne. Many were little seedlings, but you couldn’t contain your excitement, and ending up purchasing probably many more than you should have. When your husband had seen your face light up with joy, he was loath to stop you. Instead, all six of you had returned home with arms full of new delights, “but you need to be careful and not eat too many berries at once. Otherwise you’ll choke on them, and can’t even enjoy them properly.”

“Sorry,” she grinned sheepishly as you just shook your head, shoulders rising and laughing with light laughter, “Dorea does it too!”

“But Dorea doesn’t try to speak through a mouthful,” Ellaria had come to join you, just in time, looking as effortlessly beautiful as ever. She always looked so regal and elegant, even when she was wearing nothing but a simple gown; maybe one day you’d gain that same poise and elegance. Leaning down to kiss the girls on the crowns of their heads, she offered you a warm smile before sitting down across from you, “how is everyone faring this beautiful morning?”

“Good,” you told her, reaching over and wiping a smudge of yogurt off Dorea’s cheek. She gave you a big grin before going back in for another large bite, and the same thing happened again. You laughed lightly before pointing at her cheek and watching as she hurriedly cleaned it off, “I was just telling the girls that we’ll plant all the new flowers and bushes this afternoon.”

“They’re going to be so pretty Mama,” Dorea said excitedly, “they’re going to grow before the winter and make the garden pretty all winter long.”

“I’m sure they will, sweetlings,” she promised them, affectionately ruffling their dark hair, “you all did an excellent job picking them out.”

“It was definitely all due to them,” you shot them a little wink, “they all picked their favorites, and happen to have a keen eye for the right ones.”

“Did they?” she asked gently, “well I expect you both to do an excellent job planting them and taking good care of them. Now, go and find your sisters and change into different clothes and we’ll all head to the garden. I don’t want you to ruin your nice dresses.”

“Yes Mama,” they echoed, their chubby little hands each reaching for a few more berries before they ran off, giggling among themselves. You couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, already knowing that you were going to miss your new little friends terribly. Maybe you could convince them all to come to Sunspear soon...you were positive that Oberyn would have no objections.

Ellaria watched them go with a small smile on her face as she grabbed a plate and loaded it up with some of the delicious treats, “they’re excited about working on the garden. Elia and Obella too. They’ve been...in a little bit of a funk lately...they’d definitely missed Oberyn. But I’m glad you’re both here…”

“I am as well,” you promised her, unable to probably express just how much you meant it. Your initially tense relationship with her had quickly dissolved into a budding friendship. Once she realized that you were no threat, meant no harm to her, her children, or Oberyn, she came around and allowed herself to enjoy your company. She had been great, offering you all sorts of insights about Oberyn, and his family, and you felt like you were seeing a whole other side to him. After all, there was plenty of insight that could only come from a former lover. You sat back and relaxed, letting the sun warm you up, “flowers and gardening are a big part of life in the Reach. My father, along with his famous bees,  used to have massive gardens, and he always let me help tend to them. It became such a sacred, special thing that we shared. I always looked forward to it, to sending time with him, and watching everything come to life and grow.”

“Have you seen him much? Since your marriage to Oberyn?” she asked and you stilled for a moment, swallowing the lump that had welled up in your throat. You took a moment to compose yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before turning to give her a tight lipped smile. She didn’t know...but how was she supposed to?

“No...he’s ugh...he died a few years ago,” you said and she made a small sound of surprise before reaching over the table and took your hand in hers, giving it a warm squeeze, “i-it’s okay. There was no way for you to know. I’ve come to the terms with the fact that he’s gone, but I still miss him. I’m afraid that I will always miss him…”

“I think that’s only natural,” she said gently, “I lost my own mother when I was young too. It’s been so long, but it always weighs a little heavy on our hearts. But as long as we don’t let that stop us from moving on. Oberyn knows the same pain - both of his parents and his younger sister.”

“Yes…” you said softly. He’d mentioned his parents but Elia only in passing. You were curious to know about the Dornish Princess turned Targaryen Queen, but weren’t going to push him to ever talk about it. He would do it on his own when he was ready, if he ever would be.

“I didn’t mean to put a damper on the mood,” she said softly before the two of you exchanged a look that quickly turned into a laugh, “oh a much brighter note, I see you and Oberyn must be getting along very well.”

You felt a flush of warmth wash over you, as you realized that despite your best efforts, you bore a few unmistakable marks on your necks and collarbones. You’d worn a light linen tunic, hoping it would be good enough to cover everything up, but apparently it was no use, at least not to Ellaria’s watchful eyes. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing on it as you suddenly found your plate extremely interesting as she gently reached over you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze with a very knowing little smile.

The greater part of the last week and a half had been filled with rushed words of sweetness and brief, stolen kisses in passing between the two of you. There always seemed to be someone around or clambering for either yourself or Oberyn, allotting you very little alone time. In the evenings, you found yourself retiring shortly before Oberyn, hoping to stay up and talk to him, but despite your best efforts, you were usually fast asleep by the time he returned to your room. He often took it upon himself to make sure you were properly tucked under the covers, always placing a delicate kiss to your forehead before sliding into his own bed. 

You hadn’t done much beside exchanging kisses, which only grew increasingly more heated as time went on. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure just how much longer you’d be able to stand it, knowing that your desire for him was only going to keep building before it completely exploded. But you were going to broach that subject when it came to it, when the time was right. You knew Oberyn was likely feeling the same way, but he would never take advantage of you, or make you do anything you weren’t ready to. 

But last night, when you’d retired for the evening together, he quickly had you pinned against the door, as soon as it was shut, his lips finding yours effortlessly. One thing had led to another, and before you knew it, you were practically a puddle melting in his arms. His name had rolled off your lips in reverence, like it was the only religion you ended, gods old and new be damned. His mouth was like magic on your skin, each little kiss leaving a burning fire in his wake as he kissed your lips, your jaw, down your neck, where he nipped at the hollow of your throat.

Before anything else could happen, a little knock had come at the door, another bout of the impeccable timing that everyone seemed to possess. Oberyn had sharply exhaled from his nose, releasing his grip on you, but not before giving you one last, sweet, lingering kiss. You straightened your dress before stepping to the side and nodding towards the door. He took a moment to collect himself before opening the door slowly, only to find Loreza standing on the other side, big crocodile tears rolling down her chubby little cheeks.

