#right person but also wrong person

[sapphiccyranodebergerac]

kaz brekker is ace and he and inej could never be together intimately, and that is painful but also like fucking awesome. like yes young adult fantasy but with realism in characters. not every problem is overcomable, not every pairing with chemistry ends up together.

[ween-kitchens]

im annoyed and a little pedantic so can i just say as a blanket statement

queerbaiting is when the promotion for a FICTIONAL STORY intentionally hints towards two characters having a romantic relationship, without any intention to follow through in the show, in order to get queer people watching without discouraging the homophobic enjoyers of the show

queerbaiting is NOT:

a celebrity who you think is queer because theyre gnc or they have a 'vibe'. that is a real person and they cannot queerbait

two friends of the same gender pretending to flirt with each other for fun. those are real people and they cannot queerbait

a show with two characters of the same gender who are canonically friends that YOU PERSONALLY think would be better in a relationship. that's not bating, that's shipping, and subject to opinion

there are more but those are the main examples of people misunderstanding what queerbaiting is and being mad at something that isn't actually a problem

[doberbutts]

I always think it's funny whenever I post about an issue that directly affects me and someone responds with "you're an idiot that doesn't know what you're talking about" and I have to be like. Hello. This is my demographic. Do you see this label here? Guess who falls under it OH RIGHT it's me. Maybe I like. Have some amount of idea of what I'm talking about considering this is sampled directly from my life experiences. Just a thought.

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[choccy-milky]

finally drew clora and seb's kids!!🙌🙌

Celeste Sallow: OK THIS IS THE NAME IM SUPER PROUD OF BAHAHA because not only does the name celeste relate to the stars (in typical ravenclaw fashion...clora picked the name) but celeste sallow is also an alliteration. BUT, its an alliteration that begins with a C, which means clora gets to match with celeste in the form of both of their names starting with a C, whereas sebastian gets to match with celeste because both of their names are an alliteration/they're alliteration allies🥹ITS THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS!🥳

Lewis Sallow: as for lewis, if you've read my fic then you know that seb has a vendetta against names that start with an L bahaha, but 'lewis' was actually HIS idea. when celeste was born, seb wanted to find a muggle story to read to her, since clora's favourite story is ALSO a muggle one (sherlock), and he wanted to stick with tradition. so he ended up finding alice in wonderland, which he loved because of how adventurous and clever alice was and of how much she reminded him of clora and celeste (both personality and looks wise). it became his favourite for those reasons, to the point that when they had lewis, sebastian overcame his L-name hatred by naming their son after lewis carroll.

Houses: celeste could have been sorted into either gryffindor or slytherin, but ultimately ends up in slytherin because she wants to be like seb. kinda like how clora also probably could have been in gryffindor, tbh. as for lewis.....him being 10000% in ravenclaw doesnt need any explanation BAHA, just look at him.

Appearance: since clora has a tiny bit of veela blood in her, thats obvs passed down to their kids, too, and so they mostly take after her as a result of it. but there's still little bits of seb that shine through in each of the kids: for lewis its his brown curly hair, and for celeste its her complexion/freckles. and the fact that celeste looks so similar to clora only doubles up sebastian's stress/protective instincts when he watches her BAHAH. he's ofc still proud that she takes after him so closely, but seb also cant deny that he wishes it had been their SON that had taken after him instead, to keep her out of danger.

Celeste & Lewis: for celeste and lewis’ relationship, celeste is a super proud big sister, and treats lewis kinda like how seb treats clora. if there's anything that needs to be done, she offers to do it for him. and although she doesn’t have the patience to read stories herself, she loves playing outside and having lewis read to her in the background, and loves to act out/use his stories to fuel her imagination. and lewis makes sure to pick stories that he KNOWS she’ll like (which mostly involve heroic and daring feats of adventurers or pirates. he's tried to read more classic fairytales and romances to her a few times, but celeste always gets bored). she loves to draw though, so sometimes when lewis reads books that have no pictures, she'll draw them herself.

