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probablyasocialecologist · 11 months

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Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

#sparta #ancient history #greek history

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dragonmuse · 8 months

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Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

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tcfactory · 15 days

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on the yqy gets truth serumed thing: we find out because during a peak lord meeting, lqg says smth smth sqq sux and i hate him, and usually what gets said is "shidi is permitted to his own opinion, of course, but blablabla-" what comes out the sect leaders mouth THIS time, however, is "oh fuck your mother you foul tempered brat; jiu can do as he pleases and so help me if he threatens to leave because of this i will use your skin as a rug ^^" no one was ready.

YES

Exactly this is the vibe I picture if Yue Qingyuan got dosed with a truth serum.

Someone says something about how Shen Qingqiu's whoring is dragging the sect's reputation down, but what could they really expect from a man like that. Complete with a meaningful glance. And of course it's expected that Yue Qingyuan will take his side, even if he tries to word it diplomatically, they all know how he is...

And then Yue Qingyuan says "I'm going to break your jaw and rip out your lying tongue for slandering Shen Jiu. We don't even have anything in the rules forbidding sex you stupid piece of-" at which point Liu Qingge and Mu Qingfang both tackle him because something is clearly wrong with him and they can't rule out possession right away.

Everybody is mortified when Mu Qingfang confirms it's a truth pollen, but Shen Qingqiu just sits there completely floored because Yue Qingyuan would commit violence for him? Despite everything?? Then why hasn't he done any of that?! At least put in a little more effort when standing up for him to discourage the rich idiots from picking on him! Useless shixiong.

They wrap Yue Qingyuan in immortal binding cables because they don't trust his word that he always thinks like this and the risk of him acting on it is not one the can take, and he kneels in front of Shen Qingqiu and tells him that he would do anything to have his trust, his love back. If Shen Jiu asks him to rip out his useless, treacherous tongue, to crack open his chest and hand him his still beating heart as proof of his love, he would do so even if it's the last thing he would do in this life.

And Shen Qingqiu swoons because okay, there's something fishy here, but that's the kind of devotion he wants (devotion to match his own) and he is still fucking mad, don't get him wrong, but keep talking he's listening.

#svsss #short answer because my connection on the train is garbage #but yeah. let then be violently obsessed with each other #not the flavor I'm good at writing but I WISH #qijiu #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #yue qingyuan

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 8 months

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Why We Never See Elendira's Story

In a story that emphasizes the human or otherwise sympathetic aspects to its focal characters, it’s very intriguing that Elendira remains an enigma right up until the very end of her story.

We receive some tantalizing hints that there is much, much more to Elendira than what we’re explicitly shown – asides from her apparent sole interest in witnessing the end of the world (to which she'd prefer to see Knives' chosen ending, but is prepared to act herself if he fails), she looks somewhat resigned when saying that nice men “die so easily”, that no matter what Vash does, humans will “ruin it”, and so on and so forth.

[ID: Two screenshots from Trigun Maximum Volume 11. In the first, over a rocky ground, Elendira says "I liked you better when you had nothing to lose. What a shame." She looks down, somewhat resigned, and continues "I don't like nice men. They die so easily." In the second, she stands, frowning and saying "No matter what Vash the Stampede does... there will always be those..." On a close up of her right eye, she says "...who ruin it." End ID.]

Elendira seems to have little to no faith in humanity, and in that sense, she seems a lot like Knives. Knives, who aims to become more and more powerful, and in the process, severing all meaningful ties he has with others on his quest to ensure no one can take advantage of him or use him. We know, of course, that Knives doesn't quite succeed here... but Elendira has. She is the peak of human (or part human? We never get an answer to her unexplained abilities) capability in speed, skill, and strength. The only reason Livio stood any chance in that fight was due to his incredible regeneration.

(As an interesting aside, she also has an interesting commonality with Vash - what comes to mind is her telling the kids to bury Livio because he "died" trying to protect them. Why does she care about that? Why does it matter? None of the other GHGs do this. This is not important to the point I'm making here but it's just interesting to me. There's very few characters who explicitly make a point of burying the dead.)

The point being, Elendira is the height of strength... and at the top, she is alone.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. Elendira is in the action of dropping her white coat, which she has taken off to reveal an underarmour suit that is almost skeletal in appearance. She looks confident. End ID.]

In a story where characters' motives and pasts are told through their connections with others, through their memories with people they cared for, and through the eyes of the people who care for them...

Vash's story is eventually told in pieces to humanity through Meryl, through Luida, and through his sisters. Rem survives in Vash's memories, and we see the part of her story that young Vash saw, just as we also see his own past from this recollection of her.

Milly is a clarifier and communicator who sees so strongly the sides of Meryl and Vash that they suppress, all that grief and fear, for the sake of remaining steadfast. She is the one whose eyes we see through. It had to be seen to be told. Wolfwood does this too.

The rest of GHGs get some elaboration also. Hoppered is defined through his loss of the woman he cared for in July. Midvalley is defined by his fear and contention with Knives. They also have a dynamic between them that few of the other GHGs shared - and it's likely for this reason we received more elaboration on the two of them than many of the others. But even characters like Rai-Dei, for whom we don't get very much at all, has at least his sunk-cost fallacy explained through the memories of the people he's killed to get to that point.

Chronica's story, though largely removed from the people of No Man's Land, is given definition and stakes through the loss of Domina, and we are told about her incredible determination and strategy she has through her reputation with the Earth fleet.

Legato, desperate to play a singularly important role in Knives' story, tells his own through that lens and that lens only. The moment his life changed was the moment Knives entered it, and that is likely the most important memory to him - Knives is the only meaningful bond he has (sadly for him, this was not reciprocated). Well, an argument can be made for the contentious dynamic he builds with Vash too.

Even Knives, for all that he tried to separate himself from others, is known and seen through his connection with Vash - and his acceptance and unwillingness to fully lose this connection is not only what eventually saves him, but also the reason we, as the audience, know his story so well.

We see characters' stories in Trigun mainly through the bonds they share with others - never the whole story, but the sides that others knew of them.

So, who does Elendira have? Every interaction she has is shallow, dismissive, and exceedingly temporary. Through her dislike of Legato, we get that she may be somewhat bitter about his important status to Knives... but there is no elaboration, because it goes no further than that. Knives calls her directly on the phone, and she is very invested in his vision for the end of the world and intrigued by him... but it goes no further than that. He does not really seem to care about her beyond her effectiveness, and she does not offer any information about herself. Even her allegiance is kind of flimsy. She's only there because she wants to be.

During their final fight, Wolfwood lives on through Livio, through his actions and resolve. It is the teamwork between him and Razlo, in the spirit of Wolfwood, that eventually overpowers Elendira. Amusingly (at least to me), Livio is quite literally never alone, because he always has Razlo - and now, Wolfwood too.

"Yer too strong... and that's why yer gonna lose."

[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. Livio narrates over a shot of his eye, Razlo's eye, and finally, his whole face, with Wolfwood's final vial of serum between his teeth. "...to me... to Razlo... and to him." End ID.]

Elendira has succeeded in separating herself from everyone – she is the most powerful of the GHG, and every battle with her is basically one-sided – but she’s alone, and that’s not only why she loses�� it’s also why we never get to know her in any meaningful way.

Because no one knows her. She has no personal connection with anyone. Her motivations never get any clarity. We don’t even know who did her modifications or how she gained her power. Even if she did have someone she cared for in the past, she apparently does not hold onto their memory. And maybe that's the reason she told the kids to bury Livio - not out of respect, but because to her, that is where the past belongs - dead and buried, soon to be joined by the rest of the world and humanity as it all comes to an end.

We never see Elendira’s story… because there is no one from whose eyes we can see it in any capacity.

#storyrambles #just my two cents lmao i'm sure there are far simpler explanations such as 'the author just didn't write it out' hdfbvdsh #but i like this one thematically #elendira is so cool. she's one of my favourites fr #trigun #trimax #trigunbookclub #elendira the crimsonnail #trigun meta #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#can i get all my analyses done before october ends? let's find out! (aaaaaa)

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ipostdumbthings · 9 months

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Romantic Headcanons for Bard Reader with BG3 Companions

Astarion

Well, won’t you be the easy target? What could be easier to seduce than a bard? Honestly, he probably could just wait for you to try to seduce him first. Too easy. At least that’s how he thinks about it at first.