“Papa,” she said softly, a little stuffed bunny in her hands as she held her arms out to him. He quickly leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, holding the little girl tightly to his chest. He rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her before pressing little kisses to the side of her side head, murmuring soft reassurances in her ear, “I had a bad dream.”

“It’s okay, my love,” he promised her, his voice softening immediately as he did his best to calm her down. You couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight, a soft little stirring feeling erupting in your stomach. Doing your best to quell it, you reached over and gently mused her dark curls, “you’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you.”

“Will you come with me and make sure its safe?” she asked him in between her little hiccups, her tears having come to a quick halt. Oberyn looked at you momentarily, almost as if asking for permission, which he never needed, of course. Nonetheless you nodded, giving him a quick kiss, pausing to give her one too.

“Come on,” he said softly, “let’s get you all tucked back in and chase those monsters away.”

“Good night, sweet Loreza,” you whispered to her as she gave you a small wave, “take your time, Oberyn.”

He hadn’t returned to your room that night; at first you had waited for him, but you quickly knew that he had undoubtedly fallen asleep in her bed with her, mostly likely telling her a story which had caused the two of them to crash for the evening. You’d fallen into an easy sleep yourself that night, drifting in and out of sweet dreams of Oberyn. It had been some of the best sleep you’d had in ages.

“I...ugh,” you found yourself studying your plate intently, playing with a few berries on it. It reminded you of some of your last kisses with Oberyn - they had been just as sweet, “things have been...going very well.”

“That seems to be the case,” she agreed, with a knowing little smile, “I think everyone can see that. You’re practically glowing lately, both of you. It’s written all over your faces.”

“Yes,” you couldn’t suppress the grin that was stretching across your face, “I suppose I have you to thank for everything, Ellaria. I...I don’t know if I would have been able to speak to him if we hadn’t talked. It was a very helpful push in the right direction.”

“Don’t think of it as a push,” she said softly, “a friendly nudge. I want what is best for Oberyn, always, and you...I can see now that means the two of you together.”

“Whatever you want to consider it, thank you,” you insisted, finding that she was still watching you with a curious expression on her face, “what? Did I make a mess of myself?”

“No,” she promised, “I’m just...and consider this merely a curiosity that you do not have to answer...but have you considered the possibility of children?”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open into a small o as you tried to control your racing thoughts. Had you thought about it? Absolutely. Lately, especially after seeing Oberyn with the twins back in Sunspear and his own girls, it had been at the forefront of your mind. Not that it had changed anything in your mind of course. You didn’t want children...right? But it had definitely stirred something within you, and you couldn’t deny that you had stopped and wondered a few times what a child of yours and Oberyn’s would look like...“no, not really. I’ve never really wanted children of my own. I guess I’ve never had much of a maternal instinct-”

“I’ve seen you with the girls,” Ellaria interrupted with a small laugh, “you definitely have a nurturing spirit. Oberyn told me about the twins as well, the orphanage…”

“Well,” you couldn’t believe he had made it a point to tell her all of this. It warned your heart slightly as you realized just how much care and attention he paid to you, “it’s just...I like children, and care for them. It’s not really...a big deal. Besides, Oberyn already has all of his girls, and I think that’s more than plenty for him…”

“He is a good father, an excellent father,” she agreed, “but there’s always room for more love, for more family...if you should ever feel so inclined. Of course, it is not a suggestion or pressure, a mere observation. Whatever the case ends up being, the girls are lucky to have you in their lives as well. They have many strong women and men in their lives that they have the privilege of learning from - you are no exception.”

“It’s just that I...I-I don’t know if I can have children,” you blurted out suddenly, surprising yourself and her at the same time. You’d never spoken those words out loud before, not even to yourself. But it had been something that had been on your mind for ages ,”I...I was with another man, Waylar, the one I told you about earlier,  before Oberyn, the one I thought was going to marry, and naturally we...had sex.”

“As is only natural…”

“We were young and foolish, never careful, never really paid much mind to the possibility of me falling pregnant. I don’t think we ever once tried to prevent anything from happening. But then...nothing ever happened. I never drank moon tea, and we were never careful. I'm sure I would have, probably should have fallen pregnant at some point. If it was something that could have been a possibility. So I just…don’t think it’s in my cards.”

"Have you ever talked to a Maester or healer about any of this?" Ellaria was leaning and hanging onto your every word. You just shook your head, sitting back in your seat and letting out a long sigh.

"I never could have gone without arousing my mother's suspicion," you admitted, "she didn't know about Waylar for a long time, and once she did, she quickly sent him to the Night's Watch. I don't know if she ever realized we'd had sex. And I just never really thought about children and once I realized it was likely an impossibility, I pushed it to the back of my mind."

"So it is not so much  a lack of desire as it is the idea that you can't," she questioned and you shrugged. You were sure it would have just been the former...but maybe...she had a point. You’d spent so long thinking you could have children...maybe you had claimed to not want any to numb the possibility of never having them. If you didn’t want them it wouldn’t be a disappointment....

"I don't know," you admitted in earnest, "a combination of the two probably. Oberyn and I briefly discussed children, and we kind of just left it at what it is. He's got the girls and I'm okay without any born to me, I’m pretty sure. Getting to know and spend time with his girls is an absolute pleasure, and more than I could ever need."

"They're yours now too, you know," she said as she stood, quickly coming over to you. She gave you a fond look before leaning over and kissing the crown of your head, "they're very fond of you, and it will be impossible to get rid of them. They're like a bad habit you can't quit.”

"I should be lucky to have them as a part of my life," you promised her, "they are already near and dear to my heart."

"And then we shan't keep them waiting any longer," she smiled, holding out her hand to you and helping you out of your chair. You nodded as she looped her arm through yours, "but, and please don't take this as me telling you what to do, but perhaps you should consider going to the Maester, healer someone, now. You have nothing to hide anymore, and it would be good just to get a check up. Sweet girl, even if you have made it up that you do not want any of your own, it is important to take care of yourself as well.”

"Yes," you agreed with a small nod. She had a fair point after all...even if it wasn't to confirm if you could or couldn't have children, it would be a good idea just to have everything looked at. It couldn't hurt anything and if nothing else, it would put your mind at ease, "now, let's go and get dirty and plant some flowers!"

