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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Text

My Fighter

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: When a serial killer you arrested breaks out of prison, you and your team are tasked with finding him. You lie to the team and meet with the killer, but Street rushes to help you and reminds you why he can't lose you.

Warnings: canon-typical violence and action (OC serial killer, depiction of murder scenes, mentions of blood and murder, threats), angst, fluff and comfort at the end. there are a few references from various episodes but no spoilers!

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Street, hands to yourself, please. This is a workplace and I’m trying to make sure this raid goes well,” Hicks says.

Street ignores Hicks’ request, as well as Hicks’ obvious exasperation as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Street,” you whisper, shrugging one shoulder up.

“Fine,” he grumbles, removing his hands from your sides.

“Thank you,” Hicks sighs. “Now, you’ve got blueprints and Hondo’s breach plan is good. Deac, let’s not have another Schupatz situation, okay? Everyone stay where you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m still shocked you remembered him,” Luca comments.

“Everyone remembers big arrests,” Hondo argues. “And Deac’s just a good friend.”

“It’s true,” Deacon agrees. “First arrests are typically memorable.”

“Someone say something about memorable first arrests?” Rocker interjects from the doorway. “Mine was a drug maker. Not a seller or user, manufacturer.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Hondo calls. “Our girl over here took down a serial killer for hers.”

“I got lucky,” you say softly.

“How so?” Rocker inquires.

“He killed one of my friends. Tried to cover his tracks, but I knew her well enough to spot every little inconsistency.”

Rocker nods before his team calls for him. As he walks away, Hicks goes over the details of your current case once more. Street’s hand returns to your back as a silent comfort after talking about one of the toughest cases you’ve ever worked on. Hicks doesn’t mention it this time but gives you an encouraging nod as you walk out of the situation room.

Hondo’s phone rings as you climb back into Black Betty after a successful raid. He furrows his brows and mumbles, “Someone’s more overbearing than usual,” before he answers the call on speaker.

“Commander,” Hondo greets.

“Back to the station. Now,” Hicks demands.

“Yes, sir. But the raid was good, so we’ve got another-“

“There was a breakout at the state prison,” Hicks interrupts. “We need 20-David on this.”

“We’re on it,” Tan agrees.

“Are you all here?” Hicks asks.

“Yes, sir,” your squad says together.

Hicks sighs, and you can picture him rubbing his jaw before he says, “Noah Oliguria broke out.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of his name, and you turn toward Hondo to make sure you heard Hicks correctly. Street moves to your side, and you know that you did. Your first arrest, the man who killed your friend, a serial killer who was supposed to be off the streets until he took his last unworthy breath, is now running free in Los Angeles.

“Where’d he go?” you ask quietly.

“He stole a van,” Hicks says, “we’ve been tracking it on traffic cams, but we need S.W.A.T. ready to roll the moment we have an opening.”

“He’s going to kill again.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do. When I put the cuffs on him, he promised that someday he would kill again. He’s not out for tacos, Commander, he broke free to get back to what he knows.”

“It’s okay,” Street says softly.

He lays an arm over your shoulders, and you lean against him as Hicks tells Hondo more about what they know. You don’t care about how Noah broke out; you want to ensure he gets put back in. With Street beside you, your anger begins melting into fear. The last time Noah was on the streets of Los Angeles, a lot of people died, including someone you cared about deeply. That won’t happen again – it can’t, not while you can stop him.

“We’ll get him,” Hondo promises as he ends the call. “And you’re not alone this time.”

Your leg bounces with bottled anxiety as you sit outside the situation room. Dressed in your gear, you are ready to go. The rest of your team is inside with Hicks, but they decided it would be best if you didn’t have to relive the initial case against Noah. You remember it too well, anyway.

“Hey,” Street says as he lowers to sit beside you.

His hand lands on your knee, and you slow your breathing and movement at his touch.

“Hondo thinks we may have a lead. If you want to sit this one out, though, no one will blame you,” Street explains.

“I can’t sit here and do nothing, Jim.”

“I get it,” Street promises, nodding.

“You’re not helping,” you mumble as you look at him.

Street’s hand moves from your knee to the side of your thigh as you move. He furrows his brows at your comment, and you offer a small smile.

“You’re being really serious.”

“Oh, right,” Street agrees playfully. “Would you prefer a joke or just a generic sarcastic comment?”

You tap your chin as you think, but as your worry disappears (one of Street’s superpowers, you think), Hicks yells for 20 Squad to get ready to roll. Street’s hand slips into yours as you rush to Black Betty, and you can only hope to beat Noah Oliguria this time.

“Don’t,” Hondo demands as you step to his side. He extends an arm across your chest and shakes his head. “You don’t want to go in there.”

You turn away from him and press your fists harshly into your sides. Too late again. Last time you found one of Noah’s victims, it was your friend, and she had endured a bitter end until she couldn’t anymore. Despite your determination to stop him again, Hondo is right; you’ve seen enough of Noah’s work to know you don’t want to see anymore.

“He’s not going to stop, Deacon,” you say as he exits the building. “We don’t have time to go back to H.Q. and wait for a lead.”

“We don’t have to,” Street calls. “He left us one.”

You and Deacon rush toward Street, who lifts a blood-covered motel keycard. Noah’s, you assume. It’s not much, but it’s something. As you sit beside Street while Luca drives to the motel, you can feel your heart and stomach flipping with anxiety and memories you’d rather forget.

Street takes your hand and squeezes three times. Part of you wants to climb into his arms and never come out, but the other argues that you have a duty to the men and women that Noah has already killed and those he plans to. No one on your team would force you to sit this case out, but if Noah gets close to anyone you love, you won’t have a choice.

“Hondo,” you say. “Can I make entry?”

He nods slowly before agreeing. Noah has tried to taunt you from behind bars before, but if you see him face-to-face, you’ll let him know he will never get under your skin. You’re not scared of Noah Oliguria, but the idea of losing someone else to him terrifies you.

After you exit Black Betty, you run silently toward the room listed on the key. There’s an overturned housekeeping cart beside the door, and you nudge it out of the way. A blood-soaked towel falls from the laundry bin, and you don’t hesitate to kick the door open.

Street enters behind you, but your sudden stop causes him to grab your hips as he tries to stay upright. The scene on the bed holds your attention, though. Noah never seemed to have a type about who he killed. He simply liked the act, the blood between his fingers, a pulse fading under his touch as the life faded from his victim’s eyes. That’s why this scene is so wrong.

“It was too fast,” you murmur.

“Motives change,” Hondo points out. “He’s been locked up, maybe he- maybe he’s making up for lost time.”

“No, the first one was right.” You look around quickly before you decide, “He heard us coming. We just missed him.”

“That tracks,” Luca agrees. “M.E. said the first body had only been there about ten minutes. We’re not far behind him.”

“Far enough,” you snap. “We cannot let him kill again.”

Hondo looks at Street, who nods before grabbing your shoulders. He steers you out of the room with a loving but firm grip, and you let him lift you into Black Betty as you remember what Noah did on the other side of the motel wall.

“He’s going to keep killing,” you whisper.

You hold Street’s wrists as he kneels before you. He nods but doesn’t look away from you as the coroner and a detective arrive.

“You know it takes time. What he did to your friend, to you, was awful. Getting over that is impossible, but we can’t rush this,” he says.

“I know that. But… it feels like it’s my fault. I caught him once; why can’t I do it again?”

“It took you months.”

You shake your head and prepare to argue, but Street leans closer as his hands move to either side of your neck, his thumbs brushing over your jaw.

“Honey,” he murmurs. “It took you time, then, too. Be patient with yourself, okay? Those women, their blood isn’t on your hands, and you’re going to go crazy pushing yourself like this.”

“We’ll catch him eventually, right?”

“We always do.”

Street moves up to kiss your forehead before he sits beside you. The team joins you in Black Betty a moment later with another clue to chase. It feels like a breadcrumb trail, but you will always be too far behind, too slow to catch the man leaving the trail. Street keeps his hand in yours as Luca exits the motel parking lot and you gladly accept the comfort.

Your phone rings as Hondo explains the clue they found: a receipt for dry-cleaning to be picked up down the road in just under an hour. It’s an unknown number, but Hondo permits you to answer it anyway. With your helmet still on, you answer it and immediately switch it to speaker. You don’t speak before someone says your name.

“Heard you’re with S.W.A.T. now. Guess that puts a new meaning on the term ‘chasing’ me, huh?”

You recognize his voice immediately and try to end the call. Street grabs your hand gently and shakes his head, and Hondo motions for you to keep him talking.

“Noah,” you force out. “What do you want?”

“Ten years ago, you arrested me because I made some mistakes. That’s what you said at the trial. I didn’t make mistakes. Your friend was a fighter, and she wrecked her apartment. Someone leaving clues isn’t a mistake. Speaking of your friend… how’s her family?”

“What do you want?” you repeat slowly.

“To catch up. 12th and Maple, tonight at 8. Just you and me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill someone else. Actually, I have a better idea… for every half hour that you don’t show, I will kill another woman in L.A. How’s that for reason to come?”

“Pretty good,” you agree. “12th and Maple?”

“Right. See you tonight. Maybe wear one of those outfits that your friend liked so much.”

The line beeps as he ends the call, and you drop your phone into your lap.

“You’re not going,” Jim says.

“Yes, I am,” you argue.

“No, you’re not. We’re not letting you go off alone to meet an escaped serial killer!” Hondo adds.

“And I’m not letting him kill more women!”

“He’s going to kill anyway,” Jim says. “And he may try to kill you. Please, just trust us and don’t go meet him alone.”

“We’ll ask Hicks about setting something up,” Deacon offers. “Maybe no one else has to die.”

“Okay,” you agree. “But… I think I need some time. Can I take a little while this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Hondo answers. “As much time as you need.”

“I’ll take you home,” Street offers.

“Thank you, but I- I need to be alone right now.”

Street nods, and you lean back for the remainder of the ride to H.Q. You’re lying, but think Jim believes you. Deacon’s right, no one else is going to die at the hands of Noah Oliguria, and you’re going to make sure of that.

“East Ducasse Alley off 12th and Crocker,” you say to yourself as you drive through the garment district for your 8 o’clock meeting.

You changed the meeting place to ensure your team couldn’t arrest Noah before you got answers. They think you’re at home right now, and the meet has been called off, but as you exit your car and walk into the alley, you wish you’d told them the truth.

“Jim Street,” Street says as he answers the phone. His attention is on the screen before him until the person on the other end of the line speaks.

“So, I’ve heard. You’ve got good taste in women, picked a fighter… I guess we’ll see if she’s strong enough to fight someone like me, huh?” Noah Oliguria taunts.

The call ends immediately after Noah finishes. Street pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since you let him know you got home, and either Noah thinks the meet is still happening, or you lied.

He opens his tracker app that lets him see where your phone is. Because of your job and its risks, you agreed to let your entire team see your location, though you can turn it off whenever you want. Lucky for Jim, you never remember the ghost mode capability. He sees the small dot with your initials on it at the end of an alley in the fashion district and abandons what he was working on.

“Hondo!” he yells as he exits the situation room. “She went to meet Noah! They changed the location.”

“How do you know?” Hondo inquires.

“He called me. Said we’d found out how much of a fighter she really is.”

“20 Squad!” Hondo calls. “We’re rolling!”

Tan raises his arms in question, but when Luca sees the concern on Street’s face, he yells for everyone to get to Black Betty. Time is limited, but you are family, so they’ll risk everything to get to you.

Noah slides his phone into his pocket as you near him. You stop with several yards between you and cross your arms over your chest in the dirty alley.

“I’m here,” you say. “What now?”

“You remind me a lot of her,” Noah replies. “When she opened the door of her apartment, I knew she’d be special. Even after she got me caught, she stayed special. You know why?”

“I’m not here for a trip down memory lane,” you snap.

“She was special because she led me to you. I watched you move around her place so easily, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you’d walked in instead of her.”

“If you just brought me here to tell me that you want to kill me, I’m calling my backup to take you back to the cell you came from.”

“What backup? Your boyfriend Street was still at the station when I called. We’re alone, and we’ve got plenty of time for that trip down memory lane. I had to finish early because of your team once today, and I won’t let it happen again.”

Noah rushes toward you, and you bend your knees slightly to catch his shoulders before impact. He flips onto the ground and pulls you with him. As you fight for the upper hand, you see a knife, a gun, and something else under his shirt. He came prepared to kill you and to make it hurt.

“You made another mistake,” you taunt as you kick him off of you. “I was never going to come alone.”

“Luca, a little faster!” Street yells.

“I’m going, Streeter,” Luca replies calmly. “We’ll get there.”

“We haven’t been ahead of him since the moment he walked out of that prison.”

“Street, you have to keep it together for her,” Deacon says. “If you go in there like this, you won’t be able to help anyone.”

“She thinks their blood is on their hands,” Street responds. “But if anything happens to her, it’s all on me. I let her go.”

“We all did,” Hondo adds. “But we’re in a position to help her before anything can happen. So, let’s keep it tight, stay liquid, and fight for our own.”

“30 seconds!” Luca alerts the team as he nears your location.

“Okay,” Street agrees. “Let’s do this.”

Noah’s knife falls from his waistband as he pulls you across the asphalt. You try to hide your yell of pain and use his own momentum to knock him over your head. Turning quickly onto your stomach, you begin to push yourself up before Noah moves the barrel of his gun into your face. You stop immediately, frozen on your hands and knees.

“I was right,” he says past a bloodied lip. “You’re putting up a better fight than her.”

“Then let’s keep going,” you reply.

“I don’t think so. Not here.”

Noah takes one hand from the gun and pulls a pair of handcuffs and a rope from his pocket. That’s what you couldn’t place earlier: the handcuffs. They look like they already have blood on them, and you wonder if it’s his or someone else’s. While he’s distracted and moving, you raise your hands and push his arms away from you. The gun falls to the ground, and you shove Noah backward and against the wall behind him.

He grunts before laughing, and you clench your jaw when you realize he closed one end of the handcuffs around your left wrist.

“I’m a fighter too,” he says lowly.

“You’re a coward with a gun,” you accuse.

“Don’t.”

“Or what?”

He kicks your shin, and your legs slide out from under you as you fall to the ground. With his knife retrieved from the ground, Noah steps back to look at you. Your gun is digging into your back, and you take the opportunity to tug against the handcuff. He’s standing on the other end, and as one hand moves beside Noah, you pull your gun from its holster.

Noah steps back to your side and poises the knife above your chest. He raises it, prepared to plunge the blade between your ribs and debilitate you before he treats your death like a toy for his enjoyment until you break, and he has to replace you with another victim.

“Remember when I said you’d never kill me?” you ask. “I meant it.”

Noah’s face hardens as he tightens his grip on the knife. He raises it a touch higher, and just as he prepares to swing down, his eyes widen as a shot echoes in the empty alley. Noah drops the knife, and you ignore it as it lands on your stomach. His hand falls to the wound in his abdomen before he falls back. You tip your head back against the road and take a deep breath. Someone yells your name, and you sit up quickly with your gun still grasped tightly between your hands. The knife clatters as it falls from your movement, and you lower your weapon when you see Street running toward you. Hondo has his hand to his ear, likely calling for backup and an ambulance for Noah, who is still conscious and groaning in pain.

Street takes your gun and knocks the knife away from your side. He raises his gloved hands to your face and tilts your head gently as he searches your skin for any sign of injury. You hook your fingers over his wrists as you lean toward him.

“Jim,” you breathe out. “You came.”

He nods and you appreciate the silent promise that he will always come. Before you can think to ask, he retrieves a key from his pocket and removes the bloody handcuff from your wrist. He flips your hand to ensure the blood isn’t yours before giving you room to stand.

You lower your hands to the concrete and push yourself up while Street hovers beside you as you stagger with each movement. An ambulance approaches the end of the alley, but you don’t look toward Noah. He screams as Deacon applies pressure to his wound, and you turn toward Street.

“Get her out of here,” Hondo calls. “Hicks said she’s good to give her statement in the morning.” He looks at you to ask, “You good?”

“Can’t complain,” you answer. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Just give us a heads-up next time, would you?”

“No, we won’t have a next time,” Street adds.

You nod as Street leads you to your car. He takes the keys from your pocket and helps you into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. You each have a lot to say, but he stays quiet as he navigates through LA and drives toward your home.

Once you’re inside, changed, and comfortable in Jim’s arms, you have the space to talk and fall apart. He has a firm arm around your waist as the other holds your head against his shoulder. Your arms are wrapped over his shoulders as you breathe against him. You’re in pain, but nothing could make you separate yourself from Jim in this moment.

“I’m sorry I went without telling you. I’m sorry for going at all after you asked me not to,” you apologize against Jim's shirt.

Jim’s hand moves from your head to your back as he rubs comforting strokes against your spine. His hand slips under your shirt at the bottom, and you lean further against him with the unhindered contact.

“I’m not mad at you,” he promises. “Noah called me.”

“He told me he called you and you were at the station, so you weren’t coming. What’d he say to you?” you ask as you pull back to see Jim’s face.

“Basically, that he was going to hurt you. He said he was going to make you fight and see how good you really are. I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, listen. I don’t want to lose you, and that’s why I asked you not to go. Not because I don’t trust you or I’m scared of Noah, anything like that. But he was after you and I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too,” you reply softly.

“Then could you maybe try to act like it every once in a while?”

Street smiles, and your lips quirk up to match. You lean forward and kiss him, smiling against his lips as his hand travels across your back to bring you closer.

“I’ll remember that from now on,” you promise as you pull back. “And try not to do anything that could take me from you. I love you. I love you so much, Jim.”

“You know that none of this was your fault, right?” Street asks as he moves his hand from your hip to your cheek.

“Thanks to you, I do. You got me through today.”

“Kind of what I’m here for.”

“I see you chose sarcastic comments without me.”

“Well, you never answered the question.”

You shake your head lovingly and return to your previous position against Street’s shoulder. You love him, and you know he loves you; the comfort, reminders of what you mean to him, and how he treats you leave no room for doubt. Lying to him and risking your life, putting him in a place where he could lose you, wasn’t worth it.

“Can you say it again?” you ask, trailing a hand up Street’s chest and to his jaw.

“Say what?”

“You called me honey earlier.”

Street turns his face against your hand and leans into your touch as he says, “I love you, honey, and I’m going to tell you with every breath I have left.”

You smile shyly at the new pet name but take the opportunity to tease, “Hicks will love that.”

“Doesn’t matter, because I love you.”

Street pulls you into another kiss, and though you know life will never be easy, loving Jim Street is.

#hanna writes✯#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fic #jim street imagine #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader #requests

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succcession · 1 year

Note

I have a request for Kendall!!!! I imagine him and the reader being on the verge of divorce and him being a possessive almost ex husband and making a scene every time a man breaths near the reader and them fighting and screaming at each other and then having the best make up angry sex of their lives.

Your mind is phenomenal, I hope you like it!

Marriage Make Up

Kendall Roy x f!reader smut 4.1k word count

You tried with Kendall. You really tried. It started with the coke. Which you could look past for awhile. Occasionally, suggesting various detoxes and rehab facilities, always trying to let him know you were there for him. Free from judgment. You knew who Kendall was when you married him, the addictions he struggled with. The trauma. However, the day you stood in front of him, your handmade white dress flowing, a traditional veil being lifted from your eyes to kiss him. You promised yourself you were going to be there for him. No matter what happened.