Celeste & Seb/Clora: celeste is a daddy's girl LOL and always tries to impress seb with the stuff she does, especially after hearing how HE was at her age, and so its half to impress and half because shes competitive that she wants to do the same/be just as good. and seb always gets a kick out of hearing her feats in the crossed wands club, or in defense against the dark arts class, and he also goads her on, telling her she'll have to do better than that if she wants to be as good as HE was. and whenever celeste gets detention, clora always stresses and asks why, whereas seb just tries to keep the smirk off his face. as for celeste and clora, clora also reads to celeste, and bakes and cooks with her, which is something celeste actually likes doing. not only because it keeps her busy and she likes to help and get messy in general, but also because she likes the fact that it results in good food afterwards LOL, and constantly asks when things can be taken out of the oven. also, for as tomboy-y as celeste is, she honestly doesn't mind/likes the clothing that clora puts her in and likes when clora dresses her up, bc it makes her look like one of the princesses from the storybooks, and it just amuses her more than anything else. once she enters hogwarts, though, its mostly trousers. but she still DOES like the occasional girly clothing.

Lewis & Seb/Clora: lewis is a momma's boy LOL and unlike celeste, doesnt care about duelling or of proving himself or anything like that, and is only concerned with stories and his future studies. so ofc clora had to show him sherlock, which he naturally loved. it even inspired lewis to want to write his own stories, so that he could challenge his own skill and see if he could, but also because he wants his mom to read them, and likes the idea of writing his own sherlock-esque story with equations and mysteries to be solved that he can offer her. lewis also wants to write a book for celeste as well, bc although he wont admit it, he basically wants to write a story tailor-made for her and her interests. one that he thinks will have everything she’d love in it. and part of it is genuinely because he WANTS to do it for her, but the other part of it is also for his ego, and to see if he CAN write a compelling story, and write something that would actually get THE hyperactive celeste to sit down and read it in its entirety (not to mention of her own volition). as for with seb, lewis looks up to him more than anyone else, due to how well-rounded he is and how hes so good at practical stuff AND studying, and he kinda sees seb as a main character/protagonist from one of his books, and uses sebastian as inspiration for his own stories. if hes stuck on what he thinks the dashing main character should do next, he'll ask his dad what HE would do, which results in seb getting very weird questions that he nonetheless is always happy to answer. also, when lewis is older and finally learns the full story of what happened with clora and seb and ranrok and rookwood, he writes their story in novel form, except he just changes their names/some of the details, and it becomes a best seller LOL. and i didnt know where to put this, but the four of them all read a story before bed every night, with lewis in the middle and seb and clora on either side of him. though celeste stands at the foot of the bed, basically doing a charade/mime show of what theyre reading, and putting on a little play to go along with it BAHHA.

OK thats all i can think of for now ive yapped enough😩 if youve read all of this ur a real one.... ive also considered giving them a 3rd (and last) child, which would be a boy that looks exactly like seb, and seb would just be praying like please.....let this son take after me🧎‍♂️🙏 BAHHA

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[psystirene]

i've been thinking about this reddit comment ever since i read it. the sheer rage. almost tearful i think. the horrendous take. underestimating the ability of sapphics to find sickly little leech women irresistible.

[ratcandy]

had a conversation with my mom and now i'm curious

If unsure, go grab yourself a pencil and compare to these examples:

"Correct" ways to hold a pencil:

(if you didn't know there were names for these, yea I had no idea either until I started looking stuff up lmao)

"Wrong" ways to hold a pencil:

I'm mostly curious as someone who has always held her pencil wrong. No matter what teachers/my mom ever did to try and teach me (pencil grips, elastic bands, etc) it just never worked. I wanna know how universal this experience is hdKJH

(rb for sample size, etc etc, the usual)

[sincerely-sofie]

Alright. Going to play more Slay the Princess now. Y’all’s reactions to my worst theory yet scare me. Have some fanart to enjoy while I dive back into the insanity.