»»————-　♡　————-«

"What's on your mind?" Oberyn's arm found its way around your shoulders as you subconsciously leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. It was getting late, the sun had set and was replaced by the light glow of the moon and lanterns as everyone gathered in the gardens for dinner. The girls were long finished with dinner, running around and playing among themselves as everyone else engaged in jovial conversation.

"Nothing," you said softly, feeling your eyes growing heavier with each passing each second. It had been a long day and a belly full of wine and food wasn't helping either. You tried not to focus too much on the feeling of his fingers tracing soft patterns into your skin, sure that you would combust otherwise, "I was just thinking about how I don't want to leave."

"I feel the same way," he agreed quietly, "I'll miss these little hellions, but they'll be quite all right. It won't be months in between seeing them again."

"I should hope not," you agreed, looking up at him and grinning, wanting to say something else but were quickly stopped by a large yawn. He just chuckled lightly at you, those deep brown eyes watching you with what could only be described as adoration, "oops..."

"It's been a long day and we are departing in the early morrow," he reminded you, "perhaps we should get some sleep."

"Ever the voice of reason," you teased as he kissed your cheek. You reluctantly crawled out from under his arm, standing and stretching as he followed suit, "I suppose we should say our goodbyes now then? I wouldn’t want to wake them up so early, especially if we’re leaving before day break.”

“I think that’s the best idea as well,” he took your hand in his as he led you over to where all the girls were gathered. You could tell they were already getting tuckered out as well, especially Dorea and Loreza. The youngest ones were finding it harder and harder to keep their own eyes open as well.

"Papa!" Loreza exclaimed as soon as she spied Oberyn, stopping what she was doing and running over to him, throwing her little arms around him as tightly as she could. Before either of you could say anything, the small girl turned to you and hugged you just tightly, burrowing her little face into your skirts.

"What's wrong, sweetling?" you asked as you leaned down, gently tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear. She always had a few tears welling up in her eyes as she frowned at you. Putting your own arms around her, you quickly hoisted her up and balanced her on your hip, "there's no reason to be upset, my love."

"I don't want you to leave," she pouted, her arms snaking around your neck as she held you close, "I'm going to miss you."

"I will miss you too, and so will your Papa," you promised her, "but you will only miss us for a day or so. You've got your Mama, and your sisters and everyone else here."

"Are we not fun enough for you anymore?" Obella teased her sister, laughing as she came over and gently perched a small flower crown on her head, "look I made a pretty crown! I should be your favorite sister...person ever!"

"What about me?" Dorea asked, jokingly glaring at her sister.

"I've got you covered," Elia sang as she joined you, placing a matching crown on her head. The older girls looked so pleased with themselves you couldn't help but smile. They'd become such a welcome part of your life, you really didn't want to say goodbye to them either; although Oberyn had already reminded you that it wasn't a goodbye, it was simply a see you soon.

"We'll miss you too," Elia promised looking between yourself and Oberyn, "who is going to spend their time helping me train? No one knows anything as much as Papa!"

"I think you know what you're doing," Oberyn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him and pressing a kiss to the side of her head, "the next time I see you're going to be even better than me."

"Never," Dorea giggled at her sister, shrieking slightly as Elia started to chase after her, eventually managing to catch up and gently tackle her in the soft grass, "no one is as good as Papa!"

"I will be even better," Elia tickled her, causing the younger girl to giggle wildly. You couldn't help but giggle yourself, watching the chaotic scene unfold in front of you. You were going to miss this - them. All of them, including Ellaria.

"Do you really have to leave?" Obella asked softly, looking at you with an expression that so much reminded you of her father, "you can't stay?"

"I'm sorry, my love," he pulled her in right and hugged her tightly, "but do not worry, our separation will only be brief this time."

"Promise?" Loreza mumbled half asleep against your shoulder. You kissed the side of your head and held her close. What you didn't notice was how intently your husband was watching you, his heart melting at the sight of you being so gentle with the small girl. Even if he wouldn't have admitted it, having you get along with his daughters was incredibly important to him. And seeing how well you had bonded with them had stirred something within him...something he couldn't quite explain. But the look of pure love and adoration on his face said it all to anyone who saw it.

"I promise, we both do," you insisted, looking at Oberyn who just only nodded in response, "once we return to Sunspear, you'll have to come and see us. We'll do lots of fun things and you can stay as long as you desire."

"Really?!" Obella's face lit up as you exchanged a quick look with Oberyn as the two of you nodded.

"I think all the excitement got to this one," you said softly, resting your head on top of Loreza's head. The youngest had fallen asleep in your arms, still hanging onto you for dear life. You turned to Oberyn and he rested his hand on your cheek, his thumb delicately swiping over the high point. You leaned into his touch, flourishing under the warm touch of his hand as you wished this moment would never end.

"She has been ready for bed for some time," Ellaria beamed at the two of you as she came over. She glanced at the small girl in your arms, unsure how you didn't see what a natural you were when it came to children. There was something in her that was positive you possessed a strong maternal instinct, no matter how much you had denied it, "Obella, get your sisters and head inside. It's time to get ready for bed."

"Mama..." she said softly before turning to look back at the two of you. Ellaria remained silent but raised her eyebrows and the young girl understood. She sighed lightly before tightly hugging her father, not letting go for a long time. You were sure you saw the gentle glisten of tears in his eyes as whispered soft reassurances into her ear. Once he let her go, she turned to you and hugged just as tightly. She turned to you with light sniffles and whispered, "bye...bye Papa."

She went and fetched her sisters, both of which were also reluctant to say their goodbyes, even if it was only for a short time. You almost wished you could have just told them it was all a joke and you were staying.

Once the older girls were inside, Ellaria gently took Loreza from you, holding the young girl in her arms. She took your hand in her free one and gave it a gentle squeeze, before doing the same to Oberyn.

“Thank you for coming,” she offered her former lover a fond smile as he nodded, his heart feeling both heavier than he would have liked and lighter than it had in some time. He was happy to have come, having been able to spend time with his daughters, his family, but sad to leave. It was never easy to part with them, any of them. Oberyn snaked an arm around your waist and held you close as you tried to blink back your tears, that familiar burning feeling already welling up, “and you as well, sweet one. Despite our initial bit of rocky start, I am glad we have become friends. You are always welcome in our home.”

