#instead of actually torturing and maiming everyone

[weitooinlovewiththeuntamed]

All i want is for the yi city family to be happy forever and never have fate and their past catch up with them ever

[delirious-donna]

Museum Mishaps [Part Six]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: It's been two days since that night at the bar, and Kento is the one to suggest a trip to the museum. Leaving you to wonder... is it a date?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW except for one small mention of masturbation, humour, forced proximity, two oblivious idiots, misunderstandings, a little bickering, Kento is a museum nerd

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

The weekend came and went without further incident between yourself and Kento. That wasn’t to say that things were perfect, but it no longer felt awkward when the two of you occupied the same room. It was much like living with a roommate, which you supposed it was, and you had dealt with that in your first year of college without maiming or killing anyone. Although, you couldn’t recall wanting to fuck your roommate either, so perhaps the comparison wasn’t accurate after all.

Whilst the memory of almost blurting out your late-night wandering hands still burnt freshly in your mind, the rest of the evening had been saved by it. The heat of Kento’s rejection didn’t sting too badly once he turned those hazel eyes on you, suspicion pinning you in place. Anything was better than the look he had given you in the bar.

Thankfully, the banter and easy conversation returned. It was easier to tease him about the incident than dwell on it. Heaven knows you weren’t going to make another move like that. You’d play it off as some silly joke rather than see your feelings hurt. Kento wasn’t interested, and that was okay. You weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, you understood that. Knowing where you stood now, it was a lot easier to build those bonds with your best friend’s brother—for that was all he could ever be.

Kento, on the other hand, felt like an opportunity had slipped through his fingers. It was gone before he could react or try to claw it back. Whilst he was glad that your good humour returned, he couldn’t help but fixate on those unspoken words. It was hard to look past the idea that something was staring him right in the face, and he simply couldn’t bring the image into focus to understand it.

So many times, his mouth had opened, words on the tip of his tongue, only to shut it again. His lack of courage irritated him. Handfuls of his neatly parted hair pushed back to hide how badly he wanted to scrub a palm down his face.

He was no coward.

Except he was.

The dreams were worse than ever. There were never full scenes but enough lingering fragments that tormented him each morning upon waking. Bright sunshine smiles, the warmth of a touch he wasn’t accustomed to and the sound of his name. Such torture, and perhaps, if he weren’t wearing his obliviousness as armour to protect his heart, he would realise that his brain was trying to tell him something.

He was ashamed to admit that he had masturbated more in these three days than he had in almost an entire year. He was more ashamed that he felt more relaxed than he had in an even longer time than that. Whilst he still followed a lot of his daily routine, being able to deviate or change things around was rather freeing, and of course, he wouldn’t put any of it down to the relief he was giving to his body. Preposterous.

Kento missed your presence when you skipped out the door on an adventure he wasn’t invited to. Raising a hand half-heartedly when you waved your goodbyes and clock-watching until you returned. Your stories were fast becoming the best part of his day. Listening raptly to you rave about this quaint little second-hand bookstore you discovered and expressing so emphatically how much you were sure he would love the place, he looked forward to it. It felt like he was rediscovering the city he had lived in for years through fresh eyes and he enjoyed your unique take on the world.

His smile was genuine, if not tinged bittersweet. It was warming that you thought of him when he wasn’t around, but it would be so much better if he could be there with you, and that was quite the realisation to swallow.

In the end, it was that sense of missing out that caused him to blurt out an invitation this morning. The two of you sat side by side at the kitchen island savouring the coffee he had brewed for you both, whilst you thought out loud about where today might take you.

“There’s a wildlife photography exhibition at the National Museum. Kento paused, pretending not to be eyeing you over the corner of his newspaper. “I was thinking of going… would you like to join me?”

He waited with bated breath, silently cursing how nervous he felt and already working on how he would cover his disappointment when you inevitably declined his offer.

“Yes, please! That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to the National Museum before, could we look around as well?”

Kento blinked. In his head, he was ready to say not to worry and that he’d go by himself, but your enthusiasm bowled him over. Shutting his paper, he turned to you and bowed his head in a nod. “Of course. We could leave in around an hour and have most of the day to explore. I’ll just go change out of these sweatpants.”

You watched as he practically scuttled out of the kitchen and down the hallway. It was very unlike him to move so swiftly, and you stifled a laugh before preparing for the outing yourself, dancing along to the soft music playing over the apartment speakers in your excitement for the day ahead.

~

It was hard to look in every direction as you traversed the wide-open atrium that served as the central hub of the museum, but you gave it a damn good go. More than once you bumped into Kento when a new curiosity stole your attention, apologising almost half-heartedly, and not because you weren’t sorry for nudging him so often, it was more that your brain was too busy processing everything it could see.

A large bronze statue of Buddha caught your eye, and you skittered across the polished floor to stand in front of the information plate, eagerly absorbing all it had to tell.

Kento couldn’t help but smile. Your enthusiasm was proving infectious, and he strolled with newfound intrigue towards you tapping photo after photo of the statue on your phone. “I didn’t take you for a museum connoisseur. Every time I’ve come here with Karin, she has whined and pleaded to leave almost as soon as we got here.”

“Oh, tell me about it. I tried to get her to go to this really cool space exhibition that our college was hosting and she flat-out refused.” You harrumphed at the memory of her expression filled with disgust. “I’m not your sister, Kento.”

You moved away to grab up one of the folded paper guides with a map of the place, and Kento was glad of the second’s reprieve after that last comment. No, you weren’t his sister. He swallowed and raised a hand to loosen the knot of his tie only to remember, at the last moment, he wasn’t in a shirt and tie. Another stark reminder of how little downtime he ever afforded himself. Perhaps, it was time for a change.

“If you enjoy space, follow me,” he said with a subtle wiggle of his eyebrows when he walked towards you for the second time. Waving towards the open entranceway to the left, you turned and glanced up into the skeletal remains of what you guessed to be a T-Rex. It made you giggle, and Nanami followed you closely, shaking his head in good humour at the renewed spring in your step.

He led you through a gallery filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, from the long-extinct to the endangered to the thriving. Creatures of the sea, land and air hung suspended from invisible supports, and even a baby blue whale graced the visitors with the enormity of its skeletal shadow. You would have stopped at every sign and interactive spot if not for wishing to keep pace with your guide. Whilst he wasn’t storming ahead, his pace wasn’t meant for the careful reading of every fact you could digest.

It was worth it when you reached an area darker than the previous section, with minerals and twinkling geodes shown behind glass cases. The remnants of a lunar capsule marked one corner with children standing around an employee giving an enthusiastic talk about the moon landings. Models of the solar system in varying sizes caught your attention, but what really stood out was the black dome in the centre.

Stopping short of the hidden entrance you spied when a woman and little boy slipped inside, you tapped Kento’s shoulder. “What’s inside there?”

“Now, why would I spoil the surprise, hm?”

Without another word, he marched inside to leave you standing there, blinking in amused confusion. This playful side was interesting, fun even, and you hoped it would last throughout the visit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself lying on your back staring up at the celestial bodies that made up the Universe with Nanami Kento by your side. He was seated on the floor along the wall when you found him, grateful for the small pillow he’d managed to secure for the both of you given how crowded it was inside. The noise of families, friends in little groups and the odd couple or two died down when the low lighting completely extinguished to bathe you in darkness. You found that you had to lie closer to Kento than you would have chosen, but he didn’t seem perturbed by your nearness, in fact, he turned his head to give you a smile that made your stomach flutter with rambunctuous butterflies.

Denying your attraction to him was growing harder once more, and you did your best to focus on the story above you rather than trying to identify the notes of his cologne that wafted into your nose. The heat of his body licked at your own, warming you thoroughly though you were far from cold. This felt… intimate, or it would, if it were a date.

Was this a date? No.

A mighty boom echoed through the sound system to symbolise the moment of the big bang, and you audibly shrieked in surprise. There were titters of laughter from every side, heat filled your face instantly, and you lifted your hands to cover your eyes in embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Kento’s concerned voice whispered in hushed tones only loud enough so you would hear. His breath fanned your ear from the action of shuffling closer, and you had to fight the urge to shudder in appreciation.

“Fine, I’m… fine.”

He wasn’t buying it, and honestly, he didn’t feel too hot himself. If he spread out his fingers he would brush your hand, that’s how close you were. The near blackness illuminated by the twinkle of projected stars overhead intensified the already far too intimate setting, and despite how crowded it was, everyone faded from his mind as he thought of only you. Kento imagined the two of you spread out like this on a warm picnic blanket, the real heavenly bodies above you and how nice it might be to kiss you beneath their ethereal watch.

The lights came back to life without warning, although had he been paying attention to the experience, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise. Blinking and slightly dazed, Kento sat up and quickly got to his feet, dusting down his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles. He reached out to help you stand before thinking twice, your hand slid into his with perfect ease, and for a moment, he simply stared at you in longing.

His hand was warm, the texture rougher than expected, and when he finally pulled it back, you wanted to tighten your fingers and refuse to let go. The hustle surrounding you both wasn’t enough to sway your attention nor was it enough to calm your racing heart. Your gaze caught the attention of a young couple, hand in hand and laughing about something unknowable, and you coveted what they had, and you didn’t—couldn’t. He didn’t want you like that, and no matter how much you wished this could be a date, it wasn’t.

“Come on, let’s get moving or we’ll never see everything else.”

Kento heard your words. He saw your smile and the wave of your hand to beckon him onwards, but he didn’t believe them. For that brief moment, when your hand was in his, he felt your fingers twitch almost imperceptibly. More wishful thinking on his part? He wasn’t sure, but he was determined not to spoil the day by moping in his uncertainty.

The hours melted away much like the sun rising and dipping in the sky outside. An air of fragility lingered despite both your efforts to dispel the effects of earlier. The exhibitions and various collections were intriguing, but none more so than the man trailing a few paces behind you. An enigma that you were sure you’d started to unravel, but now… you weren’t so sure anymore.

He offered tidbits of information that only a history buff would be able to, the tips of his ears blushing beet red whenever you pointed that fact out. So many times you wanted to sneak up real close when he was engrossed in reading something, the desire to run your fingertips over his ribs and find out if he was ticklish or not, but you knew that wasn’t a good idea.

The wildlife photography exhibition was far quieter than you suspected it would be, and you were grateful to be wrong. After a good few hours of trailing around the massive building, fatigue was setting in and finding a soft seat to rest your tired feet was a pleasant result. Leaning back on your elbows on the overstuffed leather rectangle that sat in the middle of the gallery, you could watch the comings and goings from every angle.

Kento stalked between the various shots that lined the walls, pausing and tilting his head in keen fascination. He was your sole focus, the unexpecting prey with a jaw cut from pure marble. Your lips quirked involuntarily each time he rocked on the balls of his feet—a habit you had not long noticed. If you weren’t much mistaken, Kento seemed to favour long shots where the subject was captured in action; a tiger swimming through a moss topped lake, hyenas circling the kill of a lioness and a vibrant green frog leaping majestically towards a tree branch.

“Do you dabble?” You asked quietly, having approached after your short rest. “In photography, I mean.”

“Hm? Oh. No, nothing like that.”

Kento shuffled awkwardly towards the next picture, a flock of wild birds taking flight from the long grass of a savannah. “How come? You sure seem interested,” you pressed further, eyebrows knitting at the discomfort you sensed in him.