[sokkas-therapist]

Breaking my silence: I think Zuko’s “I’m angry at myself” explosion in The Beach episode was queer coded

*runs away before I can be booed off the stage*

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

True love is possible only in the next world. For new people. It it too late for us.

(Redraw for @pakhnokh's DTIYS post!)

[meamiiikiii]

mira !!! :]

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie Munson wasn’t one who knew when to quit.

Eddie Munson was a lot of things, but he wasn’t one who knew when to quit.

He sold drugs when it was frowned upon because he wanted to help his uncle pay the bills. He did drugs because why the hell not?

He loved music that was too loud, he played games that were considered satanic, he wore his queerness as a badge of honor in the town that hated him.

He headed to hell, sacrificed himself for the kid he loved and people he barely knew, and survived the odds.

He graduated high school by tooth and nail, pursued his dream when everyone deemed he was a lost cause. He worked harder when being pushed down. He succeeded.

He made it big, achieved his dream, got fame and wealth at his disposal. He was notorious for the long list of flings left in every city he visited. He despised the snobs, bigots, and paparazzi.

He—

He tried to quit mooning over the beautiful man who had saved his life alongside the whole world. Who was the object of his desire and obsession. His dream and muse, his pain and yearning.

Who was the bane of his existence, the opium to the addict in his core. Dangerous and yet, lovely, irresistible.

Even so, he could never bring himself to ignore the monthly phone calls with Steve, listening to the warm voice that made his heart ache and flutter, checking in to make sure his boy was still safe in the town that he had left behind to go spread his wings.

Yes, his.

The moment Steve kissed him—shaky, tender, sweet—their souls had intertwined, bounded together for evermore.

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to deny it, that he had lost his heart to Steve Harrington since the first time he caught a glimpse of those pretty eyes and soft lips, wishing he could kiss them one day.

And then he did.

Back when their feelings were still new, fresh, tentative. They had done everything any young lovers would do upon having made it through an almost-apocalypse together.

They dove headfirst into each other. Touching, crying, kissing, laughing, and making love. They consumed, they devoured, they ignited.

And they crashed.

Eddie couldn’t stand being the town’s prime murder suspect even after the charge had been dropped.

Steve couldn’t bear leaving the only place he had grown up in, the place he had fought for with his life. He had people, friends who needed him there, who would miss him a terrible amount if he decided to leave.

But Eddie didn’t have such problems. His uncle didn’t rely on him the same way the kids did to Steve. His friends had left long before the ‘earthquake’ took place.

A label had sought him out after seeing his performance at The Hideout, offered him a good deal if he signed with them, and for the first time since his life had been turned upside down, Eddie saw hope.

He had talked with Steve about it. About leaving for a better future. About them making a life together somewhere outside the cursed town they had been unfortunately put in.

But it was a wistful thinking. Because sometimes, love was never enough. And sometimes, Eddie wasn’t the only scared one.

They parted. Tearful but surprisingly civil. They hadn’t been through so much just to lose each other over a mutual breakup.

Because Eddie still loved Steve.

And Steve still loved Eddie.

Simple as that.

"Don’t be hung up on me, Munson," Steve whispered to him, hugging him so tight that his healed ribs might crack again. Eddie didn’t think he would mind if it meant he could stay in this moment forever.

"I should be the one telling you that, Stevie," Eddie sniffled, hugging the boy he loved just as fiercely.

He suddenly didn’t want to leave anymore. Maybe he could apply for a position at the plant, asked Wayne for a recommendation. Or he could make do with the mine at the edge of the town, he heard they were hiring just the other day ago.

"Good luck, Eds," Steve pressed a kiss on his ear. "Don’t do drugs, don’t get in trouble, don’t be–"

"–stupid."

Steve laughed, tilting his head back and offering his pale throat for Eddie’s greedy eyes. The urge to lick, to bite, to leave a mark was strong, but Eddie just tightened his hold around Steve further, because the privilege wasn't his anymore.