“Thank you for everything,” you smiled at her, your eyes meeting her dark ones, a bit of unspoken understanding flitting between the two of you. Ellaria had helped you in more ways than you could count, and you were relieved that things had ended so differently than they started, “I’m sure we’ll be taking you up on the offer whenever possible.”

“Of course,” she was glad to hear it, “and I’ll be taking you up on your offer and shipping these little monsters out to you as soon as you’ll have them. Goodness knows I could use a break from them. Peace and quiet, can you imagine? It has been ages since I’ve experienced either.”

“The girls are always welcome,” Oberyn promised, “as are you, Ellaria. You know that.”

“I do,” she promised. You couldn’t help but yawn lightly as the evening had thoroughly worn you down. Oberyn nudged you lightly towards the house, slightly telling you to get inside and head to bed. Jokingly sticking out your tongue at him, you decided that his idea wasn’t half bad as a deep tiredness started to affect your whole body. You gave Ellaria a tight hug, making sure not to disturb Loreza before heading inside for bed, already missing her and all the girls. It was strange, but they had quickly become such a steadfast staple in your life, and you never wanted to know life without them again. 

Ellaria watched you go, a small smile on her face as she turned back to Oberyn. His eyes had been on you the entire time, which was most decidedly not lost on her. She leaned and kissed his cheek, reaching up and letting her linger on the side of his face, “you love her, you know.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered lamely, barely trying to hide the lie in his voice. She had him hook, line, and sinker, and he knew that she knew. Ellaria probably knew him better than even himself at times. She just raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders, “maybe...I don’t know…”

“Perhaps you don’t,” she agreed with a self satisfied little smile, “but I do. Trust me, dear Oberyn. I can see it in you, and I can see it in her too. Give things time and trust me.”

“I’ve learned to trust you over the years, my dear,” he let out a small sigh, a mixture of content and almost fear. He hadn’t experienced any feelings like what he was currently going through for a long time, and if he was being honest, it was scary. Almost like an unknown abyss that he was plunging head first, and he had no clue what to expect at the bottom, “I suppose you are correct, and only time will tell.”

“She’s good for you,” Ellaria promised him, able to admit to herself that he seemed so lively, so happy with you in his life, “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Don’t let her go. She has much to teach and you much to teach her. You will grow over the years together, just don’t...don’t think too much about it.”

“When is the last time I overthought anything?” he joked before they both burst into laughter.

“When isn’t?” she teased, “sometimes you don’t have to question everything so much, to analyze it so deeply. Sometimes you have to just let things be. And they will be okay; everything happens for a reason, after all. You were meant to find her and she was meant to find you as well. I know you don’t have much faith in anything, but just trust this.”

He found himself at a loss for words, swallowing the lump in his throat as he only nodded at her. Oberyn was a man of reason and logic; if he couldn’t explain it in tangible terms, he often didn’t believe it. But this? This strange attraction, perhaps even love as Ellaria had claimed, had come out of nowhere and so unexpectedly. He had fallen for you the way you fall asleep - slowly and then all at once.  Although, he supposed, if he was really as smart and keen as he thought he was, he would have realized that  something was bound to happen from the moment he laid eyes on you and almost felt his heart stop. He wondered if you felt the same, back then, or even now. He hoped you did; he hoped you were falling as hard for him as he was for you. 

“Come on,” Ellaria put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, pulling him back into reality and out of his little daydream, “let’s get inside. You need to rest, quiet your mind and body, before your early departure, and I need to get the girls to bed.”

“You always were the one to bring me back to reality,” he said softly as he took her hand, trailing a step just behind her. He was glad that they had reached this point in their relationship - no longer lovers, but friends, the best of friends. Oberyn knew he could never live a life without Ellaria, and now he knew he didn’t have to. It was like everything was slowly, and perfectly falling into place.

“I’ll always be here to catch you,” she promised him, “always.”

»»————-　♡　————-«

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, legs tucked under you as you skimmed a few pages of the book you were reading. It was one from Oberyn’s personal collection that you had thought to grab just before leaving to come to Hellholt. You weren’t completely invested in your reading on this particular evening, simply running over the words as you listened intently for Oberyn’s light tread. 

Eventually you ended up so preoccupied with trying to read, and the hundreds of thoughts in your mind that you completely missed the door opening and your husband stepping into the room.

“Hi,” he said softly as to not startle you, but it didn’t work. You almost dropped the book in surprise, but when you realized it was only him, you closed the book with a snap before turning to him. He was smiling at you, but you could tell there was something on his mind. A slight preoccupied look had crept into his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Oberyn?” you asked, standing up and walking over to him. He just shook his head lightly, watching you with the utmost softness before cradling your face in his hands. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he said nothing as he pressed his lips against yours, letting them linger there for a few moments. When he finally pulled away you just beamed at him, reminding him of just why you were his sunshine, “what was that for?”

“No reason,” he whispered, as you just lightly nudged him towards his bed. You sat back on the edge of yours, which happened to be across from his and watched him intently. He started to strip off his overcoat, followed by his tunic, leaving him in only his trousers. You tried not to stare, but it was hard not to let your eyes wander his body. His skin was sunkissed and golden, lightly freckled throughout, only a few scars marring what you considered perfection. Even with the scars, he was still beautiful, far more than any man you had ever seen before. He must have felt you staring because he turned around with a small, cheeky little smirk as he caught your eye, “what? Cat got your tongue?”

“N-no,” you lied as you felt a wave of warmth wash over you, almost embarrassed to have been caught staring. But this was your husband, you reminded yourself, you were allowed to look. He must have been something because just before he turned around to pull down his blankets, he shot you a wink. You burst into a fit of giggles at the gesture, the butterflies practically bursting in your stomach. 

Standing back up, you closed the door to the balcony, and blew out all the lanterns, save for the one near his bedside. Slowly shuffling towards it, you paused in front of it, trying to take one last good look at him before crawling back into your own bed. Putting your hand on the small table, you leaned down to blow out the flicker, but his large hand worked its way onto your wrist, his grip firm, but tender.