That was until the coke turned into ignoring all phone calls, never coming home, forgetting birthdays, and daily drunk 3am texts that clearly weren’t intended for you. You threatened Kendall that if this is how the marriage was going to be, you couldn’t be a part of it. But honestly they were empty threats. When you had made that initial promise, you meant it.

That was until the escorts.

You were awoken one morning by the ringtone of your phone, slowly blinking your eyes open as the sound grew louder. You threw your arm over searching to find the warmth of your husband's body sleeping next to you. Instead, being greeted by the now too common fabric of the cold sheets. You began rummaging through the pile of king size blankets searching your buzzing phone, eventually answering right before a call from Roman Roy went to voicemail.

“Hey! Seen your husband lately?” Roman questioned. Never beginning conversations with any kind of small talk.

“Oh yeah…Kendall, my husband” you scoffed. “At this point I have no idea if he is even still alive.”

“Oh he’s alive alright. All over the news actually… Billionaire Logan Roy's son, Kendall Roy seen leaving NYC restaurant with instagram model Claire Hane.”

Roman read aloud the headline cackling after almost every word.

“That girl is like, known to be an escort! What? Did you stop putting out?” He continued joking.

As soon as Roman had begun reading the headline your heart was pounding. Kendall in the news was rarely a good thing, and with every word out of Roman’s mouth you could feel heat rushing to your face as tears filled your eyes.

Choking on the lump in your throat you struggled to come up with a respond to Romans teasing. You wanted to act unbothered, like you were as heartless as any Roy sibling, unphased. But the tears already streaming down your face clearly proved otherwise.

“I…Fuck” you huffed finally managing to get something out of your quivering mouth. Everyone had warned you with patronizing eyes and scolding fingers when you married Kendall that he was inconsistent, unthoughtful, and “occasionally psychotic” his ex-wife even mentioned. However, you always waved their comments off with a smile. “Yeah, I know he has a lot going on, but I’m in love. And he can be really empathetic! I’ve never had someone take care of me the way that Kendall does. And not just with his wallet!” You explained over and over. Now all of your illusions were quickly shattering. Of anything he could do, cheating was not one you expected. Your sex life was great! At least, you thought. Maybe a little lacking lately, but that was hardly your fault seeing as though he was rarely home. Did he honestly need to pay for sex? Your confidence in him and your confidence in yourself were crashing down right in front of you.

“Look y/n, I’m sure it's not you. My brother is an asshole. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s been a shitty husband.”

Nearly forgetting Roman was on the other line you groaned at what you knew was his attempt to cheer you up. “Thanks Rome, I’m gonna go drink over my failed marriage. Bye.” you mumbled quickly hanging up before Roman got another chance to throw in a heartless joke.

Time appeared to be moving painfully slow after the disheartening events of this morning. After laying in bed clutching your chest and sobbing for what felt like weeks, you eventually pulled yourself into the bathroom. Confronted by your gloomy reflection of swollen eyes, still in shock this was all really happening. That Kendall would really be hiring escorts, and that you would find out from his brother! You decided the only way to distract your distressing mind would be a hot shower. Taking your time to delicately wash your hair and lather every inch of your body with the expensive body soap. Even though Kendall was richer than you could comprehend, you still had a habit of trying to preserve those things, never using too much. However, now all those little things were out the window. Who cares anymore if I’m just using him, you thought to yourself. Obviously he doesn’t.

You dried yourself off slowly taking the time to apply a sweet smelling lotion and your face moisturizer. Taking one last glance at your figure in the mirror and letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck him, I’m still sexy” you exclaim aloud at your reflection.

“Fuck yeah, you are!” You hear Kendall reply slyly behind you, looking back to see his suited figure leaning against the door frame. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe. You have no problem brushing off his remarks rushing to grab your white silk robe, covering your exposed body from him. Kendall was quick to pick up on your agitated reaction as you brushed past him.

“Okay. Yeah great what the fuck did I do now? Cause I know I didn’t leave any fucking drugs around the house.” he huffed, naturally jumping to defend his actions.

“Yeah, probably because you’re never here.” You mumbled quietly. You weren’t ready to fight about it. Not yet at least. You still felt too heartbroken to even scream at him, simply just wanting him to disappear until you were ready to confront the reality.

“I know I’ve been gone a lot y/n, but with my dad gone things at the office are just really starting to pick up and everything with Mattson, I mean…” his voice trailed off as you wandered around the room putting together a comfortable outfit. His rambling excuses eventually stopped when he looked at you and questioned,

“Uh babe the fuck are you wearing?”.

“God Ken, why do you even care? You’re leaving again tonight right?” you sneered. He’s never home, and then when he is home all he has is work excuses and a problem with your outfit, seriously?

“Um, we're leaving tonight. Waystar Charity Gala. One of my biggest opportunities to make a good impression as CEO. What, did you fucking forget?” He exclaimed.

“Fuck” you whined holding a finger to rub your temple.

You had totally forgotten tonight was the charity event, explaining why Kendall was home and finally paying any attention to you. Part of being married to Kendall Roy was putting on a play. Attending various events and red carpets draped over your husband's side performing as his beautiful, dotting wife. Although, honestly you never had to fake it. You genuinely did adore Kendall and it made you happy to make him look good, and brag about his accomplishments to his peers. And you were good at it! Always leaving every man in the room jealous of how happy you made Kendall, and every woman dying to take your place. But tonight you weren’t sure if you could handle that job. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him right now, let alone appear like you’re obsessed with him.

Kendall walked over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. You resisted every urge to begin crying again, screaming at him about this morning's headlines. Although it was eating you alive, you knew that sobbing to him wouldn’t work on Kendall. The Roy’s were a different breed, and if you wanted to get to him, you really had to make him feel something. You looked up at his figure towering above you. Giving him soft eyes but maintaining the displeased frown on your face.

“Are you seriously this upset over me being busy? God I know, I’m sorry for being the world shittiest fucking husband!” he scoffed “ But I’m trying to take over a fucking company here y/n. Now, you knew what you signed up for when you married me, so we’re going to this fucking gala. And you’re going to be my loving wife, okay? You’re going to look beautiful, and you’re going to make me look good. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?” his patronizing tone sinking deep into your chest. You knew he was half serious, half just attempting to intimidate you, and the good girl he had to throw in hoping it would finally get to you. And it did. Sending heat straight to your center. You gave a slow nod in response, not breaking eye contact. Although, this response was not enough for kendall as he roughly brought a hand under your chin “Say yes Kendall, thank you Kendall”. You repeated his words gently and even turned your head to leave a gentle kiss on his palm. His entire demeanor softened, you could easily play into his game now but you were already planning ways to get back at him throughout the night.

Your dress for the night was a striking dark blue, a slight shimmer radiating from the bottom, drawing all eyes down the velvet fabric that formed around your body nicely. The plunging neckline, a lower cut then you would usually wear. You nearly forget about Kendall as every head in the crowd turned in awe at yours and Kendall's arrival. Your beauty quickly becoming the topic of the event.

As you made your way through the party, Kendall snaked his arm around your waist breathing deeply into your neck, recognizing his favorite perfume of yours. Smirking as he whispered “You’re so good to me.” His words sent a chill down your spine. How could he so easily say things like that while he had another life going on? Your brain jumped between wanting to slap him, and completely surrendering to his touch. You wanted nothing more than to leave a soft kiss on his lips, lean your head into his shoulder and mean it. But you refused to give in so easily, letting his hands wander your body without returning any of the attention.

It seemed as though you had a spotlight on you, the way your dress glistened softly, your light smile drawing in awestruck gazes from every direction. Kendall analyzed every man who let their eyes linger on you as you passed by, his grip around your waist growing tighter with the minute. Although, he wasn’t saying anything you knew the increased attention surrounding you was driving him insane. Of course, Kendall's ideal night consisted of having the most desired woman in the room but tonight felt excessive. With men who had never spoken to him in his life stopping to shake his hand, clearly only for a chance to gain proximity to you.

You grabbed a champagne glass from a waiter before turning on your heel away from Kendall commenting “I’m going to go mingle.”

“What are you-” his question, cut off by quick disappearance into the crowd.

It was easy to charm the kind of men you find at these events. Whether they were married or single, younger or older all you had to do was act interested in their lives. Listen to them talk about how much money they make, throw in an innocent giggle and they’re easily under your control. Which made it easy to flirt with random billionaires throughout the room, but made for little true entertainment. Reminding you what you had first admired about Kendall. Although others rarely saw it, Kendall had depth. You two often would stay up till early hours in the morning pouring out endless streams of emotions to each other. He enjoyed deep conversations and sharing his daydreams. Kendall was made of much more than just Waystar inheritance money. Every other man in the room felt so…simple, so facile compared to Ken.

It wasn’t long until Kendall found you in the crowd again, eyes locked on some investor as he did his best to swoon you. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, lightly letting your hand graze the man's bicep.

Kendall formed a tight fist as he felt a trigger go off in his head. Kendall spent his whole life competing. He definitely wasn’t going to let your attention be stolen by anybody else. In his mind when he put a ring on it, he won you. Besides you hardly paid attention to the people at these things, why tonight did you decide to put on such a performance while brushing off all of his advances? The jealousy of your lack of attention was piling on him like a ton of bricks. He knew he had been extremely negligent in the marriage department lately, and as much as he probably deserved to be cheated on after everything he’s done in his life, he didn’t think you would be so quick to throw yourself at other men.

He made his way over to you and the man stood in front of you, quickly sliding in closely next to you. “Thanks for keeping her company, man. Keep up the good work.” Kendall joked aggressively.

“Ah anytime, we’ve all seen what a busy guy you are, hate to see you leave this beautiful thing all alone.” The man scoffed back lightly, referencing today's news. You were always impressed by rich men's ability to be mean to each other without actually fighting, it was as if cryptic trash talk was their second language.

“Oh, I guarantee I can keep my wife very entertained” Kendall asserted.

You observed the two men wind each other up, pleased that your simple yet effective plan of making Kendall jealous was working. Eventually, the other man let up, leaving you two standing alone. Kendall’s chest was heaving in front of you, his large eyes scanning the room, and you could sense that he was trying to calm himself down. Resisting from making a scene. He knew he needed to stay longer, that he should spend the entire night networking with strangers, gaining the trust of possible donors, anything to earn respect as CEO. But as his anxieties regarding your displeased attitude began growing more unignorable, he wanted nothing more than to drag you out of the venue. Away from everybody's eyes, and against only his. Protected.

Kendall wasn’t saying a word to you, and you took your opportunity to wander off again to search for anyone semi handsome you could pretend to care about. However, your first step away from him was interrupted by a rough grip on your hand. You turned hesitantly, knowing you will be met with his distressed eyes, “I’m done with this fucking game. We’re leaving.”

The fighting began the second you walked into the apartment building. Not even making it past the lobby before Kendall was yelling out “So are we gonna fucking talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about Kendall? How you clearly have no desire to even be married to me? Why don't we start there!” You explained only to be met with a stunned

“What?”.

“You’re never fucking here Kendall! And if you are here you’re high, mad at me for being upset that my husband only ever sees me when he's coked out of his mind!”. You had never yelled at him like this, shocked at the amount of anger you could feel swelling in your chest.

“Oh and now you don’t even want to have sex right? You can just hire someone for that too! I hope eventually you can spend enough money on pussy and drugs to actually be happy Kendall!”. It was harsh, yes. You wanted to hurt him. Hoping maybe your words could compare to how it felt reading the headline.

“Fuck you. Okay, what the fuck are you talking about y/n?”

“The news, Kendall! I’m not fucking stupid! Everyone has seen your recent little public affair. Obviously, I don’t make you happy so please lets just do whatever the fuck we have to do to end this! I don't want anything from you, I don't care, I just don't fucking care anymore” you aggressively stammered on, raising your hands in defeat.

Kendall was sitting on the bed watching you pace the room. He didn’t realize that his dinner last night had made so many news articles, but they weren’t lying. He did meet up with an escort, thinking that fucking someone he didn’t care about might actually help him blow off some steam. But by halfway through dinner he had already made up his mind that he couldn’t follow through with it. Sure, she was beautiful and listened to him rant about work and his ex-wife. Nonetheless, his interest faltered with every coy giggle she let out. She wasn’t sarcastic like you, she didn’t push back or tease him. It was as if you were the only one bold enough to treat him like a real person, not just a possible paycheck. He left the restaurant with her but only to have her dropped back off at her apartment, giving a soft apology while still paying her the originally intended amount. He thought he could be like his dad, not give a fuck about anyone, use anything for his own pleasure. But he was positive his dick wouldn’t have been able to get hard all night, and trying only would have made it miserable for her and him.

“I didn’t fuck her.” Kendall finally huffed in response pushing himself to stand in front of you “I couldn’t fuck her! I’ll be honest with you y/n, I wanted to. But we never even made it past the fucking restaurant! I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You never leave me side y/n and I know I fucking put you through hell and back! I’m really fucked up, but I didn’t fuck anyone else!”

You weren’t sure whether to believe him. Regardless you would still be upset that he considered it. But there was something oddly sweet about a man who could buy any woman not being able to go through with it because of you. Kendall had slowly been stepping towards, and your hands laid gently at your side, unsure of what to do with all the information in your head, only to be met with a rough kiss from Kendall. You pushed him away exclaiming “Kendall, what the fuck? I’m so fucking pissed!” yet you were met again by his tight grasp around your waist and his lips returning deeply to yours. This time unable to resist the urge to give in and kiss him back.

“I know. You should be pissed. But I love you, I love you y/n.” he muttered in response against your lips. The sound of your shared panting filling the room as the passionate kiss continued. Kendall walked you backwards until you collided with the wall behind you.

“So fucking mad at you Ken!” you growled into his mouth as you both clawed each other's clothes, his arms raking down your backside squeezing your ass roughly and brushing the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. Letting the fabric pool around your waist his mouth was quick to begin leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, stopping to nibble gently on the skin between your neck and shoulder. You threw your head back as his mouth made contact with your nipple, he sucked harshly, pulling the skin lightly with his lips, and then soothing the sensitive bud by tracing circles with his tongue. His other hand working to undo the zipper holding up the remainder of your dress. You attempted to steady your shaking hands and loosen his belt and dress shirt but the feeling spreading from your nipples to your pussy was already causing you to struggle. When your dress pooled around your ankles, Kendall wasted no time in lifting you into his arms, legs instinctively wrapping around him as he sucked on your bottom lip. You could feel his bulge pressing firmly into your center as he trapped you tightly between him and the wall. His hips grinding, desperate to buck into you, causing a yelp to leave your mouth every time.

He moved his hands swiftly, lowering his dress pants enough to pull his cock out, rubbing the large bead of precum that was forming on his head between your folds.

“Fuck Ken!” You exclaimed as you felt his head pressing firmly against your slit. Kendall usually enjoyed taking his time, slowly working his cock into you, trying to make you as wet as possible before bottoming out. However, now you could feel him pushing in with no hesitation. Grunting as your lips squeezed tightly around him, giving you no time to adjust, only pulse as he pushed deeper. His cock had never felt so swollen inside you before. You weren’t sure if it was the time apart or the passionate argument but your pussy was yearning for every inch of him inside you, and to completely submit to his hold. But your brain still had the lingering thoughts of his actions.

“Why Ken? Fuck- why do you have to be like that? Why can’t we just talk?” You managed to moan out

“I don’t know why I’m so fucked up y/n” he grunted into your ear pushing the final inch of his length all the way inside of you. Both of you let out a sigh in unison as your bodies aligned perfectly together. Your legs spread wide for him as he held your ass in his palms, grinding deeply into you. With each thrust his pelvis softly nudging your clit driving your pleasure further.

Backing away from the wall, while maintaining his tight hold around you, Kendall walked your conjoined bodies over to the bed. Laying you down harshly against the edge of the mattress, pulling your hips quickly to meet his, pushing his dick deep back inside you. He collapsed into your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your chest. He fucked into you at a brutal pace, you were unable to controls the cries that left you lips each time his thick head brushed against the sensitive spot along your walls.

“Ken please- I need you” you whined scratching your nails down his back searching for anything to hold onto while the knot in your stomach tightened.

“I want to be better, baby. I can be better for you. I promise” He groaned deeply into your neck, his words so easily seducing you back into completely trusting him again.

“I want you home Ken, I want- ughh you” you managed to moan out breathlessly. As your orgasm drew closer, so did your thoughts about missing Kendall. You just wanted to tell him how much you loved him, how much you needed him but all that left your lips was a loud cry as you felt your pussy finally release on his cock.

“You’re making me cum! Fuck Ken oh my god, wait wait I-…” you yelped.

Your hand reached between your legs pressing your palm to his stomach as your overstimulated pussy throbbed harshly around him. He maintained his brutal pace, holding your hips in place as you squirmed against him.

“Just a little more baby, you can take me. That’s my girl” he cooed, his hands straightening your legs over his shoulder. His hips snapping against your ass, eyes never leaving yours. Watching in adoration as your eyes shut closed, but your mouth remaining open, drool falling down your chin as the pleasure slowly became too much.

With a few more powerful thrusts Kendall was releasing deep inside you. Allowing himself to collapse completely into your warm body. Shallowly grinding his hips to ride out his passionate high. Waiting until he felt your walls stop throbbing around him. Allowing both of your breathing to relax before he eventually pulled out with a long sigh. Kendall looked down at you fucked out face. His thumb brushed your cheek gently, then ran it along your bottom lip. He thought you always looked so beautiful with your cheeks flushed pink, hair wildly flying around your face. Arms reaching up searching for his protection. He wasn’t ready to give up on another marriage, not when the make up sex was like this, he laughed to himself. He gathered you in his arms scooting your bodies up the bed, until he was comfortably holding you.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

#succession season 4 #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy smut #succession #succession headcanons #succession smut #kendall roy oneshot #kendall roy x you #roman roy #kendall roy fic #kendall roy headcanon

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buttfishfan · 5 months

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People aren't completely wrong about Kara's story being really weak, but i also feel like people dont realize the amount of missed opportunity in her section of the game.

Kara's story could've been AMAZING if only David Cage knew what he was trying to write.

Sooo here's some ideas ive been mulling over for a couple weeks about how id fix Kara's story.

1. Making Alice human

Even when i was blind to a lot of the bad writing in Detroit this plot twist made me so agitated and confused because there was no plot twist it was seriously just david cage lying to the player for 12 hours 😭 making Alice human would fix many inconsistencies in Kara's story like how she just chooses to ignore the fact that Alice is an android and acts shocked when she finds out. Having alice be human also opens up the story to a more interesting themes about the bonds that can be formed between humans and androids like holy fuck david did you forget the story you were writing midway through 😭 If Alice was human it could also lead to new game mechanics or plot where kara would need to take care of Alice's human needs like food and water which then leads into Kara being put into situations where she is forced to do the "moral" thing and sacrifice comfort or to fight for Alice's survival.

2. Giving Kara's section of the game an actual overarching choice

The biggest reason i believe people think Kara's story is so boring is because in a game that prides itself on letting its players choose their very own story Kara's story allows for the least amount of choices. Both Connor and Markus have overarching distrinct choices that lead to VERYYY polar outcomes. Connor has the ability to deviate or stay a machine and markus has the ability to lead a peaceful or violent revolution. The only distinct outcomes in Kara's story is if you make it to Canada or not and even that is just if you chose the /right/ choices instead of the choices you consciously made. I wish there was more opportunities for Kara to be really evil and fucked up but all in the name of giving Alice the world. I know you're able to steal and lie in various chapters but it never felt like it had any true weight to how kara or the story progressed.