It’s not hard to choose you to seduce, of course, not only are you capable and competent, you also provide a little taste of civilization and creature comforts in the way of making camping more pleasant. Your music and aesthetic skills are the sort of luxuries Astarion loves to indulge in whenever he can.

In some ways he’s a little more guarded with his feelings around you, at least to start with. Bards have a reputation, and he finds your company just so pleasurable, that he realizes how easy it may be for him to slip. So until he is forced to confide in you, you’ll find he defaults to flowery praise of your talents as a tactic to avoid having any meaningful discussions.

When he does have to actually let you in, the thing he feared, being connected meaningfully with you proves to be almost immediate. After all, he just enjoys you so much. You’re fun. When you accept him for all the struggles, he finds himself vulnerable in a way that he may actually enjoy. He quickly becomes more willing to have these conversations with you.

While playing your music in camp, you’ll often spot him just watching you with the most lovely smile on his face.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart distrusts you, well, she trusts you initially because she has no choice, but she’s aware you have expert skills in deception. Something she herself trades heavily in, and that being the case, she knows she has to be careful taking you at your word. She does respect you for it though, she respects a well executed lie more than anyone.

Actions help her trust you, but honestly what really does it is being on the same side of the deceptions. She often finds herself fancying you as a partner in crime of sorts, you two having the same interests and needs has made you someone she can count on.

She doesn’t seem interested in your music at first, in fact, she’s often hanging in her tent while you are playing for everyone else. She can hear it from there, and does very much enjoy it. Just privately.

Once you two are on the path to romance together, though, you’ll find she’s the first to ask you to start playing. It’s one of the rare things that gets her happily interacting with the rest of the team.

She’ll tease you for it, but she does genuinely love the songs you write for her. Especially if they’re dark and mysterious sounding, it makes her feel understood and flattered. But to reiterate, she won’t actually tell you that. You’ll just have to realize it from the look on her face as you perform for her.

Gale

Gale finds himself smitten by you quite quickly, as a matter of fact. He’s a verbose man, and there’s few skills outside of magic that he respects as much as verbal cleverness.

So he quickly seeks you out during the evenings at camp for stimulating dialogue. You’ll likely have to endure quite a bit of him prattling endlessly about his passions, but if you engage with him on those subjects enthusiastically, he falls hard.

He may come off condescending about your magic at first, he kind of is, but the more he hears of your experiences the more impressed he is with what it is to you. For you magic is your art, it’s an expression of passion, skill, and freedom. He finds that so very charming.

He’s a bit shy at first sharing his poetry with you, more so than he’d be with others. Afterall, you’re sort of an expert on such matters. In the same breath, your approval of his work carries so much more weight. You’ll never see his chest puff out with so much pride as you do when you tell him you like one of his poems.

The next several he writes are all about you.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel finds you frivolous at first, and why would she not? She’s carving through the enemy with blades while you play an instrument.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out just how talented and useful in fights you are though. Be you casting a quick spell to patch up an ally, or rendering your opponents weak with a well delivered insult.

In fact your devastating burns are the thing she may find most appealing about you. You can do with a few well chosen words what others have to do with weapons. That’s a skill she doesn’t take lightly.

It’s this that causes her to reassess all your talents she’d deemed worthless to begin with. The way your fingers pluck at a lute speak to a dexterity and an expert level of skill. While she may not appreciate music the way others do, she often finds herself watching you play with admiration for your well honed craft.

She’ll tell you as much when she’s trying to entice you into sex, she’s always quick to highlight your talents as proof of your worthiness.

Wyll

Before there’s even the hint of feelings caught on either side, Wyll makes it known he’s very much a fan of your work. And that means the music, the magic, the skills, all of it. You’re a person that has a solution to almost every problem, and that’s something truly special about you. You’ll get no bard jokes from him.

He finds himself quickly picturing adventures with you. Imagine the tales of a bard and the Blade of the Frontiers! It’s just so easy to see a future with you where the two of you ride off into the sunset, righting wrongs and saving the day.

He actually finds himself nervous of your response when Mizora turns him, wondering if that could jeopardize that wonderful future with you. Your acceptance of his new form means more than anyone else’s.

In fact he feels similarly about the dancing, a bard's disapproval of his skills would cut so much deeper than anyone else’s. You are worth the risk though.

Karlach

Finally, someone to actually perform the music for her dances. She adores you the second you first catch her dancing and immediately pull out your instrument for her. It even encourages her to test out new dances to see what songs you supply in response to them.

You are her fun, you are the lightness and the joy that she so desperately thrives on while dealing with such horrific circumstances. In that way, you’re her safety from the misery.

Whenever you two are connecting and discussing those horrific things, she always asks you to play a nice song when she’s ready to move on from the subject. When you do, the softness in her eyes make her affection for you all the more obvious.

She’s very defensive of your instruments, she won’t let anyone in camp touch them when you aren’t around. She’s sweet about it. But firm.

Her favorite moments in camp are when everyone’s around the campfire while you play your music and laughs are easy. Those will be the moments she turns to when she handles her most trying moments.

Halsin

Halsin makes it clear very quickly how highly he thinks of your musical abilities, especially since it’s something he lacks. He’s quick to thank you for songs you play, and he always stops what he’s doing to listen and enjoy your music.

In fact, he finds the most beautiful and romantic moments between the two of you to be when you take your instrument for nature walks. He loves to find a place to sit and enjoy nature, as well as your talents. He could honestly do that for hours, especially if you’re cuddled up beside him while playing.

He’s just as impressed by your charm and magical talents. He loves watching your games of verbal chess in situations, and is honestly just so impressed with how much you can accomplish with your wit alone.

He’s probably the one that first most respects and values what bards are truly capable of, and he considers you a fine tribute to the profession. He has fewer preconceived notions about bards and their antics, and as such you find it easy to simply be yourself around him.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #lae'zel #wyll #wyll ravengard #karlach #halsin #Romance #Fluff #self insert #bg3 headcanons

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cathartic-crypt · 2 months

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im continuing my benny posting by sharing my benny hcs. in no particular order. and very quickly typed up. enjoy ^_^

- tattooed. he has lots and lots and lots of tattoos from when he was a boot rider. all kinds of tattoos. some desert themed, some things based around him, some others depicting things he just likes. he doesnt mind them much nowadays, hes so used to them that he sees them as part of his skin. although hes a little bit iffy about showing others his old tattoos. hes got an image to upkeep after all - speaking of boot riders. he got a canine knocked out by bingo during their fight. so he got a gold one fitted shortly after he became the leader of the chairmen. and it glints like hell - he wears lots of gold jewellery. especially pre-war rings. he prefers engraved ones, ones with little images etched into the metal or ones with short messages rather than ones with gems. he also wears a cross necklace under his shirt - despite his gun and necklace...hes not christian. like at all. he doesnt care for religion and hasnt read anything about the engraving on his pistol or the meaning of necklace. he just likes how flashy and elaborate the imagery looks - by the time the courier rolls around hes 31. he's also 5'5". - he has a dad bod. i will personally fistfight anyone who draws him muscular and dehydrated. living the cushy and comfortable life of a casino boss means hes not some lean bodybuilder - however...thats not to say he ISNT strong or that hes unhealthy. he has a really high endurance, and can last for a long while out in the desert. also he doesnt like admitting it but hes probably a fraction better at straight up punching someone than shooting them at point blank range - since he was always outside and always doing something, he used to have super calloused hands. but again, casino life means theyre much more pampered and soft now - however hes still got one hell of a grip. he can very easily grab you by your shirt and throw you out of the front door without even breaking a sweat - hes Bi. theres literally no way he isnt, fuck you. BUT he really isnt one for meaningful romantic connections, he much prefers something quick with zero extra baggage (i.e. one night stands, friends with benefits) - hes super nosy. and almost terrifyingly good at recognising and remembering faces. he sees a new face in the tops that he doesnt instantly match to a regular? he needs to know their name. and then he promptly loses all interest because the mystery is lost and the people turn out to be, by all things considered, really fucking boring - even further...anyone who doesnt fall for his charismatic charm (or, even worse, doesnt care about his reputation) becomes a nuisance and he NEEDS to at least form some sort of impression on them, be it good or bad. like full on “if you dont form an opinion about me i will pull my own hair out” - he used to have an absolute love for geckos. he didnt tame them, he was more so inclined to hunt than to nurture, but he would feed scraps to the younger ones - which meant they began to follow him around from time to time... not anymore though. he thinks theyre dirty and brutish and a reflection of what it was like to be a boot rider - hes called Benny Boots (mockingly) by people around the strip. at least by those who knows about the three families past. other than that his last name is Gecko. he also personally calls himself Benny 'New Vegas' sometimes as a sort of boastful title because he thinks hes the shining face (not the heart, mind you - thats House) of the strip - hes a huge morning person. its something he picked up, and cant get rid of, from the boot rider days. he wakes up super early in the morning, rising with the sun - and hates sleeping in because he feels like hes wasting time. he goes to sleep pretty late, since new vegas is awake at night, but he doesnt feel tired. a couple hours of sleep is good enough for him.