“It wouldn’t be an effective use of my time. I don’t have the hours to sink into a hobby that would see me gain nothing in return,” he explained to your utter aghast.

“What about happiness? Indulgence? There doesn’t always have to be a measurable outcome for something to be fun and worthwhile.”

He scoffed, and you scowled. “You’re still young…”

“Well, I’d rather stay young than become a jaded corporate slave like someone I could mention.” You stalked away to the other side of the room, perturbed by just how little stock he seemed to put into his own mental and emotional well-being. “And I’m not that young, Kento.”

He couldn’t understand your sudden ire. What did it matter to you what he did with his free time? More like what he didn’t do, he supposed. Sure, there had been a time in his adolescence when he carried a Polaroid camera around with him, the bulky piece of equipment tucked into his backpack and brought out to capture those moments that weren’t posed for, finding a special kind of beauty in the raw exposure of life.

It had been nothing but a phase. One left behind when he entered college and started to work towards the life he wished to live. Only now, he wasn’t so sure he was living the life he dreamed of. He achieved the successes he set out to, but was he happy? That was a hard question to stomach, let alone try to answer honestly.

“Why do you look like you want to yell at me?”

Glancing sideways, you frowned up at his towering frame and felt the heat of his anger wash over you to meld with your own. “Because you make it sound like any interest outside of endlessly working or working out is redundant. Irresponsible. Stupid!” Your voice rose higher, the words punched out with a flap of your hands.

“Do you care so little for what makes you happy? It makes me… mad,” you continued with a slight pause. The familiar tight, itchy feeling invaded your throat whilst the prickle of tears stung your eyes. Goddammit! You hated that you wanted to cry when you were angry, and the last person you wanted to see those tears wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” The amused voice of a woman who appeared in her early sixties caught your attention. Quickly wiping at the stray tears at your lashline, both you and Kento turned to the couple who were staring right at you.

The man chuckled indulgently at his wife, patting her hand that was secured through his arm and whispered something that couldn’t be heard. His wife nudged him playfully, and you could only look on in complete bemusement. They walked closer, the woman offering a kindly smile as she reached out to pat Kento’s arm, then yours.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

“Oh, no! You misunderstand, we’re not…”

She held up a hand to silence your stammered protests, shaking her head with a chuckle. “My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

“That was two, dear. Come on, let’s not bother them any longer.” With wisdom imparted, the older couple bustled away, leaving you to blink in bewilderment.

You could feel Kento by your side, his body rigid and unmoving. So badly you wanted to glance up and find out what his expression was, but honestly, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea or not. What could the couple have seen in you? Was it so obvious that you were interested? Even if that was true, surely his disinterest was just as plain to see?

“Well… that was unexpected. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s your life, after all, you should do whatever you believe is best. Can we go get a bite to eat and head home–I mean, back to your apartment?”

Kento could only nod. He couldn’t help but feel as if everything he had come to believe as true was crumbling around his ears. The ideals and principles he set for himself all those long years ago no longer seemed important. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d taken time off work, albeit enforced this time, and he had never felt so unsure of himself.

It was you. Your presence was the catalyst, and he didn’t know whether to thank or curse you. How could one person cause so much inner turmoil without trying? He watched as you wandered towards the archway that would take you back to the main atrium, the light from the skylight caught across your face and your simple smile blinded him.

Don’t wait to go after what you truly want… would he take the advice that continued to ring in his head?

[wishesofeternity]

how interesting that when Rhaenyra looks at a maimed boy whose eye was gouged out by her own son and says "he must be sharply questioned" (aka tortured) for repeating things about her that she knows are 100% true, and when Alicent is horrified that an insult to Rhaenyra (which is, again, 100% true) is considered more important than her son literally being maimed and whose broken skin is currently being stitched up as they speak, Viserys chooses to support Rhaenyra. He walks up to his bleeding brutalized son and orders him to tell him where he heard such lies. He offers him no comfort or reassurance as a father, just an order. "Your King demands an answer."

(and frankly, he expected them to say Alicent. Look at the way he looked at her. He was almost expectant. He wanted her to be condemned)

and both of them prove completely unwilling to obey him. they look at this piece of deadbeat shit right in the eye and say: "We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them."

And now that the accusation has turned back to Rhaenyra, does Viserys choose to listen and do something about it? does he? no, lol.

Instead he declares: "This terrible infighting must cease. We are family." How convenient. how fucking convenient. when Rhaenyra wanted justice (aka the further torture of a maimed kid for telling the truth) Viserys is fully willing to indulge her. He wasn't Aemond's family when he questioned him: he said it himself, tell me by the order of your King. But when his children refuse to listen to him, when the issue turns back to Rhaenyra? We're all family, let's reconcile and put this behind us :)

and that is when Alicent asks Viserys for justice of her own.

just look at Alicent's tone. Rhaenyra was the one who flat-out demanded that Aemond be questioned. Alicent isn't demanding anything, she is pleading. You think she cares about taking Luke's eye? (just minutes later, it's Rhaenyra she goes after. and when Larys asks her flat out if she wants him to do the deed for her, she tells him that it won't be necessary). Look at what Alicent says after this: "He is your son, Viserys. Your blood." This fucking asshole has raped her and abused her, and she is begging him to at least care about his children with her. And he does not.

He displays, for the whole court to see, that he does not give a fuck about his wife and their children. His young son has been horrifically maimed, but shielding and coddling his adult daughter from completely justified "accusations" is what he is most concerned about.

"This matter is finished," Viserys says. And right after? "Anyone whose tongue dares question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed." So essentially: the matter is over, everyone should make goodwill, but his precious daughter is always right and will always be his first priority. partly to soothe his own guilt over murdering his previous wife, and partly because Rhaenyra is a Targaryen which, to him, will always make her more worthy than Alicent.

and so it is his wife and other children - including the one who is bleeding in the same damn room - who pay the price for that

And thus, all of Alicent's well-founded fears about the life of her children and herself if Rhaenyra takes the throne are completely solidified. She and Rhaenyra do not share equal culpability for this conflict in the show, because Rhaenyra begins by fighting for power and Alicent begins by fighting for survival. The blame is fundamentally unequal.

you CANNOT tell me that Alicent was unjustified in how she reacted. you CANNOT tell me that she wasn't 100% right in grabbing that knife and going right to Rhaenyra (to rhaenyra! not to luke), demanding justice.

"and now you take my son's eye, and to even that you feel entitled" She is right. She is absolutely right. (She has no idea how right she is, actually, because that entitlement will lead directly to Rhaenyra's downfall someday)

Alicent Hightower finally snapped. GOOD FOR HER.

[avelera]

Mostly buried this in the tags of my next OFMD meta reblog down from this post but…. I don’t think Ed is going to apologize for his Kraken era and I don’t think the narrative is going to demand that he does.

I saw a couple posts expressing eagerness for Ed’s inevitable “apology tour” after he wakes up and I just fundamentally don’t think that’s going to happen. I could easily be wrong. But at most I think we might get a few mumbled, shamefaced apologies. If you expect him to grovel before Lucius and the crew, imo, that’s just not going to happen and here’s why:

- the narrative morality of OFMD has NEVER been encouraging its characters to become “good” people. The story is about finding love and acceptance during a midlife crisis. It’s about following your bliss. The highest moral demand it makes of its characters is to be true to themselves, not to become Good People. It’s a pirate comedy. It doesn’t care about murder. It cares about being true to yourself and your desire to be a pirate. Everything goes well when people follow their bliss. It falls apart when narrative defining main characters like Stede or Ed do what they think they should do instead of what makes them happy.

- Emotional pain has always been more important, more impactful, than physical pain in the show. Ed’s bad behavior (to put it lightly) was an expression of his emotional pain. Simply put, the narrative isn’t going to ask him to apologize for his emotional pain.

- Stede, the main driver of the narrative, DOES apologize because his actions led to Ed’s emotional pain (in his mind) and again, narrative pain is weighted more than physical pain in this show. Also, life is cheap, if you’re not a main character. This is still a pirate story. Murder is not treated as a sin.

- Ed is proud. Taika is proud. Both rightfully so one would argue, they’ve accomplished a great deal. Ed’s got a bit of Taika in that, actually more than a bit. It’s clear Taika puts a lot of himself into Ed. My gut tells me that Ed/Taika is just not going to grovel an apology. That’s just not his style. Mumbled self-conscious apologies because he feels he should is one thing. But deep sincere apology tours? Not gonna happen. He won’t abase himself like that (Ed OR Taika)

- The person he arguably hurt most directly, Izzy, hurt Ed IMMENSELY at the end of S1. Arguably more than Lucius, the majority of whose pain came from what happened after he was pushed overboard. But Izzy Ed personally tortured, and he did it because Izzy threatened to murder Ed if Ed didn’t climb back into the suffocating closet of Izzy’s expectations for him. Ed is not going to apologize to Izzy. Izzy got exactly what he deserved in physical pain after the emotional pain he dealt Ed, narratively speaking.

- I’m not talking real world morals, to be clear. Or even what the various Izzy or Ed fans THINK the other deserves, where the fans think the fault truly lies and who owes what to whom.

- What I’m saying is, in the OFMD world where emotional pain matters more than physical maiming, the narrative isn’t going to ASK Ed to apologize to Izzy for maiming him after what Izzy did at the end of S1 and Izzy getting his comeuppance for it. And that’s because they hurt each other equally, emotionally. They’re even now. Izzy lashed out and emotionally destroyed Ed during a vulnerable moment. Ed took his leg. They’re done. The way forward is for them to separate and get their toxicity out of each others life or find a new way forward with new understanding of each other as they become entirely new people after their respective ordeals. But as far as the pain they’ve dealt each other, there’s no debt. They’ve both hurt each other beyond the point of apology being anything but a false display.

Again, I could be totally wrong. Joke’s on me if ep. 4 opens with Ed on his knees crying and apologizing to everyone he hurt. But I just cannot picture that happening. And I don’t think OFMD is the kind of story that will demand it.

[floofyfungi]

I know its a few months late but-

in Miracle when Novastorm takes Alexis Starscream nearly melts off one of her limbs however when Dirge Thrust and Ramjet nearly kill her intentionally they are just given half rations and are told to work forges, instruct flight drills, and shield duty.

This felt kinda lenient and more merciful considering it seemed like they committed a much more heinous act. Is there something to this that was more severe than I realized or are they useful enough Starscream didn't want to cripple them? Something else?

This is a really good question! Thanks for the ask <3

Essentially, the reason why Dirge got off light was because Starscream primarily blamed Skywarp. It was Skywarp who kidnapped Alexis, Skywarp who put her in mortal danger. Skywarp's blatant disregard for Alexis' well-being signalled to the other seekers that she was fair game. She must be if Starscream's own trine was treating her as expendable.

Comparing these incidents digs into decepticon culture in the Miracle AU. Novastorm's plan to keep Alexis as a pet enraged Starscream far more than Dirge just trying to kill her. Dirge is a decepticon, of course he tried to kill the organic Skywarp dropped on his back. To Starscream's mind Dirge was just being a decepticon. In contrast, Novastorm found a little organic wandering around the base and, instead of informing her superiors, decided to keep it for herself. That is a level of disrespect Starscream can't tolerate.