"I was going for ‘cute’," Steve looked back at him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, nails scratching the back of his nape teasingly, eyes light and twinkling with mirth. Eddie wanted to kiss him. "But I guess ‘stupid’ suits you just fine."

"Stop flirting," Eddie chided him half-heartedly, unable to resist it anymore and leaned in to peck the end of his nose.

Steve blushed, pretty and precious, before releasing him and finally stepping back. Too close and too far at the same time.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Eddie was thankful that their friends were considerate enough to give them some semblances of privacy after having said their goodbye.

Before Eddie could do something stupid like falling to his knees and begging Steve to go with him, the final boarding called for his flight.

"So this is it," he shrugged on his duffle and gave Steve a lopsided smile.

"Have a safe flight, Eddie," Steve squeezed his shoulder before stepping aside so the others could do the same.

As Eddie turned on his heels, he could feel Steve’s gaze trailing after him until he disappeared behind the gate.

"He kept asking me when would you come to Indianapolis, which was unfair because how could I possibly know that? And the dipshit just rolled his eyes at me with Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend or something? Then I had to set it straight with him that us being on the phone once a month doesn’t mean I’d know every deepest darkest secret about you."

Eddie felt his chest and stomach warm with fondness when Steve didn’t deny that they were best friends, didn’t insist that the position was for Robin only. Because Steve was cool like that. Because why on earth would he refuse to have two best friends who would go to hell with him?

Eddie bet if he looked at the mirror right now, he would see himself smiling like a lovesick idiot.

There was something so endearing about Steve whining to him about their kids and friends every time they talked.

It was as if they had been doing this their whole life. Talking about mundane things, asking about each other's days, chatting about everything and anything.

It would be awfully domestic if they lived together.

Eddie could imagine it, see it clearly in his mind.

Steve sharing the spaces with him, waking up in the same bed as him, standing in the kitchen wearing the Kiss the Cook apron, swaying to the songs from the radio, giggling cutely when Eddie smothered him with kisses, smiling warmly as they did the chores together, getting huffy and bitchy when they bantered, and humming softly to some random tunes Eddie just came up with.

Perhaps, they would all become his new reality if he took that first step.

Eddie Munson wasn’t one who knew when to quit, after all.

And for Steve, he would take a million steps to make them work this time.

"Are you sure, Stevie?" He asked.

"Sure what?"

"That you haven’t already known every deepest, darkest secret of mine."

He heard Steve take a deep inhale. Eddie smiled fondly. His smart boy, always knew him so well.

"Eddie..."

"I’m an adult now, sweetheart," he chuckled. "Gotta be the one addressing the elephant in the room when my boy is too stubborn to look at it."

"Don’t be silly," Steve said weakly, a bit breathless. Good to know Eddie still had that effect on him even after all those years.

"I can’t, Stevie," Eddie lowered his voice, like he was telling a secret. "Been silly for you since high school. Don’t think I can stop it now."

"I told you to move on."

"And I didn’t promise anything," Eddie bit back a laugh, knowing how frustrated Steve must be right now. "I tried. Haven’t you seen all of that?"

There was a reason Eddie did everything in his capacity to appear on the headlines most of the time. He wanted Steve to see him, to watch him, to be there for every little step he took, to be in his life as much as possible.

"... I have," Steve sighed, sounding more tired than dejected.

"So you know how hard it had been for me to find someone who could measure up to you," Eddie twirled a strand of his hair absently. "They always failed at the ‘having perfect hair’ part."

"Bet they didn’t know what Farrah Fawcett is, huh?"

"They just looked at me blankly when I told them to take better care of their hair," Eddie grinned at the lovely sound of Steve’s giggle.

"So," Eddie cleared his throat slightly and braved on when Steve quieted down. "My band’s final destination is Indianapolis. It’s a two-night stop. After that, I’ll take my well-deserved break in Hawkins for a few months, visit my uncle and our friends, and see if you’re gonna take me back."

"Eddie," Steve said pointedly. "We both agreed that it’s better for us to stay friends. And I don’t– I can’t watch you leave again. I’m not made for it."