#ooouoououh this was rlly fun to think abt ngl :3 #it talks #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #benny gecko #fnv benny #benny fnv #benny new vegas #fallout headcanons #headcanon #head canon #bootriders #fnv the tops #the tops

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dark-side-blog3 · 3 months

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(Minors and ageless blogs do not interact)

Consider making squid ink pasta, but instead of squid ink, it’s ink from the overblots.

Squid ink has a deep, woodsy, nutty flavour, almost like a black truffle, and pine nuts. It goes best with roast portobello mushrooms, and some fish, in my opinion.

The overblot ink is more akin to writers ink at first glance, but it is a secretion from a body, is it not? Sort of like how sweat and tears are water.

Granted I’m sure if you ever got found out for eating essentially globs of vomit from the latest sick overblot student, your reputation would tank faster than Grims— because at least he’s only eating the magistones.

But even so, I’m curious! Sue me. Some weirdos might even find it fascinating (Rook might be intrigued, yet sickened).

Perhaps some students who haven’t overblotted would feel a strange… Jealousy. The intimacy of consuming someone’s literal insecurities manifested, of cherishing a remnant of their worst personality traits and turning it into something beautiful. Or at the very least, meaningful.

Ace tries to gross out other first years by showing an exposè of your dinners, and the only one who’s grossed out and remains grossed out is Sebek. Everyone does recoils and exclaims that’s disgusting, and Jack can’t even look you in the eyes for a week!

But slowly, Epel comes to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t mind if you ate his ink— if he was gonna overblot, it’d suck major dick, but at least you’d find a way to make it less shitty? Like, at least you’d care more than every’ne else, who prolly just wouldn’t wanna die.

Deuce cannot and will not articulate that he wants you to eat his overblot— he sure as hell doesn’t WANT to overblot! But maybe you’d be down to eat some mochi? Or fresh squeezed juice? Something that’s got a lot of handwork and might make him a bit sweaty. It’s like a diet version of the overblot! You’re consuming something he made to show you the bond, and you’re eating something he made from his body to show the bond! It doesn’t have to be life or death!

#tell me what you think other characters reactions would be!#I think Vargas will make you throw it up and go on a cleanse diet. Don’t eat random magic disease stuff! it’s gonna get you sick!#it’s not quite cannibalism but what would you even call this? overblot isn’t vomit sweat or spit. it’s its own liquid #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst

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knightsickness · 4 months

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hiii can you elaborate on the "harwin getting fucked over again and again" thing is it just the whole "everyone knows but won't acknowledge the kids being his and he has to stay and deal with that judgement while not being allowed to parent them ever" thing or is there more?

harwin i think is interesting bc he’s so obviously part of a conversation abt targ exceptionalism both in how his sons are ostracised bc of his features but also, far less addressed, how he is ultimately disposable, but bc he’s so apparently satisfied with his objectively shitty situation it never NEEDS to be addressed. he’s this deeply strange character of either inscrutable and extremely shallow motivations bc what happens to him is fucked up but if he’s doing it for anything other than enthusiastic uncoerced love of the game or at any point complains about his situation rhaenyra is doing something greyer than the show will let her be OR harwin is another bitter lowly asshole trying to dim her sparkle

interesting to compare to criston bc his arrangement w rhaenyra is exactly what she proposed to criston and he rejected + while criston is obviously a singularly awful guy for many other reasons i DON’T think he was in the wrong on that one i think not wanting to spend his life in constant mortal danger with no oaths and no honour and no reward but getting to be with rhaenyra was not unreasonable + rhaenyra not recognising that does say something interesting abt her and how she views people specifically non targs around her. it’s often flattened into a ‘he could have been the most powerful guy in westeros and fumbled’ or worse unironic ‘he should have known his place and just been her whore’ when if we’re being honest judging from the everybody else who thought they could escape the targaryen grinding wheel by going along with it (including harwin) he would have been dead in three years tops

and she can just do that w harwin not bc criston is weird (not in that way at least) but bc harwin is weird. his motivations can really only be that he genuinely singlemindedly loves rhaenyra to the point he’s fine with apparently not marrying or having legitimate kids to stay close to her and the boys and ruining his reputation for an adulterer and how his dad (even though he’s the strong knight eldest son who should make him proud) is now always angry and disappointed and yes how he’s at a middle distance from his kids and the moment that slips he goes home in disgrace and is immediately murdered in part bc of the political ramifications of his and rhaenyra’s relationship. nothing about the relationship gains him anything politically it actively ruins his life how could he do all this knowingly hang his reputation and potentially himself if he didn’t love her more than ANYTHING and he was neverr rhaenyra’s number one. and he knew this and was ok with it she’s uncomplicatedly fond of him she obviously likes him a lot but he dies and she’s sad and she doesn’t go to the funeral bc the optics are bad and she quickly marries daemon who she’s always loved. how thankless !

harwin’s relationship w her is convenient and not really dissected bc he’s acting in rhaenyra’s best interests. and we like rhaenyra !! the show is written to make rhaenyra likeable and it is well written they do a good job at that. that he IS cool with it is more important than WHY he’s cool with it. harwin is a contrast to criston bc unlike criston he doesn’t have aspirations above his station and will not try to argue with any of rhaenyra’s entrenched beliefs about targaryen relationships being inherently more meaningful and then turn around and kick a puppy to death to show he’s evil and you don’t need to take anything he’s said seriously. but like Why Is He Doing This

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #hotd #house of the dragon #harwin strong

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valiantstarlights · 4 days

Text

[Bluebeard Dream AU] Three Types of Flowers

Chapter 1

For Dreamling Week 2024 Day 2: Pirates / Hourglass / Flowers / Exhibitionism

In which letters are exchanged between siblings, a bouquet is sent, and something is published in the scandal sheet, The Starlight Observer, that would seriously impact Hob's reputation.

Not me continuing to further my 'Hob and Johanna are siblings' agenda in the year of our Lord 2024. 💃

CW: This fic is starting to look like it's going to be entirely in epistolary form, so heads up if that's not your cup of tea.

Hobsie,

?????

And also, welcome back to London. It would have been nice to receive a letter saying that you'd be arriving. And without El, too.

Your favorite sister,

Johanna II Constantine

My ONLY sister,

I apologize if I came back so abruptly without sending any notice. I simply couldn't be in India any longer. I shall tell you everything when we meet in person.

I assume your question marks refer to me being mentioned in the latest The Starlight Observer? If so, then I can only tell you that that anonymous gossip writer doesn't know what they're writing about. Lord Dream has been nothing but courteous to me at the ball hosted by the Riveras, and the debutantes were simply being welcoming. No one was being predatory at all. In fact, I must have been the least charming one there, as out of practice as I am in dealing with nobles in general.