“Leave it,” he insisted in a low voice, barely loud enough for you to hear, almost as if he was unsure of himself, “it can burn itself out.”

“A-are you sure?” with your luck, you could imagine something going wrong and catching fire, “I don’t want to accidentally start a fire…”

“Positive,” he insisted, “that way I can look at you.”

“Oberyn,” his name fell off your lips in a shaky whisper as he let go of your wrist and slowly moved to the other side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and slowly looked between you and the space he had created. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what was happening. Naturally, sharing the bed was something that had often crossed your mind, even more so lately with how much closer and closer you were slowly growing. It was bound to happen  at some point, but it still felt like a huge step, and your heart was racing so fast you were positive he could hear it.

Ever the good man that he was, Oberyn had left you with the choice. He would never, ever, force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. But you wanted this, almost desperately so, and it often took up many of your thoughts as you fell asleep at night. To finally get to know what it felt like to lie in his arms? The thought alone was enough to make you burst with excitement. 

Nodding slowly, you brought your lightly trembling hands to the hollow of your throat, untying the bow that held together the light evening robe you had been sporting. You were wearing a very light nightgown underneath, a lovely shade of gold that was lacy in all the right places, and very sheer in others. It still left a little something to the imagination, but there were still nerves present as you let the robe softly drape into a pile on the floor. 

Pausing for a moment, you felt Oberyn’s eyes all over you, taking every little part of you. It didn’t make you feel shy though, and once you caught his eye, you could see that he was observing with nothing but reverence. 

“You are beautiful,” he said softly as you just shook your head, playing it off as you slowly climbed into the large plush bed. Once you were over your initial nerves, you laid down, relaxing and laying your head on one of the soft pillows. He reached down and pulled the blankets back up, helping to ward off the light chill of the cool evening breeze. Oberyn paused and gently touched your face, tracing over your features with a feather light touch, stopping when he reached your lips, “I mean it, sweet sunshine, you are beautiful, in every way.”

“Do you feel obligated to say that because I am your wife and we are sharing a bed?” you mused softly, “because if so, you are under no obligation to say anything. Or do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” he promised firmly, “I am many things, but I am not a liar. I have thought that since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Oh,” you felt warm all over, suddenly glad for only the light bit of illumination that the single lantern allowed, “I....I feel the same way.”

“You think you’re beautiful as well?” he joked lightly, dropping his hand from your face and slowly, gently, draping it over your waist, almost as if he was testing the waters to make sure you were okay with it. You didn’t stop him, melting under the feel of his touch, subconsciously scooting closer to him, “as you should.”

“You are a fool, Oberyn Martell,” you laughed, swatting lightly at his chest, letting your hand linger so you could touch as much of his skin as possible, “I do not think more highly of myself than I need to. But you? You are the most handsome Prince of all. The rumors did not do you justice, they never captured the full extent of your beauty and grace.”

“Now who is flattering who?” he asked as he pulled you closer, causing you to laugh, the sound already beloved by him, like sweet music reaching his ears. 

The two of you laid in silence for some time, watching each other with curious, inquisitive eyes, letting your hands roam, but keeping it sweet and pure. You would be lying to yourself if you said you said you hadn’t thought about this, about making love to him, many times before. But not tonight. No - this felt right. The rest would come later...there was no reason to rush anything. For now, this was perfect, this was everything.

You exchanged a few lazy, slow kisses as you felt your eyes and body getting heavier and heavier with sleep. Eventually, despite your best efforts, you fully succumbed to sleep, all the while Oberyn watched you with what could only be described as pure adoration. He pushed a few stray hairs off your face before pressing light butterfly kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose, and stopping at your lips. You made a small sound, but your eyes remained closed as he pulled you against his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around you. 

Oberyn couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this happy, this content before. He closed his own eyes, letting out a small sigh as he realized how much his heart had been calling for this. How his soul had been searching for yours for so long. Now that he finally had it, he was never going to let go.

“Good night, sweet girl,” he whispered softly so only he could hear it, despite the fact that you were already fast asleep, “I love you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[collisiondiscourse]

on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee​ @isaustraliaathing​

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic. 

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷 出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪 勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes 

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away. 

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

-

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well. 

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other. 

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

-

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

kofi || commission details

[everdreamart]

Read my Thoughts

The journey through Aeor only gets more confusing as eye powers are thrown into the mix.

OR

An accidental telepathy fic where Caleb shares a bit too much to a certain drow.

Relationship: Caleb Widowgast/Essek Thelyss (Shadowgast)