3. Give Alice an actual personality

Throughout the entire game Alice kinda doesn't do or say anything of value like I've seriously lost count how many times she's said "im cold". It makes no sense to me how you get the relationship status of family with her as Kara when you genuinely know nothing about Alice. She doesn't talk about anything. Even as an android she like must've had some sort of interest programing to act like a child but she just never shares anything even with the people that are supposedly the closest ones to her?? I feel like her personality should've been dependent on the way youd approach Karas story. If kara is willing to do immoral things for Alice's sake I feel like Alice should also be fucked up and evil cuz like, shes a kid and kara is her role model of COURSE she'll try an be similar to her mama. If Kara chooses to sacrifice comfort for morals then Alice takes after Kara in that respect too. So not only would you be responsible for how Kara acts you'd also be responsible for the way Alice acts which gives the player the choice of do they want this little kid to follow in the wrong steps or not?

Some ideas i have for how the story should've gone

Todd brings Kara home after she gets fixed and she meets Alice for the first time. Alice obviously knows Kara but after attempting to make Kara remember her she realizes that Kara's memory has been wiped. Since Kara would've probably been the only person to care for Alice before she was broken this would lead to Alice having a breakdown where she realizes her only protection and source of comfort is gone. Alice would probably resent or be distrustful of Kara a little in the beginning because of this.

I feel like running away should've been a more difficult decision on Kara's part. She's just come home from being fixed and she's already deviated i don't think she fully knows what she wants to do with Alice. Especially when they've started off their relationship with nothing i don't think Kara should've been leaning into the whole mom thing. It would've made more sense if their interactions started off as Kara just making sure Alice stays alive and then over time their relationshio actually has room to develop instead of starting off as mother daughter and ending off as mother daughter.

These are only some ideas. Im obviously not a writer but i just really care about this game and feel like it had too much lost potential 🙏🙏

#dbh #detroit become human fanart #d:bh #detroit: become human #kara dbh #dbh kara #ax400 #alice dbh #dbh alice #im the number one detroit become human fan

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crimsoncold · 2 months

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AEMONDSA: A crack ship with unexpected depth and appeal

A treatise (in four parts) on the intriguing parallels and complementary contrasting of Aemond and Sansa and the subsequent allure of them as a romantic pairing in Fanfic

- from the perspective of a sansa-stan, jonsa + sansa-centric multishipper, and someone who is generally Targ critical

Now while my general stance of "ship and let ship/don't worry so much about what other people in fandom focus on or ship/etc" still stands i wanted to do a little write up on what I've found so appealing about this particular crack ship.

Not to justify it (again fandom and shipping in general is just about enjoying/thinking about fictional characters and scenarios... no one needs to justify why their imagination likes to think about two characters interacting romantically) but because there isn't a ton of metas addressing the interesting parallels between these characters and the appeal of them as a ship so I wanted to make one so the handful of people who do ship it get to see some more positive engagement/responses to this pairing.

I just unexpectedly ended up loving this pairing so much and I always have a particularly strong urge to contribute to fandom content on the rare pairs/crack ships that I like....So here have a deep dive into the parallels, and contrasting but complimentary aspects of Aemond and Sansa, and the unexpected appeal of Aemond x Sansa as a pairing in fanfiction...

PART 1: MY EXPERIENCE WITH ASOIAF/GOT & HOTD FANDOM AND WHY AEMONDSA IS A PLEASANT SURPRISE

So I'm going to be drawing from both book and show elements when I consider and compare Sansa and Aemond's characterization and plot arcs (particularly since this tends to be how they are handled in fanfic- which all have differing combinations of book or show canon for both characters)

(this is a HOTD S2-free zone though... HOTD's writing has certainly not improved and it's inconsistencies even compared to their past writing and characterization of many characters including Aemond has made such an absolute mess so for this post I'm ignoring the worst part of HBO's attempt at making hotd fanfiction i.e. S2- and I am basing my understanding of Aemond on a combination of what can be gleaned from book canon and s1 because that was what initially interested me AND because that is what the aemondsa fanfic I've read has also been based on)

Now Just to set the scene for my journey as a stark fan, jonsa shipper, and generally targ critical person to become an appreciator of aemondsa...

GOT had a steep decline in quality in the later seasons and HOTD despite the incredible effort of the actors/sfx people was not particularly good to start with in terms of writing/storytelling...yet disappointing or poorly written shows are not without their appeal for participating in fandom and reading/writing related fanfiction, particularly when there is a handful of interesting characters-looking at you stark kids who suffered through the writing of GOT's later seasons and HOTD's team green-that fans want to rescue from the terrible writing/butchering by the showrunners and to explore alternative stories/endings for them... sometimes it is even one of the most appealing sort of set up for fandom/fanfiction to take over and fix things.

I was already a huge Sansa fan, and she was the original draw for me towards asoiaf/got fandom and fanfiction, and while jonsa has been and remains my favorite pairing for her I've always been open to dabbling in various other sansa pairings/crack ships.

(While the parallels don't take the exact form as the ones between Sansa and Jon- and obviously aemondsa isn't accompanied with the incredible foreshadowing and potential that jonsa is- this pairing still feels similarly compelling due to the sheer amount of parallels between the two characters and for the fact that its a ship that is appealing and seems quite fitting without fanfic writers having to stray too far from canon personalities/back stories to make them work as a romantic pairing- beyond you know the obvious aspect of them being alive at the same time)

When HOTD first came out and before i discovered Ameondsa was a thing I was staying away from HOTD fanfic for the most part despite my interest in a few of the characters

HOTD's most predominant focus in both it's fandom and fanfiction seemed to be Rhaenyra/Team black/ Daemyra centric- all of which I was at just personally not drawn. Aemond (hot dramatic anime antagonist transported into hbo's HOTD and personal favorite of mine) centric fics unfortunately tended towards shipping him with various TB characters or TB OCs but both as a concept and due to the handling/set up these fics were generally not appealing to me (more on this later).

Furthermore hotd fandom itself seemed to be shaping up into a new edition of targ stan centric fandom- specifically a new "team black only" brand of stanning... which is definitely not something I am interested in.

Being someone admittedly anti targ/targ critical in general who just happened to be more intrigued (and sympathetic) to the greens in HOTD it did seem that the bulk of hotd fandom was probably going to a similar if even more extreme form of what I encountered with targ-stan segments of the GOT fandom as a sansa-stan/jonsa shipper (ie. Less posts/fanfic that i would personally agree with or be interested in from these fans and potentially hostile and unpleasant responses or takes from the majority of these fans)

As a result of my general avoidance of hotd (i.e. the very pro targ/pro TB fanfiction that hotd fandom offered) Aemondsa, already an extremely rare pair and crack ship, wasn't even a pairing on my radar until one of the authors i was subscribed to started a hotd time travel fix it aemondsa fic...I have an appreciation for well written crack ships, and I am willing to give most pairings or fandoms a chance when I'm already a fan of either the story's main characters or of the author specifically ...but I was actually incredibly suprised how compeling Aemondsa was as a pairing in this story..as well as how much I enjoyed the other Aemondsa fics that I checked out afterwards..it seemed this was a niche segment of hotd fandom that i was going to absolutely obsessing over.

There was a lot of depth to them for a crack ship, which was achievable without altering their personalities and backstories very much from canon (dont get me wrong I love crack ships even ones where people and the plot are altered significantly to make a ship feel possible but there is something uniquely compelling when characters fit together without having to be too ooc) so I just wanted to write a bit about what is so fascinating about this ship since it's such a new rare pair that hasn't accumulated a massive audience or a ton of discussions or write ups yet.

PART 2/4. THE SURPRISING AMOUNT OF PARALLELS BETWEEN SANSA AND AEMOND (FANDOM, PLOT-WISE, but most of all regarding FAMILY)

(Uh ....Brace yourself? this section ended up way longer than expected)

For me the initial appeal comes down to intriguing Character parallels between Sansa and Aemond which fanfic at least offers the opportunity to explore in a story format ....

On a surface level they are (in the shows particularly) both intelligent and underdog figures with fantastic little sassy moments - true queens of dealing out backhanded and cutting compliments, or being unapolegetic critical towards some of the flawed and extremely privileged individual's they encounter who are used to receiving only coddling and fawning worship.

Both characters seem to get shit treatment, sometimes from the fandom other times due to the terrible choices/handling by the writers/showrunners.

Both were characters I personally found interesting and sympathetic despite how fandom- some of it for aemond and a significant amount of it for sansa- had deemed these essentially young and still innocent characters worthy of being reviled and harmed for the ways the adults in their lives had set them up for failure or abuse. Forever dismayed by the way they (unlike certain fan favorites) were somehow never deemed by fandom as deserving of sympathy for the horrible things that happened to them, and how notably they never recieve the same feverent forgiveness/understanding/support for their more dangerous or dark actions the way other characters did

Looking at the difference in fan responses to show!Arya or Dany compared to Sansa- though when it comes to the sheer amount of violence, destruction, and murder or the act of threatening their kin obviously despite what Sansa-antis say Sansa is the only one who should not even be part of the discussion, and how Dany or Arya always recieves excuses, sympathy, forgiveness, or outright praise from the core audience for their more questionable actions while somehow Sansa is deemed as the unforgivable, dangerous, evil, traitorous, and foolishly reckless character

How Aemond (and all of TG really) are set up and considered by TB stans to be unworthy of their house/rightful inheritance and the ones most at fault for the onset and destruction caused by a civil war... never victims mistreated or endangered by the more privileged and powerful members of their family... just the people who only ever deserved what was inflicted on them by TB for the crime of being forced to wed a disgusting and neglectful King or for being threats to Rhaenyra's family or throne simply by existing? How the morally questionable or violent actions of Rhaenyra, her sons, or more particularly her uncle-husband will always be seen as either justifiable, in the right, excusable, or literally worthy of praise the way Aemond's and his family's actions will never be viewed by this core audience

I think about how much like segments of asoiaf fandom bash Sansa by deeming her too southern/too Tully/Too Catelyn-like to be a real Stark (unlike her "truly northern" siblings) their are also segments of hotd fandom that have chosen to see Aemond and his full siblings as only Hightowers who are wrongfully stealing from TB/the "true Targaryens"

But there were even more striking parallels when it came to their characterization and plot.

Both younger (non heir) children, presented as being intelligent, incredibley dutiful and studious, with a very close relationship to their mother, in a sort of intense people pleaser manner - trying their best to excel at all the skills/duties that their parents/society deems necessary for their position and sex because that is the way they receive acceptance, attention, or praise from their family/the adults in their life

Aemond and his studies, his apparently dedication and success in training with the sword despite his own disability, his determination and recklessness to finally become a dragon rider like the rest of his Targaryen family- as it is what is expected and what he has long been mocked over by some of his targ kin, how despite his own ambitions and the way he thought himself particularly suitable for rulership he remained the dutiful and loyal younger brother who served as regent for his gravely injured older brother but did not attempt to stylize himself as King and steal Aegon's throne.

the way that Alicent seems to be the only family member he allows himself to be vulnerable with, the one with whom he turns to for consolation and comfort, Alicent being absolutely devastated and incensed over the loss of Aemond's eye and the lack of punishment for the assault on his person, the only one to demand recompense, the only one to raise a knife to the blacks when she is denied, how Aemond is the one person who tries to console his mother in the aftermath, how despite having just lost an eye he is the one who actually tries to sooth his mother to bring a stop to the increasing and dangerous level of tension and conflict that had erupted between the blacks and greens at driftmark, Aemond's own longstanding protectiveness of and devotion to his family- most especially his mother- that lasts until his own demise.

Sansa and the way she thrives and enjoys the type of world and training that is more of a noble woman's or specifically her mother Catelyn's domain- unlike her wilder other siblings she is generally a steadfastly proper and gentle girl- no doubt a comfort to her mother not just because she is generally so well behaved but in the fact that unlike her siblings she is not shown to be obviously or very publically close with Ned's illegitimate child- who for Catelyn would be the literal personification of Ned's infidelity, the disrespect and humiliation he puts her through by raising him in their house along side their children, and her deep seated fear that he loved and will prioritize another woman and her child more than his own wife and family.

Sansa is the child who seemed to love all things "southern" the most (though undeniably despite how Sansa is looked down upon for her love of romantic stories and song her other siblings also certainly enjoy legends and tales of Knighthood or Southern Princes and warrior Princesses) and to be fascinated by the environment her mother is from, the one who is drawn to and practice her mother's faith in addition to keeping to the old gods,

How Catelyn though she truly grieves letting her daughter go seems to accept it not just because her belief that Sansa would excel as a princess and future queen but because she thinks Sansa would thrive simply through getting to experience the south...Catelyn seems to grasp the things Sansa dreams about and unlike many other family members she does not view Sansa and her interests with the same condescension, dismissal, or disdain.

Catelyn loves all her children immensely but there is something so tragic and beautiful in her love for her daughters, the desperate lengths she is willing to go to to ensure the saftey of both of them while the lords/males in her family have already given them up as a lost cause and inevitable and necessary casualties in their war for vengeance and northern independence

Despite this affection though there is a lot of pressure on both of them... almost to the point that their treatment by the adults in their lives has a bit of a "parentification" dynamic- a manner that sometimes puts the onus on them to be a support and a comfort to their mother amid any tension in the family/marriage (Aemond) or to be the perfectly behaved role model or minder for their less dutiful siblings (Sansa)

Sansa, in everyone's eyes a lady at three and a queen destined to be, the determined effort she puts into excelling at being studious, accomplished, proper, and ladylike, how much she tries to exemplify the behavior praised and exemplified by her mother and her septa

set up by the adults in her life as a go between for the stark sisters...used as the benchmark for their demands and expectations of Arya, being held up as the bar for perfect, proper, and praise worthy behaviour that Arya is presssured to also attain, the daughter who gets censured on the few occasions she acts out while her younger sister typically gets away with her poor behaviour (at least when it comes to their parents)... Sansa isn't just under the pressure of the exacting expectations for a lord's daughter she also experiences the stress of being put in the position of exemplar for her wild untractable younger sister.

Aemond, apparent dutiful student in many areas expected as a child of nobility, who is expected to support Aegon in his rulership and war and (in the show) even takes responsibility for trying to keep his older brother in line, the one who after losing an eye takes the effort to comfort and console his mother's grief and rage when their father does nothing in response to an attack on Aemond other than threaten and intimate his wife and his children with Alicent in order to support his firstborn daughter, who becomes the human equivalent of not just a wrecking ball but a literal weapon of mass destruction sent out on behalf of the advancement of his family or later to enact terrible bloody vengeance on his family's behalf, his life his purpose and his death is all for his family's sake more than his own.

They put so much effort into being well behaved, to reach the exacting standards for a child in their position, setting an example for the less obedient/well behaved sibling(s) all of which in turn adds to significant strain or conflict between said sibling.

Sansa and Aemond are the sibling expected to and determidly striving to live up to the high expectations that the adults in their life put on them and to survive the extremely dangerous and high stakes scenarios they are put in (as a lord's daughter, prince's betrothed and future queen, a hostage and target for the machinations and ambitions of others, the older sibling, a ruling lady, and elected queen; a prince, dutiful son and brother, ruthless and dutiful defender of his family, and regent)

Meanwhile they have other siblings who struggled to meet said expectations or have given up attempting to all together (Arya, Rhaenyra, or to some degree Aegon)

Siblings who must from the perspective of Sansa and Aemond (who are still young, inexperienced, and have had a great deal of conflict with said siblings) seem to flaunt all expectations free to rebell, flaunt the rules, and generally ignore the high pressure expectations that children from their class face.

Undoubtedly frustrating since, much like their more rebellious siblings have failed to sympathize with the more responsible ones, Ameond and Sansa too have not (yet) been able to recognize the ways their less successful/dutiful siblings also suffer under the highly restrictive expectations of their class and position even if they do not choose or succeed in conforming to them.

They see that despite how they may excel in studying, striving and succeeding in their roles, and ultimatley exemplifying the high standards they were raised to it is these other siblings who seem to get rewarded (experiencing in their eyes at least what appears to be more freedom, less pressure, minimal censure or punishment for their misbehavior... while simultaneously receiving the bulk of the reward in terms of their inheritance, the attention they recieve, or even with regards to the amount of affection given by some of the authority figures in their lives, i.e. their fathers)...

To them it must seem that these siblings get to be not just easily forgiven for their mistakes and misbehaviour, but accepted as or outright adored simply the way they naturally are, whereas dutiful and non problematic children like themselves tend to be overlooked or underappreciated, and quickly criticized on the rare cases they misbehave... the acceptance and affection they recieve appears far more conditional on them behaving well according to the expectations of their family or various instructors/minders... whereas the affection their siblings receive, from say a certain parent, is show to be rather unconditional

Seriously they both give me such severe "easy" (i.e. overlooked) and "gifted" child trauma vibes... how much of their behavior is simply in their nature and how much is what they conform themselves to to make the adults around them proud... because as the quieter child or apparent outsider amindst their family/siblings this is the only action that comes natural to them and gets them some (hard earned) attention/praise in a rather large and loud family they otherwise seem a bit lost in... how much of their striving to succeed is dependent on the sincere belief/understanding that their saftey and potentially the future, saftey, and wellbeing of their family depends on it.

They both have a far more distant relationship with their fathers who favoured another sibling- a sister over them... father's who either didn't seem to know how to connect with them - Ned- or never really bothered to try- Viserys...

while i do believe Ned loves his children and they adored him in return i feel its obvious that he neglected in preparing any of them for the true dangers and realities of the world away from the satey and protection of winterfell and their Stark family, and he absolutely dropped the ball on keeping either of his daughters safe and supervised when he took them along into a very dangerous situation in kingslanding

Furthermore Ned never quite seemed to connected with or pay attention to Sansa they way he did with Arya... just something about the fact that when he follows the orders of his king/supposed best friend to kill Sansa's direwolf (the very symbol of their house) it is in replacement for Arya's Direwolf who was allowed to escape the cruel wrath of the Queen and Prince...and how he continues to fail Sansa in the aftermath

It's something about the gifts he gives his very angry and traumatized daughters to comfort them after- in lieu of truly trying to actually connect with and console both of them or to even properly mediate their increased fighting.

Arya (in the show and book) is given lessons with a "dancing" master who teaches her swordplay/water dancing, she was so excited and she always wanted to be outside learning to fight like her brothers got to, in this moment to her understanding she is not just seen by her father she is accepted and supported (a careful reader may see that Ned's attitude appears to be slightly condescendingly indulgent on the matter of her learning swordplay... but Arya gets the chance to do something she loves all the same)

Meanwhile (in the show) to try to console Sansa Ned gives her... a doll? (Honestly I can't recall any equivalent gift from Ned to Sansa in the books? the mention of her possibly getting harp lessons in Kingslanding was actually a promise Catelyn made to her on Ned's behalf rather than his own effort... and was something that Ned didn't actually ever arrange in the books)

But is this doll meant to be an appropriate gift to make up for the death of her direwolf? Is this gesture enough to comfort her and make amends after Ned killed her direwolf (notice its not exactly as spectacular, meaningful, or comforting a gift as arya's "dancing lessons"... certainly there is no indication that he has any particular understanding of Sansa or has given much thought into her talents, interests, or personality beyond the most shallow perusal)

In the aftermath of Lady's death Ned does nothing to truly protect Sansa or keep her away from the obviously dysfunctional and dangerous family he has promised her away to.