I shall ride for home as soon as my return documents are in order. See you soon.

Your brother,

R.G.

Hobsie,

You're a fucking idiot.

But I will reserve the rest of my insults for when you arrive home, so that the message would really sink in.

The smarter sibling between the two of us,

Johanna II Constantine

Brother,

If you're getting married again within the next few months, I'm not attending.

Desire

Noted.

- 3

Rude. You could have at least asked if it's because Unity is close to giving birth and I want to be present when we welcome our first child into the world. And yes, that is the case, actually, so thanks for asking.

Despair says she has a good feeling about this Gadling fellow of yours. I think she's being sarcastic.

Desire

That was what I surmised. Please tell Unity that I am looking forward to meeting my niece and/or nephew. I hope they inherit most of their personality from her.

Lord Robert is not mine yet. But I welcome our sister's kind words, sarcastically meant or not.

- 3

The Starlight Observer

June 14, [year redacted]

...There is also much talk about two certain gentlemen whom we shall hide under the names Lord Dream Endless and Lord Robert Gadling, who were seen together in Madame Lucienne's bookshop, conversing for hours.

We cannot be certain if talking is all they did, or if they had engaged in a different kind of conversation behind the bookshelves altogether, as Madame Lucienne had closed the doors of her shop to other customers earlier than usual that day. To prevent others from witnessing something scandalous? Or perhaps to join the gentlemen in their 'conversations'?...

Hobsie,

!!!!!

Your scandalized and thoroughly revolted sister,

Johanna II Constantine

Jo,

For fuck's sake. Do people here do nothing else but read The Starlight Observer?

Lord Dream and I were only talking. And Madame Lucienne closed the bookshop early because she wasn't feeling well. The poor woman; she had been feeling nauseous all day. But perhaps that is good news, as Lord Dream told me that she and her wife Madame Gault have been trying for a child these past couple of years.

Now stop reading that scandal sheet and do something meaningful with your life.

R.G.

Can you blame me? There is nothing else as regularly entertaining as reading gossip in The Starlight Observer.

I bet Madame Lucienne was just nauseous because you and Lord Dream were being disgusting.

Shan't.

J2C

A note attached to a bouquet:

I have been called a fool many times in my life, and I will undoubtedly continue to be labeled as such for the rest of it. But I would be the biggest fool of all if I remain silent about the feelings that have bloomed within me during the afternoon we spent together at Madame Lucienne's bookshop.

You would be well within your rights to reject me. And I fully expect for you to do so. It is far too soon far too fast, and you are too discerning and sensible to bother with the likes of me.

Nevertheless, this bouquet spells out the words I didn't have the courage to say to you last Thursday, in between our discussion of Chaucer, Indian folk tales, and songs sung by the krakens of the deep to their slumbering gods.

Yours,

Hob

Sister,

I write to you at a time of great need. I have received a bouquet, and would like your help in deciphering its meaning. I have my own interpretation of it, of course, but I would be most grateful if you were to tell me your own interpretation.

Biting red tulips, white starburst carnations, and black witch's whip, held together by black oil paper of the highest quality and a red silk ribbon.

Please respond as soon as you can.

Dream

Dream,

You are my favorite brother and I love you, but I do not appreciate Matthew alarming my staff and having them wake me up at two in the morning because you're 'in desperate need of my help.'

You made me think you had been cursed and were dying painfully, Dream!

No, do not scold Matthew. I know he is anxious by nature and that he is only following your orders to get a reply from me as soon as inhumanly possible.

As for the bouquet you received, it means exactly what you think it means.

Biting red tulips for barely restrained passion (and perhaps a nod to your ruby), white starburst carnations for new beginnings and purity of intent (as well as to mirror your eyes), and black witch's whip to convey that you have wholly captivated the sender and that they do not wish to be free of you.

The sender has also taken great care to incorporate your three favorite colors, and gone out of their way to find high-quality black oil paper, which is rare to find in Europe this time of year. And yes, perhaps they also mean to allude to the red string of fate by using a red silk ribbon.

Now tell me: is the sender of the bouquet Lord Robert Gadling? You know I personally don't read The Starlight Observer, but Jessamy is always up to date, and she has shown me all the relevant sections mentioning you and Lord Robert while Matthew paced outside the door of my study, tearing at his hair.

Do let me know if there are any updates. I prefer to hear news about you directly from you.

Your most patient (and now sleep-deprived) sister,

Death

The Starlight Observer

June 21, [year redacted]

"What soberness conceals, drunkenness reveals." This has been proven time and again every time Countess Marguerite Ichihara holds her annual wine-tasting event at her family's country seat.

And as per usual, this author has had a grand time fishing for truths as they surface from the depths of a wineglass.

To start with, let us talk about the hostess herself and her new matchmaking project this season...

...Of the Endless family, only Lady Death, Lord Destruction, and Lady Delirium are in attendance...

...with Lady Johanna Constantine claiming that her brother, Lord Robert Gadling, is indisposed, as he is still re-acclimating to the weather in London...

...And speaking of the forbidden, it is common knowledge among the immortal nobility that while we may tumble in bed with a mortal or two, marrying them as they are is considered beyond the pale.

This author can certainly remember the outrage sparked by the last issue of Argus, The Starlight Observer's predecessor, when it published a blind item that talked about a member of the immortal nobility marrying a human woman.

Well, dearest readers, it is now my solemn duty to inform you, that half a century after that article was published, the entire ton has once again been set abuzz when Mister William Shaxberd, twelfth son of Baron Shaxberd and a clergyman who used to be stationed a stone throw's away from Gretna Green, loudly proclaimed that he had witnessed such a couple be united under the light of the gods.

And if that claim isn't preposterous enough, he also insists that the nobleperson in question is Lord Robert Gadling, though he was married under the name Sir Robert Gadlen.

Is this only a severe misremembering on the part of a heavily intoxicated Mister Shaxberd, who at that point in time was barely able to stand up straight, let alone walk, or does his story ring of truth?

Have no fear, dearest readers. As always, this author shall investigate further.

Notes:

I made up all three flowers mentioned in this chapter because I didn't have time to read through the lists of RL!flowers and their meanings. 🥲

The Starlight Observer doesn't know that the real reason Dream and Hob didn't attend the wine-tasting event is because they have their own...tasting event 😏

My brain: Shaxberd is the twelfth son because he wrote Twelfth Night. 😂👍

#the plot. it thickens 🤌#bluebeard dream AU #dreamling week 2024 #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #happy 635th anniversary to dream and hob! 🥳🥳🥳

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starsreminisce · 10 days

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what are your thoughts on the dynamics of the archeron family

Short answer: A lot of boundaries are blurred, and both Feyre and Nesta were parentified, leaving all of them struggling to understand how to be sisters to one another.

Their journeys in the books are directed toward three main goals: healing a wound caused by their mother, fulfilling an aspiration from their father, and reassessing their feelings and roles towards each other. Interestingly, their mates provide them with what they always longed for from their father.

While both Papa Archie and Mama Archie failed their daughters, Mama Archie emerges as the biggest villain throughout the books.

The idea of the books ending with their mother's vision fulfilled—having all her daughters stay together—is scream-inducing, considering she is the most toxic person in the series.

In contrast, their father's hope for them is much more positive and meaningful, as they work towards building a better world—a vision that began with him urging Feyre to leave.

Long answer:

When I see their mother, it's on sight.

Feyre and Nesta have said nothing good about their mother. Yet, their father seemed to love her unconditionally, and when she passed, compounded by a series of unfortunate events, he was unable to provide and be the parent his daughters needed.

A hard lesson someone might never fully learn is that parents are just like their children—human, flawed, and burdened with their own unhealed traumas and poor coping mechanisms. The concept of mental health awareness was nonexistent then. Many people have suffered and died, yet the five stages of grief were only published in 1969.

While Papa Archie should have done x, y, and z, and should have been the parent he ought to be, the story began precisely because he didn’t. There would be no ACOTAR if Feyre had not learned to hunt and provide for her family.