Ramjet and Thrust were following their trine-leader. Their goal was to defend Dirge from the Rainmaker trine, Alexis was never their target (even if they did indirectly put her in danger). Out of everyone Starscream is the least angry with them.

Another factor is Alexis actually got hurt during the Novastorm incident. Novastorm left her covered in bruises and in considerable pain. Whereas with Dirge, Alexis got a few scrapes but nothing so dramatic (Starscream is unaware Laserbeak had to catch her). Though Starscream did still send a blast of fire at Dirge that only missed because he dodged.

Half rations is a serious deal for a seeker class dragon. Their frames require a lot of energon. The Coneheads are essentially going to be starving while doing some of the least desired jobs in the fortress. Tasks far below their station and ones Starscream specifically selected based on how much Dirge, Thrust, and Ramjet would hate them. This punishment is an example of prolonged humiliation and torture. If they break and try to sneak some extra energon, Starscream will stop being so 'nice'.

This punishment is a warning to the Coneheads. And the final reason why it is so lenient is because Starscream needs the Coneheads. They are the highest ranked of the trines after the Elite trine. Dirge, Thrust, and Ramjet are senior officers critical for maintaining order over the larger seeker armada.

In addition, crippling the entire trine could have caused lower ranked trines to make a power grab against the Coneheads. In the Decepticons might makes right, and considerable infighting could have been sparked by the power vacuum. Starscream has seen it before. So soon after Slipstream’s betrayal, Starscream can't afford to wait for the infighting to settle down. This guy has schemes he needs to get back on track, Megatron isn't going to die without some help. He'd also prefer to keep the Coneheads, as they are loyal to him before Megatron.

Hope this helped explain Starscream's differing reactions. If Dirge had actually maimed Alexis or, god forbid, kill her, the results would have been very different.

[vampv0id]

(Spoiler Warning for Mizumono)

I am such a fan of the Hannibal and Jack fight(s). It's so excruciating how long Hannibal remains undetected, that when he is detected, it doesn't immediately feel real. Hannibal spins such a savvy web, and makes Jack (and everyone else) believe he's this warm, selfless psychiatrist doing everything he can to help his colleagues and friends.

The little moment where they both look at each other for a few seconds before charging into the fight is so significant, Imo. It's the tension of being on the borderline. Their fight starts smack dab in the middle of Jack's past beliefs and fresh realizations. Hannibal is shedding the last bits of his cunning 'friend and psychiatrist' act. Jack is trying to remain tethered to this shocking reality to fulfill his objective of making Hannibal pay. He shifts from this previously unchanging belief that Hannibal isn't the man Will has warned, to this flabbergasted anger. You can tell that when he's looking at Hannibal he can hardly believe it. He's only coming in after Hannibal because from a logical point of view, he's seen enough evidence to know it's certainly him. But it still is so much for him to genuinely comprehend. There's that piercing tension between them. Hannibal just stares through Jack's soul for those small seconds. His eyes say "I know, and though I didn't plan it, now you know," in a very bitter way. And you just know that he's shutting down inside with shame for allowing himself into a position to be 'betrayed' by Will. He's more out of control than ever, and he has to actually wrangle for power instead of having it in the palm of his hand. His meticulousness has been taken through a coup, and for once, he has been the one blindsided. Now all the calculations and tabs he has kept have turned to dust, and he feels pummeled with the idea of lack of power.

There's so many other rushing thoughts I feel they must have been having as well. One side of Jack during the throw down must feel like he's still attacking his completely innocent colleague and friend. Hannibal is a master of puppetry. He knows every single detail to misconstrue. And this fake version of him assimilated so well. He felt so real. And the other side of Jack is probably revisiting every little interaction he had with the man, thinking about how many lies were packed into each day. He's looking back and finally clicking the motivations into the the behaviors. It must have felt like fighting two men at once. Everyone that realizes what Hannibal is has a variation of this.

Jack's looking back and thinking of all the horrible things he missed. He's ashamed. Because of how he permitted a serial killer to harm the countless victims and torture and single out Will, but even more so because he let himself be disrespected and lied to. The most dangerous serial killer in the area came into his department/his house and slyly mocked him. That's what bothers him the most (which is kind of fucked up of you, Jack,).

Hannibal was falling apart inside because of his hurt from Will's double-dealing. Will had went for the most vulnerable part of him, which was his rare trust. Hannibal is most likely so preoccupied with his heartbreak, that he was probably a little disappointed he couldn't fully relish Jack's contempt. He goes on this slaughter spree, feeling so humiliated and abandoned by Will that he needs to maim everybody, even more than usual. He flocks to this vice to numb his self-loathing, the way he always has. To convince himself he's powerful and better than everyone.

Hannibal's love for Will was a leap of faith, and therefore, to his own thinking, naivety and weakness. He feels cornered by his shame, so weak for showing the closest thing to love he someone like him can give to another human being. The bile of the vulnerability he digested is coming back up his throat, and he needs to do something to feel powerful again. So he does what he always does. Rubs salt in the people that believed him up until the point of realization's wounds. He savors his near complete mutilation of Jack, manipulates Abigail into an anticipated promise of safety as long as she does what he says, and instructs her to shove Alana out the window. And then, reduces Abigail to another victim, in front of Will after gutting him. But while he reduces everyone around him to prey, he reduces himself to an almost childish animal burning with hurt pride.

[shummthechumm]

since seeing a few posts about TPB and how it treats firestar’s kittypet origins as a flaw he needs to overcome, wouldnt it be amazing if the “fire alone” prophecy was failed in some way? yes, short term, he DID save the clan, but in all the arcs following this? 

(looong post under cut)

yeah he’s a decent guy, but his clan immediately turns back to the status quo. sure, lionclan united to defeat tigerclan, but the relationship between wind and thunder deteriorates as soon as windclan rebellion starts. cats within his own clan, who witnessed the impact his very not-in-accordance-to-the-code actions had on defeating tigerstar. aka ONE OF THE BIGGEST TYRANTS IN RECENT CLAN MEMORY. but oh actually everyone dislikes kittypets still in tnp. dustpelt/mousefur especially love to bring up their distaste with the state of thunderclan (”too mixed”). even brambleclaw, his own apprentice, judges cats like daisy based on the fact that she isnt clanborn. it reads as thunderclan respecting firestar in spite of where he came from, instead of them appreciating a major part of his identity that they wouldnt let him forget just a few books ago? you know? getting over their biases and learning to respect others outside the clan? 

were these xenophobic ideas not utilized by tigerstar to climb maim and torture not just cats outside the code, but those who dedicated their lives to it? is that...not a sign for introspection?? 

and on a similar note: the books really want us to know that the only reason scourge was defeated was because he didnt believe in god, which is a really weird conclusion to end this arc on. we see fireheart constantly questioning the code and using his better judgement (most of the time anyway) to do what is the morally righteous thing to do. his unique outlook on clan culture saved a lot of lives. he wanted desperately to find belonging in thunderclan, but often sacrified his safety + position to save lives. but no actually the moral we’re supposed to take is “firestar became leader and proved that his soft kittypet roots couldn’t hold him down!!!” i dont know if him being born in thunderclan wouldve changed his very justice-driven personality, but maybe not being brainwashed from infancy played a factor in many of his choices in TPB.

so with these moments where firestar starts to show some of his conditioning crack through (ex: feeling horrified at the idea of cloudpaw not believing in starclan--and wanting to SHOCK him into being a believer; etc etc), is genuinely an engaging character flaw...that should be treated as a flaw. all of these standards of what a “true warrior” should be--constantly being crammed into his head from a pretty young age; against his own sense of personal identity and moral compass. does he WANT to be seen as a true warrior? does he want away with all of these redundant rules? does he want to redefine what that even means?

even in FQ he is pretty pissed to hear bluestar trying to justify an ENTIRE BRANCH OF THEIR CULTURE being axed off because no one was willing to spare territory. while that book has other issues, its still nice to see glimpses of that characterization i like slipping through. if it was an intentional internal conflict, you can take it even further. 

this is why i like to imagine that firestar’s prophecy came from whatever ancient beings sent down the po3 prophecy (i believe in oots they downright confirmed that the ancients likely sent starclan/the tribe of endless hunting the po3 prophecy decades before even mapleshade’s time). firestar may have served as the short term solution, maybe as a way to get set up the three in thunderclan. im 90% their prophecy outdates his, anyway. what was the intent of this prophecy, truly? 

was he meant to save the clan(s) from a few one and done baddies, or was something more long-term intended. if so...did he fail???

how does firestar cope with this? does he reflect? he knows about the po3 prophecy--what if he were to learn of the manipulation his kids went through by the forces he was taught to worship? ik canon firestar doesnt rlly react to the secret reveal post po3, but...in a better series...would he stand for it? how could he react, knowing that starclan targeted his very bloodline for a prophecy far older than the clans themselves? 

in a different world, would bluestar had even accepted him had it not been for the prophecy?? where would he be then? how would he fare with the knowledge that many cats he idolized when he was younger--cats he grieved for, were roped into perpetuating the unhealthy cycle of reliance both starclan and the living clans have for each other?

......is starclan even the source of the fire alone prophecy??? if not them, then who was??>?? how far did this go?? how far is starclan willing to go to get their desired outcome?

 give me existential  firestar, PLEASE 

[welcometomybraincomics]

Differences between Station and Cybertronian culture

◦ Station mechs are heavily versatile and are accustomed to working many jobs and interacting with many different species on a peaceful level (so long as they are not attacked first)

◦ Many Stationers don’t remember their name and this have nicknames. Some mechs can’t remember their name when asked to recall it and this have multiple nicknames applied by different groups of mechs (Ex. The twins, Sparkeater, and Search and Rescue)

◦ Almost every Station Mech has some kind of disability whether it be physical or mental and thus they are very used to accommodating to unusual needs (some damages they don’t have the knowledge to repair, even if they have the parts)

◦ The second generation of Stationers call the first, those who were originally Autobots and Decepticons, Emblem Mechs since the newsparks are forged without the faction badges

◦ Station mechs are considerably more family like, stemming from their small groups/population and constant close proximity and view hard lining as a form of sharing information and trust rather than a form of sex or the like. Some (mostly droids) don’t even view it as a sign of trust and just as the most straight forward way to get information (true information as well, you can’t really lie when the other party can search through your memories)

◦ The population of the stations is max 3,000 mechs (maybe change the total pop to that of a town? Max 200,000?) with at least 500 being newframes who were onlined within 2 thousand years that they had been separated from the rest of the Cybertronian population (smallest station has approx. 200 mechs on it in total. The OG settlement has the highest population)

◦ Most Station groups live on the ship’s they onlined to or on planets and asteroids they have found suitable to live upon (no hostile and enough fuel to last them quite a while). A few ships choose to explore further or simply ferry trade between the settled groups (stations) originally, everyone lived in one settlement but when resources started running out, teams set out to find more and some started the stations. The bulk of the population still lives in the original community

◦ The stations could actually be seen as worse than Decepticons or Shattered Glass Autobots because they don’t kill. They maim and torture bodily and mentally, but no matter the punishment, they never kill. It’s a waste of resources and mechs. They already have so few to begin with and there are several mechs who have systems and knowledge that is very useful. Killing them would be a waste. So instead, in a situation where most would kill, they torture to get across their point. If they know that person will not cooperate even after the torture, then they take out their brain module and spark and set them up in a system where they can still access all that bot’s information and occasionally their consciousness the. Dismantle their body to help repair other bots or smelt it down to recycle. If those people decide they want to cooperate and get another body, they get one much smaller than their original (unless they’re a mini bot). 