Yet he can take the time to comfort and have a frank conversation with Arya about how important staying together and supporting eachother as family is- especially when they are amongst dangerous people who mean to harm or separate them- and the specific importance her and Sansa will have to one another as sisters who share the same blood... further explaining how just as they will need eachother Ned needs them as well

Ned has no such comforting or distinctly meaningful exchange with Sansa... he doesn't explain the reality of the Lannisters/Joffrey/Robert (i.e. the truth of the people he has agreed to give his young daughter away to despite the fact that he either personally has no respect for most of them or has not been around them long enough to know anything about their true nature)

Yes it is the risk to his daughter that makes him willing to falsely confess to treason, yes eventually he decides its best to send his daughters back to winterfell, yes he finally wants to break the betrothal and he makes a beautiful promises to make her a match with "a high lord who's worthy of [her], someone brave and gentle and strong" ... but he is much too late to get both of his daughters away from the lannisters/kingslanding, way too late in his attempt to keep them safe, and he fails to handle Sansa with age appropriate respect and frankness and to actually tell her how dangerous things are in kingslanding and why joffrey (false prince -bastard born of incest) is such an ill suited match.

Maybe if he had put any effort into explaining things to her...or simply spending time with her, speaking to her, trying to understand her, comforting her amidst the loss of lady and the increased fighting with Arya, or doing literally anything other than just neglecting her and her saftey Sansa would have actually trusted his decision and seen it as him wanting what was best for her.

Maybe if he had been more proactive and focused on his daughters well being he wouldn't have brought both of them south after the altercation over their direwolves... or maybe he could have been successful at getting both his daughters out of kingslanding before everything went to hell.

Its almost like the whole point of the Ned/Arya/Sansa and the Ned/Cersei/Sansa dynamic isn't to show that Sansa is a naive girl who betrays her family for the lannisters but is instead to show that when you neglect your child emotionally they will turn elsewhere for comfort and will be particularly vulnerable to being manipulated or abused by other adults... its almost like this part of A Game of Thrones is more about the way even someone like Ned- a man who does strives to do what he thinks is right and a parent who does loves his children- can still fail.

Ned's treatment of Sansa is specifically intriguing, though i don't know if it will be addressed specifically since her relationship and dynamic with Ned is one that much like Robb ended with his tragic and unjust murder (leaving behind a grief stricken Sansa helplessly longing for the return of her family and home, grieving with a near devotional regard for her lost father and brother)... Sansa will never get to confront or reconcile with them over the many ways she was let down and left unprotected by her male relatives- and who knows if a traumatized and grieving Sansa will ever even recognize and admitt to herself the ways the people who she loved the most failed to live up to her expectations of them... how clearly that despite their love for her she was rarely their first priority ... how they both seemed to fail to follow their family mottos ... the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.... family before duty or honor... she was family yet duty and honor came before her in Robb's eyes... she was part of a pack but through Ned promising her to a marriage in the south, in him taking her and Arya away to kingslanding, in him failing to prioritize her saftey until they all were practically already on the chopping block, and in Robb abandoning any hope or plan of rescuing her she truly was abandoned by them ...to be a lone wolf without a pack to help her survive

Then there is Viserys who at the very least had a much stronger regard for Rhaenyra than all the kids by his second wife ...but can also quiet easily be accused of outright neglecting and mistreating them

The lack of guidance holds true for all his children really but with Rheanyra at least it is accompanied by an (ultimatley harmful) spoiled indulgence that he offers only to his eldest daughter- covering up her obvious blunders and threatening anyone who would speak the truth of her questionable actions and her children's legitimacy including his own wife and sons ... going against traditional succession not because he wants to promote first born succession/succession by "merit"/or treating daughter equal to sons in terms of inheritance or anything like that but because of guilt and unashamed favoritism.

Viserys refuses to give to his son what westeros society at least would deem as Aegon's birthright, while also failing to make arrangements for any his non-Rhaenyra children to have a future and saftey separate from the throne.

He doesn't arrange matches with other kingdoms and give them allies, protection, family, independence, or a power base independent of the crown/hightowers instead leaving them dependent only on the crown, vulnerable targets to be handled (i.e. no doubt killed on the orders of Rhaenyra and/or her uncle husband Daemon) as living they would remain the most significant threat to the legitimacy of their rulership.

Viserys looks the other way when Aemond specifically is permanently maimed by Rhaenyra's son...his only action after his son loses his eye is to threaten his second family, to intimidate them into staying quite on the topic of the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children before he deems the matter concluded... as if the worst part of that altercation was Aemond calling them bastards rather than say four children ganging up against one and how one of these children attacked using a knife and cost the other their fucking eye?

That for Aemond more than anything must cement his understanding of his father's feelings about Aemond and his full siblings and mother. To Viserys they simply matter less than Rhaenyra and her children.

In fact their well being or saftey matters less than even an offense made to Rhaenyra's reputation... which shows Alicent and her children without question that they are in danger from the blacks and the King will do nothing to prevent the blacks from trying to severely physically harm Aemond or his siblings, and in fact that there will be no punishment for the blacks when they succeed in doing so.

A civil war between the blacks and the greens was inevitable... Viserys actions of protecting and favoring Rhaenyra while also not ensuring she is instructed on and practices/proves her ability to rule, willfully ignoring that she violates her own vows and that she passes off her obviously illegitimate children as trueborn heirs, of permitting her not just to inherit (and position her illegitimate son as the next heir to) what most considered the birthright of her brother but also for her to steal the birthright of her own cousins by supplanting them with her other bastard and demoting them to being simply their brides/consorts, him keeping her as heir not just after he has multiple trueborn sons but also after Rhaenyra gets remarried to the exact violent bloodthirsty man that so many feared and Viserys himself had previously removed as his own heir in favour for Rhaenyra.

Viserys doing all of this while still choosing to remarry and have MULTIPLE children with his new wife... the neglectful and disrespectful way he treats his second family... all of this ensured that the death of some (if not all) of his children, via either assassination or in outright civil war, would always have been inevitable.

There is so much hatred, fear, distrust, and tension between Viserys' family members... and not only did he fail to intervene or improve things he was the one most responsible for it ....so much of the environment Alicent lived in and Aemond and his full siblings were raised was permeated by not just a sense of deep injustice (particularly in Aemond's case with his treatment by not just the blacks but his own father) but also an undercurrent of desperate fear over what will happen to them and their family in the wake of a brewing succession crisis

The mommy, daddy, and sibling issues are so strong with these two and I'm so obsessed with how the complicated family dynamics and tragic family losses that Ameond and Sansa experience echoe one another in so many ways...there is just so much love, grief, rage, unpacked trauma, and hurt in them and I am always obsessed with stories that allow the narrative or characters to address such trauma.

PART 3/4. THE CONTRASTING AND COMPLIMEMTARY ASPECTS OF THEIR STORIES (SUFFERING AND GRIEF)

They were both were so young when they became targets of the wrath and dislike of powerful and corrupt "Queens"

Sansa who loses her direwolf at the demand of Queen Cersei, a queen who after long being abused by her own husband sees a perhaps more extreme form of that sort of violence in her own mad son being directed at Sansa, who rather than expressing or experiencing compassion or sympathy instead takes the chance to revel in the destruction of Sansa's innocence, to mock and emotionally abuse Sansa when she has lost her father and her only protection in Kingslanding, leaving her a hostage of war at the mercy of a violent and corrupt royal family

Aemond who after losing his eye to an attack instigated by Rhaenyra's children receives no apology or recompense...instead his own sister asks for her mutilated little brother to be tortured sharply questioned due to the offense he caused by accusing her sons -accurately mind you- of being bastards... Aemond and his siblings who were never truly ever treated by Rhaenyra as her siblings only ever the offspring of Alicent and thus obstacles and threats for her (and her uncle's) right to the throne.

Both were physically harmed or tormented by (or with the approval of) young members of royalty, with very little being done to intervene, stop, or punish those involved despite their own highborn status- which would generally deem them unacceptable targets for such abuse.

Young Sansa a hostage but still a high born daughter descended from two of the seven ruling houses in westeros, The Warden of the North and the Lord Paramount of the Trident, and niece/cousin to the rulers of a third kingdom, the Lord Paramount of the Vale. Who while under the "care" of the crown is tormented, stripped, and beaten in open court at the behest of a mad boy king... forced to look upon the severed heads of her father and household, forced into being an unwilling child bride to the house of her family's enemies, who is molested and threatened with sexual assault on multiple occasions

Prince Aemond son of the King who is mocked by his brother and nephews (or his king and father in the books) over the fact that he hasnt yet claimed a dragon, and when this makes him reckless enough to approach and claim the largest dragon in existence the torment doesn't stop it gets dangerously worse as the tension between the children of the blacks and greens escalate to the point of a violent confrontation between Aemond and his nephews and cousins... and the resulting loss of of his eye when one of his attackers brings out a knife. None of the children who banded together to attack Aemond would face any consequences, only Aemond himself and his mother and older brother would censure and outright threats from their King Father and Older sister. Whose earliest sexual experience- done at the behest of his older brother- was implied to be at the very least coerced, traumatizing, and humiliating- if not outright non consensual on his part.

Both Sansa and Aemond face a terrible sort of loss when they begin losing their family members to mass civil war ...often in a manner that is distinctly horrific or against all laws of decency in the 7 kingdoms

her father Ned unjustly executed for treason and whose decapitated head is displayed and used to torment her, her younger sister Arya gone missing for years and long thought dead, her home sacked and younger brothers Bran and Rickon supposedly murdered by her family's ward- a boy who grew up alongside the stark children- the burned/mutilated heads and bodies of two young boys being being put on display at winterfell, her older Brother and Mother slaughtered when their traitorous allies and bannermen men break sacred guest rights at a wedding, both their bodies desecrated in a mockery of their houses... Robb decapitated his direwolves own head placed ontop of his body while his enemies parade his remains around, her mother Catelyn's throat slit and her body dumped naked in a river and left to rot.

(In the show) Rickon being cut down before his siblings eyes by a madman who betrayed their house and had tortured Sansa herself, her "half brother" Jon betrayed and murdered by his men and later sent off into a lonley exile away from his family and home for the "crime" of taking out an invader who had just committed mass murder... Sansa being left to rule the north all alone with many of her family members long dead and the surviving ones being set on a path away from the north/winterfell while she is left to handle rulership in isolation

Aemond who after commiting the first Kinslaying of the "war of dragons" by attacking his own assailant and nephew Lucerys proceeds to lose all of the family that he loved.

Starting with the tragic murder of his innocent young nephew at the behest of his elder sister/uncle- who arranged for his mother Alicent to be attacked tied up and forced to bear witness to the gruesome murder of her grandchild,

His sister Helaena -who plead for her life to be taken to spare her son- forced under the threat of the rape of her young daughter to choose which of her young sons will be murdered. Only for all of them to be traumatize further when they kill Jaehaerys and leaving Maelor the son she "chose" to die to survive with the message that his own mother wanted him dead... the emotional torment this caused the whole family but most of all his sister who refused to eat, bathe, or look upon her remaining son due to her immense feelings of guilt

his older brother Aegon who has lost his son and heir, and whose sister/wife is in a grief so deep she cannot care for their remaining children, who is attacked and maimed but survives to live on in total agony,

the murder of Maelor, Aemond's remaining nephew at the hands of a mob

Aemond's last stand, sacrificing his dragon and his own life to take out his Uncle (the biggest threat to his family and the orchestrator of Jaehaerys' brutal murder)

The many tragedies that continued after Aemond's own death- his sister's eventual suicide, the death of his younger brother Daeron, his oldest brother outlasting all of his siblings and his own two sons only to be taken out by poison once the war is over, his mother spending the last of her years in confinement until she passes from sickness,

His niece Jaehaera, after the loss of her entire family, married off as a child in the name of "peace" and dying young and alone- of suicide or murder

There is just such fascinating potential when two characters would have so much mirroring grief and trauma ...there is such an undercurrent of helpess rage, guilt, and grief to them in their youth and a undoubtedly a feverent desire for either vengeance or justice against the many people who harmed them or slaughtered their family...

And here is where things begin to differ between the two in interesting ways

with Sansa who has these violent wishes/impulses but is not in a position to see them fulfilled herself- her desire to push Joffrey to his death even at the cost of her own life, her wish that someone will throw Ser Meryn Trant down and cut off his head, her hope that various people will fall/be unhorsed...

Sansa who recieves a direwolf, Lady, the very symbol of her house and potentially a companion that would have offered a connection that was an extension of her own soul only for Lady to be cut down so quickly and unjustly... Sansa who loses not just the connection/companionship she recieved from Lady but also the protection such a bond would offer her ... she is left vulnerable in so many ways and has no promise of reuniting with her own direwolf later on... that will never be a comfort or form of security offered to her after all the danger and trauma she experiences

While Aemond, who spent much of his young life similarly helpless to act or respond to insults and assaults on his own person or immediate family, (that his father/king either never deemed worthy of interference or punishment... that is when it wasn't the King himself who was the perpetrator of such offenses) unlike Sansa experiences a change of fortune in the form getting to bond with the symbol of his house

He gains (and gets to keep until his own death) a bond with a different sort of mythical beast companion... a dragon and as a result recieves all the potential for power and destruction that comes with being a dragon rider

By claiming Vhagar Ameond is the closest he will ever be to untouchable, not just from the harassment he personally experienced from his family but with regards to how grave and dangerous a threat/target he had now become for the blacks during the dance of dragons

Aemond now a dragonrider of the largest living dragon, a child and later teenager who is in control of the narrative equivalent of a weapon of mass destruction, and he is no longer held back from acting on his anger once the rule and interference of his neglectful father king is over,

he is in control of the most massive beast of pure destruction and unlike Sansa, who for now in the books- or for much of her story in the show- remained an unprotected hostage or pawn in the hands of those who mean to harm or use her... who handles her trauma very internally as she is not in a position to fight back, and must rely on her words, intelligence, and ability to read and strategically interact with people as a way of defending and keeping herself safe, Aemond is now in the position to enact every bloodthirsty impulse of revenge he ever experienced

He was held back from enacting vengeance only through his own will, which ultimately proves not enough- he commits the first kin slaying and soon the actions of each side escalated into a horrific bloodbath where nobility and small folk alike suffered or die en masse

While Aemond's story may be one of family devotion and loyalty, mistreatment, injustice, and suffering that ends by showing the terrible outcomes of revenge and uncontrolled cruel brutality Sansa's story feels like one where grief, rage, and mistreatment exist but where family, love, compassion, kindness, justice, and integrity will win out in the end.

Sansa was certainly developed into a more discerning strategic and ruthless figure in the show but justice, duty, and forgiveness were still very prevalent in her storyline

she does have ramsay killed in a fittingly horrific manner, but she later holds a public trial for littlefinger- who was responsible for much of her familys suffering, the death of her father, and her own torment and rape- before she has him executed,

She feels compassion and forgiveness for theon the man who had betrayed her family and drove her young brothers out of their home, who only after experiencing significant torture himself became devoted to protecting the remaining starks and was able to find the courage to disobey his own torturers in order to help Sansa escape,

She possessed a concern for other people that few ruler do in asoiaf/got... speaking up against Joffrey's cruelty even as a powerless hostage, being the person concerned with the more practical matters of caring for and feeding their people during a harsh winter- a notable development in comparison to say everyone else just focusing on battle tactics and the upcoming battles (as though feeding an army is not an essential part of warfare), and the invader who just burned westeros' food stores en masse and now expects others to feed not just her armies but also demands that her dragons be fed "whatever they want"

I think in the books however that despite Sansa's internal grief and rage and her burgeoning political acuity there will be a gentler end to her arc where her own innate sense of duty and her (now more discerning) sense of compassion will win out in the end when she takes back her name, identity, and birthright ... that she along with her surviving family will have justice administered in the name of their lost family and people... efficiently bringing down righteous and necessary judgement on those that harmed and betrayed them rather than simply dealing out some form of mass, bloody, cruel revenge on her enemies (I'll leave that for lady stoneheart) ... and that a satisfying ending for her and the other starks will balance them realistically addressing the dangers and betrayal they faced with their own personal resolve to hold true to the values imparted to them by their parents.

... yet after all her suffering (and the frustrating lack of trust, consideration, or support she was given by her own family in the later GOT seasons) there is something darkly appealing to the idea of her getting (not a hero precisely) but a ruthless and devoted sort of monster to support her and bring down unholy vengeance on her various tormentors

PART 4/4: THE RESULTING DRAMATIC AND EMOTIONAL APPEAL OF AEMONDSA FICS

This after their many parallels and complementary contrasts is what intrigues me the most...the interplay of a potentially wary, cautious, traumatized but still duty and justice oriented person and a companion or lover who is comparatively more ruthless, unhinged, capable of atrocities, and who is more equipped to dole out violence en masse... (guys the pipeline from dark jon/dark jonsa to aemondsa just makes so much sense)

the question in Aemondsa fics of what will win out in the end- the shared grief and rage or them both controlling/channeling such impulses into strategic righteous fury and justice is always fascinating... and most of all the idea of Sansa (after all the trauma mistreatment and grief she has experienced) attaining the interest and eventual devotion of someone who despite being capable of monstrous actions is also incredibly loyal, devoted, and ruthless in the pursuit of their loved ones interests ("I want you to put out your eye ... plan to make it a gift if it to my mother" indeed) is just as appealing as the idea where an isolated, lonely, traumatized, grieving, and dangerously angry young man like Aemond gets to find acceptance, affection, companionship, and belonging with an intelligent strategic but more importantly an exceptionally compassionate person like Sansa.

Its just a dynamic far too intriguing to ignore especially for someome who already loved Time Travel/Reincarnation Fix IT AUs in fanfiction

While emotional catharsis and Sansa returning home and having the dreams she had wrote off as impossible be fulfilled (i.e. building a loving partnership and marriage, having children with someone who loves and wants her more than her claim itself, reuniting with her family) is something I love- and what I want to happen in canon (hence my otp being Jonsa)- there is always an interesting/guilty pleasure aspect of fanfic where Sansa (or the Starks in general) get to wreck terrible bloody victory and vengeance on those who betrayed and butchered their family and people (not really the ultimate message or point of the book but definitely emotionally satisfying in fanfic)

Just like there is a sort of appeal that exists in hotd fanfic that is sort of the opposite ...ones that alter the violent senseless and tragic trajectory of the dance of dragons... to either change the course of a brutal civil war or prevent it all together

and the Aemondsa pairing's time travel or reincarnation fics provide an opportunity to explore both of these diverse dynamics.

Sansa will always deserve the world... in canon and in fanfic i want to see all her dream and hopes come true whether it is with a truly good and just partner with whom she gets to build the life and home she always dreamed of or through her getting her very own devoted monster who would do anything to keep her safe from the scores of people who wish to misuse or harm her

and I always wish that hotd fanfiction offered more Aemond centric fics with a love interest that you know actually likes, sympathizes with, or understand him? He feels too tragic a character for me to want him to experience the typical hate and love (enemies AND lovers) treatment he tends to get in fanfic... its not really satisfying for me seeing his typical pairing up with whatever team black character (or really TB character rewrite) or some Daemon's or Rhaenyra's daughter OC that is the frequent choice for aemond centric fics...him being portrayed as some impusive awful and villainous love interest who changes sides and abandons his family just to be with his lover/obsession feels so out of character in a way that erases the best, most compelling, and sympathetic parts of his canon personality, motives, and actions.