Moreover, there would also be no ACOTAR if Papa Archie had told Feyre to obey the promise made to her mother. I headcanon that he was either glamoured or his mind was heavily altered because the Papa Archie in the cottage and the Papa Archie in the manor upon her return seemed completely different.

“Feyre,” my father said. His fingers trembled as he grasped my gloved hands, but his eyes became clearer and bolder than I’d seen them in years. “You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.” He squeezed my hands. “If you ever escape, ever convince them that you’ve paid the debt, don’t return.” I hadn’t expected a heart-wrenching good-bye, but I hadn’t imagined this, either. “Don’t ever come back,” my father said, releasing my hands to shake me by the shoulders. “Feyre.” He stumbled over my name, his throat bobbing. “You go somewhere new—and you make a name for yourself.”

It's not about what you did then, it's about what you'll change now. I've seen the criticisms about how he didn't do enough, how performative bringing the fleet was, and so on. But consider what Papa Archie was going through: the love of his life died from a disease, they had been in debt for at least three generations, and the answer to their money woes sank. He had three beautiful daughters entering society, where dowries were crucial—Nesta received her first proposal at fourteen. He was then beaten by his creditors until his knee broke. So not only was he physically incapacitated, but his reputation also suffered, making it impossible to gather funds.

I would give Papa Archie some grace for not being able to be the parent his daughters needed. However, I see no redemption for their mother.

Feyre's journey involved learning to prioritize her own needs over being the family caretaker. Nesta's journey involved unlearning toxic patterns and channeling her energy into something that gives her a sense of purpose. Elain’s journey, considering she was described as her mother's doll and urgently needed a match before her beauty faded, hints at what her story will entail.

It’s interesting that their father’s aspirations in the first book seem to weave into their stories and are reflected in their mates.

He told Feyre to make a name for herself, which she did as the Cursebreaker and the first High Lady in centuries. Her mate, Rhysand, provides her with the support and partnership she always needed.

He told Feyre, when she asked him to intervene in Nesta marrying Isaac, that if it was love, he couldn’t talk sense into her. I really love this quote from him:

“We need hope as much as we need bread and meat,” he interrupted, his eyes clear for a rare moment. “We need hope, or else we cannot endure. So let her keep this hope, Feyre. Let her imagine a better life. A better world.”

Nesta's mate, Cassian, loves her unconditionally, especially during times when she feels undeserving of such love. Despite Nesta's deep-seated hatred for her father and his actions, his death impacts her profoundly. Despite all her resentment toward him, she is faced with the reflection of his love for her. Cassian doesn't see Nesta as flawed; rather, he sees someone who hasn't yet learned where to direct her strength and passion.

It's not surprising at all that the mate of Papa Archie's beloved daughter, his princess, is someone who can genuinely attest to his goodness and deep love for his daughters. This affirmation comes after he undertakes the quest of finding Vassa, a mission directly influenced by Elain's vision. It reflects Papa Archie's attentiveness to Elain's thoughts and desires, showcasing her father's ability to listen to her and include her in his plans and aspirations for the future.

Now, for the sisters themselves.

The dynamics between the sisters are evolving as they confront their long-held resentments towards each other, stemming from the failures of their parents.

This process is particularly evident with Elain in SF, where her arc seems poised to explore her transition from being perceived as just a "doll" to becoming someone whom their father treated as more than that. Elain's unresolved conflict with Nesta over the dread trove suggests that her book may delve deeply into this aspect, especially given the significance of the mask in HOFAS. Ember's parting words to Nesta about finding her own path resonate strongly, particularly in the context of Nesta's identity as Elain's protector.

Feyre's relationship with Elain appears more ambivalent, characterized by a sense of companionship rather than a deep bond. This sentiment is echoed in Rhys's criticisms about how Elain is treated, as seen in the bonus chapter.

Rhys raised a point that Elain might be afraid of disappointing Feyre, and it prompts speculation about its meaning. Could it be that Elain fears disappointing Feyre by rejecting the bond? However, considering it's Elain's bond, this interpretation seems perplexing. Alternatively, Elain may be aware that accepting the bond with Lucien could mean eventually leaving the Night Court, given Lucien's status as an heir. Such a decision might further fracture the notion of the sisters staying together, adding to Elain's apprehension about disappointing Feyre.

While Feyre and Nesta seem to have healed and strengthened their relationship, it remains unclear how Elain perceives her sisters and their protective tendencies towards her.

Their mother's toxic notion of them staying together contrasts sharply with their father's hope for them to create a better world, a dream for which he ultimately sacrificed his life. This suggests that staying together doesn't necessarily mean living under the same roof, and that sibling relationships can flourish when each member has their own pursuits.

Lastly, the deliberate withholding of their parents' names raises questions. Perhaps SJM is saving the revelation for a pivotal moment, similar to the unveiling of Aelin's identity in TOG.

I used to meme that SJM just doesn't provide names and yet in TOG, it shows just how much weight she actually gives them.

This could indicate that revealing their identities holds significant narrative weight and may contain spoilers crucial to the story's progression.

Thanks for asking!

#sorry anon but I have a lot of thoughts lol #elucien #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #acotar

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jayswritings13 · 1 year

Text

Disney: Hades SFW Alphabet

Note: Since I've decided not to do NSFW content, I decided to do the SFW alphabet instead.

💗Masterlist | WIP Page

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hades loves getting affection, but often shows it in unusually ways.

Being the black sheep of the family, left him touch starved and desperate for affection(even if he'd never admit so....)

ACTS OF SERVICE!

Hades will(or have Pain and Panic) do whatever you need.

He loves physical touch, both giving and receiving it.

A day spent with Hades comes with the mandatory arm around your shoulders or waist at all times.

GIVE HIM COMPLIMENTS!

He will brush it off and or act like he already knows how amazing he is, but it will make his heart swell.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hades is that shitty friend, that secretly cares, but needs to keep their dark and broody reputation up.

He will tell you the truth, despite whether he thinks that it will hurt your feelings or not.

Hades thinks that close relationships are not entirely necessary, and much prefers his own company.

At at least, that's what he tells himself.

Truthfully, this man is an extrovert stuck being alone, and pretends to not mind it, so his Zeus and Poseidon won't bug him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hades will never admit it, but he does.

Though, if you bring it up in front of others, he will deny it so hard.

He's probably the best to cuddle with honestly.

He's already a walking heater.

"You comfortable there?"

".....mmhhp." You sighed.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Being alone in the Underworld, Hades had to step up and do a large majority of the cooking and such.

However, he's still really shitty at cooking.

Like, will burn everything somehow.

Well, outside of getting frustrated and turn whatever's in his path to ashes.

"Hades, I literally asked you to boil water. What the fuck happened?"

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Honestly, just fucking says it.

Hades has no filter and will not hesitate to say what he thinks.

He wants this to be done with as soon as possible.

This does not change for break ups.

He does do it in person though and face to face, as he has enough respect to do so.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Hades never seriously thought about marriage.

He was an immortal god.

He knew that being the king of the underworld scared others away.

Well, before his temper and jokes did.

There weren't too many on Mount Olympus who particularly enjoyed his brand of humor.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tries.

I swear, he really does.

He just isn't really sure how to go about doing so or how to turn off his jack-ass switch sometimes.

He's gotten a bit better, but still needs help.

He'll sit next to you while you're sad, but might ruin the moment when Pain frustrates him.

Or he'll be comforting you, and ultimately cracking a lot of jokes.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hades is very handsy, and this extends to hugs.

He's basically like a giant space heater.

Perfect for those cold nights in the underworld.

Hades' hugs are very warm, engulfing you in a welcoming hug.

Which makes sense given his size.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a while to say it.

Well, say it in a meaningful way that is.

You're used to him always jokingly saying it and such that it didn't even occur to you that that's what he was trying to say.

Which pissed him off.

"How much more clear did I have to be?!"

"You always say 'love ya' and shit," you groaned, "How am I supposed to know that this one was different?!"

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME

Doesn't even try to hide it.

He will openly confess to being jealous with no cares given.