◦ Shadow play is not unheard of and neither is slave coding, but they go by different names. Command code for slave coding and attitude adjustment and memory tampering for Shadow play. Neither have nearly as bad of a reaction on the stations as they do on Cybertron, but Command coding is slowly being recalled after realizing that most mechs that have it (sparkless droids) are not mindless and that a lot of unnecessary violence is caused by the trouble in communication caused by Command code.

◦ Most punishment, however, is done through scolding and shame and guilt. Public humiliation wouldn’t be surprising

◦ The stations work more with bartering than actual currency, so a lot of bots carry a bunch of little odds and ends on them rather than cash 

◦ With organics, if they can’t trade items for fuel, they trade in services. This is how quite a few end up working in mines. They help the organics get what they want and in return they get fuel (whether found in the mine or elsewhere) for the rest of their station/stations if there’s enough to export.

◦ There are certain areas of space where bots just can’t be exposed at certain times because there’s radiation and electronic storms that will FUCK UP their systems. They call it a wipe when someone gets stuck in those because their entire systems get wiped, no memory and sometimes no programming, and they have to start completely over from scratch like they’re a sparkling. People like that are marked with a yellow stripe to the side of the helm meaning “get this little fucker inside quick so they won’t get wiped again” as well as “ please be patient, they’re starting over from scratch.”  Some bots recover faster than others, but some just have to be plopped in a care center with sparklings because everyone else is busy and have no idea how to work with a wiped mech. If there is someone who knows how to help a wiped mech recover, they’re given time to get the mech back on their feet.

---

For a little more context look at Robits, The Epic Train Wreck Dumpsterfire of a Transformers sidestory AU

[gracefolly-unnamed]

Rhysand Under the Mountain

Summary:

After the Spring Court is taken to Amarantha, Rhys pays a visit to one of Tamlin's sentries looking for something particularly valuable to him.

Author's note:

After re-reading chapter 54 in Acomaf I wanted more of Rhys sensing Feyre before the trials. I just can't get enough of Rhys' mate bond.

Word count: 1,127

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

The corridor was cold as a winter's night as he walked towards the cells, his silent steps were calm and careless. His breath appeared in front of him in the form of a puffy cloud, he observed. A gleam of familiarity rose in his memory as the image of a distant mountain range appeared in his mind’s eye.  All its peaks covered in snow but the one in the center, the tallest, looming over an endless forest. Rhysand felt a pang of grief that he quickly shoved away. 

Last night at Amarantha’s bed had been particularly gruesome, he could not risk his good memories surface or he would collapse before reaching the real carnage that awaited him in the cells. Instead he thought of fire, of the sound of his enemy’s cries, and revenge. 

Despite the darkness, his superior senses allowed him to see the path in front of him, but even he could tell the darkness here wasn't just the absence of light. There was something alive Under the Mountain that seemed to feed off of any sort of brightness. The faerie lights were dimmer than on the surface, and the shadows were actually void. So very fitting, he thought to himself. 

As he reached the final threshold, the doors opened up before him sensing his power. Whatever ancient power loomed here seemed to recognize Rhys, as High Lord of the Night Court, maybe the mountain saw the darkness in him and acknowledged it, after all, like calls to like. 

He stepped through to find a number of cells, some of them thundered with the screams of Amarantha’s prisoners being tortured. Others, more defiant captives, spewed filth at the foul creatures that guarded the cells. They were lesser fae and creatures so lowly there was hardly any names for them. 

Rhysand passed many cells until he caught the scent he was looking for, it was faint and coated in blood but it was there: roses, grass, sun and pollen, the smells of the Spring Court. He found the sentry sitting near a corner of the cell, awake and bracing his knees. He wasn't surprised to have found him up and alert even though it was past midnight. The prisoners here didn't sleep, they were either on their guard or tortured into unconsciousness. 

The Sentry looked straight at Rhys, defiant. A smile rose to Rhy’s lips that he didn't try to conceal, although he knew the faerie would interpret it as pure mockery. Rhys rather enjoyed the disobedience of Amarantha's prisoners, it stirred a shrivel of hope in him that he had learned to push away. 

Standing just outside of the cell in his impeccable black attire stood Rhys. With both hands in his pockets he teased “Looking good Jonas”. 

He meant it, Rhys had seen the maimed faeries on the way here, the bodies. He pushed the thought aside. 

“Go to hell whore”  the Sentry spat out through a mouthful of broken teeth. 

Rhys clicked his tongue, “Oh but you do look good, sometimes the Lady can be merciful. She could have had your tongue, you should be grateful.” 

The look Jonas gave him was nothing short of murderous. 

“What do you want, scum?” The Sentry grumbled from under his breath, his golden brows almost touching. 

“You held your post even after her forces had taken the manor, so very valiant of you.”

The Sentry merely blinked in acknowledgment. 

“You were guarding a small study, one might say insignificant compared to the other rooms in the house. I wonder…” Rhys continued, “what could possibly be so important to need such protection in a room full of paintings?’ 

The Sentry remained silent, but Rhys could sense the fear coming off of him. Everyone Under the Mountain still feared him, and with good reason. 

“I see you’re not in the mood to talk. However you must understand she needs to know what happened at the Spring Court” Rhys pressed. 

With that the High Lord reached into the soldier’s mind, finding little to no resistance. He watched his face pale, his body stiffen. The stench of fear filled the cell. 

Rhys’ orders were clear enough, to see what he could learn from Tamlin’s sentries. He could have visited any other cell, however this Sentry had been guarding something particularly valuable to him specifically. 

He went through the Sentry’s memory like pages on a book, regular duties flew by until he came across what he was looking for.  

“You are to stay here and guard the study, don’t let them touch the paintings.”  Tamlin’s voice echoed through the memory and flashes of color- paintings appeared in his mind. 

Rhys scanned through them all hungrily, he recognized the style, the strokes, he even caught a glimpse of her hands again. The soldier must have ran into her at work before the sacking. 

He then saw Jonas fight the creatures, defending the room behind him, he was prepared to die at his post. Rhys couldn’t help but feel grateful.

For a heartbeat, two, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the colors. He felt it again, the feeling he had so successfully pushed down, it was hope. 

He saw flowers, the cottage in the snow, a forest in the dead of winter. They were all hers. Through the sentry’s eyes he was looking into her life, her memories. 

By now she must be back at the mortal world, safe and most importantly, away from this nightmare. The thought was enough to ground him and bring him back to the present. 

Rhys let go of Jonas’ mind and his body sagged, his breath came out rapidly leaving wisps of smoke.

“I see the High Lord of Spring remains a sentimental fool. Always the martyr.” 

Jonas was drained but still managed to curse Rhys rather brutally in between gasps. The High Lord couldn’t help but feel respect for the Sentry, not that he’d ever let it show. 

“Thank you Jonas, Amarantha will be pleased.” 

With that he turned around, hands still in his pockets. He could winnow back but he needed the walk back to his chambers, needed the chill of the mountain to break him out of the implications of his discovery. He felt a tug in his navel, in his very core. 

He climbed up the steps into the Court, allowing each step to pull him away from the study and the mortal girl. Amarantha would never get to her, she was in the mortal lands, she would never have to see the inside of this Court of Nightmares and he would make sure of it. Even if it cost him his life.

 By the time he emerged from the cells, he was the portrait of indifference, the mask was back on.

[trashbins-stuff]

me when character who is tortured by the voice, me when character who is a bearer of the curse, me when character who went through horrifying hallucination, me when character is going through the horrors, me when character cry themself to sleep, me when character who ruin every relationship they have, me when character doesnt know how to communicate, me when character who kill everyone who wronged them, me when character who was maimed and tortured, me when character who scarified themself, me when character who is slowly going insane, me when character me when character who fucked up big time and no one forgive them, me when character who is alone and forgotten, me when character who get mistreated, me when character have parent issue, me when character who is a perfectionist, me when character have anger issue, me when character is cringefail, me when character who have trouble fitting in and no one rlly understood them, me when character who seem like jsut some dude but is actually fucked up, me when character who is a clone, me when character who feel like they dont deserve the good things in their life, me when character is misunderstood, me when character who never got a second chance, me when character who lost the only person who even give half a shit about them anymore, me when character who try to help everyone in secret but everyone got mad at them instead, me when character who's friend group is falling apart before their eyes and they cant do anything, me when character who kill someone, me when character whose life is falling apart, me when character who witness their friend's death, me when character who is doomed by the narrative, me when character who is ooooooohhhhhhhh so sad boo hoo sad ohhhh go to therapy you, me when charac

[tizzyizzy]

tfw you write a whole rant response but they block you so your words are for nothing.

Figure I’d might as well post what I had for posterity...

But also I don’t think he needs to apologize for mutilating Izzy. For marooning the crew? Absolutely. For kidnapping Jim and Frenchie? oh yeah. For attempting to kill Lucius? Defiantly. But cutting off Izzy’s pinky toe was actually a based move. Any other pirate captain would have Keelhauled Izzy for his insubordination. Ed would have been 100% justified in killing the fuck out of Izzy, not because Izzy was being insubordinate (although that is the culture of piracy, it’s not good but it’s also like, Izzy knew the rules going in) but because Izzy made it clear that he was a potentially fatal threat. Like he sold them out to the English which very well could have resulted in both Stede and Ed’s deaths if it hadn’t been for Ed’s quick thinking.

Sorry, I need everyone to stop using this as a ‘gotcha’ about why Ed’s behavior with Izzy was justified. Ed literally never mentioned the incident with Stede when he got on the boat. Ed obviously did not feel threatened  by Izzy if he was having him make tea for him and chatting as if it had never happened. In fact, it’s reasonable to concluded that Ed had decided Izzy had been right the whole time. After all, Ed had just experienced a major heartbreak, and probably believed the man he’d sacrificed his freedom for had abandoned him. So in Ed’s view, Izzy is the man who had warned him Stede was a liability, tried and failed to get rid of Stede, and had then been proven right. 

If Ed was retaliating because of the incident with the English, he would have said something about that specifically, or done it the moment he had the opportunity. But he didn’t, because it’s water under the bridge for them. Hell, what happens when Izzy brings up that he should have let the English kill him? Ed barely even reacts. It’s harsh, but Izzy has said harsh things before and it hasn’t seemed to matter much. Ed didn’t even take it seriously.

And it’s important to keep in mind the actual relationship and status quo between Ed and Izzy. Izzy has consistently been portrayed as someone reasonably comfortable talking to Ed as an equal, and even yelling at him, without Ed having an angry reaction. There’s no reason for Izzy to assume that Ed would escalate to that level of violence that quickly. Oh, and Ed said he was free to speak his mind and share his feelings before attacking.

Furthermore, you can’t have it both ways. Either it is a good thing that Ed is a cruel, emotionally distant, murderous, torturer, or he should go the way of Stede. Weird how when he’s marooning the crew its a mistake he needs to apologize for, but when he’s unnecessarily maiming an old and loyal friend it’s ‘based’. Interesting, I wonder why...