Luckily Aemondsa fics seems to be a pairing that offers everything I like in Ameond or Sansa centric fics....

In conclusion Aemondsa is surprisingly compelling and versatile dynamic in fanfic and I think that is why I've become such a fan of Firesteel/Aemondsa fanfiction (in a way I'm NOT at all a fan of the actual HOTD show writing lol)

I'm a proud support of crack ships/rarepairs and I'm always willing to add to the fandom appreciation of pairings that gets less attention or fandom related works... so expect to see the occasional Aemondsa fanart/fic recommendation post from me amongst my typical jonsa content (in fact expect one in the next in a day or so)

Otherwise I just hope established Ameondsa fans (or people who haven't ready any aemondsa fics but are fans of either character/curious about this pairing in general) have enjoyed seeing me fangirl about these two characters/this crack ship and feel inspired to check out or even make their own Aemondsa content!

-Crimsom Cold

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lucky-punk-lemonade · 2 months

Text

Picture You

| You visit a local art show in Hobie's universe, not knowing he contributed. Not knowing you contributed; [Webhead reader; Friends to ??; Feelings realization] Hobie Brown

This work belongs to me, lucky-punk-lemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

Hobie’s house always smelled vaguely different. For a few weeks there, it smelled of incense. Incense he had stolen, of course. When he ran out of that, it smelled like cigarette smoke because he’d let his friend crash there, trying to break the habit and get back on his feet. Various good and bad smells. Cookies after a baking hyper-fixation. Detergent from a “freak laundry accident” that Hobie swore was the downstairs neighbors conspiring against him. All of these mixed with a lethargic scent of cologne which seemed to blend well with everything. Once, it had even smelled like citrus and lavender. It didn't take long for me to squeeze out the fact Hobie had developed a crush, and he had deep cleaned his apartment to impress her.

Today, though, it smelled like coffee. Hobie didn’t drink coffee, though. I drink coffee. I show up at his door with those little cups to put in the busted up Keurig his temporary roommate left behind. Everything in Hobie’s house was stolen, discovered, or borrowed. The coffee table (that he calls “Just Table” because he doesn’t drink coffee). The armchair he got from a friend’s sister’s ex boyfriend. His shitty vintage boombox and the tapes he plays.

It was often I showed up outside of his window, backpack full of treats or gifts in tow. I sit on his couch and drink from a chipped mug with “World’s Best Grandpa” painted on the side in colorful letters. He walks behind me, pacing and scrolling through his phone. I ignore the slow, inconsistent footsteps behind me and click through the various shows I've had in rotation.

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride ?”

I don’t really expect an answer, and I don't get one. He’s busy, he usually is. Not usually on his phone, though, but who am I to step between a guy and his Candy Crush addiction? I sigh and put the remote down, deciding to head back to my universe for the night.

Hobie was part of the group that took interest in me via the Spider Society. I didn’t go to HQ very often, no reason to. Until I had a run-in with a multi-dimensional creature that I had to report to Miguel. That’s when I met Pavitr. He was an incredibly bright force that inevitably offered an invitation to lunch with his friends. His friends I came to know well. Gwen was, by definition, a rebel. She did everything on purpose, usually with the intent to piss off her dad. Gwen was the epitome of teenage rebellion that was most times ill-advised. Miles was talented, he was always wondering. He was constantly thinking and creating new ideas. It was inspiring to hear his thoughts. Pavitr was a soothing presence, not audibly but he had the perfect vibes. A chance to listen to him was a chance to tune everything out because Pav’s existence required the utmost attention.

Hobie, when first approached, was intimidating. His demeanor remains nonchalant and tuned-out. He was covered in spikes and leather and patterns. He looked incredibly threatening, too cool. When he spoke, it almost sounded out of character. He was kind and welcoming, funny. All traits many Spider-Men had. This was the justification I had for how interested I was in him, his energy. He was just as attractive and charming as Pav or that one guy who I always saw in the lobby.

I’ve been to their houses, I crash often. Gwen let me stay with her for almost a month once. In return, I help with Spider work and house chores to show my gratitude. I know what everyone’s room looks like, a main theme of band posters and scattered clothing. I don't visit Miles too often, he's got a lot of stress already. I stay above a convenient store owned by a family friend of Pav’s when I go to see him. Hobie has always let me stay at his place, though. I have made myself particularly comfortable in his shared flat that his roommate never seems to be in. I don’t ask questions, I just sleep on his couch.

I reflect on everything as I fold his blanket and set it on his couch. I pick up my bag and stuff my jacket into it. It’s warm enough , I think. I sit on the floor to lace up my shoes. Hobie acknowledges me before walking into his room, I nod back and finish tying my shoes. I walk to the sink with my cup of water to wash it. Sitting on the counter, slightly ripped and damp, is a flier.

A seemingly homemade advertisement for a local art showing, raising money for the food bank. The food bank I remember Hobie telling me about. He had been protective of it ever since he discovered there was a prominent political figure who was more than adamant to take down the business. I remember Hobie being mad. I remember bringing him brownies and stopping by with a hefty donation to the food bank without Hobie knowing. I remember doing this often. I remember how kind the owners were, how I developed the same protective nature towards them.

I read the flier more closely. An art show with an admission fee, local artists, local music, good cause. I was immediately interested. I walk to Hobie’s room, leaving the flier behind on the counter.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.”

“Yeah, be safe.” He smiles and nods. “If you need anything, call.”

I smile back and wave goodbye, exiting the room and grabbing my belongings. I tuck myself out of the window and swing through the city. Food bank. I think to myself. I eventually found it. A brick building with a single, cramped entrance. I enter and inquire about the art show. It’s supposed to be held at a church nearby. Should’ve read the rest of the flier . I note the time and address, thanking them for their help.

★★★

The church was made up entirely of coarse, yellowed brick. Everything was incredibly old and classy. The windows were stained glass, geometric shapes lined with brassy gold. Cars lined up in the parking lot of the church. I walk to the broken-up sidewalk and feel how warm the evening is in the direct line of the sunset. The event was set to begin at six-thirty. People were scattered outside, talking in groups. The environment was friendly, warm. I walk up the seven steps that lead to the two glass doors. Once inside, I smell old paper and floral perfume. A classic church smell , I think to myself with a smirk.

The church foyer was wide and open, a few tables set out in front with a donation jar, papers, and chairs holding people with large smiles and kind eyes. I can tell this church has been made into a sort of community center, the people needing somewhere to gather. I approach the table, becoming aware of the makeshift stage boosting up a band. The music had already begun, soft yet upbeat, setting a chill tone. I greet the older woman sitting at the table, recognizing her from the food bank. I smile and make the admission fee, and then some. These people have created a more meaningful community with their own presence than a local politician ever could with bulldozers and contractors. The idea that they had to hold fundraisers in local churches because they only have personal connections to work with made me strongly displeased.

After being told to enjoy myself, I walk through one of the doors. From what I could tell, all the extra furniture had been moved into closed off rooms to clear space for the “galleries.” Completely barren rooms are now decorated with various artwork. I take my time and shove my hands into my pockets, wandering around the first room. The first few rooms have impressive work. From notebook paper sketches to large canvases painted with bright colors. About a minute into browsing the second room, a woman walks past me.

“Hello.” Her voice is upbeat, breathy.

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh- Hi.” I smile.

She stares at me, studies me. I furrow my brows as she watches my every move. After a few more awkward seconds, she smiles widely and walks out. Okay? I brush it off.

A few more rooms in, I see a canvas about the size of a piece of printer paper. It’s labeled “Black Treacle” by a bo y younger than me. I study the details. A can of black treacle is painted, highlighted and shapely. A few more paintings.

A dark, swirling painting depicting earthly objects drawn toward the center: “Supermassive Black Hole.”

An orange, fiery background contrasting four black silhouettes: “Daphne Blue”

Label after label, my head tilts and my eyes study. I smile in confusion and inspiration.

“Purple haze”, a portrait of Jimi Hendrix.

“Holy Calamity”, a charcoal sketch inspired by the war on drugs, tacked with a lengthy and tragic origin.

After stepping back from the wall, I notice two people staring at me. I subtly look over myself. I don’t have anything on my shirt. I touch my face. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing on my face… I quickly walk to the next room.

While overthinking the stares, my train of thought is derailed when I see a canvas, just a little bigger than the rest. It shows a sunset with a city skyline. The angles and edges were lined with gold foil, white highlights darting the painting. The image looks so familiar. I walk towards it, getting closer than I should’ve. The card below makes me grin. “2/14” by H. Brown. I knew he was creative, but wow.

I remember the setting. It was Valentine’s Day, the friend group had planned a big day together so none of us would be alone. Movies, chocolate, soda, friends. A result of Gwen’s chronic loneliness. Pav couldn’t come as he had already planned an extravagant date for Gayatri. Miles was grounded indefinitely. Gwen canceled at the last minute, never telling us why. I stared at the group chat message, standing in line to buy chocolates. I texted the group, a little pissed and put the chocolates back. Hobie had messaged me separately.

“i guess we’re both free then?”

“Looks like.”

“I wish she wouldn’t plan stuff if she's always this uncertain.”

“thats what I like about her”

“shes inconsistent.”

“Yeah, well now I have to return a shit ton of candy. “

“bring it by my place.”

“we can still hang out”

“right?"

“Okay.”“Give me twenty.”

I knocked on his window 30 minutes later, apologizing for the time. He grabbed the bags of candy and led me right back out the window. I followed him, down the rickety stairs and to the sidewalk. I asked him why we weren’t swinging. He told me to just look around, enjoy the noise. When we got deeper into the city, we climbed our way up to the roof of a building. Not the tallest building, one of regular size. We situated ourselves next to the edge, resting our elbows on the ledge. I had realized why he picked this site as we got up there. It faced a wide expanse of clear land. It faced the sunset. It wasn't as pink as it usually is, something I took as a direct middle finger to Valentine’s stereotypes. It was orange and purple. I told Hobie how the sky is probably the only thing that can blend those colors as beautifully without making a gross, muddy brown. I opened the bag of chocolates, said the sunset and sunrise were like crazy, natural RGBs, and adjusted the earbuds that fit loosely in my ears. He scoffed and we talked. We talked about how much Pav talks about Gayatri, about how moody it makes Gwen. How much Miles is going through. How nice it is to have other ‘webheads’ to confide in. We watched the sunset in silence, the window of time we devoted to staring at the colors darken.

This was that sunset. And I was wrong. The colors were strikingly accurate to my memory. A stylistic choice of gold foil and white highlights were so Hobie. It always seemed he added a little extra to everything in his mind. I grinned and took out my phone to take a picture. Once I was finished, I moved a bit quicker while browsing. I was hunting for something else Hobie had created. Something I could find about him that he hadn’t told me himself.

★★★

“Hobie, man! Amazing job!”

I felt a pair of hands clamp onto my back. I shook my head and smiled. I’ve been thanking a lot of people today. This has been something I signed up for to help out a friend. The food bank has done incredible things for this community, I’d do anything to keep the family upright. Seeing all these people show up and donate to the cause is reassuring. I took a tour myself after I helped set up. We hold a lot of potential here.

“They’re gonna love this, D.”

I tell Diana, the co-owner of the food bank as I stare around one of the rooms. She smiles, lines forming around her eyes. D is an older woman that had always checked in on me. She has patched up countless cuts on my face, made me innumerable bowls of soup, given me way too many pep talks and even more reprimands. She walks up to me and hugs me, wordlessly.

Now, as I stand in the lobby once I’ve checked in with everyone out back, I stay behind Diana, sitting in her chair and greeting more visitors. I keep to myself and hover to the side. A few people came by to exit, they had finished the walkthrough. They smiled at me.

“You made that sunset painting, right?” I cringe. D had been very liberal bragging about my art. I had been staring at my shoes for at least 20 minutes while she talked about how she’s known me since I was “a little monster.” Now, people recognized my name to my face.

“Yeah.” I answer shortly.

“It’s amazing. I love the story you tell. Good job.” The man says.

I smile, “Hey, thanks, man.” And wave goodbye as they walk through the door.

“Hobie!” D’s voice calls from a few meters away.

I turn towards her. She was now alone at the table. I walk over to her, “What’s up?”

“That painting. The one you insisted I hide in the back room. I still don’t know why you’d hide the most beautiful work you’ve-”

“What about it, D?” I roll my eyes.

“The person from the painting, I saw 'em.” Diana smiles. I furrow my brows and tilt my head.

“Huh?” Diana’s voice reverberates through my ribcage.

“They're here .” She grins, softly. If it were anyone else, it'd sound mocking. “They're a kind soul, I approve.”

My eyes slightly widen and my chest heaves in sudden panic.

“ What ? ”

★★★

I stare at the second Hobie painting I’ve found.

A box of chocolates is spilled out onto a concrete ledge.

“Bad Habit” by H. Brown.

A pocket knife sits next to a few crumbs of a chocolate bar, coated in caramel. The knife assumedly had cut the candy bar in half. Not in half, in like three quarters. That was my pocket knife and I remember everything. That night, I had opened the bag as we talked constantly, back and forth. I had opened a Twix and set it on the ledge.

“We go half?” He looked at me, reaching for the candy. I pulled out my pocket knife and flicked it open.

“Jesus, dude. You can have it. ”

I laughed loudly, I covered my mouth. “No! I’m gonna cut it in half. Sorry, I should stop pulling knives on people.”

He laughed, “That’s a habit of yours?”

I sighed dramatically, “A bad one.” Before cutting the Twix, it was completely disproportionate.

Remembering this made me smirk. I wondered why these moments had been memorialized. I continue looking back, wondering what else could be so special. I felt too bad to skip every other piece. I could tell time had been dedicated to the abstract oil pastel labeled “Tio.” I felt connected to the color pencil drawing of the Iris flowers. I couldn’t just walk past them selfishly. My eyes quickly scanned them, hastily coming up with my opinions on them and shuffling to the next. I read the labels and artists’ names and ages. I wander the rooms, they are small and large and the paint on the walls are all different colors of neutral. I admire the windows in the short hallways between rooms. The stained glass being a fitting, constant palette cleanser. I walk through what I believe to be the last room. This room stands surrounded by two other rooms to the left and right. The room is dimmer, I see a brighter light within.

When I walk into the room, the majority of the paintings are lit dimly by the main light at the opposite of the room. I stare at the canvas. It was a sizable canvas compared to every other that had been displayed. Slightly bigger. The one light used in this room was shined directly onto it. I walk towards it.

The painting was me. Literally, I was in the painting . It was a view of me from the side, my head only slightly turned towards the point of view. The darkening sunset before me, casting an orange glow on my face. The art style was choppy, no straight lines, everything lightly blended together. My face was clear, though. It was obviously me. I had cheap earbuds in, listening to music I refused to show him in fear of getting made fun of. The sunset had almost changed my eye color, it emphasized my eyelashes, highlighted my arms as they pushed my body up from the ledge. I was looking out past the roof and towards the sky. People below were blurred squares, a hundred feet below us. So ignorant, yet so important in this painting. I remember this. My breath was audible in the dead silent room. I breathed in and out, the exhale interrupted by a quick “Heh.” I looked at the card underneath.

“Dayplayer” by Hobie Brown

It was impossible to stop thinking about how this painting struck me. I saw how I was seen at that moment, watching the sunset with him. This was how he saw me on a random Valentine’s Day, on a random rooftop, with random street lights in the background. I hadn’t even noticed where his attention was, I was focused on the sky, on how my music would fit the moment. I was feeling the warm, humid air and was pissed that it wasn’t getting cooler faster.

I had no idea .

I couldn’t bring myself to see the other paintings until I could feel my fingers again. They were cold and almost numb, I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there staring. I turned to face the adjacent walls to find that every painting in this room was made by Hobie.

A painting of a mug of coffee on an unidentified table sitting next to a remote was labeled “Peak.”

A messy charcoal sketch of a pair of shoes: “Great Race.”

A pencil drawing of several objects, practice maybe. “Goodie bag.”

I go from paper to canvas, reviewing the details, recognizing themes. I am getting to understand how he sees the world. As vivid colors intrude black and white backgrounds, I hear a word behind me.

“ Hi .”

★★★

#wrote this a while ago #✰H writes fanfic #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #atsv #spiderman atsv #spider punk #atsv hobie #hobie x reader #gn reader #fanfic #across the spiderverse

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sourissad · 24 days

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Damn i forgot to drop the translation of that fic , shit... I'm not active here like i used to cuz of school and stuff. anyways heres the translation (the fanfic was made by auxy1129 on ao3 go follow them) >>>>>>>>>>>>

The cherry blossoms in late April are in full bloom.

The pale pink petals dance wildly with the morning breeze full of wood fragrance, and finally float in the clear blue sky. As if whispering, everything can be forgiven in the peaceful present.

However, no hints were found. It was mediocre, walking on the depressing concrete sidewalk, and no one stopped to admire it. The car horns on the street were messy and ugly, but the noise was also the voice of people, Kusuo thought.

Anxiety, entanglement, unwillingness, pain... Meaningful and meaningless voices are spinning uncontrollably in my mind. They may be all kinds of life worries and expectations, or they may be bullying, trauma, and depression. The echo creates a huge sense of oppression, and experiencing life over and over again in various voices makes people sometimes feel powerless against the depravity of human nature.

Maybe we're all hopeless.

Kusuo thought, alone in an empty house, with the TV screen in front of him flashing a program that he could no longer stand. His father and mother went on a half-month honeymoon trip, and before Kusuo even woke up, he was buried in the thoughts that followed one after another. Unable to accept it anymore, I decided to skip class. After putting on the germanium ring, it finally turned into the silence that the house should have, and he just needed not to think about what he heard.

Is it growth to ignore those things?

Since he had the ability of telepathy, he was destined not to be an innocent child. He heard too many secrets and ulterior darkness, experienced a process of inconsistency, and lost his expectations for the world from the beginning. This may be the same way that gods hear people's prayers, such as listening to the snow in winter, and it also allows him, who has no emotion, to empathize with the world, even if everything eventually turns to dust after a long time. As a person with super powers, he should be strong and able to withstand it.

They should be saved.

But maybe he has reached a certain critical point after all. He is tired today.

But today, Kusuo repeated it like a mantra.

The sun shines through the window on the ring on the finger, and the silver light shines, and it seems that sinful thoughts have also flashed through. If germanium could interfere with superpowers...

Amidst the chaos, he retrieved enough germanium from the air and turned it into a sharp blade. Silver light shines on his fair and slender wrist, and the blade presses against the skin, leaving a subtle line on it. Kusuo had heard a few people use this method to relieve stress. It was morbid, but it seemed so happy. He didn't think it would bring any happiness, but was attracted by its uncertainty.

Then in an instant, the blade pressed down.

What was shocking was that the invulnerable body was scratched like a white paper, and bright red rushed out, accompanied by pain that was rarely felt before.

Although he didn't feel as happy as he had heard before, before he could react, Kusuo slashed again. His thoughts seemed to be flashing with black void and static electricity, sinking downward from the surface of the body. The pain was unbearable, yet so addictive. He was injured and bleeding like an ordinary person, and for a moment he seemed to have really forgotten his differences. Kusuo's body was shaking uncontrollably, his breathing gradually quickened, and he was sweating profusely.

The carpet in the living room was dyed red with blood, and untimely Manzhushahua bloomed everywhere. He raised the blade and was about to make the next cut...