He doesn't care what you think about it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Quick and short or Long and deep

There is no in-between

Though, one thing remains constant.

He loves to kiss your neck.

Mostly because he's hoping that you'll reciprocate.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't like them, but they love him.

It drives him fucking crazy whenever he is around them because he's a busy guy.

He's running late to meetings because a child wanted to show off their "art" to him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Hades is up way before you

He's got a million things to do in the Underworld and sleeping in is not one of them

He'll let you sleep in though

Well....until he wants your attention.

So, usually about an extra hour.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Loud.

Hades is a talker and if he hasn't been around you for a majority of the day, then he will talk your fucking ear off.

"Hades, I mean this is the nicest possible way," you said, "shut the fuck up and lay down with me."

He does so, but not without soen comments and grumbling.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Hades will reveal what he wants to

Usually in the form of ranting and rambling on and on and on.....

"......so I told Demeter that she's fucking nuts! I didn't steal your daughter. And then Zeus had get involved....." Hades groaned, sighing, "It was a while ordeal." Hades shrugged, "Anyway, so that is why you can't have a pet."

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Literally, has the worst patience.

The whole underworld is fire proof, luckily because it would not have survived his temper.

You still have no idea how Pain and Panic bounce back from being burned so often.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hades may talk a mile a might and seem like he doesn't pay attention.

But, he does...... kind of.....

He tries.

"What's this?"

"Your favorite flowers." Hades said, "I had Pain and Panic run up and grab some."

"Oh....." You smiled, glancing down at the flowers.

"What's the matter? They ain't gonna bite you."

"Mmhmm." You nodded, "It's just that I am severely allergic to this particularly flower. If I touch it, you might have to fish me out of the River of Styx yourself."

Since then, he's been getting better at remembering the most important stuff, like your allergies.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

"I was gone for 5 fucking seconds."

"Hades! Watch the tone or you'll lose them." Aphrodite countered, glaring over at the God of the underworld. "And I'm surprised that you even got them..." she muttered, brushing aside some of your hair.

"And what does that mean?!"

"Oh," Aphrodite glances Hades up and down, "I think you don't need me to explain that to you, sweetie." She laughed.

"Oh, Hades is actually very sweet." You said, "in his own way." You muttered, shifting towards Hades' side.

Hades never mentioned it to you too much, but he always appreciated that you stood up to Aphrodite about him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Hades is very protective.

Always has and always will be

Being a god, he has various ways and methods of protecting you or anyone he deems worth it

Sometimes you hate it, sometimes you love it.

He honestly doesn't care.

But, really loves it when you do tbh

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Hades does care and put effort into the bigger anniversaries and such.

"What's the occasion?" You said, gently placing down the glass of champagne.

"What?! Can't I just do something nice for once?"

"Okay, fair." You laughed.

Though, if he's plotting, then forget it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His temper.

He knows it and so do you.

He doesn't try to hide it and you, honestly, never ask him too.

Also, this tends to go without saying, stubborn as fuck.

"What the fuck is that?"

"A painting. I though that it would look nice in your office and it does. It really makes th-Stop making that face, Hades." You groaned, "It's just a painting."

"Yeah, a painting in my office. Get it out." Hades said, "I like my office before."

"Yeah, boring." You muttered, grabbing the painting off the wall.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

A little.

He's the God of the Underworld.

Gotta keep it sharp and spooky for whatever poor soul crosses his path.

But compared to the other gods, not as much as them.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He always says that he wouldn't be, just to tick you off a bit.

But Pain and Panic know that that's a lie and now so do you.

During a fight, you two spent a week apart and he was a mess.

He didn't want to plot or do any other duties.

Didn't even conjure up any martinis for himself.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

LOVES TO GOSSIP

He'll talk and listen to shit about anyone and lives for it.

But.... he can't keep a secret for shit.

He will gossip about someone and then fucking go around and tell then what was said about them.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Hades NEEDS someone who can crack a smile or laugh at a joke.

He cannot be with someone who cannot laugh or take a joke.

Such a buzz kill and snooze fest, ew.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Hades fucking snores

He denies it all the time even if you have recorded evidence, but he does.

And it's so fucking loud.

"Listen, I need to actually get some sleep tonight, so can you please just use that m-"

"I DO NOT SNORE!"

"Then, where the fuck is that noise coming from, Hades?"

"Well, right nex-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

#disney villains #disney x reader #disney villains x reader #disney villains headcanons #disney hades #hades x reader #disney hercules #hercules hades

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 1 month

Note

skizzekai:

Etho has a sort of. Aura. Something passive, something he seemingly can't control very well, if at all- at least, that's what his active attempts to contradict its effects imply.

It's a threatening kind of aura- the one that whispers dangerous in the calculating, out-of-your-depth sort of foreboding that is staring straight at something that has lived far too long and has just as much time to spare.

Bdubs, though. There's certainly some reputation, with him being a guardian of the jungle, (one a certain fellow construct might share if he had any real interest in the spotlight) but aura wise there isn't really anything to feel.

Is what the average fellow would tell you, one who knew him only by name or the riddles he would weave before guiding you through a.. surprisingly regular path, what, with all the tales.

Bdubs, in truth, whether he chooses to actively suppress it or simply does not display it passively, is an example of a principle of magic. To contain something, something powerful, something that wishes to be as free as any meaningful form of magic would, causes it to gather, to wait in earnest, eagerly, and to crash down in violent waves once it's been released- instead of the stream or trickle it might have otherwise been.

Bdubs's aura, as rare as it is to feel, is even rarer to survive if it's been unleashed. After all, you must've done something, to push him to that extent, and clearly it can't be anything forgivable.

#skizzekai au #ethoslab #bdubs #mod mleem

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interesting-interludes · 1 year

Text

stranger than fiction (1)

→ 📖 pairing: assistant!jimin x novelist!reader

→ ☕ genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

→ 🚬 word count: 3k

→ 🍝 summary: you are a reclusive author who wants nothing more than to be left alone so you can write at your own pace. jimin is the youngest executive assistant at Lucky Coin Publishers, and he’s never once been intimidated by a writer or their current project. that is, until he’s assigned to help you complete your latest novel. and you aren’t pleased about it.

→ 🍷 content warnings: profanity, smoking, jimin is very determined, reader is very grumpy, sexual tension.

→ 🖊 a/n: loosely based on a relationship from the movie stranger than fiction and also the tv show black books. thanks for reading :)

series masterlist → next chapter

chapter 1: satan smoking a cigarette

Jimin has worked with many, many authors, but none of them have ever been this elusive.

The publishing executives said you would be a difficult case, that you were a bit of an eccentric. In fact, when Jimin asked one of his supervisors about you and your...colorful reputation at the publishing house, all he had to say on the matter was “that woman is Satan smoking a cigarette.”

Jimin had been told that he was the sixth person to be assigned to you. No one knew why, but apparently you had a vendetta against anyone connected to Lucky Coin Publishers. A category which Jimin unfortunately fell under.

But, being the perfectionist that he was, and never one to back down from a challenge, Jimin accepted the seemingly impossible task. A task that no one else from the company has accomplished so far: getting you to finish your latest novel by the end of the year.

Jimin tried calling 42 times over the course of three days. You had no personal number, even though it was the year 2002 and most people with your level of notoriety and fame owned a cell phone by now, or at least a pager.

The publishers were beginning to get anxious, considering the fact that you hadn’t given them anything to work with in over three months. Not one draft, not one page, not even a clipping of meaningful prose. And, considering the book’s set release date, this was quite the problem.

So, here he was, asking around the quaint yet utterly reclusive community of Hidden Village. The name being as ironic as its residents. For it was a town of starving artists, retired creatives, and obscure literary celebrities who were fiercely protective of their anonymity. It was a place for strange, solitary people to live in peace and blissful privacy.

Something Jimin was about to disrupt.

He’d traced your location as far as your apartment number, given that the publishers were so antsy and had given him clearance to be a little invasive, but no one had answered the buzzer.

Now, if Jimin was any less determined, any less qualified given his history, he might’ve given up after the first few failed attempts. But, of course, he was Park Jimin, the youngest executive assistant in the company’s history. And he wasn’t about to let that title slip away.