And then he hits Ed with that “I should have let the English kill you, Whatever it is that you’ve become is a fate worse than death… Edward better watch his fucking step.” Like if someone said that to me and I was stuck on a boat with them, I would seriously consider murder just for my own physical safety. I have to kill him before he kills me. Instead of doing that he does the thing he knows will gain Izzy’s respect and get him off his back. Izzy made his bed now he has to lie in it. If he valued his toe he wouldn’t go around making death threats.

Sorry, but this is bullshit. it I need to break it down into both numbered and alphabetical lists. 

1a. Izzy has, consistently, been portrayed as absolutely pathetic. Lucius outsmarted him, Fang doesn’t respect him. He fails in swordfights to Stede not one but two times.

1b. Ed has consistently been portrayed as frightening and intimidating. Lucius stood up to him, but was still worried about, and threatened with, an eye stabbing. We’ve seen him frighten a captive and have one tortured. Fang is afraid of being caught being sketched by him. He’s able to intimidate the Revenge’s crew into shaking Stede’s hand. Sure, he can be chill and vulnerable, but he’s fundamentally a scary pirate in a way Dizzy Izzy isn’t.

2. Izzy has consistently showed that he is not a threat to Ed himself. Let’s look at all incidents of physical violence between them.

2a. The Revenge’s crew is captured by the English. Ed punishes Izzy in a fury. Izzy says, “That’s fair,” talks about “Loyalty to the captain”, and tries to get Ed out of the situation safe and free. 

2b. Izzy yells at Ed and says he’s not Blackbeard anymore. Ed throttles him against the wall. Izzy’s reaction is to affectionately reach out to Ed and stroke his cheek. When released, he says he serves Blackbeard, and that Ed had better watch his “fucking step”. This is not a direct threat to kill or maim Ed, but a warning to watch his behavior.

3c. Ed cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it too him, the most gruesome act we’ve seen in the show so far, and it is meant to be a disturbing scene. Izzy doesn’t resist and reacts with a dazed, happy submission and eagerness to serve.

Hot take: in a lot of ways, murdering Izzy would have been less fucked up! If Ed decided Izzy was a threat and needed to go, that’s fair enough! But he didn’t. he decided he wanted Izzy to stay. That Izzy is a part of the Blackbeard lifestyle is is turning to in favor of the crew. You can’t use the excuse “it’s okay because Izzy was a threat” then have Ed decide to keep Izzy around. 

Third of all. I’m gonna break down your final paragraph piece by piece because hoo boy have you misunderstood Izzy Hands. “And you can say the same thing about Izzy, really.” No ya can’t. What I’m saying about Ed is that when he did the shitty thing he didn’t do it because of a character flaw, he did it for other reasons. Izzy absolutely did everything that he did because he has the character flaw of being a stubborn shit head with enough toxic masculinity to kill a bull. There were a million times when Izzy if he was even a slightly better person, would have just walked away. Instead he runs to the Brits because he’s power obsessed and has lost control of the situation and of Blackbeard. He didn’t even have to duel Stede that was an unforced error. He has all of these things because he has deep character flaws.

Okay, I’m sorry, this is such an incredible misreading of the character. 

The double standards for Ed and Izzy are so extreme I don’t know how or where to start. I think I covered it in the last post I did? So much of this applies to Ed too.

I actually started writing a whole thing in response to this about Izzy, but then I realized:

Why the fuck are we discussing Izzy?

I brought up Izzy in my previous posts only because his presence was important to Ed’s actions, then as an example to show that just because a character has a reason for performing a behavior doesn’t mean they don’t need to change.

Also I don’t understand Izzy apologists because 90% of what makes Izzy a fun and interesting character is that there is something deeply, deeply wrong with him and yall just want to make that go away? Boring, couldn’t be me. I want him to be a fucked up little man until something happens in the story to either fix him or kill him, stop trying to make him less fucked up.  

Yet here we are, talking about me being an Izzy apologist, and you rambling about how terrible Izzy is.

But we know why you brought him up so much, right?

Izzy Must Be Evil So Ed Remains Pure!

It’s incredibly ironic that Izzy apologists get accused of trying to wash away all their characters flaws when it’s always the Ed apologists. Stop bringing your issues with Izzy up in a wrongheaded attempt to explain that, while my angry little murder pirate is Evil and Bad, your murderous, torturous, infamous pirate is actually a pathetic little meow meow. He doesn’t need to change! He never did anything wrong! Mutilating your first mate is based, actually. Killing off an entire crew is just a mistake. He only keeps killing people because they deserved it and because Izzy made him do it!

I’m not an Izzy apologist. You’re just an Ed apologist.

I’m happy to admit to Izzy’s fucked up flaws. Maybe you should go look in a mirror and at the excuses you’re willing to make for your own faves, hm?

[clickonmedotexe]

Rex is shoved against the wall by a blur of shadows, hands wrapping around his wrists and throat before he even realizes what's going on. In a second he's pinned down and the pressure on his windpipe is getting harsher while he thrashes against the hold.

"How dare you touch her. I'm going to kill you."

He knows the voice, having possessed the speaker's body once back when he himself was part of the very virus which had tormented him the last few weeks.

Mason Paines, the friend of Thursday - of course he would've heard about their earlier run in. Except Rex thought Thursday had him better under control. Maybe she sent him to find Rex after deciding the demonic ghostly beast gutting him wasn't enough.

"Wasn't- me-" Rex chokes out. He kicks at Maso but the other isn't fazed in the slightest. He's stronger than Rex, both physically and because the burning rage lends him some extra strength, enough that Maso's certain he can pop his head off if he just pushes harder.

"I know you threatened her before, you slimy revolting pervert. I'm going to mangle you and feed you the parts I chopped off until you choke on them, Rex, I'll make what Alice did to you look like a walk in the fucking park." Maso is squeezing his throat harder, ignoring Rex's frantic attempts to escape.

He can't wrench his hands free and his kicks do nothing. He tries to knee Maso in the stomach, manages to do it once (Maso doesn't blink), and the second time is blocked by Maso's shadow which has wrapped around his body protectively, shielding him from further attacks.

"I was- possessed-" The older man is turning purple, black spots crowding over his vision as his head pounds painfully, demanding to be given oxygen. He's either going to faint or die and neither of those sound particularly fun right now - especially after all the restarts he just went through while Vir took his body for a joyride.

"I don't care." Maso leans in, glaring at Rex with a bottomless hatred - he won't be satisfied until he's certain Rex has suffered as much as he's done to Thursday. Even if it wasn't him. Maso can't bring himself to care. Right now Rex is the face of everything bad that had ever happened to his friend. All the injuries, the rejections, the pain, the abandonment and the tortures she's faced, Maso turned away from the instigators as best he could to focus on damage control instead but the more times she got attacked the more resentment built up inside of him until finally it had to snap.

Rex was the last straw.

Even if he wasn't the one to leave her for dead or maim her with a chainsaw or even cut her tongue out, he was far from innocent and Maso doubts it really matters if he's hurting Rex for allegedly being forced to torture Thursday to death, or if he's hurting him for all the times he did actually torture Thursday's friends, possessed innocents and ruined friendships with his manipulation.

"You deserve to die, you motherfucker. You deserve to have everything taken away from you - especially that family you brainwashed into loving you. Fuck you. I'm going to flay you alive, I'm going to tear you into a million little pieces and set them on fire you fucking asshole, I hate you so much! Who do you think you are, ruining everyone's lives? I'm going to tear your dick off and make you eat it, you perv-"

Mason Paines.

Maso has gotten angrier with every word, bitter tears of frustration and rage welling up in his eyes as he slams Rex into the wall repeatedly with each threat. Rex is too weak to fight back and with how he's rapidly losing consciousness, he thinks he might've imagined the voice if it weren't for how Maso paused too.

Put him down. Let me take a look.

Maso grits his teeth, but obeys. He yanks Rex forward and kicks him to the ground. Rex falls and starts hacking for air immediately, wheezing out of his now bruised windpipe.

"He's disgusting, Icarus. No one does anything about him because they're either too scared or too enamored by him. He needs to- to die!"

Hush. The voice commands and reluctantly Maso falls silent, deciding to stand there and glare at Rex instead. There's someone else standing in the room with them, their presence as thick as fog even though Rex can't see the speaker. He can hear their voice in his head and out loud, and he knows that whoever this is is far from the demons and entities he's met before. They aren't even like the god who had possessed him earlier and changed him to his whim.

This presence is older, powerful. It feels as if for the first time he's in the same room with Capital G God.

Except Maso is talking casually to 'God' and there's no singing choir of celestials accompanying them.

If Rex squints hard enough, he might be able to make out a ever shifting figure shining in blue standing above him, but looking at it felt wrong, like he's glimpsing into another plane of reality.

Rex Sovereign. The voice says. Another broken soul spreading pain and Despair where it goes. I am surprised Calypso has not taken interest in you.

Maso scoffs. Rex has no idea what they're talking about.

"I t-told you." He rubs at his throat, which hurts terribly. "I didn't touch Thursday. It wasn't my idea, for fucks sakes. Just listen to me."

You have hurt many people. You're a parasite. Where you go, you attempt to lay ownership in people's lives, for better or for worse. Yet your courage is all a lie. In reality, you are so very afraid.

Rex suddenly realizes how exposed he is. He can't hide from this being who is looking directly at him. Not his mask. At him.

In an instant it can see everything. Every insecurity he ever had, every moment of weakness, every scar on his soul and what story came along with it.

He instinctively tries to hide but there's no place he can go to shield himself from the humiliation of being on display.

You fear you are as unlovable as you were made to believe when you were young, so you attempt to gain people's affections through manipulation and lies, you crave intimacy so you look for it in the wrong places because you cannot bear losing control. You believe yourself to be strong but you cannot bend so you are brittle. The slightest pressure would snap you in half. If others found out the truth about you, you would hide in shame as you have done from the ones you claim to be your family.

Rex says nothing, hands curled into fists. He wants to deny it but no words come out in his defense.

You have changed. There is hope inside of you, which is your saving grace. You are lucky I did not stumble upon you sooner or you would no longer be as you are. I will be back for you, Rex Sovereign. Go to your family. Do not lay a hand on a single person in the meantime or I will take you away from your loved ones in an instant. You won't have the chance to say goodbye.

The being turns to address Maso.

I will take a look at your friend. Do not hesitate to call me again if you require assistance.

Maso nods and watches as Icarus fades away, gone from their current perception but around in case of anything. He glances down at Rex who looks like someone put him through the wringer several times.

"I guess my threats are useless now in light of Icarus'." Maso says dryly. He's still mad, even if he's better at controlling it now. "Don't go near Thursday again. Don't even look at her."

Rex purses his lips, exhausted and annoyed. He gets up, making sure to stay far enough away from Maso in case the other tries to jump him again and shoots him a bitter look.

"Tell her it wasn't me, it was Vir. And I tried to warn her. If she'd have run like I told her to, maybe she could've found help before it attacked her."

Maso scowls darkly.

Rex doesn't say anything else. He just turns and heads back to his Office, like Icarus suggested he do.

Maso watches him go for a moment, scoffs and heads off as well. He figures he should let Thursday know about what happened and make her aware of Icarus' intentions to visit.