"Kusuo"

A gentle, yet unmistakable voice came from the limiter.

"Kusuo, put the knife down," Saiki Kusuke said.

...! The blade fell while trembling, but Kusuo's panic continued to increase, he was hyperventilating, and the room continued to twist and shrink.

"Apart from...staring at...me...all day long...you have...nothing else..." What should I do if Kusuke sees me? He wanted to use telepathy to shout at him, telling him to leave him alone, but the two of them were too far apart, and he could only say these words intermittently as he was suffocated.

"Go away..." My head started to hurt.

"Kusuo, it's okay, come to me now, come to your brother." He reassured him word by word. Kusuo also understood and knew that this was an order he could not disobey. So he stood up unsteadily and moved to Kûsuke's side instantly.

Kusuo lost strength and was about to fall down, but Kûsuke caught him and gently stroked his spasming back with his slender hands.

"Kusuo, listen to me, don't be afraid, it's okay. Breathe according to my rhythm, inhale, one, two, three, four; exhale, one, two, three, four. Do it again, inhale..."

Kusuo tried to keep up with the rhythm, but kept failing and coughing. The saliva that flowed down uncontrollably stained Kûsuke's clean lab coat, but he didn't push Kusuo away even once.

He just slowly counted his breaths.

"It's okay...one, two, three, four, spit..."

After a few minutes, the pale pink-purple eyes slowly regained focus, although they were still dazed and deeply tired after regaining consciousness. Kûsuke watched Kusuo's blinking speed gradually slow down and made a decision, "Let's go to bed." He said, lifting the exhausted Kusuo horizontally and heading to the rest area in the laboratory, even though he struggled to move around on his own.

Before going to bed, Kusuo was about to take off his ring, but Kûsuke stopped him.

"Just rest quietly for a while. I will always stay by your side to protect you."

I won't let anyone hurt my lovely brother

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

Perhaps it was the silence of the laboratory, or perhaps the presence of Kûsuke made the atmosphere too comfortable, so Kusuo closed his eyes.

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

He quietly raised his arm that had fallen off the bed. The shocking wound on his wrist had long since healed. Kûsuke finally stopped to think from the chaotic situation.

°. °. °. °. °.

Today should have been an ordinary morning, but in the middle of the experiment, the computer suddenly sounded an injury warning coming from Kusuo's limiter. What kind of disaster could make Kusuo bleed? Kûsuke even turned on the computer with some excitement at that time, but when he tried to locate it, he found that Kusuo was still at home. He felt something was wrong and hurriedly switched to the monitor in the living room.

However, what hurt Kusuo was not the disaster that destroyed the universe, but Kusuo himself, with a knife made casually with super powers.

He had never seen Kusuo display such strong negative emotions, permeating everything with confusion and pain. At that time, for the first time, Kûsuke longed to have the same superpower as his younger brother, to be able to move to his side instantly and stop him before it started; he also wanted to break down, blame himself for his incompetence, and close the stopping lines in his heart layer by layer. Stand between two people. It's a pity that he is still a mortal after all, and he is even the source of the burden on the gods just like everyone else. But they found a way to give him a little rest, using small germanium elements to cleverly compose something to remove Kusuo's defenses. Then, during his rest, Kûsuke will protect him, not as a believer to protect the gods, but as an elder brother caring for his younger brother, nothing more...

Holding the hand that looked immature compared to his, Kûsuke never let go for a moment.

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

The moment he opened his eyes, a dizzying pain followed. The oozing fatigue accused him of dragging him down into the abyss again, but Kusuo did not dare to close his eyes out of fear. Looking around, the light in the room was very comfortable, with a slight warm yellow in the dimness, which soothed the throbbing head. As he looked at the warmth coming from his palms, Kûsuke, who had taken off his telepathy canceller, was also looking at him.

"Are you awake? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?" Her voice was soft, not to wake Kusuo who was still tired, but also as if he had anticipated his headache.

What Kusuo didn't know was that there were heavy dark circles under his eyes. You didn't need to be a superpower or a genius to see how bad he was at this time.

Kûsuke picked up the glass beside him, "Here, it's water. You need to rest more after what happened." The clear and cold water stayed down his throat, and it was then that Kusuo realized how thirsty he was. The robot next to the door quietly served dinner, which was porridge that was delicious, delicious, yet elegant, and sweet coffee jelly. The shallow stimulation was just right enough not to make Kusuo feel nauseated.

After taking off the ring, it was quiet. There were no people or animals within a radius of 200 meters, only kûsuke's deep thoughts.

"Why take off the telepathy canceller?" Kusuo asked.

"I don't want you to feel stressed, thinking that now I will compete with you in this state to let you relax and recuperate. Moreover, I also hope that you can hear me and truly understand my sincerity," he said.

"We need to talk about today's events. Although the wound will heal quickly, this is not the right approach."

Once the abnormal mood of the morning disappeared, Kusuo returned to his original cold personality, and naturally returned to the state of not sharing himself.

I'm just tired, there's nothing to say...

"I know it's tiring to keep hearing people's voices. Human beings are so ignorant and evil. I know it all too well." Even without mentioning a word, Kûsuke accurately mentioned what was bothering him. After all, he is probably the closest person to a god, Kusuo thought.

"but,"

Kûsuke took a deep breath

"Harming yourself is not an option. It will cause harm to yourself and will not solve the problem." Behind the rational persuasion, there is a question that makes you cry.

"Do you know how scared I was when I saw you hurt? Kusuo."

In fact, even without the use of telepathy, Kusuo knew that every word spoken by Kûsuke was sincere, as evidenced by his eyes full of reluctance and twinkling with tears.

"If you encounter a problem that you can't solve, or even don't want to solve, come to me, dad, mom, and even your friends. We all love you, and you know it."

"So, don't do it again, okay?"

Kusuo finally said, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"So don’t tell them what happened today…"

Kûsuke sighed, "I won't tell them this time. But if I see them again, it won't be like this."

"Yeah."

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

Turning around to look out the window, the sky dimmed unconsciously

The clouds at night are so high.

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

In the end, Kûsuke took a few days' sick leave for Kusuo, forced him to rest in the laboratory for a few days, and promised not to challenge him to wear the ring. It took Kusuo a lot of effort to prevent kûsuke from installing surveillance cameras on the streets. Finally, with the return of Kurumi and Kuniharu Kusuo also followed them home.

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

April has finally passed, the flowers have fallen, and the spring has faded.

However, after spring comes midsummer, the season where you and I were born. This summer is probably destined to be extraordinary.

But I know that I have you and them behind me, and there is a place for me to stay as a mortal.

° ° ° ° ° ° °

He holds me as a flower in spring, and never tires of it. After the flowers fall, he always makes me bloom again.

AND THATS THE WHOLE FIC i really love this one lol, you should totally try to read Chinese fics they definitely hit different!!

#saiki no psi nan #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki k #saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no psi nan #kusuke saiki #ao3 fanfic #ao3 saiki #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki kusuo #saiki kusuke #saiki k fanfic #tw s3lf harm #panic attack #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 #tdlosk

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masiethewriter · 1 month

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Honored Eternal Path of Demise CH. 10 - Basic Mechanics

Shen Qingqiu can't keep himself from quietly humming the Significant-Item-Pick-Up melody. He knows this is not the first important item he has collected, but this flashlight in particular brings out the Pavlovian response in him. Just how many times did he die and have to collect this very flashlight back when he first played the game? "I got something!" he finally calls out. As Luo Binghe jogs over, he shows him the flashlight. "Great find Senior! Now we can see where we are going." "I don't know how long it will last, so let's get this over with. Before it runs out of battery."

First Chapter ~~ Previous Chapter

Shen Qingqiu does not appreciate the feeling of his clothing sticking to his skin. His glasses have been taken off, hidden safely in his pocket to protect them from the pour. Each step he takes releases a squelch, as his shoes are not made for this kind of weather.

The only time he has gotten a taste of the outside was back on the balcony. At least that had had a small roof to protect against the worst of the rain. Out here, walking on a slick path made of rock, framed only by flower patches and lamp posts, there is nothing in the way of wind or water.

It is, of course, the same for Luo Binghe, but his protagonist halo means he will only look pitiful when a loving and fertile woman is close by to take care of him. With no such being in range, he instead takes on the look of the lone hero braving the elements.

So far, both of them have stayed quiet.

There are various reasons for why Shen Qingqiu has not said a word yet. Part of it is to stay in character. The original goods never hid his distaste for Luo Binghe, so here in the beginning, when conflicts have yet to rear their heads, he would most likely stay silent. Don't wanna waste his breath on a worthless beast and all that, bla bla bla.

Staying in character is also a convenient excuse, because he wouldn't even know what to say. He can't just repeat Ning Yingying’s lines here. That would make no sense coming from the scum villain. There is no script for him to follow this time and improvisation is much riskier to do with a character as smart as Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu joining him in Ning Yingying's place should not have been possible. And yet here he is.

This entire situation is suspicious to the highest degree. Whatever caused Luo Binghe to act out of character like this, Shen Qingqiu has to keep an eye out for it. So, his last reason for staying quiet is that he is waiting for Luo Binghe to speak up first.

To be the first to reveal a card from his hand.

But Luo Binghe has not said a word since they went outside. He has been guiding them along the path, a few steps ahead. His demeanor has been pure innocence, none of his behavior inconsistent with how he would be expected to act.

Shen Qingqiu’s guard is fully up. All his attention is on Luo Binghe, as he awaits his next move. Nothing unusual will go unnoticed on his watch.

He is so focused on Luo Binghe that he has barely considered the space around them. Mostly been ignoring the outside area so far, which is honestly also making every nerve in his body itch with unease. Being outside like this is way too soon. It goes completely against the narrative for him to be here.

His only consolation is that it is still following Ning Yingying’s story. While he shouldn't be able to take her place at all, it is a comfort the game still continues as he would expect. Following the road out here, lamp posts lighting their way, Shen Qingqiu, for the first time since his death, gets to re-experience the beginning tutorial of the game.

And speaking of tutorials, here comes the first lesson.

Ahead of them, a massive tree hinders their path. The trunk is massive, larger than the both of them and way too big to crawl over. The height of it can only be imagined, as neither end can be seen. The tip and roots hidden in the darkness in each direction, out of reach from any light. Seeing it laying like this, it feels unbelievable for a tree of such a size to no longer stand. And yet here it is, cut down before them, solely for the sake of being in their way.

It has managed to fall in such a way that it is laying askew. If looking from the right direction, some space underneath it will be revealed to be big enough to crawl under. Though, Shen Qingqiu mostly knows this from experience, rather than being able to see it from here.

They both stop, Luo Binghe stepping towards the tree as he studies it closer. Shen Qingqiu follows, but keeps the distance between them. He allows Luo Binghe to think as he himself just admires the sheer size of the trunk. He has no idea what sort it is. For all he knows it is just made up by the game designers, creating it just to be a blockade on the road. Do any trees in the real world get as huge as this?

He tries to think of different trees he knows from his first life and compare their size to this. He is not the outgoing type, never gone camping or the like. Most of his meetings with nature would happen in the nearby park, usually just so he had an excuse for when his family would complain about him staying inside too much. Certainly none of the trees in the park ever got this big, but maybe if he had gone to an actual forest...

Shen Qingqiu is interrupted from his musings when Luo Binghe suddenly calls him over. He has finally found the way underneath.

"The shadows hide it well, but I think we can crawl underneath here," Luo Binghe explains once he is close enough. "We might get slightly dirty, but it should only take us a second."

"Better than walking in the dark, I suppose" Shen Qingqiu disinterestedly answers. In his mind he can hear the guide explaining which buttons to press to crouch. He kneels down and prepares to go through, When Luo Binghe reaches out to stop him.

His sunshine smile returns as he holds out a hand. He himself has untied his jacket from his waist and slung it over his shoulder instead. Likely to protect it from the mud.

"Let me go first. I will check that it is safe on the other side." He declares all heroic and gentlemanly.

Shen Qingqiu's only answer is a cold "tsk," as he leans back on his heels. Seeing that he isn't arguing, Luo Binghe goes first.

Shen Qingqiu does not wait for him to call him over. The second Luo Binghe is out of sight, he follows. It is dark underneath, but light seeps through from both sides. He is not far behind Binghe and even with a tree this massive, it only takes a few seconds to get through. Once he crawls through the other side, he is met with a large hand, palm up.

Shen Qingqiu looks up and his eyes are caught by Luo Binghe’s. The younger adult is using the trunk to keep his balance, as he leans down to help Shen Qingqiu stand up. His sunshine smile has not dimmed in the slightest and his shoulders are relaxed. With his jacket still thrown over his shoulder and the lamp post light creating a halo around him, he is the perfect image of the virtuous hero offering a helping hand.

In any other case Shen Qingqiu would love to see Luo Binghe like this. While he hated the game, he could rarely complain about their characterisation of Binghe. The Luo Binghe of the novels had been in his blackened era for such a long time that seeing white lotus Binghe stay pure for the entire game was a nice change.

But this is just pure suspicion with paranoia on top! There must be a reason for Luo Binghe to invite him outside and there must be a reason for him to act all sweet and innocent! He is playing some kind of game and Shen Qingqiu is too busy being forced to play an awful horror game to join any other! The rules of Honored Eternal Path of Demise may be shitty, but at least he knows them! On the other hand, there is no knowing what is happening inside Luo Binghe's head.

So Shen Qingqiu does not take the offered hand. Instead he keeps his face expressionless, slowly lowering his eyes from Luo Binghes face to the hand in front of him. Neither move for a while until Luo Binghe understands the message. Shen Qingqiu does not see what expression he makes when he steps back. Instead he uses the trunk to push himself up, wiping off the dirt from his pants. First when he feels clean and sophisticated again does he spare Luo Binghe a glance.

The sunshine is gone, but it has not been taken over by clouds. The casual demeanor is still there. Waiting by the side of the road, Luo Binghe stands with both hands in his pockets. Once he sees that Shen Qingqiu is ready, he nods towards the way they are going and then turns to lead them further. Shen Qingqiu follows.

First Tutorial lesson out of the way, as well as the first Luo Binghe interaction. He is no closer to understanding what Luo Binghe wants, but he is beginning to formulate the beginning of a theory.

Specifically the theory that Luo Binghe also remembers the loops.

He has no idea if that is even possible. In the original game, only the player remembered the loops, never any of the characters. So there is nothing in the game lore that should be causing this. Of course, it could be the same case as Shen Qingqiu, another unlucky transmigrator landing in this terrible world. But then the question is: why?

Why would they suddenly arrive here? When would it have happened? Could someone else transmigrate at any time? Did they arrive here at the same time as Shen Qingqiu and neither of them noticed before now?

A lot of questions and no answers. If there are any answers to begin with. Shen Qingqiu hasn't fully subscribed to Luo Binghe being a transmigrator yet. Because even if he is, then what happened during the last loop that made them decide to travel with Shen Qingqiu?

Here it is natural to assume they could have been the one that switched out the paper or the stranger that stayed with him when he died. Though neither of those cases would explain the new behavior now. If he was the shadow watching him with Ning Yingying's corpse, now that would make sense.

If they already had the context of transmigrating from their own experience, what he said to Ning Yingying couldn't be more clear as a confession. Why Luo Binghe was inside in the first place or where he went when Shen Qingqiu tried to see who had been watching him, that would still not be explained. But it would be the most logical motive for why he suddenly wants to be alone with him.

If Luo Binghe is a transmigrator, then this is all a test. A test to see if Shen Qingqiu is a transmigrator as well. And this is exactly why it is more important than ever for Shen Qingqiu to stay in character and avoid revealing that he is not the original scum villain.

Most would think he would consider it to be a good thing finding that he is not alone in the loops.

In actuality that would be the most dangerous of all.

Honored Eternal Path of Demise is a game that pushes their characters to their very edge and afterwards still kicks them into the abyss. No character in this game will stay innocent by the end. Whether by the countless death they will all experience or those they themselves will inevitably cause. Every character is just as likely to be horrifically killed by a monster as they will turn into a monster themselves.

Terrible accidents, uncontrollable emotions, overpowering paranoia, violent insanity or corrupting curses. There are many motives for why murdering one of your friends might suddenly seem desirable. And in a world where your ally can suddenly become your enemy, the resets suddenly become much more of a blessing.

If Luo Binghe suddenly remembers everything as well, that means that Shen Qingqiu can commit no wrong as long as he is watching. Because those wrongs would still be remembered in upcoming sessions.

If a transmigrating Luo Binghe suddenly decided that he would be better off not having Shen Qingqiu around...

For all he knows, Luo Binghe is currently luring him to where the Killer first is to get him out of the way early. And this is why Shen Qingqiu can at no point let his guard down. He has already made up his mind that he will beat his survival record in this session.

No matter what it takes!

Further ahead, multiple of the light posts have broken down. A few of them are still blinking, but the light is too weak to show anything. Much further they can see there are still some working, but this leaves a long stretch of the path in utter darkness. Besides the outline of some bushes, there is nothing they can see.

"Should we just try to walk through? The path has been safe so far," Luo Binghe asks.

"You are welcome to go first. I will just wait here," Shen Qingqiu answers. Even if he didn't remember what the darkness holds, he already has experience with traps hidden outside of sight. The game has made it clear that he should not try his luck.

Neither does Luo Binghe. Of course the hero is not stupid enough to walk in blind.

If there is someone else in Luo Binghes body, then Shen Qingqiu will give them props for saying their lines perfectly. Of course the dialogue changes slightly depending on his own words, but so far Binghes words have almost been the same as when he is with Ning Yingying. Really, there is a frustrating lack of proof that this could be a transmigrator acting as Luo Binghe.

"There must be something that can help us. I would hate for us to go back empty handed like this." Luo Binghe mutters to himself.

He likely doesn’t expect an answer, but that does not stop Shen Qingqiu: "If we go back now we might find Ning Yingying has already contacted the police and that we are wasting our time."

His words just cause Luo Binghe to laugh.

"I don't think you really believe that, Senior Shen."

Of course he doesn't! If it was that easy, what kind of horror game would this be? Whatever Ning Yingying is doing, he can be certain she is not having more luck than he had! Even if she manages to get the spiritbox and have begun to explore the upper floor, he wanna bet that she would be just as challenged by the music puzzle as he was!

Well, whatever she is doing, she still has some time. This is only the second part of the tutorial that they have reached.

This time he helps Luo Binghe explore the area. Mostly because he can see Luo Binghe is looking in the totally wrong place and he doesn't want to wait. This is a point for this still being NPC-Binghe as he is exactly where he is meant to be. This is a lesson for the player after all.

To not make it too obvious that he knows what to look for, he does waste some time checking the area. There is not much they can look at while staying in the light, but he still lets a few minutes pass. Then he checks between two bushes at the edge of the road.

He finds a partially broken flashlight.

It does not look pretty. It has begun to rust and part of the glass is broken off. It is heavy in his hand when he picks it up, but clicking on the button, it does shoot out its light.

"I got something!" he finally calls out. As Luo Binghe jogs over, he shows him the flashlight.

"Great find Senior! Now we can see where we are going."

"I don't know how long it will last, so let's get this over with. Before it runs out of battery."

"You lead the way," Luo Binghe says, indicating with his hands the same sentiment. Shen Qingqiu takes them back to the darkened path.