So he walked the cobblestoned streets in the fading afternoon sun, searching the street signs for Red Herring Road.

When no one answered the buzzer, Jimin tried a few of the neighbors. One of them was a grumpy-sounding man who told him check the cafe a few blocks away, or the museum, or the bar, or the bookshop. But Jimin figured he’d try the cafe first.

He found it after just a few minutes of walking. An ivy-draped awning in the narrow street, shading a few little tables and chairs. A teapot-shaped sign over the door read:

Jam & Bread: coffee, sandwiches, pastries.

This must be the place, Jimin reassures himself, straightening his sleeves and perfecting the curve of his hair.

As he approaches, he sees that there’s only one person inhabiting the small cafe.

A woman, sitting outside, hunched over the crowded tabletop.

None of your books have an “About the Author” section, let alone a picture of your face on the back cover. But he recognizes you still, from that one interaction four years ago.

You’re dressed in heavily oversized, layered clothing. A sweater here, a scarf there, a wool coat hanging off the back of your chair.

It’s a bright yet chilly afternoon, so you’re dressed warmly with a pair of sunglasses on your nose.

A sea of papers is spread out in front of you. Open books, notepads, a few loose leafs, and sticky notes scattered all throughout. And to your right: a foamy latte in a large mug with a fluffy chocolate croissant.

Jimin prepares himself for the interaction to come. Because, from the looks of it, you clearly don’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin knows that if he wanted to succeed, he’s going to have to do just that.

You’ve decided, over the course of several run-ins with your editor, that semicolons are bastards that have no place in any of your works. You make a note to exclude them from all future manuscripts.

This particular novel has proven to be more difficult to complete than all the others, you’ll admit that much. Maybe it’s because your most recently published book catapulted into unexpected (and probably undeserved) fame, meaning that the next thing you put out has to be even better or you’ll be a disappointment to everyone.

Now, you’ve never been one to easily cope with high expectations, or anyone expecting anything good out of you at all, so this newfound situation was especially overwhelming.

This book has loomed over your head like a storm cloud, like a deep depression, threatening to destroy your mental state at the drop of a hat.

Then, just as you’re getting into a groove, another damned interruption.

This time, it’s a young man in black dress shoes. The obnoxious squeak from the overly-polished leather is the first thing that grabs your attention.

You look up from the page you’re currently annotating, barely bothering to disguise your irritated expression.

He’s standing there in a tailored green coat that molds to his shoulders and thin waist. Then there’s the rings on his fingers and the ridiculous perfection of his hair: dyed blonde and styled up out of his face.

He’s beautiful, tantalizing. It's slightly infuriating.

“Excuse me,” he begins in a voice much lighter and silkier than you expected. “Are you Miss Nin?”

Nin, it was the pen name you’d chosen so many years ago. From Anaïs Nin, the author famous for her diaries and erotica. Even now, most people you know refer to you by that name. It makes life a little easier, living life through someone else’s name.

You survey the young man, trying to determine what exactly he wants. Nothing good, no doubt.

“No, she lives down the street,” you say, testing the waters. “Just around the corner, you can’t miss it.”

You say it with a pleasant smile, hoping he’ll take the bait. Because once he turns the street corner, you can escape through the alleyway and make it back to your apartment.

But the young man scans you up and down, calculating. After a few moments, he gives you a sly smile.

Authors are such bad liars, he thinks to himself. They spend so much time thinking up fiction in their works that there’s none left for their real lives.

And, of course, he already knows well who you are.

“No, I think you’re sitting right here, Miss Nin.”

Your genial expression drops in an instant. So that’s how it’s going to be.

You look at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

“And you are?” you say, clearly not amused.

Something very small in Jimin’s mind deflates. You don’t remember him.

But he shakes it off in an instant, slipping back into his professional persona.

“Park Jimin, pleased to meet you,” he answers cheerfully, holding out his hand to shake.

You glance at it once.

“A horrible judge of character on your part,” you reply dryly.

“I’m the assistant your publishers hired,” Jimin says, still friendly as ever.

“Oh, the spy,” you spit, beginning to gather your things.

“The assistant,” he corrects gently.

“I don’t need an assistant.”

You snatch all the stray papers and shove them in your tote bag, along with the three books, two journals, three notepads, and the six loose pens that were strewn about.

“I provide a number of services, whatever you need to—”

“Oh, such as watching me like a vulture and nagging me every time I get distracted, those kinds of services?”

By now, you’ve gathered all your belongings and have moved on to donning your scarf and coat.

Jimin watches you curiously. There’s a strange quality about you, the same one he saw when the two of you met the first time.

Maybe it’s the way you look at him with such quiet intrigue, or the way you rush to gather the immense amount of books and papers that you apparently carry in your bag. Whatever it is, it seems that he can’t take his eyes away from you.

“Miss Nin, I’m sure we can find a way that I’d be of use to you,” Jimin says as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“I can help you with any organizational needs you might have, any—” the rest of his sentence trails off.

Jimin watches in fascination as you grab the full mug of coffee, tilt your head back, and down the entire thing in a matter of moments.

Then, you wrap the croissant in a napkin, dig in your wallet for an extremely generous tip (which you tuck under the vase of flowers on the table), give whoever is inside the cafe a friendly wave, and set off marching down the street.

He scrambles after you.

“Listen,” you begin impatiently. “I don’t need the publishers breathing down my neck and I certainly don’t need an “assistant” lurking around my workspace. So, if you would be so kind, please vacate the premises before I commit the stereotypical and turn you into an unlikable character that gets killed off in my next work.”

You pick up the pace as you stalk down the street, bristling at the fact that the publishers felt the need to send yet another spy after you expressed your intense dislike for them.

“Miss Nin, if you would just listen for a moment—” Jimin tries, but you’re quick to interrupt him again.

“Look, I’m sure you’re good at your job and all, but I simply have no need for any kind of assistant. I work best alone, even though the publishers refuse to acknowledge that. I’ve told them time and time again that outside involvement just slows me down. So, thank you for coming all the way out here, but you can tell the publishers that I dismissed you and I’ll take the heat from there.”

You say it all without looking at him, staring straight ahead like you’re hoping it will make him magically disappear.

By now the two of you have reached the mass of apartments, all in shades of old brown and faded cream. A criss-crossing system of fire escapes crawls up the sides of the building. The whole structure looks ancient, with peeling paint and chipped stone.

You approach an ivy-covered wall and stop at the door where Jimin started his search not too long ago. With the hand still holding the napkin-wrapped croissant, you punch a very long sequence of numbers into the keypad next to the buzzer.

A beep. You yank the door open and try to slither inside without him following you. But Jimin jams his foot through the gap before you can slam it shut.

“Miss Nin, please,” he pleads. “I really think I could be of help to you if you would just let me.”

There’s a moment where you stop to look at him, and something in your expression suggests that he might’ve gotten through to you.

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat when he sees how your lips part slightly, how your eyes flick over his with that same silent, enigmatic question.

He has to admit, something in his internal rhythm skips in that moment. Maybe this is the start of something—

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, whipping around and leaving Jimin hurrying after you after a pause of shock.

The room you’ve both entered is not what Jimin thinks of when he imagines the lobby of an apartment building.

There are checkered marble floors, shiny and polished despite the outward state of the building, and a number of large, stylishly modern leather couches scattered all throughout the large room.

But there’s also stacks of boxes lining the walls, countless empty picture frames propped up against each other, and cobwebs hanging like drapes from the ceiling.

You’re rushing up the stairs now, which stretches and spirals far above.

Jimin uses the curling iron railing to help him catch up to you. His professional shoes click against the marble, and the sound only adds to your annoyance.

He’s a persistent one, you’ll give him that.

“Trust me, Mr. Whoever You Are,” you say, somehow walking even faster. “You wouldn’t enjoy working with me. I’d make sure of it.”

Jimin is a little distracted. Not only by the incredible speed that you’re maintaining, but also the interior of your apparent “apartment building.”