[feydrautha]

Keeks aaaahhhh we all are waiting for your thoughts on ep 6 I went completely insane over larycent moments

answering this SIX DAYS TOO LATE but oh well, we still have three hours before the episode airs, so here goes fucking nothing. we got two scenes but somehow got almost everything we asked for in these, so I can't even complain if i wanted to

the audacity of Larys tbh. his family just died (because of him), the funeral is supposedly happening at the same damn time, and what does he do? go to Laena's funeral. No, he didn't know her, he probably never spoke to her a single word, so the Velaryons are wondering what in the name of the Seven this guy is even doing until someone points out that Queen Alicent merely needs her emotional support twink by her side and that he's harmless ("isn't he Lord Confessor aka Guy Who Runs All The Tortures?" "yes but besides that he's just some bloke")

the STARING, did i lose my mind over this. the way he positions himself before he settles down to stare at Alicent like a Completely Normal Person has something so comedic about it, and it's only topped by Criston practically doing "is this guy bothering you, Queen?" - he doesn't even mention him by name (which is quite disrespectful when you think about it, since Alicent also points out that Larys is Lord of Harrenhal now) and makes a point to remark how indecent Larys is being. That Alicent's response is all but "lol, dw, he's cool" mixed with a "goddamnit, Larys, you're being so obvious even this fucking guy has taken note of it, tone it down fifteen notches" somehow is the little cherry on top of it

THE BOAT SCENE, okay okay, first of all: when we see Alicent standing outside and staring at the sea, Larys is first standing at the other side of the ship and has a handkerchief pressed to his mouth. He was seasick and still went over to Alicent and afterward stayed next to her, watching the sea with her. He could've easily just left and gone back inside where he could continue being unwell, but nope! Gotta stare at the waves with the girl I like.

After the final scene in S1E6, everyone and their little dog was talking about how terrified Alicent was of what he did and how she most likely was never going to trust him ever again because she now knew what a monster she had on a leash and how she would take her distance from now on. Yes, she knows to be careful from now on with how she words things around him, because Larys knows how to turn the table on her and read between the lines when there is really nothing, but Alicent has changed. She utterly lost her shit when Aemond was maimed and not one person had her back, her husband showed to the entire court that his preference for Rhaenyra outweighed any feelings he had for his and Alicent's children, and that she was right - that her children could be in danger. She shows regret about her loss of control but her father begins fostering that seed of resentment within her, that what she did was the right thing to do, and essentially feeds her paranoia, so she considers that maybe having a very cunning and dangerous person by your side who has killed for you and would do it again is actually useful - when the time is ripe. I do believe that she will ask for his support when Viserys is dying to keep the King's death and secret and move as quickly as possible to segure that Aegon is made heir while undermining Rhaenyra's claim in its entirety.

OH BOY, were you bitches wrong all along about her hating him for the murder of his family and being a kinslayer!!!! if that had really been the case, you know she would've told Criston she was uncomfortable, and Criston would've not missed an opportunity to manhandle Larys off the permise, but instead she doesn't do anything of that... almost as if Larys was her only friend for the better part of a whole decade and she was shocked to find out her trusted friend was capable of such things, but also she is pragmatic enough to look beyond that after a while because she is in a precarious situation...

Larys is so far the only one to actually offer condolences for what happened to Aemond - Otto didn't care about what happened to the prince, Viserys sure as hell ran all out of fucks to give for the non-Rhaenyras among his descendants, and here is the only person to tell her he's sorry for what happened. It's a direct parallel to E1 where Alicent told Viserys "all I ever wanted was for someone to tell me they were sorry for what happened" wrt the death of her mother, and that's beautiful.

fuck it, we know Larys wasn't physically present for Queenbowl but I won't budge from my personal headcanon that he warged into a rat or some other creature and was cheering on Alicent while watching the entire mess going down

on another note

Aemond riding Vhagar was terrifying and stunning

the kids' brawl was INSANE, even though if i'm being honest... as much of a dickmove Aemond's stunt was, he was right and the discussion could've ended there and then, because being a dick isn't a crime (basically, it escalated but understandably so)

the sexual tension between Daemyra drove me INSANE, so when the sex scene happened I was a little... disappointed at first? someone on Twitter did point out that along with it being a very deliberate contrast to the horny as fuck brothel scene, Rhaenyra had also just given birth to Joff a few weeks earlier so Daemon being gentle was reasonable, and by now I have made my peace with the scene (and the pulling off of the stockings was sexy as hell tbh)

I loved seeing Otto again, he's a prick but I have love in my heart for all DILFs regardless of moral alignment

I was pleasantly surprised by the choice to have Laenor elope with Qarl, even if I think too many people ignore that Daemon and Rhaenyra basically got an innocent dude killed to pull it off - not that I think of them as godawful evil people for it (lol), but it's hypocritical from some sections of fandom

Laenor standing in the sea in mourning of Laena... god, I really wish we had seen more of their relationship besides Laenor holding her hand at the tourney when she gets scared. Again, the Velaryons were Robbed of character moments

the knife scene delivered on all fronts, Emma's and Olivia's acting was insane

I still can't believe the entire damn court showed up to see Aemond getting stitched up and stuck around for the Targ-Hightower beef. These people are so nosy, lmao, and we don't even know who they are

Ty Tennant as Aegon has the same comedic potential as Roman Roy, I will really miss him. I laughed for at least a full minute when he completely demolished Aemond's alibi with the most incredulous "me?????" I've ever heard

Helaemond is real, it came to me in a dream, call me Helaena

Actually, Baelaemond too, he totally got a subconscious crush when Baela drove her fist into his face, that's just the way things are

Rhaenys's reactions to finding "Laenor" honest to god almost made me cry, Eve Best really sold it. i assume Rhaenyra and Daemon never tell her the truth of what really happened, but damn it, I wish they did

[dr3amofagame]

there is much to be said about what a c!dream healing arc could do to the story. what it could mean, having one of the characters that is - to this point - one of the greatest perpetuators (or at least participants) of the cycle of violence that has become this server’s narrative until this point break free of that. what it could mean for everyone on that server, having someone that has done so many unequivocally bad things turn around and go “okay, i am going to try and Be Better” and then not only improve the lives of those no longer tormented by his actions but himself heal. like that is ,, such a cool message. that’d be so fun. 

but also, i think something really unique abt c!dream’s redemption is that it’s ,, the key to opening the way to the redemption and healing of other characters as well. like, for example, on twitter i’ve stated before that like - c!sam’s redemption, in some ways, directly hinges on whether or not c!dream comes out of the prison just as “evil” as he was before. 

the deal with c!sam (in simplified terms) is that he thinks that he’s right. he thinks that everything that he has done thus far can be justified by the knowledge that letting c!dream out of the prison would be worse. yes, he killed, tortured, and maimed one of the people he loves (and loves him) most. yes, his neglect and fear allowed him to keep a kid in a cramped, inhumane space w/ his abuser for even longer than the protocol written and then prevented him from interfering before he died. yes, he threatened to kill the same kid out of the fear that his actions might let the prisoner free. yes, he has trapped several people in his prison without a trial and threatened to kill several more for just touching a block of his prison. yes, he has not only abused his own authority time and time again, but stepped aside to override all previous protocol to allow a business partner into the prison walls and torture the man he is meant to guard. but to c!sam, all of this doesn’t MATTER because it’s still a lesser evil than whatever c!dream might do when he gets out. it all isn’t important how “bad” his actions might be because c!dream is still, in his mind, worse. 

if c!dream comes out of the prison (relatively) unscathed, or even if he doesnt but he goes right back onto terrorizing people, then like - what’s stopping c!sam from thinking that he was right? what’s stopping him from concluding that “everything i did was necessary and i should’ve done more because c!dream is still more evil than anyone and therefore keeping him locked up should be prioritized above the safety and happiness of everyone else on the server for the greater good” ?? he already thinks that everything he’s done is justified. even when he seems upset, for example, in his interactions w/ c!ponk, he never actually expresses any regret for his actions. he still finds his actions themselves to be 100% necessary. 

but what happens when you dismantle that?

what happens when you, for once, refuse to feed into that cycle of violence and c!dream gets out of the prison and then proceeds to do nothing? what happens if c!dream leaves prison and instead of blowing shit up, or killing people, or whatever, he actually tries to get better? what happens if he succeeds, and does improve himself and the server?

what happens, then, to c!sam? he’s always justified his actions with the idea that keeping c!dream locked up is of utmost importance because c!dream is a greater danger to the server than he ever manages to be, as warden. that no matter what he has done and will do, no matter the cost, it is worth it because it is for the protection of the entire server from a c!dream that will destroy them all. so say that c!dream leaves the prison and he gets better. 

what does that mean for c!sam? 

/dsmp /roleplay

[cupcakey00]

It’s Just Instinct

Here’s to my first one-shot, everyone! (edit: it’s actually not a one-shot since there will be another part or 2 lol oops) In which Cassian struggles to adjust to the overwhelming instincts to protect Nesta.

 Words: 2,325

there is some NSFW content in this.

Nesta could count on both hands the number of times she had to intervene to stop a murder where Cassian was involved, especially since they’d mated just one month prior. The first time had been only two days into their mating frenzy. Lord Devlon may have been many things, but a fool was not one of them.

Or so he thought.

Unbeknownst to the pair, the camp lord in doing his rounds managed to hear the throes of their passion, and made the decision to send a young female to deliver war reports to Cassian as opposed to their usual male. Unbeknownst to Devlon, Cassian had recently discovered Nesta’s attraction males and females. Suffice to say, it was only Nesta’s iron grip on his bicep and pushing on his chest while screaming for the Illyrian to “leave! You have to go!” that stopped him from tearing the poor young female to shreds at just the scent of her outside their door as she slid reports through the gap. After all, their Commander was busy, but so were their enemies.

Unsurprisingly, Devlon was unimpressed.

The second time came when Azriel had visited during the third day of their mating, unannounced, hoping to visit his friend and discuss the Illyrian rebels. Unfortunately for Azriel, his personal vow never to spy on his family finally became his crux. At the sound of Azriel’s feet touching ground from outside the cabin door, Cassian’s eyes dilated, his muscles tensed, and his breath hitched. Nesta knew what was coming next, although this time, she couldn’t stop it. Not when Cassian was still strung up from the female’s visit the prior day, and most certainly not when he was interrupted with his head between Nesta’s legs.

Azriel realized immediately his mistake the moment he landed, but he knew he could not simply leave. He knew that would only make it worse. Worst case scenario, Cassian would pursue him for days during his frenzy if he deemed Azriel enough of a threat, so long as the threat of being away from Nesta for long didn’t outweigh the perceived threat to Nesta; he had seen the look in his eyes long before Nesta and Cassian were mated. He saw the thirst for blood at any male – and, recently, female – who so much as looked at Nesta a few moments too long. Whether it was in protection or possession, Azriel didn’t know. He didn’t think Cassian did either. Granted, he always kept a leash on himself for Nesta’s sake and his own. It wasn’t fair to Nesta to be treated like an object, especially not one that he owned. That, Cassian knew. Thus, Azriel stayed. He waited, deciding that staying silent, allowing for Cassian to make the first move, would allow for his brother to calm down, register him not as a threat, but as a friend who meant no harm nor claim to his mate.

Surprisingly, Azriel, too, was a fool.