Rating: Teen and Up

~~~~~

Things in Aeor are strange. Magic Especially. A teleport can send you miles away from target, and a spell gone wrong can make you bald! However, Aeor's atrocities were put on the backburner when Jester's weasel turned out to be her 'god' and the red eyes adorning the Empire Kid's bodies started to show power.

Darkvision was one thing that was quite startling to Caleb. He hadn't really noticed it with the constant flow of light emitting from Caduceus' staff and his own globules. It wasn't until Beauregard said something that it really occurred to him. Even more surprising was the telepathy. The ability to transcend one's thoughts into the mind of another. A mental link for shared knowledge. All sorts of possibilities flowed into Caleb's mind. How useful this could be in their upcoming battles with Lucien.

"Woahhhh Caleb I can literally HEAR your thoughts! Slow down a bit!" Jester marveled.

"OH Oh Beau! Can you read my thoughts??" Yasha exclaimed.

"Hey let's give it a try-" Beau smirked.

"Ok who do I love? Oh wait thats dumb.." Yasha mumbled. The rest of them started to laugh a bit.

Caleb shifted his gaze over to Essek. The drow's soft features focused on the commotion going on around him. A confused expression painting his face - no doubt from the sudden talking weasel - in a show of momentary openness. Throughout their travels in Aeor, Essek had slowly let the shadowhand persona slip away. Caleb liked this version much better. The way emotion displayed itself on Essek's face was new and nervous, but the man was truly trying to change. That alone caused something to swell in Caleb's heart.

Immediately, Essek's head snapped up and looked over at Caleb in surprise. Caleb looked away as soon as he turned his head. Did Essek hear him? He needs to get a better hold of this power. Fast. Swallowing hard, Caleb simply nodded, before turning his gaze back to their laughing friends.

-----

After a day of hard trekked travel, the Mighty Nein stumbled into the tower for a night of much needed rest. It was then that Caleb's mind started to wander. What exactly is transmitted through this telepathy? Feelings? Words? Images? The beginning pricks of worry started to crawl into his throat. Would he have to wrestle every one of his thoughts down so the others wouldn't be plagued by his memories? He glanced at the glaring red eye adorning his palm. Thick red lines seared into his skin flawlessly. Watching. Staring. Certainly these powers come with a price. And Caleb didn't know what that price was.

There's nothing he can do right now. Stay on task, Widowgast. Maybe something from the papers he picked up earlier will have more information about their enemy. With an idea for distraction in place, Caleb floats up to the library to begin opening the amber. He settles on a couch opposite from a crackling fireplace as he does so, the comforting warmth washing away the stress of the day.

Piles of books and papers fill the floor in front of him. Excitement and curiosity begin to tug at his mind. Caleb reaches out and grabs one of the dusty old tombs, tracing the foreign writing in awe. So much knowledge, packed in the papers around him. So much information to be learned and so little time.

"It's quite incredible, is it not?" A soft voice comes from behind him as Essek glides over to Caleb, staring at the collection of books.

"Ja. After our business is concluded, I would love to study more of Aeor's history and research."

"Well, we have a few moments now, do we not?" Essek smiled softly as he looked at Caleb.

And just like that, they were off. Reading through ancient texts, occasionally bouncing theories back and forth. The constant whirring of intellect trying to process the thoughts of mages from far beyond their time. It was invigorating.

However, from time to time, Caleb found it hard to keep his focus. His eyes constantly wandering back to the drow sat beside him, nose buried in a book. His thin white brows creased into a focused expression, eyes full of wonder and curiously, devouring the age old texts. The way his mouth would curl into a subtle smile when he found a particularly interesting section of text. Or how he would nibble at his lower lip when frustrated about something. He wondered if those lips would feel as good as he imagined. How soft and delicate.. Oh how glad Caleb is to have moments like these, just him and Essek.

At some point while Caleb was lost in his thoughts, Essek looked up. Violet eyes meeting blue ones.

"I uh.." Essek clears his throat. " I found a section that you might find to be interesting." He smiles and looks away.

Oh.

How much did he hear? How many of those thoughts slipped through in his tired state? Apparently enough for the subtle hints of purple creeping on the edges of Essek's ears to catch Caleb's attention.

"I think it's time for me to head to bed. I require more sleep than you do, after all," Caleb said as he stood up. It was awkward, for a moment. The silence was heavy, and he didn't dare steal a look at the drow beside him.

-----

Having your thoughts known to others feels like quite a violation of privacy. Caleb thought as he laid in his bed. I need to get a hang of this.

It took a while for him to get even close to falling asleep, for his mind was racing with thoughts.

He was on the edge of consciousness when he heard a small knock on his door. Surely all the nein are well into their sleep right now, so that means that the only person this could be is… a lump formed in Caleb's throat as he opened the door. Essek stood in front of him, a foreign expression adorned on his face.

"I hope I wasn't disrupting your rest. I would like to talk… if you don't mind?" He spoke softly as Caleb gestured him into the room.

It caught Caleb's attention immediately that the man wasn't floating, but walking instead. They sat on the couch as he responded, "Ah, I was having some trouble sleeping. You weren't interrupting anything. What is it you would like to discuss friend?"

"I ah.." He fidgeted with his fingers. The drow wasn't wearing his usual mantle, but instead the more comfortable robes that were provided to him from the tower. Caleb let his eyes momentarily linger on the way the clothing frames Essek's small figure. The way the deep blues and purples frame his gorgeous dark skin. Caleb promptly tries very hard to stuff these thoughts down.

"I took notice of the recent… developments of the eyes on beauregard's and your bodies. It… concerns me. The acquisition of such powers surely means that something was taken in exchange, and I am unsure of what that was." Essek says with worry laced in his voice. His eyes rise to meet Caleb's.

"..ja. I too am a bit uneasy about the current situation. Though it just makes our goal that much more important, does it not?" He replied, flashing a faint reassuring smile.

"I guess it does." The other wizard's gaze falls to his lap.

'That's not really what you came here to talk about. Is it?' Slips from Caleb's mind before he can even think to stop it.

The drow visibly flinches in surprise, then sighs slightly. "There was something else on my mind, yes."

Caleb slowly, ever so slowly, reaches his hand over to touch Essek's. "I'm here if something is wrong."

He is very aware of what Essek was referring to. However, he doesn't know what is going through the other man's brain, as thin smooth fingers meet his calloused ones halfway. A slight smile plays at the corners of Essek's mouth, and Caleb once again feels his focus begin to slip. He focuses on the feeling of Essek's hand in his. Soft skin, clearly not used to the harsher weather of the frozen wasteland as of late, his fingers only rough in the areas where one would hold a quill.