"Baby," Eddie said softly, his heart breaking at the sound of Steve’s sharp inhale, like it was too much, like the word hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue every time they spoke. "Everything’s different now. Our kids are all in colleges, our friends have their jobs and families, and I think it’s time you allow yourself to live your life, Stevie."

"What are you trying to say here, Eddie?" Steve asked shakily.

"That I need you," Eddie poured out his heart. "I craved for you, missed you so much that it hurts me physically. All of my songs are about you and just for you. I’m obsessed with you, bewitched by you, my love. You’ve been in my mind for years now and I don’t think it’ll stop any time soon."

"C’mon, angel," he went on as Steve let out a small gasp. "I did everything you told me to. No drugs, no fights, no troubles. Haven't I been good enough?"

"Except you’re still hung up on me," Steve laughed softly, warmly.

"Yeah, I’m still an addict, after all," Eddie chuckled. "It’s impossible to quit loving you, baby boy."

"Me, too," Steve said after a while. "I'm still hung up on you, Eddie," his voice cracked as he admitted quietly, "still in love with you."

"Christ, we make quite a pair, huh?" Eddie chuckled, running a hand down his face.

"Tell me about it," Steve let out an amused huff.

In the next several minutes, they discussed what they would do when Eddie got back. And in return, Eddie promised to send everyone at home tickets and backstage passes so they could go see him once the show was over.

"I listened to them all, you know," Steve said amidst their conversation.

Eddie paused, feeling his heart somersault and pressing a hand on his chest to calm it down.

"I’m glad," he said, crooning, "'cause they’re my love letters for you, darlin'."

"Gosh, you’re such a sap."

He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

"Your sap," Eddie grinned so much that his cheeks hurt. "Only yours, baby boy."

"Guess you’re right," Steve giggled. "Can’t wait to see you again. My sappy poet."

It had been years since they last saw each other. At least on Eddie’s part, because he knew Steve had seen him plenty on the TV and in those magazines.

Eddie was relieved that they had been too stubborn to let themselves grow apart and still kept in touch to this day.

For being long-distance friends, they didn’t have a lot to catch up with except their pent-up feelings for each other.

Eddie looked at the framed candid photo of Steve on his nightstand.

In the shot, Steve was wearing his signature blue polo and snug jeans. Around his neck was a silver chain that carried Eddie’s guitar pick, tucked safely beneath his shirt.

He was watching the kids fooling around in the pool. Cold beer in his hands as he turned to Robin, whispering about anything he found funny like a cute gossip schoolboy.

Eddie’s boy.

Golden skin kissed by the sun. Hazel eyes sparkled with joy, like gemstones that tasted of warm caramel. Rosy cheeks, pouty lips, freckled nose. All perfect and divine under the bright daylight.

The photo had cost Eddie an arm and a leg when he asked to buy it from Jonathan.

It was worth every penny.

"Soon, angel," Eddie said softly. "I’ll be there before you know it."

Two days later, Eddie stood on Steve’s front porch with his luggage and rang the bell.

When Steve opened the door and saw him, a warm smile graced those pretty features.

"Hey."

There were no questions about why Eddie had returned earlier than planned. Because Steve knew Eddie was never good at the waiting game. And he had waited long enough for both of their sake.

"Hey yourself," Eddie smiled back, taking a couple of steps forward to erase the little distance between them.

As Steve tilted his chin up slightly to look at him, Eddie leaned down to peck the corner of that lovely mouth, resting his hands on the soft waist.

"I’m home, baby."

Naturally, Steve hooked his arms around Eddie’s neck and pressed their lips together—firm, tender, sweet.

Just like their first kiss.

"Welcome home, Eds."