In Cassian’s cloudy, newly mated mind, the Night Court’s spy and Shadowsinger’s silence and stillness confirmed one thing and one thing alone: he was there to lust over the sound of his Nesta crying out in ecstasy, a hymn promised to Cassian and Cassian alone. Nesta had just reached the point of unintelligibility, unable to articulate a single word or thought with Cassian’s mouth feasting on her dripping center after teasing the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs with his tongue and breath for what had to have been hours, bringing Nesta to near tears, begging Cassian for more, begging him to let her come. For a cruel amount of time, Cassian would not relent, tracing and blowing; sucking oh so near it, never on it, telling her about how “you’re so pretty when you’re begging me to let you come, Sweetheart. You’re going to have to wait for that.” He was never merciful enough to tell her how long she had to wait. (The only reason he had the self-control to delay it was because of how thoroughly he fucked her the previous two days.)

Nesta had been close, no longer able to make a single sound except for gasps and high-pitched whimpers with her back arched off their dining room table, one hand gripping Cassian’s dark hair at the root as his hands kept her legs spread wide open, forcing her hips down, forbidding her from grinding on his face, while her other hand gripped the tablecloth. With her back arched, he couldn’t see her face, so he watched Nesta’s pert nipples instead, still red and raw from his previous ministrations, lips around one nipple sucking, tongue flicking, teeth biting, while his fingers twisted and tugged at the other, alternating whenever he felt like it. The red was mostly faded.

He’d have to fix that.

Cassian knew that while the denial for release was torture for Nesta for the time being, her orgasm by the end couldn’t possibly be anything short of mind-shattering. He sent a prayer to whatever gods were listening that he’d be able to feel her walls clench around his tongue fucking her, nose rubbing against her clit. He could only hope she wouldn’t squeeze so tight around him that his tongue was forced out of her pretty pink hole while her walls contracted; he couldn’t let any of her sacred nectar go to waste on their dining room table.

He’d lick it up right off the wood, maintaining eye contact with Nesta if he had to.

The other part of him, the more primal, male part of him, craved the satisfaction of making his mate come so devastatingly he wouldn’t be able to keep his tongue inside, tip of his tongue massaging her G-spot through her release. He hadn’t dared come close to it yet; he knew that’d put an end to their fun. Everyone knew the journey was more important than the destination.

Truly, considering this was the trajectory they were on, it was no wonder Cassian would have brutalized Azriel’s body so badly, Rhysand would have had to rethink who assumed the role of the Night Court’s torturer.

Would have, had Azriel not been forced to use a Siphon-imposed shield around himself, infuriating Cassian even further. Not only had this male heard his lover’s euphoric cries, but he couldn’t even kill him for it, and it was his fault Nesta wasn’t only dripping onto the table instead of his face, she was also needy with the desire to reach the orgasm she had earned. This male thought he could arrive at their doorstep and put a halt to his lover’s pleasure? Unforgiveable.

Azriel wasn’t safe until Rhysand, who then also became the subject of Cassian’s hunt (the third in 24 hours), used his magic to force Cassian back into the cabin and established a shield around it, confining him while allowing Azriel’s shadows to bring him back to Velaris with Nesta screaming for Cassian the entire time – never once leaving the inside; Cassian’s brothers seeing Nesta in such a near-orgasmic state, even if she did put clothes on first, was a sure-fire way for him to level all of Illyria to eliminate them both. This, Nesta knew.

Through their open bond, he could feel what Nesta felt. Had she been in danger, Cassian wouldn’t have been able to ignore her pleas even if he wanted to. Hell, had Cassian been able to think a tad more clearly, he’d have strapped on his Siphons to put more concentrated pressure against Rhysand’s barrier. But alas, there he was, stark-naked body limning with unbridled power, using his magic until it was drained, not a Siphon in sight, snarling near animalistically.

After that ordeal, the message became clear: no one was to come in contact with the Commander or his mate until they left their cabin unless of an emergency. Rhysand imposed a no-go zone of a half-mile radius around their cabin to be kept at all times until indicated otherwise by the Commander himself. It took two weeks until the pair could leave the cabin without fear of murder, although that didn’t stop an incident from popping up almost every day since, especially since Cassian was convinced most of the camp either wanted to kill Nesta or fuck her. Still, Cassian tried. He tried to rein it in, and Nesta could see that. She knew he took no joy in threatening the lives of his fellow Illyrians, no matter how much they hated him. He had to learn to control himself, and learning he was. However, everyone knows that when learning, mistakes are bound to be made.

That was what brought them here, a crowd of wide-eyed Illyrians with bated breath, gazing at the four in fear: Cassian, Nesta, and a young male who’d been training with an older Illyrian.

Nesta placed a hand firmly on his chest, assuring, “Cass, I’m okay,” as Cassian’s eyes and stance guaranteed violence, twin blades in either hand. His eyes held nearly none of their characteristically striking hazel, instead swallowed by the black abyss of a predator salivating for a hunt. The scent of the blood trickling from the cut on her upper arm was suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe, his body wouldn’t let him. Not when he was so close to his prize: the young male’s blood bathing his blades. Breathing would only alert his prey to his presence, chancing he’d run.

Then again, Cassian wanted a chase.

Still, Cassian would not move. Instincts begged him kill, maul, maim, but his less animalistic side implored him to drop his weapons and help his mate, to be rational and think clearly.

Still, Cassian could not move. Could not attack the enemy for fear of leaving Nesta unattended, nor drop his weapons for fear of leaving her vulnerable to another attack, never mind that he could wipe out every male, female, and child in the camp with his bare hands if he desired.

Nesta, sensing his inner conflict, whispered sweetly to Cassian, “Cassian, Love, I’m safe. I’m healthy, I am happy. I’m okay. You don’t need to do this, you know this.” Facing him, her right hand gripped his shoulder, her left, resting on his abdomen, applying pressure to his body knew she could not remove if she wanted the boy to live. Still, it wasn’t enough for him to break eye contact with the young Illyrian. Slowly, she slid her hand from his abdomen up to his heart, feeling the melodic thump, thump, thump that always grounded her, whether she was facing a nightmare or the much more nefarious demons of her conscious mind.

Still gripping his shoulder, she removed her hand from his chest and pressed her body against his, reaching down in search of his fingers. Immediately his grip softened from his weapon, seeking the warmth and comfort of Nesta’s embrace above all else. Gripping his hand gently, she took a step back. At this, Cassian’s eyes snapped down in alarm until she placed his hand over her beating heart, hand atop his, unblinking as she watched the bloodlust drain from his gaze as he peered into her own, his eyes a telescope gazing upon the stars within the vast edges of the universe people deigned to refer to simply as Nesta’s eyes. Cassian knew he could spend the rest of his immortal life studying them and still he’d have more to learn. Nesta would let him.

In his heart, Cassian knew she could take care of herself, that it was an honest accident. The boy was still learning how to hold a sword, it wasn’t his fault he had it parried out of his grip, especially when it was Nesta who hadn’t realized she wasn’t the compulsory 15 meters away from the fighting pair; she’d been busy running back and forth bringing ice to the healers. Truly, if fault had to be blamed, Nesta laid claim to most of it.

Not that it mattered to Cassian, of course.

In his eyes were terror, veiled thinly only by the stubborn rage. In them, she discerned all his fears…his regrets that he couldn’t save Nesta from the Cauldron. She saw the same look in his eyes he had when they almost died together during the war, and finally she understood. She understood why he’d been so protective. That not only did he struggle with believing he wasn’t enough for his people, but for his own mate too. For the love of his life, his whole world. For his sole reason for living for the past 500 years, the present, and the eternal future. Her gaze was piercing, imploring, begging him to forgive himself, begging him to have mercy on himself, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not yet had he proven himself worthy of his mate, nor might he ever.

At this, Nesta was the one to feel fear. Not at Cassian, but for him; a life of regrets and guilt is not a life at all, especially for an immortal.

From his shoulder she removed her remaining hand, gently grasping his own, the second twin blade dropping into the mud, and placed his large palm over her cheek, using it to cradle her face. She smiled sadly, tears threatening to spill over as she nestled her cheek into his palm, feeling the rough callouses she wished she could engrave onto her soul so that she’d never be without them.

Those tears? Cassian hated them. Each one that threatened to fall was yet another one of his failures, an indication of Nesta’s pain. Pain that he caused in his own inadequacy. He could never forgive himself.

This wasn’t a conversation they could have in front of a crowd, so she whispered, just barely audible, “take me home,” and instantly, he pulled her body flush against his and flew to the cottage that became the both of theirs, everyone else be damned.

One day, Cassian will learn. Just not today.

 ________________

There will be a part 2, maybe a part 3!! I hope you enjoyed :)

tag: @arinbelle

[vivithefolle]

What are your favourite fanfic tropes/aus for romione?

(I’m gonna try to make my way through old asks I received AGES ago and never answered because I’m a procrastinating lump. Here’s betting I’m going to give up and play videogames all day instead.)

Oh my god, so many.

Okay so as a rule of thumb as long as it’s nice to Ron I’ll read it. I’ll read anything. I have been known to read Ron/Draco and even sacrificed my dignity and everything I stand for as a human being by reading some Ron/Snape stuff. Yes. I was THAT desperate. This is how low I’m willing to go because of sheer love for Ron.

Which means that when a fic will go “oh poor Hermione, poor Hermione who is waiting for Ron to grow up because She can see one day he could be worth it but for now he’s all dumb-dumb and inferior and doesn’t deserve Her perfection :(”, I will be judging. Judging very hard. I may not leave a comment but rest assured, my thoughts are loud enough for me. This is 2010s mentality. This is “haha I’m so like Hermione, not like other girls who throw themselves at boys, I’m so special and girl powery :)” Horribly Bad Feminism. Fuck that. We’re doing better now.

Speaking of doing better. Recently I read something about how Ron is, paraphrased, “the brute of the Trio”, spun in a positive way since he uses his strength to protect them but, but, still... please no? Just no! Just eff no with these takes about how Ron is a hypermasculine dudebro M For Manly™! No, no, fucking no! Just because he’s the Sulfur to Hermione’s Mercury and Sulfur represents the masculine component to Mercury’s feminine one, DOESN’T MEAN Ron is “the brute”! (”the” brute... seriously... who’s the more brutish one, the one who punches a racist in the face or the one who uses a torture curse as retribution for spitting on his fave teacher?)

The way I see him, Ron is a balance, a blend of feminine and masculine qualities intertwined close together. I LOVE that he can swear like a sailor but can only say “scarlet woman” or “cow” when it comes to insulting a woman. Some will probably see it as “hurr durr he sexist he doesnt think women can take it!!!!!!! >8C” but given that those are probably also the peeps who say “HE CALLE D HERMOANI A NIGHTMURRR!!!!!!! DDDDD8″ I’m gonna venture the idea that we don’t care about those folks’ biased, sexist opinions.

Where was I going with this... oh yes! Ok, so Ron can swear like a sailor yet couldn’t insult a girl to save his life. He’s strong physically but most of all he’s strong mentally (to put up with the way his friends treat him for years speaks a lot of his mental fortitude... and to top it off he comes back for more to boot! I’m not sure if that’s more mental fortitude or straight-up masochism though.) When he succeeds at things he gets a bit attention-whoreish but at the same time, you can see that when he’s being complimented he’s all unsure of himself and blushy and shy and you just, dude you can’t handle positive attention because you don’t know how to react to it I don’t know whether that’s adorable or the saddest thing I’ve seen in my life? He’s insecure but he’s always the first to cheer on Harry and Hermione when they’re doing something great, which speaks VOLUMES of Ron’s selflessness and of his actual character: to quote @peetamaellark​, Ron doesn’t think “Harry is great, therefore he sucks and I hate him”, he thinks “Harry is great, therefore I suck and I hate me”. THIS is Ron. THIS is why Ron will lash out, not because he hates Harry, but because internally he hates himself and you can’t keep that sort of feeling bottled up for too long before... you got it, you explode.