Strands of silver-white hair hover on his forehead, slightly covering vibrant violet eyes. Oh it is a sight to behold. Dark skin growing impersivibly darker. How he works at his bottom lip nervously. Caleb finds himself fighting back the desperate want to feel this man against him. To hold him close and study his features on a much more intimate level. Essek's ear twitches.

"I ah… I thank you for your.. Compliments..?" He stutters out as his face flushes an even darker shade of purple.

Something inside of Caleb breaks, and he finds it becoming increasingly harder to hold back the growing need to bring the wizard close.

"I apologize for not being able to return such… appraisal," the drow mumbles out, looking anywhere but Caleb's eyes. His other hand raises up Caleb's arm, settling on the crook of his neck. "I hope I can live up to your expectations, Widowgast." He smiles nervously.

Caleb's mind goes blank. Soft lips brush his own and his restraint vanishes. They crash together in feverish movements, a warm pressure on his lips that grounds him in the moment. It's so much better than he could've ever imagined. The sensation of Essek's mouth on his is something he wants to savor forever. He wants to memorize every movement and feeling of the man pushing against him, as if this was a rare slip-up and it would never happen again. Maybe he was dreaming after all, but the feeling of Essek starting to nibble at his lower lip quickly reassures him that this is very much real.

Something sharp catches Caleb's lip, and he recoils a bit in surprise. Essek immediately pulls back, a flash of worry crossing his face.

"Fangs." Caleb mutters out, breathless. "I was not aware you had fangs."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" he gets cut off by Caleb leaning in once more, capturing his mouth hungerly. His fingers lace through Essek's hair as he pushes onto him, desperate to be closer. More. He wants more.

Apparently Essek heard him, as the drow parts his mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Caleb runs his tongue over the sharpened points of Essek's fangs, feeling a shiver as he does so. They merge together, desperate to taste each other. To explore every inch. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wants this moment to last forever.

They pull away after what feels like hours, but still isn't long enough. Essek's breath dances on Caleb's lips, mere inches away. Caleb smiles and presses another quick kiss to Essek's mouth.

"I think you far surpassed my expectations, Thelyss."

[hiddendreamer67]

Chasing the Captain

Here’s a piece set in the mer au au (or reverse mer au) made by the talented @voidsides. Roman is a merman prince who has fallen desperately in love with pirate captain Virgil, who he follows around constantly trying to woo his grumpy human crush. 

Read more of my work at @hiddendreamerwriting!

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Captain Virgil stood aboard his ship, gazing out at the waves as the vessel continued to cross the sea. Such a vast, unforgiving landscape, the ocean- Virgil could stare into its depths for ages, knowing that a single storm could bring him plummeting into its unforgiving murky secrets. It gave him a strange sort of chill, bringing his life up to the edge and spitting in destiny’s face instead, riding along the waves like a tamed wild steed. Sometimes it felt as though he could speak to the sea itself, whispering for him to jump in and the horrible consequences that would befall him below…

And sometimes, the sea did more than whisper.

“Cap’n, it’s back.” A crew member jutted his thumb towards the hull of the ship. Virgil groaned, already hearing that melodious voice as he approached.

“Oh Captain my captain, your ship may be steady in her course but I am more so!” 

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes as he stepped up to peer over the rail. There, following the ship diligently was that same dreaded mer folk. Ruby red scales sparkling in the setting sun, the creature looked almost out of breath but was attempting to hide this with a dazzling smile.

“I thought we lost you in the storm.” Virgil drawled, sounding almost disappointed. It had been a blessed few days of silence. 

“Captain, a pleasure it is to see you as well!” The mer lit up at the sight of Virgil, completely ignoring the captain’s statement. “Don’t you look ravishing this fine evening, care for a dip?”

Virgil flipped him off.

“Ah, I see your manners are as lovely as ever.” The creature appeared a bit peeved, but a simple hand gesture wouldn’t deter him. If it would, Virgil would have seen the beast off a hundred times over. “Perhaps a song will lighten your spirits~”

“Fuck off, siren.” Virgil called out to him. Once upon a time, Virgil believed this creature to truly be a siren, a being of the sea that enchanted sailors to sink to their doom. Now Virgil wasn’t so sure, as to be around a siren for this long should’ve meant the death of his entire crew; either this was a very incompetent siren, or a very stubborn and foolish mer folk. 

And given Virgil has had the pleasure of hearing the creature sing, he knew it was the latter.

Just as promised, the mer began to hum, easily picking a tune out of the air. Virgil grimaced, turning away from the rail and heading towards his quarters before the song could lure him into a false sense of security. 

“Oh, ‘tis the pearl one.” One deckhand commented. “That’s me favorite, tha’ is.” 

“Bet he’d love if you told it so.” The other teased. 

Virgil groaned, turning to the pair with a scowl. “Don’t encourage it. I forbid you.”

“Oh Cap’n, wouldn’t matter if we said nothin’.” The first assured him. “Tha’ creature has eyes only for yourself.”

Virgil flushed, steadfastly ignoring how the man’s implications made him feel a strange hum in his chest. “Ridiculous.” He scoffed, slamming his door shut before he could be hackled further.

Unfortunately, there was some truth to his men’s words. For whatever reason, this beast had chosen Virgil and would accept no other. Virgil had tried every trick in the book to avoid the mer, short of retiring to land. He boarded a new ship. He sailed new waters. He holed up in his quarters. No matter what maneuvers Virgil tried, within a matter of time the mer would always, always return, and not leave until Virgil had interacted with it. 

In the beginning, the very idea of such a curse terrified Virgil. What could the siren possibly want? How long until Virgil was inevitably drowned like all the countless tales? Why was Virgil singled out above all others? But as time passed… for whatever reason, Virgil’s fears morphed into a more quiet curiosity. For whatever reason, the creature seemed to mean him no harm.

So what did it want with him?

Virgil sighed, once again looking out his porthole window at the dark frothy waves. The sun had set some time ago, giving the waters an even more ominous ambience. The singing, now that Virgil was focusing on it, had ended some time ago. Virgil paused, surprised to see the mer was not pressed up against the glass as he was wont to do. Perhaps the last time Virgil had scolded him about “freaking PRIVACY-” had finally gotten through his thick skull. 

(It had been rather alarming to find eyes peering in from the murky depths when he was changing. At least the creature had the decency to be sheepish as well.)

Virgil hummed for a moment, drumming his fingers on the desk. Begrudgingly realizing he wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing if the mer was truly gone, Virgil grabbed a tankard and headed up to the deck. 

The captain headed back to the hull of the ship, peering into the path they carved in the ocean. No eyes peered back at him. He took a swig of his rum, slowly circling the length of the ship and examining the waves. No sign of his mer anywhere.