As he lights up the road with the flashlight, they can see it is covered in bushes. Bushes that are very different from the ones they have seen so far. They are each the same size as Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, their leaves full of sharp edges and thorns along the branches. They don't look like something you want to walk into and as Luo Binghe studies them closer, Shen Qingqiu can't help but push him back.

"Don't touch them. You will come to regret it if any of them touch your skin," he warns.

"Senior Shen knows of these plants?" Luo Binghe asks.

Shen Qingqiu hums as he begins to lead them safely through the bushes. The flashlight has revealed a safe strip of road they can walk along. The clear path is quite narrow though, so Luo Binghe stays closely behind him. Occasionally he has to lay a hand on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder, so as not to lose him in a turn.

"They are poisonous. Not deadly, but one touch will make you want to scratch your skin off. Better not risk anything," he explains.

"Why would they grow on the road like this?"

"Likely for the same reason that tree hadn't been removed either. It doesn't look like this place has been maintained for a long time. Or to deter uninvited guests? If you have the right tools to collect them, the leaves are said to make excellent tea, so that could also be a reason for why they are grown here."

"Hmm, Senior sure is knowledgeable."

Shen Qingqiu almost stops. He forces his feet to keep moving, not giving any outward sign of what he is thinking.

Shit!

Did he just give himself away? Would it be weird for the original goods to know this? He just wanted to warn Luo Binghe, he did not think sharing this kind of info was bad. He will have to be even more careful!

"If you kept attention in class you would know this too. This is very common knowledge, even the biggest morons from our school should know this," he quickly scolds. Fuck, now he really hopes Luo Binghe is not a transmigrator! He swears he can feel Luo Binghes breath on his neck, like he is suddenly much closer. Is it just him or can he suddenly feel Binghes heat against his back?!

"Sorry Senior, I will make sure to pay better attention in the future," Luo Binghe dutifully promises. Before he can ask further questions, Shen Qingqiu hurries them out of the maze, the labyrinth of bushes suddenly making him feel claustrophobic.

They get free from the bushes and finally Shen Qingqiu can step away from Luo Binghe. Sweat is running down his back and It is like he can suddenly breathe freely again. He does not wipe his forehead for the sole reason not to give anything away. As he looks over towards Luo Binghe, the other looks fine. Like their little conversation in the maze was just that - Idle smalltalk.

Shen Qingqiu is about to have enough of this. They are nearing the end of the tutorials and it is time to find out what Luo Binghes agenda is. If he is just an innocent NPC acting strangely or a transmigrator luring him into a deadly trap. From here they can see the top of the exit gate, the one meant to leave them away from this nightmare. Shen Qingqiu knows they will not have to walk much further before they will see a dark mass leaning against it.

Pocketing the flashlight, Shen Qingqiu leads them the rest of the way. Luo Binghe keeps up, never letting the distance between them grow too far.

As they draw nearer, Shen Qingqiu mentally prepares himself for the soon meeting of a dead body.

#SVSSS #BingQiu #BingYuan #Shen Yuan #Luo Binghe #Shen Qingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain self saving system #mxtx #scumvillain

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gnomescarfcomics · 14 days

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Rings of Power: Episode 7 - The Eye

Rewatch mini review. Chaotic and out of order.

The grief episode.

Southlands: Galadriel's scenes with Theo were surprisingly poignant. It was great to see her slowly coming back to her true self after years of obsession, hate, failure, and grief. I don't dislike Theo, but he was probably one of my least favorite characters. This show finds a way to make good use of every character though. Seeing the world through his eyes helps Galadriel come to terms with how much she's changed since her hunt for Sauron began. I wish they'd spent a little more time with that though, even just another short scene or two. I think it could have softened the blow a little for how people reacted to Galadriel's personality throughout the show.

As I mentioned in my other review, another fake out death for Bronwyn feels extra unnecessary after the events of season 2. But it is what it is. Now I actually miss Bronwyn more than I thought I would. She was another one of my least favorite characters, but her storyline did have a lot of heart behind it.

Elendil's various stages of grief are played out well, even if most people know Isildur isn't actually dead. It's not always about what the audience knows but how the characters react. Miriel's blindness was a creative choice that has some nice symbolic implications, and it was nice seeing it hardening her resolve rather than sinking her into despair.

Halbrand being wounded and needing "elvish medicine" was a little hokey and felt like a lazy way of getting him to Eregion. I know Galadriel later says "we rode without rest", but I would have liked at least one scene with them on the road. Season one suffers from kind of ignoring the time and distance between locations. Even with the inclusion of map cutaways, which I grew to love, there isn't enough traveling for me. Maybe they took the complaints of Lord of the Rings having "too much walking" to heart.

And speaking of maps, I think the Southlands to Mordor visual transition should have been done over a shot of the whole map rather than just showing the text over a wide shot of the land. But that's a bit of a nitpick.

Harfoots/Harfeet: This part feels a little sloppy in some places. How much they fear the Stranger and his magic (and why) feels a little inconsistent at times. As does the sense of community of the harfoots. I get what they were going for: they're a superstitious clan that have become overly obsessed with survival, basically at the cost of their true unity as a people. The Stranger's mere presence fills them with fear, despite his kindly nature and attempts to help them. And when anything goes wrong, it's hard for them not to instinctively blame him. Their decisions are all based in fear, including leaving people behind.

Just as Isildur says Numenor is "not the true Numenor" anymore, I think the same is true of the harfoots. They've literally lost their way. But who they once were still lives on, and it's strongest in people like Nori and her father. Just as the heart of true Numenor lives on in Elendil and Isildur. As Nori says when she refuses to leave the Stranger behind, "That's not who we are." And Poppy corrects her, "That's not who YOU are."

I think Largo's speech and Malva admitting her faults do a pretty good job of communicating this, but it could have been clearer in my opinion. And like Galadriel, a little more clarification and time could have helped alleviate some of the criticisms. Because I think the writers' intent is good and makes sense overall.

Khazad-dum: The smoothest of the storylines. Elrond and Durin's relationship (and Disa) continue to be the heart of the show. Not even the somewhat clunky mithril stuff can hold them back. And to its benefit, this episode focuses more on the emotional impacts rather than the detailed intricacies of how the fading and the mithril supposedly works.

It may not be immediately apparent, but most of the characters on the side of good are "right" in their own ways. Even the grumpy dwarf king makes valid points and is doing what he thinks is best, just as everyone else is. He may come off as harsh, but he's not acting out of malice. This idea of people being both right and wrong in their own ways becomes especially important in season two.

I remember this episode feeling a little disappointing when it first came out. After such an impactful previous episode, it was hard not to want things to keep going at the same pace. But as Sadoc said, everyone needed "a moment to grieve" and regroup before the final reveals of the season came to light.

#Rings of Power #TROP #Lord of the Rings #Gnome Scarf review #Galadriel #Theo #Elendil #Bronwyn #Halbrand #Sauron #Largo Brandyfoot #Malva Meadowgrass #Gandalf #Durin #Durin IV #Durin III #Elrond

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alpydk · 1 month

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Red On You. (Rugan/Gale)

(Part 1)That's right. The ZhentWeave train is setting off once again. This time with zombies! Why? Because this is what I want! If you've not read the first part Tattered Souls, I suggest you do, because it's awesome.

Summary - It's been a year since Rugan and Gale hooked up and life has been pretty good for them. But just like with anything, the cracks have started to appear. Will an outbreak of the undead be enough to save the relationship of the unlikely pair?

The emerging sunrise over Waterdeep was a relaxing sight as Gale lifted his head from the large leather-bound book held in his hands. Shades of orange and pink danced on the midsummer horizon and the sea waves lapped idly against the docks as he sat on his balcony as he had so many times before, tracing his finger over ancient words and thinking of how his life had changed so drastically in the last two years. He’d jumped from Mystra to Mindflayers, from Tav to Professor, and yet the leapfrog jumping had not ended there. A year ago, he had met Rugan, their relationship one with a tumultuous start. It had begun with thievery in various locations, a desperate kiss on a classroom table, and had eventually resulted in the destruction of one of the largest warehouses on the southern docks.

Months later, the quiet snores could be heard from the bedroom. Gale sighed deeply, an interrupted night of sleep yet again causing him to retreat to the balcony to relax with reading and night sky stars. It wasn’t even being rudely awoken by the protective spell that he found irritating; it was the lying that came with it, the denial that alcohol had been involved despite the scent of liquor which clung to Rugan’s clothing. Something had changed in the last few weeks and Gale wished he could pinpoint what had happened for this sudden shift in behaviour. Had it been the introduction of Astarion to an ex-Zhent which had caused the problem, the two of them bonding over their lives of crime, or had it been the lengthy discussion about the future sparking a fear of commitment? Either way, things had changed and not for the better.

The morning would start as it had the previous four times, with hot kaeth and the Waterdeep Wazoo passed between them in silence over the shared kitchen table. Gale would wait for Rugan to wake up a little before the interrogation would start, passive questions at first, asking if it was a good night out or how Astarion was faring. Then would come an inconsistency in the tale which could be built on: Did you not just say you were visiting the South Ward? South? Sorry, I meant North. Today was no different for the pair.

Rugan sipped at his kaeth, exhaling in satisfaction as the bitter brew warmed his insides. “You don’t half make a good cuppa.”

“You can quit trying to butter me up,” Gale spoke curtly, barely looking up from the broadsheet grasped in his hands. It was almost noon, and he’d wanted to get into the markets before it had become too crowded.

“Ah, don’t tell me you’re still pissed about me coming in late last night.”

“Not pissed, merely agitated. I would have assumed after getting caught in the hold person spell a year ago, you would have learnt your lesson quite thoroughly.”

Rugan smirked over his mug. “Maybe I was just in the mood for a little nostalgia.” He heard the scoff and reached forward, lowering the newspaper. Deep brown eyes stared back at him, annoyed but with the kindness and love still buried in them too easily to ignore. “Or would rather play healer again?”

“There will be nothing of the sort.” It had been some time since Gale had lost his temper. He was almost tempted to reenact a previous engagement and throw a plate for the sake of enforcing his point, but he stuck with the needed lecture instead, putting the paper down and staring directly into Rugan’s pale blue eyes. “Four nights now you have skulked off with Astarion coming back reeking of the taverns, lying to me of your whereabouts with little regard for my input. And now you have the nerve to insinuate that I would be intimate with you after such behaviour? You’re lucky I still tolerate having you in my home.”

“Ah, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? Was just a few drinks.”

“Over-” He breathed deeply, composing himself, and reigned in the anger that clung to the tip of his tongue. “Look, I have errands to attend to. I’m in need of new alchemical components. I trust you can take care of yourself for a few hours.” He paused for a moment before letting a slither of frustration out. “Like an adult.”

Rugan rolled his eyes. “Sure, mate. Whatever.” His hand slid over the table, grabbing the paper and flicking to a random page. Body found at Azuth’s Mug! He skimmed the article, ignoring the movement going on around him, as robes were collected up and the door slammed. He knew his behaviour of late had been questionable, but if the truth was to get out, everything could be ruined.

With his chair reclined, he let the mug of kaeth before him grow cold. He was half tempted to run after Gale, maybe try a half-arsed apology just to tide them over for a few more days. After all, he only needed was one more late night and then things could return to normal between them: coffee shared, flirty remarks, that thing Gale would do with his tongue… Rugan found himself lost in thought at the idea, a smile creeping on his lips. Just one more night.

---

Friol sat unimpressed at the bar of the tavern in the Castle Ward. The job was meant to be an easy one: transport some item from point A to point B, no stops, get paid. Done and done. The bodies upstairs were not part of the plan. Neither was the missing artefact. The plan, as far as she was concerned, had gone completely out of the window and now so had the payment.

Waterdeep in total had proven one disaster after another and now she knew well why no one else had wanted to take up the mantle of the Zhentarim leader there. It had started well with getting set up: mercenaries were easy to hire, wizards were so desperate for magical artefacts that they would make all sorts of shady deals to acquire them. Despite that, things had gone wrong. The interference of Rugan and Gale had caused major issues within the organisation. So many of the resources destroyed a year ago couldn’t be restored, and she’d ended up having to make her own deals, now finding herself in the pocket of her superiors back in Baldur’s Gate, a place no Zhent wanted to be. She stared directly at the bottles that taunted her from behind the bar, each one a target for her buried anger, and ran a hand through the knots of her dread locked grey hair.

“Like a fucking bloodbath up there,” spoke an approaching half-elf, her ebony hair hanging loosely over her back.

“Report, Darnys.”

She straightened up with the order. “Both Bris and Dillie are dead. Ripped apart by the looks of it. No sign of Tibs. As for the transport, it’s gone too. Window looked to have been smashed from the inside. I’m figuring Tibs has double crossed us, taken it and scarpered.”

“Tibs?”

“Yeah. You know, the Gnome with the annoying voice. You said he needed to give his testicles a pull if he ever planned on talking to you directly again.”

Friol smiled to herself at the memory. “Ah, the new recruit. Brown nosing little fuck. Well, you know what to do: track him down, show him what we do to traitors.”

“And the other two? They’re… well, it’s messy.”

She tapped her small fingers on the wood of the bar, the slick residue of old ale catching under her worn down nails. “Bring them back to the base. Use a shovel if you must.”

Darnys grimaced at the thought, the image she’d seen upstairs turning her stomach despite her years of experience with the mercenary organisation.

“And find me that artefact. We don’t get paid unless it gets delivered.”

“Consider it done.”

Hopping from the bar stool, Friol patted herself down, giving her knee a subtle rub in passing. Since the blast of the warehouse, it had given her grief, but showing weakness in front of a subordinate wasn’t an option. “You said, ripped apart. In what way?”

The blood and guts staining the walls, floor and ceiling, filled Darnys’ vision. She fought the rising bile in her throat, swallowing deeply. “I’d say like an animal or something.”

“Hm. Just curious how little Tibs could do such damage. Druid?”

The question was a thankful distraction. “No, though I believe he had some experience with dogs at one point.”

Something was stirring in the back of Friol’s mind, a piece of overheard or read information that had seemed insignificant at the time now trying to emerge. She couldn’t quite remember what it was and so, with all orders given, she began to leave the dim light of the tavern. “Two days, Darnys. You have two days to find me that artefact.”

---

The marketplace was as busy as Gale had expected, tourists haggling over worthless knickknacks as gifts for loved ones they’d barely thought about during their visits. He weaved past the hustle and bustle of the crowds, his eyes drawn to the small shop where he could collect his order before retreating to his tower. He’d wanted to do the outing earlier, wanted to enjoy a leisurely stroll, but the daily habit of kaeth and talk of the news was not one he wanted to break anytime soon. Today may have involved clenching his teeth for the entire morning in waiting for it, Rugan sleeping it away without a care in the world, but it was how things were now.

“Well, did you hear? Apparently, it was proper brutal.” “Yeah, but people die all the time in taverns. Were probably just some bandits or something.” “My cousin says it was a wolf that did eat them.” “Your cousin thinks every murder is from a wolf. Anyway, what’re you buying?”

Gale ignored the gossip of the shopkeeper and customer as he collected his wares from the shelves, their words trailing off as he thought about how was going to deal with everything when he got back home. He was annoyed by the pettiness of the whole situation, at the lack of respect being given by Rugan, at Astarion, who should have known better by now than to come along and spoil everything. The intrusive whispers of self-doubt emerged in Gale’s mind for the first time in months, wondering if, for a moment, the problem with was how he’d doted and pampered his partner. Cooking, cleaning, gifts. Gale had done as he always did with his loved ones and spoilt them, worshipped them. Maybe the same was happening again, and he was being overbearing. His thoughts continued to spiral, questing his actions more and more, and he approached the counter slowly, not noticing the vendor eying his wares.

“Found everything you wanted.”

He was pulled from his thoughts quickly, needing a moment to gather himself. “Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Good, good. Witch hazel, eh? Looking to hide some bodies?” The shopkeeper chortled to himself at his own joke.

Gale appreciated the humour, forgetting his problems with the interaction. “Haha, I do hope not.”

“Well, you’d better be careful. Guards’ll be on the lookout for something like that, what with that murder that happened and all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He left the store, considering the conversation at length. All the talk of this murder was making him uncomfortable, a niggling in his mind like that of the tadpole so long ago. Waterdeep wasn’t some quaint little hamlet; he wasn’t completely naïve, and he had seen and heard a fair share of the dangerous goings-on that happened in the region. Hells, he’d even been a part of one himself a year ago, but for one death in a tavern to be stirring up so much talk amongst the city folk, it had to be something more than just a drunken brawl. He walked back to the tower slowly, past the market stalls and city goers, past the houses and their happy families, past the temples and their ever-watchful gods, and hoped that maybe this was all just a little summer hysteria.

---

“My son, what brings you to us on this fine day?” The cleric of Ilmater welcomed the gnome into the temple, seeing how he carried his body as if in pain. She spoke softly, beckoning him to come closer. “It’s quite alright, we welcome those of all backgrounds.”

He wanted to speak, wanted to cry out for her help, but it was as if his mouth was not his own. He could taste the blood on his lips, the copper mixed with bile residing on his tongue. Stepping forward, Tibs reached up towards her. Pustules dotted the back of his pale hand, some oozing as the strain of his muscles caused them to burst.

By reflex she stepped back as the odour of decay hit her nostrils. Thinking over her training, she took a deep breath through her mouth, trying to hold it as she leant down to help him. She’d always been taught that nobody should be turned away in their moment of need and she wasn’t going to let this person down simply because of how they looked or an unpleasant smell. “Oh, you are quite sick. Come, come with me.” She took his hand in hers, noting how cold and clammy his skin felt under her touch, and led him further into the temple. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rugan #ruganxgale #zhentweave #self indulgent fics are the best fics

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mrstsung · 2 months

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Ok look. Mk legends Cagematch was good.

But idc it doesn't feel like a prequel to scorpions revenge. There's too many inconsistencies. And it felt like raiden making johnny cage the "chosen one" and fucking shoving liu kang to the side like that is just wrong.

Because making the only white American dude the star regardless if he's actually a good guy or even an honorable person or not. Is fucked up. Because mortal kombat is majorly centered around various asian cultures (admit from a western perspective and that is a problem for another time and post.)

So yeah there's several SEVERAL PROBLEMS WITH THEM MAKING CAGEMATCH THE "PREQUEL"

The mk legends movies should be absolutely treated as separate aus and universes and self contained.

Also nrs if you're aware of this.

Fucking make shang tsung actually fucking badass as he should be and make your asian characters not just someone to dance n jive for your entertainment while giving pseudo "kung fu wisdom" for your amusement. And not just make shang a bad guy to beat up and shoehorning your lowkey racism and xenophobic crap at. Thank you.

-Sincerely q mortal kombat fan who's sick of your shit.

Anyways. Back to johnny.

Johnny cage is awesome. But only if he's done right and not shoved into the spotlight and actually what his character is about. Which is making fun of and light of Hollywood actors. While showing Johnnys heart of gold. He doesn't need to be main guy. Because that doesn't exist in mortal kombat. Because everyone is dying,surviving and fighting for their fucking lives! There's not hero. They all are heroes in their own way,even the supposed " bad guys" . There is not right or wrong path. Just a path. And thats THE FUCKING POOOOOOIIIINTT!!!!

Mortal kombat is about one group of assholes fighting another group of assholes to protect their own crappy piece of existence filled with other assholes in colorful ways. Pretty much.

Like every damn fighting game. However we play mortal kombat for the characters and the lore and the world it's in. And the bloody goodness. However nrs/boon/etc seems to have lost that and mk severely lacks on its world building and lore consistency (if it ever had any) and it sucks that fans have to do the work they should have already have done.