I. Want. More. Fics where Hermione isn’t this ~oh dear~ Victorian damsel in distress who cries and Ron is the Big Strong Man who holds her with one arm and is stony-faced and goes “I’ll protect you”, please no that was old before it existed, let us have nice, realistic depictions of Ron and Hermione please.

Like, Hermione is more than capable of kicking butt herself. She IS absolutely nervous and scared and cries easily and that’s a vulnerability we NEED, but the fact that she can be super scared and crying but still hex her opponent into oblivion? THAT’s good, THAT’s excellent. It’s a very important message for girls, I think. “You can cry, you can be sensitive, you can be emotional, AND you can still kick butt”. And as important as that message is for girls, it’s also a very important message to give boys, because boys are socialized to “never cry” and that’s super unhealthy. I love Ron’s admiration of Hermione. I love the way Ron hesitates, the way he can be cautious when he needs to as much as he can be reckless and impulsive. I love how he shows himself to be a big softie and a sweet soul. I don’t think that makes him an “emasculated doormat” (to quote a guest I once saw on FFN), on the contrary it makes him an even better man in my eyes. You know why I love the locket scene so much? Because Ron’s tears aren’t ridiculed. Ron gets to cry about the terrible ordeal he’s been put through, and while Harry “pretends he can’t see Ron cry” because it’s more comfortable for him personally, he doesn’t try to tell Ron to “man up” or anything. His reassurance is pretty lousy but he lets Ron cry, he lets his friend be upset, and he doesn’t try to invalidate Ron’s pain. (ok, the “I thought you knew” is kiiiiinda on the way there, but it stops at that and I’m grateful for it).

I like. Seeing Ron distressed. I like seeing Ron upset and be allowed to be upset. I like to see Ron’s pain treated with respect. So when Ron is having a shit day I like to see him get a cuddle. I like seeing Ron go through horrible ordeals and break down and for his breakdown to be properly acknowledged and not turned into insensitive comic relief (ISN’T THAT RIGHT, LATTER HALF OF THE SILVER DOE????). I mean seriously, just imagine GOF, Harry sitting in the hospital wing after Cedric’s death, Molly Weasley gives him a hug and it’s all very sad and angsty. And now picture Ginny running into the room screaming “HARRY JAMES POTTER” and punching him over and over and saying “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER” then after two pages of Harry “explaining” himself to Ginny she goes away saying “aight but if you do that shit again you’ll have to answer to me” then Harry’s friends are like “damn she’s spunky huh?” and Harry laughs and everyone laughs and this is how the book ends? How would it be funny? How would it be appropriate? How would it feel like “romance”? When Ron returns in The Silver Doe, he’s been psychologically tortured (”tortured” is the actual word JKR uses, please), we don’t need him to be hurting outside as well.

I want more accountability for Hermione. More “uh hey Hermione maybe don’t do that”. More “hey Hermione you know you think of yourself as a good person buuuut yeah actually if all good persons were like you I’d be very afraid”. More “Hermione please for the love of God educate yourself”. More “Hermione sweetie I love you, but you can’t actually learn everything from books”. CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT. PLEASE. Don’t be afraid to punch Hermione down and tear her apart the way the best Ron fics maim and torture our poor boy. Just because Rowling treated Hermione with kiddy princess gloves doesn’t mean you have to mimic her.

So when Hermione does a genuinely shitty thing let her own up to it. When Ron is a victim let him be upset and angry, even if Hermione is the one treating him badly. Just because he loves her doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be disappointed in her or that she’s entitled to his immediate forgiveness. Give Ron and Hermione equal consideration. If you’re brushing off Hermione’s actions but condemning Ron for the slightest mistake, I am sure to hate it.

Okay, uh, so, those aren’t really tropes. Those are more just, guidelines I presume.

Oh, yeah, a trope that annoys me! Ron saying “you’re mine”, “my Hermione” and stuff, and Hermione just swoons and says “yours” and shiz. Ok, once in a while, why not. Once in a while. BUTT. I WANT HERMIONE TO SAY IT TOO. “Mine”, “my Ron!” and Ron swoons and says “yours, absolutely yours”. DO IT YOU COWARDS. FUCKING TAKE THOSE GENDER ROLES AND PUNCH’EM IN THE FACE.

Oh, right, while we’re on the subject of gender roles! Dad!Ron is everything. SingleParent!Ron is mwaaah. Stay-at-home-Dad!Ron is ALKZLDSJDLQSKLFJ <3. AnimalLover!Ron is HHHHNNNGG. Remember, the small gestures, the tiniest, softest acts Ron does (helping Harry get dressed when his arm is deboned, giving Dobby his brand-new sweater, praising Ginny, Luna and Neville when they escaped Umbridge), those are often those unremarkable, unmistakeably kind and sweet actions that tell us who Ron really is at his core: not a guy who’d want power at all costs, not a guy who’d give it all for ambition, not a guy who sees people as possessions, but someone kind who wants to make others happy.

Ok, I was also asked for AUs, so, uh, pretty much every AU is game as long as Ron gets treated with respect? I mean I don’t really care for Mafia!AUs or such but if you can find a way to fit good Romione then go for it I guess. Royalty AU, yeah why not but I often see Ron being made a prince while Hermione is a poor wee servant girl and like. Uuum, we’re talking about the same characters here? Hermione the highly educated girl who keeps on walking over everyone’s toes and loudly talking about how things should be done and is definitely Nouveau Riche, Ron who is a country boy who lives on a farm and is lost in the constant shuffle of his brothers, you think she should be the peasant and he should be the royal? Whaddafack? Oh, and all the “Hermione is a Muggle, Ron is a wizard” AUs that start this way BUTT! Suddenly... Hermione... turns out... to be (wait for it!)... A WITCH! And a super powerful super talented very good one too!!!... yeah ok, yawn. It’s quite scary, actually, how often I’ve seen that plotline, but in the rare cases when it’s Muggle!Ron and Witch!Hermione, Ron never ever EVER (I mean, seriously, NEVER EVER) turns out to have been a wizard, not even a mediocre one, all along. No, when Ron is made a Muggle for the sake of AU he stays a Muggle. But when Hermione is made a Muggle she has to turn out TO HAVE BEEN A WITCH ALL ALONG OMYGAH. I can count on one hand the number of Mugglemione/Wizardron fics that actually stick to their Mugglemione premise till the end - and usually they’re one-shots. (Also I don’t mean “Ron mistakes Hermione for a Muggle because he meets her in the Muggle world and assumes he must hide his magic from her, oh wait she was actually a witch!” fics, I mean genuinely “Hermione has been raised a Muggle her whole life, never had weird things happen to her her whole life ever, then Ron comes in and is a wizard and he does magic and Hermione wonders what it’d be like to be a witch and oh surprise! Don’t worry Hermione, you won’t have to feel not-special or mundane for long, here comes the plot contrivance to tell you you really were in fact the specialest of them all!!” fics.) Fairytale!AU is cool. Very good. But honestly I like to see them swapped around. Ron cursed by a nasty fae to be a Beast and Hermione stumbling upon him? Neat, especially if you don’t go the boring route of “oh let’s just rehash the Disney/the original book with different names and call it a day”. But Hermione cursed by an asshole fae for, let’s say, not sharing books, turning into a Beast, and Ron stumbling upon her as she’s trying to survive in the woods (and not doing a very good job of it)? Yes, brava, chief’s kiss. Rapunzel AU where Hermione’s bushy hair turns into the most impractical, most suffocating improvised ladder ever for Ron? Hilarious. Rapunzel AU where Ron has A GIANT EFFING PONYTAIL OF THE GODS and is screaming “ow ow ow” as Hermione makes her way up to his window cringing and saying “sorry! sorry! sorry! (damn his hair smells good)” on every step? Equally hilarious. Go! Be creative! Please I beg of you

Creature!fics! Oh my god there’s not enough of those, at least that aren’t focused on a bullshit pairing! Soulmate AUs! Give me everything! I’ll even take A/B/O if you insist on making it Romione! That’s how far I’ve fallen from human decency I’ll take anything just give me some good Ron content please I beg of you (Ah and to those that are going to say “Alpha Ron Omega Hermione :)))” well yes, but actually no. “Beta Ron Beta Hermione”? “Beta Ron Alpha Hermione”? “Omega Ron Alpha Hermione”??? HELL YEAH NOW WE’RE TALKIN)

Oh dear god I’m still not finished and I haven’t gone through everything someone stop me.

AND NOW BE CAREFUL CHILDREN, BELOW WILL BE SMUT.

Okay I don’t know if it qualifies as a trope, but. But. A more realistic depiction of Ron is usually what I’m after. All those fanfics that have Ron be “the sexy experienced one ;)))” ravishing “naive virginal Hermione ;))” is just UGH. We spent all the 2000-2010 period having fics like this, mind adding a bit of EQUALITY to the mix???

It’s just... I hate it okay? So many fics read like they’re just projection, writers who are essentially making Ron their big strong sex toy stud who's so attentive and sweet and cherishing, and so it does indirectly ends up as "servant Ron is so devoted to his goddess Hermione, providing pleasure to her while she doesn’t have to lift a finger”. The Dom!SexGod!Ron thing honestly depresses me... Since it's Ron taking care of Hermione, AGAIN. Like, he spends his WHOLE LIFE doing that already. Can we give him a break for once?

In the endI feel that it's less "Romione smut" and more "self-inserting into Hermione smut". In "real" Romione smut I think Ron and Hermione would switch roles according to what they feel like. And honestly I ALWAYS picture Ron being super nervous during Dom stuff, like he spanks her once then immediately he goes "oh my god are you okay?? did that hurt, do you want to stop?", things like that. I cannot imagine it happening any other way. XD Ron is just... too caring, too sensitive to do stuff like hard BDSM and that kind of thing in my opinion. He’s too much of a caretaker. I understand if it’s your kink and you’re perfectly free to project and write the fic you want, I’m not the fun police, but it’s just... I don’t think that’s really what Ron would be like. I just want MORE realistic Ron.

Also I’m trying really really hard to not point fingers here but WHY is it that it’s always “Ron growled” while it’s always “Hermione whimpered” or “Hermione moaned”? Like... you know it’s okay for a man to moan or whimper in pleasure too, right?  You know Ron isn’t 110% muscles and testosterone? You know Hermione is allowed to be fierce too? Hermione can 100% “growl” and be dominant and pin Ron to the wall and reduce him to a puddle of goo if you’re brave enough?

(Honestly how sexy would Ron think that is? The woman he loves is half his size yet can pin him down and ravish him. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG RON HAS WANTED TO BE RAVISHED AND CHERISHED DO YOU KNOW HE’S BEEN WANTING THIS ALL HIS LIFE)

Oooo-kay, so that’s... mostly it, I reckon. Oh also Ron has a gigantic penisraise kink (and a great penis too, but mostly a praise kink). That’s canon and that’s all.