Why was he disappointed?

Virgil sighed, nursing his drink as he attempted to sort out his thoughts. What did he care if the sea serpent wanted to leave? He didn’t care.

Virgil winced, knowing his words were both harsh and pathetic. It wasn’t right to call him a serpent, not when he had done nothing but try to earn Virgil’s trust. Not when he had a name. 

Virgil sighed again, placing his head in his hand. “Oh, Roman…”

“You remembered!”

The captain jolted, so lost in his thoughts (and his drink) that he had failed to notice the mer slinking up in the waves. And now Roman was properly grinning, his teeth on full display as he was clearly delighted both at Virgil’s statement and catching the captain unawares.

Virgil huffed, immediately sinking back into his grouchy demeanor and pushing the warm feeling from Roman’s arrival deep down. Deeper than all the oceans combined. “How could I forget? You won’t stop singing your own praises.” 

“Well, I would sing yours.” Roman assured him, leaning his arms on the rail a few paces away. He had learned at sword point to give Virgil personal space. “But you’ve refused to give me your name.”

“Hmm.” Virgil just shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

Roman rolled his eyes, pushing his dripping locks out of his face. “So mysterious. Dark and brooding only keeps a man’s interest for so long, you know. However I am becoming increasingly interested in why you chose to call out to me- does the heart grow fonder, I sense?”

“In your dreams, princey.” Virgil chuckled. Despite his thoughts dwindling on the mer beside him, his gaze was fixed solely on the sea in an almost unfocused trance. 

“A sand dollar for your thoughts?” Roman tilted his head.

Virgil paused, debating whether he should tell Roman what was truly on his mind. It was a dangerous game, one that would admit to Roman’s slow siren games working.

“What would…” Virgil paused, refusing to meet Roman’s gaze. He almost didn’t want to know the answer if the darker truths were correct. What would happen if I joined you? Virgil shuddered, watching the waters churn a bit more dangerously. The sea, dangerous mistress she was, would not be so kind to a landlubber like himself. 

“What do you want with me?” Virgil murmured. “You’re always going on about how you’re so enamored with me, and you keep trying to get me to jump overboard but- but why?! What could you hope to gain? Stringing me along for the ride, playing your twisted games-”

“What?!” Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw Roman’s eyes go wide as saucers. “My captain, my tempter, my beautiful anxious two-legged fool… do you really think so lowly of me? Are my affections all some ploy to you?”

Virgil winced, turning to face Roman fully. He expected the mer to look outraged, insulted even. What he didn’t expect was the pained pleading expression he got in return. 

“It’s not so difficult a notion.” Virgil shrugged, hiding his shame behind the lip of his mug. “You have been hunting me for ages.”

Roman let out an offended gasp. “Hunting- how barbaric a notion! Courting, I’ve been courting you, my insufferable flame.”

Virgil all but choked on his drink. 

“Or trying, at the very least.” Despite his bold words, Roman had gone rather red in the face as well. “A-and you should count yourself lucky that I continue to try! You haven’t exactly made yourself easy to woo.”

Virgil coughed down some more liquor, needing the liquid courage to get through this conversation. He coughed again, trying to regain his composure. “So- I ask again, why? Why keep ‘courting’ me-” Virgil found a sour taste on his tongue at such an outdated phrase- “if all I do is push you away? Why don’t you leave me alone?”

Roman’s tail agitated the water, a sign Virgil had learned meant the mer was feeling uncertain. It was a more common sight than the mer would ever admit. “I… surely you don’t mean that, do you?”

Virgil just raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I think of this as a game, I suppose, it’s true.” Roman admitted, his fingers trailing down into the water with an outstretched hand. “But I thought you were playing along. I guess a part of me always suspected that was just my wild fantasies, though.”

“Oh?” Virgil frowned.

“Why, you must think me terribly annoying.” Roman’s ear flaps flattened to his head as the mer sunk further down. “Perhaps I was the only one who… I wanted to be wanted. Is that so terrible? To imagine a smirk upon your features every time I surfaced? I know you slow the boat down when I’ve been missing, giving me the chance to catch up.”

“I do no such thing.” Virgil lied through his teeth. 

Roman sunk further, clearly too stuck in his own gloomy thoughts to catch wind of Virgil’s terrible lie. He met the captain’s gaze, looking pitifully pathetic.

“If you truly want me to go, I’ll go.” Roman spoke softly. Virgil sucked in a breath. “I won’t chase you down any longer. You’ll be free of me. Is that what you wish?”

Virgil stared at him for a very long time, gazing deep into those beautiful brown eyes. He only found sincerity in their depths. Now was his chance to get rid of this mer once and for all; if he told Roman to go, he would never see the mer again.

“...no.” Virgil sighed. “That’s not what I want.”

It was quiet for a moment, only the rippling of the waves to be heard. And then, Roman leaned over and punched Virgil in the arm.

“Ow!” Virgil looked at him aghast, surprised by Roman’s strength. “What’s that about?”

“You jerk!” Roman hissed. “You rotten fiend-”

“What happened to oh captain, my captain-?”

“How dare you play with my heart like that!” Roman’s lip went out in the most adorable pout. “You made me actually doubt for a moment, thinking I had been nothing more than a burden to you all this time, wasting my best years on someone who didn’t care.”

Virgil had been teasing at first, wanting to rile up the fish to see what happened; he never meant to make Roman truly upset. “You’re right, that was cruel of me.”

“Hmph.” Roman turned away from him. 

Virgil smirked, feeling more than a little emboldened by his booze. “Can I make it up to you with a gift?”

Roman’s ear flaps twitched, the mer sending him a glance. He gave Virgil a coy smile, poorly hiding his genuine excitement. “For moi?”

“Yup.” Virgil leaned closer, dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Virgil.” He leaned back, letting out a loud laugh at Roman’s befuddled expression. He took another swig of his drink, turning to head in for the night. “Wha- what does ‘Virgil’ mean?” Roman desperately asked.

“It’s my name, dumbass!” Virgil laughed over his shoulder. He turned back just long enough to drink in the look on Roman’s face, giving the shocked mer a hearty salute before closing his door.

The next morning, Virgil awoke with a pounding headache. He groaned, trying to stave off his hangover with some water as he headed to the deck. It didn’t help that every crew member he passed kept giving him a knowing smirk.

“Have a pleasant eve, Cap’n?” The deckhand asked, Virgil’s head tilted to take in the melody rising from the ocean. He groaned when he heard the words. 

~ Arise my sweet Virgil,the pearl of the sea~ 

~Oh Virgil, my Virgil, forever we’ll be~

All variations of his usual songs, inserting Virgil’s name in as many places as possible. Clearly Roman had enjoyed his gift, no matter how much Virgil was beginning to regret it.

“And this is why you don’t talk to sirens, lads.” Virgil shook his head, muttering under his breath and refusing to head to that side of the ship as his cheeks turned scarlet. “Feed scraps to a hound and it will follow you to the end of your days.”

“Aye, and what a pup you’ve fed.” The lookout chuckled, gazing through an eyeglass back at the mer.