[teaboot]

Is it weird to be a cis woman but want to be trans? Not trans man but trans woman. Like, I tried to imagine myself as a dude but I couldn't really put myself in those shoes. But if I was a trans woman, I don't have to deal with the unwanted subscription and probably taller

I mean lots of shit is "weird" but if you're asking me if it's dirty or evil I'd say you're probably fine

[tennessoui]

what’s the market look like for an au where like. Obi-wan is fresh off divorce and decides to go find himself using the settlement money he got from selling his part of the business he started with his wife so he gets to really go all out and travel all over. his second week, he runs into fresh out of college Anakin Skywalker who is doing a last summer of youthful freedom trip with his buddies before real world adult life comes calling. they fuck and hang out for the two or three days they overlap in the same place and then they part ways

only to meet again in like. the pasta aisle of the grocery store ten years later when anakin is fresh off divorce, trying to work out custody of his two children, while also settling into a new part of the city that hopefully doesn’t remind him at all of his ex & obi-wan is a silver fox of a man now who thinks, well. fucking anakin for a week way back then really did help him get over his failure of a marriage while also being super awesome for his confidence. It’s only fair that he lends a hand now that it’s anakin’s turn. or a mouth. etc

[harrowharkwife]

thinking thoughts about how nona was so obsessed with crown, and crown specifically- not coronabeth. crown, with her boots and her cargo pants and her guns and her hair tied back, with all her charm and strength, all her rage and determination.

was that really just nona? or, walk with me here- is there a chance that that was actually alecto, too, bleeding through and rising to the surface?

alecto, seeing a kind of kinship in crown- in this big, tall, strong blonde with a sword strapped to her back, hot and lovely and kind and awful and powerful and perfect. this woman who refuses to give up- on her sister, on saving jody, on BOE's resistance. who's unafraid to throw one hell of a tantrum, if it means being listened to, for once. crown, who everyone thinks of as dumb, who everyone underestimates, who no one ever takes as seriously as they should, even though she's clearly capable of plenty of atrocities in her own right. this woman who's been described over and over again as someone who positively radiates life, and energy, and vitality, and strength. this woman who wanted nothing more than the chance to be herself, to be free, to serve as cavalier and guardian and protector, but was instead sentenced at birth to a life of being a princess and wearing dresses and looking pretty and loving less and staying out of the way and keeping her mouth shut and playing second fiddle to a necromancer obsessed with power and glory. familiar, no? this woman who was betrayed, left behind, left alone, and left utterly in the dark by the one person who's supposed to love her the most- only to then be told that being abandoned was in her best interest, really, for her own safety.

thinking about all the times we've seen ianthe insult crown's intelligence and praise her beauty in the same breath. you big dumb bimbo, what can you do? of all the times we've seen ianthe fussing over crown's appearance. thinking of the sister-lyctor makeover-montage ahead of dios apate minor, and how harrow hated every second of it, and how ianthe treated it like nostalgic second nature. thinking about the third house: fucked-up planet gossip-girl with all its betrayal and espionage and flesh magic and debauchery, three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile. thinking about the pressure that must have come with keeping up the double-necromancer ruse, about ianthe having successfully played the part of two necromancers from the age of six. exactly how much practice must that have taken? thinking about the casual, automatic, possessive, offhanded, violating nature of ianthe playing god and giving harrow a full head of fast-growing hair without asking, without even telling her, just to make harrow prettier, just to piss her off, just because she could. how she did it so easily, and without hesitation, almost as though she's maybe done that sort of thing before.

thinking about preservation. about a perfect body frozen in ice for a myriad, about ianthe spending all her downtime on the mithraeum figuring out how long she can keep an apple core in perfect stasis before the rot sets in.

thinking about corpse puppeting: a deceased world leader here, a trusted cavalier and friend you've known from the cradle there. about i picked you to change, and this is how you repay me? about she took babs. and who even cares about babs? babs! she could have taken me!

thinking about alecto, and hollywood hair barbie, and you have made me a hideousness.

thinking about crown, who's by her own admission boobs and hair and talk and a hell of a swordhand.

thinking about something as simple as stud earrings, and about how much grief ianthe gave her for daring to wear them.

nona loved crown.

something tells me that alecto might, too.