But yeah some characters like Johnny cage shouldn't be in the spotlight all the time. And should be complex,well thought out,well written,side characters. And if they don't have any place to go fucking further in the story. Then they should just leave it at that. Their story is done,move on to something and someone else in the story and world to work and build upon. Like people these days dunno when to end the fucking chapter with a character. Liu kang is prime example! Love him. But good lord there's nothing else to be done. His story has been told. A thousand times. Let someone else shine. That isn't the white American male character that was ment to be a SUPPORTING ROLE!

I love all of them,all these characters. I do. I just feel like people miss the point of them too? And so many other characters have so little to them and representation that it gets stale.

*sigh*

Anyways. The mk legends movies are good. But only if you treat them as separately and as they are. Entertaining.

That's all the mortal kombat stuff is worth these days. Just entertainment. Which is fine. Nothing wrong with that.

But for fans who want more it's been hella disappointing for years! And when we gets something nice,it gets either scrapped for something mediocre and "marketable" or it just gets flat out ignored for mid tier games.

Mk9(if you ignore the character favoritism),maybe 10 for the gore,and mk11 if you ignore the dumb plotholes. Were good games. But lacking in a lot of areas.

We've yet to have a mortal kombat game that is good from start to finish that is faithful to the original arcades and premise(a divine tournament and system to protect the realms/worlds and a death martial tournament for the gods. And the rules of mortal kombat respected,enforced,shown,and taken to heart. And all characters get a turn in the sun and even the bad guys get some love and nuance to them. And the women are fucking respected but that's apparently asking for too much 🙄) I've yet to see one that respects that. But nope all we are left with is just ha ha bloody funny game.

Anyways. Back on topic. With the mk legends movies with a grain of salt. But i still enjoy them none the less.

#mortal kombat #vent #mortal kombat legends

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its-just-hyper · 1 year

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Man, today I want to rant about cringe culture. Im not gonna cover the points about children and neurodivergent people, those have been covered a million times already.

First of all, I want to preface this by saying I have always, ALWAYS been a very “cringey” person. My dynamic in all my relationships for as long as I can remember has been that I’m the “comic relief somewhat pathetic one” and that is self inflicted. My own mother told me that I was so obsessed with undertale that she “didn’t like talking to [me] and regrets not getting [me] tested for autism.”

I’ve been in countless cringe fandoms, including but not limited to mlp, fanfic/fandom culture, mha, animation memes, Henry stickmin, minecraft, Pokémon, the furry fandom, cosplay, sanders sides, dream smp, batim, Aphmau, and MANY others. Undertale has always been the really big thing for me, but recently fnaf has been the thing for me. Because of cringe culture, I hate myself for enjoying things. In order to talk about my interests, self deprecating ironic humor was super common from me.

This humor evolved from irony, to self deprivation, to despising myself for enjoying things considered “cringe” (example is Undertale, but many other things, too), all the way to feeling so much shame for liking anything at all that I distance myself from everything.

Genuinely, I had a meltdown because I like hollow knight. That isn’t even a “cringe” comunity!! It’s one of the chillest out there!!! And because I “like it too much” I made myself feel like shit preemptively.

This next section is a specific example, and this is a really difficult thing for me to admit candidly because of what I’ve already said.

I am in the gacha fnaf community. It’s something I enjoy, and I enjoy it separately from how i enjoy fnaf. SEPARATE FANDOMS, PEOPLE!! (Same with undertale and undertale aus, one is significantly less socially acceptable, and people leave it out of discussions in the other context, but not the other way around.)

I stumbled across a video by a large mainstream gachatuber focusing on and making fun of “gacha fnaf cringe”. All the clips shown were people self-insert shipping themselves with various aftons or animatronics. The only clip that wasn’t that formula, was a strange video about Ennard abusing Michael Afton. They didn’t even appear to be shipped together, it was just Mike getting beat up. Idk man.

After each clip, the YouTuber would say a snarky quip and move on, but the big thing that got to me was that they had never played fnaf, and had avoided it to the point that, on their entire time on the internet, never saw the purple guy sprite.

When someone made William a brunet man with glasses, the joke was about how “I did some research, and apparently William is just a purple blob. That’s not very close to the canon design, huh?”. When William was purple, the joke was about how “the designs are all so inconsistent in the whole community.”

This person but absolutely zero effort into research. At first that baffled me, but then I realized that it’s always true.

Have you ever met someone anti furry who’s given an accurate definition of what a furry even is? Probably not. Has anyone ever added any genuine commentary to a single cringe compilation, other than “wow that’s cringe, kys”??? Probably fucking not.

There are issues within the fnaf gacha community that (if any effort was used) they could have talked about, and had an insightful video. For example, plagiarism is rampant, and shipping in a fandom related to fnaf is inherently…. a very tricky subject, if you will.

Were either of those discussed? Nope. Just comments on how weird it is that William’s been called daddy in the fnaf games before. “Maybe that’s where they got these gross aus from” ((the alias is literally referring to William’s young daughter’s dialogue))

After seeing that bafflingly ignorant video, I went to their channel to see what other stuff they make. Many of the videos were along the lines of “reacting to [thing that is cringe] except I ROAST them!”.

It is truly so, so disgusting that cringe culture isn’t dead. Genuinely. I genuinely think it is the laziest form of content. It’s mean, and pathetic and honestly, what’s the point of it?

It’s not funny, it’s not insightful, it’s not kind, it’s just mean and quick.

Who do you think you’re helping?

#cringe culture #fandom culture #long post #cringe culture tw #tw selfhate #tw kys joke #cringe culture is stupid #cringe culture is lazy #oh I didn’t discuss it but #cringe culture is ableist #cringe culture is bullying #seriously what’s the point #be better

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derekscorner · 1 year

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I wish the original God of War had a remake

Now before you immediately click off because you’re one of those gamers (or even movie fans) tired of the laziness that studios have fell too lately please allow me to elaborate.

I do not say this because I want anything grand. I’m not demanding they remake the classic series or even the classic trilogy. What I desire is that original game remade for some polish and love. (the series has an anniversary soon right?)

Sure, I could just find the original and- well, I did! I’m waiting on it in the mail so I can emulate. Despite this I still would like to see it redone for a few reasons.

Namely World-Building

I’m sure a good reason for many is just gameplay alone. I’ve yet to play it so I can’t chime in on that part of the topic but I do know many say the game has moments that are more annoying that fun. A little rework and polish to rid a player of needless annoyance is always desired.

The reason I personally want to see it remade is from a world stage perspective. The original title was a great enough stand alone work that it spawned this series and since I’m someone who adores simplicity I feel drawn to seeing it.

In the bluntest of terms, I find the grander world that Kratos’ lives in to be a headache. (Let’s list a few)

Such as the world of GoW being depicted as round in Ascension yet the dev team confirming this world is flat.

Or the nature of the various pantheons inhabiting this shared flat world despite the two pantheons we’ve seen so far having vastly different, yet both accurate, origins to that world.

How can Midgard be made of Ymir’s corpse when the world was supposedly born of the Greek primordial gods killing each other in a war of mutual destruction?

Was Odin just blowing smoke up his own ass? How much of Greece, Midgard, the other realms, and even confirmed countries like Egypt is made from Chaos or Ymir?

How can the death of the gods in Greece be so grander to the desolation of that nation compared to the deaths of the Aesir in Midgard? So far the only life that seemed to drastically alter Midgard’s environment was Atreus when he was on deaths door in GoW 2018.

Who cursed Kratos to be an undying demigod?

What is the higher plane that Athena ascended too and what is the rift in Odin’s basement? (yes I’ve seen the theories on both being based in gnosticism)

How many timelines has Kratos and Jormungandr created between Kratos killing the Fates and the splinter in Yggdrasil?

If lands are connected as one world then why would Greece “dying” render Kratos of all his magics when the world as a whole seems as alive as always?

How can death exist in Greece or any land with Thanatos slain by Kratos? How does one even kill death?

The sheer level of damage Kratos had done in the various prequels and intermission games. I find it hard to believe the other gods, let alone Zeus, let Kratos be when he was going around sinking Atlantis among other bits of collateral.

There’s a slew of questions and I’m sure long time fans can both answer some of these, add more, or offer decent theories to wipe them away.

Others may just argue “it’s about the characters” and ignore this and, ya know what, that’s fair. I agree.

No, seriously, some would argue this but God of War is fundamentally character focused. To ignore the inconsistencies is a valid approach with this having even more validity in the classic series due to it’s action game nature.

Sure, classic Kratos can be stoic and one-note but he is not without character. Everything he did was due to his families death. He wasn’t a good man, not a faithful husband, but he did truly love them. By Greek/Spartan standards he may have even been a great father too his daughter.

He only gets more stereotype as the series progresses because he’s meant too. IRL he was known as the angry god killer man but in-story his rage was constantly building. Any semblances of trust or attachment was answered with betrayal or tragedy.

For him to be screaming “ZEUSSSSSSSSSSSSS” for most of GoW 3 is a logical evolution in my mind. Not sure about the hope angle or Pandora but that’s an argument for a long time fan to make.

God of War, classic God of War, is a greek tragedy through and through. It’s not as deep as 2018 but Kratos’ character does reflect change. Even if it’s a villainous change.

I’m not trying excuse his actions nor is those titles nor is Kratos himself years later. He was an vengeful rage fueled god and his guilt for that is one reason his story in the Norse world works so well.

Getting back on Point

Sorry for the tangent, point is that I get it. However, I’m a being bothered by things in world building. I got into this series backwards with 2018 having only played GoW 2 once in high school. I’m not going to ask for a whole rework or remake series when the Norse titles have done so well building off Kratos past.

I want a God of War remake because I believe it’d be a fun title but I also think Kratos’ world works best within the confines of one mythology. There’s not as many holes in the stage and it’d make a great stand alone title. An entry point for some.

From my understanding, the original title had two endings. A stand alone ending and one suggesting a sequel. You could keep those, the original stand alone ending and another showing what’s to come. You could add costumes and weapons from the series as a whole. Maybe add other things that I wont even know of being a newer fan.

Possible Hot-take (I guess?)

Most importantly, and by far the most personal aspect for me, I think it’s more impressive if Kratos is just a mortal that slew a god. I’m not sure if Kratos being Zeus’ son was present during GoW 1 or if that was a plot made for GoW 2 and built upon but I actually find it a bit weak compared to what was presented in the first game.

The Norse titles did a damn good job of using that history of patricide as fuel for Kratos’ growth as a person but I still (and I do stress “personally) think it is less impressive. (especially when he canonically slew several immortals prior to GoW 1)

GoW 1 focus’ strongly on the fact that gods are immortal. Kratos rising up to kill the god that wronged him is more impressive, if not world shaking, to Greece if he’s just a mortal. Not a son of Zeus or any god but a man. One that, albeit with aid, managed to stand up to a god and kill that god.

A damn good spartan, a god-made monster/weapon forged with the intentions of battle Olympus but still mortal all the same. That’s what stuck out to me most when seeing GoW 1′s story.

That’s one reason I’d love to see GoW 1 remade with minimal story change. You could take it or leave it, play it and try the rest of the series or just stick with this one entry, overall I think it’d be a fun game if remade.

Anyway, bye now~

================================================

P.S. those images are taken from a fan project of a God of War remake in case you’re wondering....I also realize that last section would’ve made a better separate post but oh well.

P.S.S.S I have just finished God of War 2005 and I used a cheat to take a peak at the treasures. Seems like Kratos being Zeus’ son has been an idea from the get go.

I still feel it’s a bit weaker compared to a regular mortal toppling a god but I won’t hold that as strongly now that I know.

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #kratos #ghost of ramblings

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joviantwelve · 1 year

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Hello! I've been doing some long, hard thinking about my current commission offerings.

TL;DR:

I am doing away with my "standard" menu (headshot/halfbody/fullbody/etc.) in favor of more experimental work.

Effective June 1, my commissions will close completely, including the waitlist.

If you want any of my current offerings, please let me know before then. You will be added to a final waitlist queue, with payment only required once I get to you.

If you're currently on my waitlist, or are interested in what's next, please see the bottom of this post. Once the final orders are complete, I will focus on relaunching.

Below is a more elaborate explainer of why I'm doing this, and what I'll be doing next.

Introduction

Essentially, commissions have worn on me more and more as time goes on (which may be tangible if you ordered one recently and it took months). Part of me wondered if I was burned out on art in general, or it was just becoming less of a hobby for me, but that sentiment didn't feel quite right. After all, I could still get grabbed by a picture idea every now and again, which I would then crank out in one evening.

Was there some sort of difference between the pictures I could hammer out quickly vs. the ones I couldn't? Well, I wouldn't make a post about an investigation without already having a prime suspect.

My Art Style

When I first started drawing aliased, it was to quickly crank out panels for my forum adventures, mostly because I was using GIMP and didn't know anything about brush settings. I was way too frustrated with anti-aliased lines and how little I could make them look how I liked, so I retreated into something completely different.

It worked for a while, but as I became more comfortable with the style, I developed bad, perfectionistic habits (something I've already mentioned being A Problem I Have). I would tweak lineart at the pixel level, just because some stray bump or two bugged the hell out of me. I consider this one of the reasons my art output has slowed down.

Trying to embrace a "perfectly inconsistent," or "consistently imperfect" look as "my style" just created its own irony. For example, I will deliberately draw patterns and textures by hand, because it sticks out too strongly otherwise if I just paste it in. You can bump into this quickly enough by scrolling through my various character references.

I would love a world where all my OC references feel "current," but as it stands, I'm finding it increasingly hard to work on the remaining characters I want to draw while commissions are also an obligation. Taking a break from aliased character art commissions in order to work on aliased character art references is...just doing more of the same? It isn't a break.

In order to create breaks that actually feel like breaks, I have to compromise. ONE of these has to go home and change. My personal art gets priority here, and I still very much want my OCs to look consistent in their reference art, so...I need to find a more efficient way to draw for money that keeps my dysfunctional brain entertained.

The Long, Slow Realization

Back when I used GIMP, I tried the chalk brush on a whim and ended up quite liking it. The rough look helped me ignore what I would consider "imperfections" otherwise. However, perhaps because I had a comic or character references I wanted to keep consistent, I mostly considered it a fun oddity and nothing more.

More falling dominoes that would eventually lead to this post were my experimental style offerings that I introduced last year (at the time, I just offered it because I thought people may be interested in art that looked relatively unique), Art Fight (having to agonizingly obey "finished not perfect" because of the event deadline), and other gift art I did around this time (the reasoning being, it's gift art, they wouldn't mind if I used it to experiment).

Now that I use CSP and am no longer bound by webcomic obligations, I've been experimenting more with brush settings. Wouldn't you know it, most of my modern art of my original stories is no longer aliased. I go "off-model" deliberately, fuck around with layer settings and effects, and enjoy creating pieces just because I saw a cool tutorial, brush, or program I wanted to try. These are the types of pictures I mentioned I could crank out in one evening. Maybe they're not "formal," but I feel like they're the most "me."

With all this new experience swirling around in my head, I finally realized: Why am I not selling art I actually find fun to draw?!

The New Offerings

Currently, I'm leaning toward one style of illustration only, cheaper than the experimental style I offer presently, and "rougher" as a result. I want something equivalent to my '22 Art Fight output; something flashy, unique, and most importantly, quick to do.

The specifics are what I intend to figure out while I work through the queue. Here are some thoughts already rotating around in my brain:

Should I offer price "tiers" that roughly equate a level of "polish" (equivalent to sketch/flats/shading) or just go with one-price-fits-all?

Should I still offer sketches as a cheap alternative, or is that too confusing with my Ko-fi already sort of being that?

Should I offer specific pricing for bust/halfbody/fullbody/etc., or was that another symptom of why I had commission burnout before, and should be avoided?

Should I eschew all of the above and just offer one thing at one price (e.g. "give me $50 and I'll draw your OC" with no other choices for the buyer), or is that too intimidating?

And so on. The last option is currently what I'm vibing with the most, but it's definitely the most daring idea of the bunch, too. (& If you have any thoughts on this, let me know! I have so much more thinking to do.)

The Old Offerings (But New)

When I reopen, I would like to have as few options as possible. However, I have considered the possibility that an old offering would speak to me and I would add it to the new menu again. Here are some thoughts on those:

Icons have a pretty high chance of coming back.

I've always liked drawing faces and headshots the most. If I decide not to bring back headshot sketches, I could just roll it back into "icons" and instead offer colored sketchy headshots. This would be similar to the headshots I did for Art Fight, but...with colors.

Half/fullbodies would depend on how the new style goes.

This is elaborating on what I said in the previous section. While I'm sure my core audience (i.e., you) will be fine with a potentially spontaneous angle to my commissions, buyers I'm less familiar with might not be. I want to try "one price fits all," but if someone gives me shit about me drawing a bust when they were anticipating a fullbody, I might have to add options to specify this.

Regardless, the style would still be "experimental" either way--the composition is what's important about it (which is also why I feel like I can get away with one single price). If anything, I feel like forcing myself into the little boxes of "halfbody" and "fullbody" was partially what was stifling me. Like, when do I ever consciously decide to draw a halfbody of an OC? I don't. It feels very arbitrary, and I'd like to distance from it.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: Character design is NEVER coming back!

I deeply appreciate those that did want a brand spanking new OC from me, but I've never considered myself to have a terribly strong design sense. They just kind of ended up being extra nervewracking to do because I had to design a character on top of drawing a fullbody. I will still take the final requests for these, but this is your absolute last chance for a Jovian Twelve™ Brand Original the Character.

What if I'm Already on Your Waitlist?

You don't have to do anything! I will get to you when I get to you. After June 1, I will close the waitlist, and whoever is on there will be able to have one of my old commission types, as promised. You can change your request anytime as long as I'm not currently drawing it!

Reminder that my waitlist is NOT "first come, first served;" I order it based on the complexity of what's wanted. Because of my slow pace, I didn't want to keep someone waiting forever when all they want is three sketch headshots, you know? This is a heads up that if you change your request, your position in the list may change as well.

I have no ETA when the current waitlist will be completed, given that currently, fullbodies are taking me months. Sorry :( Just another reason I'm making this post!!

What if I Want the NEW Style?

I will accept up to five (5) waitlist slots that want to "test drive" the potential new commission style, placed after the "traditional" queue is all cleared out. (So, you'd be waiting extra long.) If you're interested in this, get in touch! I will offer them to you at a lower rate than what I'm expecting to charge for the real deal, as thanks.

If you're already on the waitlist for something else, and want to test the new style instead, let me know! Just be aware this would bring you to the bottom of the queue as described above (but it WOULD give me one less commission I'd have to go through to get to the new stuff, WINK).

In the chance I get no takers the entire time it takes me to go through the waitlist, then the first five commissions I do in the new style will just have to be "test slots" instead.

Final Word

I know these long posts might not be terribly interesting to anyone that's not me, but I find it therapeutic to scrawl my thoughts out in text. Additionally, I'm over 30 years old and conclusions are still the hardest part in writing an essay. I can feel my writing style begin to devolve the closer I am to the end...

Uhhh.

Thanks for reading, and understanding?! See you soon, maybe?! Get in touch if you want to discuss Commissions From Me?? 💃 Cool.

#text #commission #why do i type huge essays like this? what's wrong with me #at least that's off my chest now I GUESS

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