Paintings crowd the walls, all in old intricate frames, a thick layer of dust over the landscapes, portraits, and impressions. It looks more like a museum than a place to live.

As Jimin follows you up the great, winding staircase, he can’t help but wonder why you’re so resistant to the idea of an assistant. It instills a small flame of curious determination in him.

He matches your pace, just a few steps behind you, as the two of you pass a massive cracked mirror leaning against the railing.

“Maybe I could come to that conclusion myself?” Jimin says, hopping up a step so he can stand next to you, trying to catch your eye.

But you keep on pretending he’s not there, staring straight ahead with the rigid focus only a writer possesses.

Higher and higher you climb, passing more curious things, like a broken chandelier surrounded by crystal shards, then a pile of rotting wood planks.

The sound of your footsteps remains steady while Jimin’s start to slow from exhaustion.

Either you’re completely unfazed by the incredible number of steps, or you’re very good at hiding it.

Jimin pauses, chest heaving, one hand on the railing as he leans over to catch his breath. He hears your steady footsteps carry on.

He looks up to see you reaching towards a rusty door at the end of a long hallway. Digging around in your bag, you pull out a bundle of jingling keys, almost immediately finding the right one and slipping it inside the lock.

Swinging the door open, you disappear behind it as Jimin springs into action again.

His hand slips between the gap just before the door closes and automatically locks.

What he hopes to see is the inside of your apartment, a refuge from the long stretch of exertion that lays behind him. But what he finds is more stairs.

This stairway is less grand. No marble floors or fancy railing, just a narrow tower of concrete steps and unpainted walls.

He follows you up the stairwell that twists this way and that, until the two of you reach yet another door.

“Go home, kid. I have no use for you,” you say dismissively, sifting through your key ring to unlock the door.

That does it. The last of Jimin’s patience flickers out like a candle flame.

The lock clicks open, and you try to slam the door in his face, but he extends his arm and plants his hand firmly on the wood.

The sound and force of it makes you jump, whipping around to face him.

His face has changed. A moment ago, it was soft and pleasant. Now it’s hardened and dark, his eyes piercing into yours like icicles.

“Miss Nin,” Jimin begins, voice sharp enough to cut. “I’ve been an author’s assistant for three years. I’ve helped eight authors complete more than eleven books, and I’ve never gone back to the publisher to ask for more time.”

He straightens, adjusting his coat while maintaining that same icy eye contact.

“Now, I will available to you whenever you may need me. And you will find that I can be very....persistent.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Here’s my home number, my mobile number, and my pager number. I don’t take calls past eight p.m. and I don’t tolerate the use of narcotics.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, begrudgingly taking the business card he hands you with all his information.

“I believe the novel is set to release early next year,” Jimin says in a fake nonchalant tone. “Which means you have until the end of December to come up with a final draft.”

The mention of a deadline makes you bristle, setting him with a glare.

“So, until you put the last punctuation mark on the very last page, I will be here. Ready to assist you.”

A moment of tense silence. You glaring at him, him staring right back with a slight, smug smile.

You move to retreat into the doorway.

“Oh, and Miss Nin?” Jimin interrupts, sounding pleased with himself. “I get paid whether you like me or not.”

You slam the door.

#jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #enemies to lovers #park jimin #jimin angst #bts enemies to lovers #BTS jimin #bts fanfic #bts fanfction

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heliads · 2 years

Note

harry potter x reader where reader has a reputation of being selfish or heartless and harry wants nothing to do with them until he sees them comforting a first year and pranking or threatening the person who hurt them and then harry just keeps pursuing the reader

just keeps pursuing them, anon?

masterlist

Harry Potter is in a spectacularly bad mood, and the school year has barely even begun. He’s supposed to be having a fresh start this year, like if he just funnels his attention into doing the things that he at least halfway enjoys, Harry will be able to avoid the other things pressing at his attention, such as the fact that the Dark Lord is back and no one seems to believe him.

It is, however, far easier to fly into a rage because of something as simple as Quidditch as opposed to spending his hours fretting about where Voldemort is now, so Harry latches onto this latest irritation with great haste. Nothing is trying to kill him at the moment, so he’s free to do as he pleases. That’s how it usually works around here, at any rate.

For everyone else, however, Harry just appears to be annoyed with something yet again. He makes his way into the Gryffindor common room after arguing with the Fat Lady for far too long (she swore that he was mangling the pronunciation of the latest password so badly that it was wrong, he believed otherwise) and slumps down into the nearest plush armchair.

A voice interrupts his morose staring contest with the fire. “I take it Quidditch practice didn’t go well today?”

If there’s one person who has never had the time to be intimidated by Harry’s various spurts of anger, it would be his closest friend. Hermione Granger barely spares him a glance from above the pages of their Transfiguration textbook, even though they have no homework thus far requiring her to read through such an abundance of pages.

Homework is, however, the last thing on Harry’s mind right now, just as it always is. “That’s the problem, Hermione, there was no Quidditch practice. I didn’t think any of the teams had booked the field yet, but when I went to sign up for the timeslot I wanted, there was already a name there.”

Hermione frowns. “Who was it, then? Don’t tell me Slytherin’s already started putting their players through their paces. They don’t even need to try out new students to fill the empty slots on their teams, we all know everyone just buys their way in anyway.”

Harry chuckles at the venom in her tone. Looks like Harry’s fervent house-based Quidditch superiority has started to leach into Hermione as well.

“It wasn’t Slytherin, actually, it was another student. They wanted the field booked so they and a group of friends could practice for fun, not even for the Quidditch cup.” He complains.

Hermione looks at him with a meaningful grin. “Why do I get the feeling I know exactly who that person was?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it was Y/N. Stop looking at me like that.”

Hermione spreads her hands casually. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They both know that’s not entirely true, though. See, Harry’s been having troubles with Y/N L/N since their first year at Hogwarts. They’re known around the school for being vindictive and cruel, barely a shard of heart left beating in their chests. Y/N may be another Gryffindor, but Harry feels no more connected to them than a Slytherin.

In truth, Harry isn’t acting on much except rumors to form his opinion of Y/N. That’s why Hermione keeps teasing him about them, anyway. She thinks he’s being ridiculous to judge someone based on the gossip people tell for fun. As a victim of the grapevine himself, Harry knows that most rumors aren’t true, but from the few glimpses he gets of Y/N, he hasn’t seen anything to prove those whispers wrong.

Plus, he now gets to blame them on the lack of practice time, so Harry grouses with pleasure. “All the same, I really needed that field. If we’re going to win the Quidditch cup, we need to be ready. I could have used some extra practice time before we start tryouts for the year.”

Hermione gives a rather exasperated sigh and returns to her textbook. “We all know you’ll be fine, Harry. Besides, I’d wager that Y/N has just as much desire to practice with their friends as you do.”

Harry can’t exactly argue with that, so he switches the conversation to safer subjects and does his best to let the morning fade from his mind. Hermione even manages to cajole him into studying, a miracle of its own accord.

In fact, Harry ends up being so productive that afternoon that he breezes through the homework he has left. When Sunday rolls around and the entirety of Gryffindor House panics about all the work they’ve procrastinated until the last minute, Harry is left sitting around as he waits for everyone to cram in their essays and exam prep before Monday morning.

He wonders if this is how Hermione feels all the time, free to sit around and watch as her fellow students frantically scribble out sentences on everything from the beneficial properties of mandrakes to the educational exploits of Maeve, the famed Irish witch.

At last, when Harry’s impatience gets the best of him, he slips out of the common room, the door to the portrait hole thudding shut to the tune of dozens of scratching quills. He ambles aimlessly down the stone corridors, not entirely sure where he’s going, only that he’d like his journey to take up quite a good bit of time.

Harry would be content with passing his hours doing nothing at all, a rather well regarded tradition in every Hogwarts house but especially Gryffindor, yet when he emerges from a dusty stairwell near the eastern side of the castle, he discovers that this may not be the case.

There aren’t that many students out and about at this hour, which means that the scene unfolding before him likely wasn’t meant to be witnessed by anyone, least of all Harry. A small, somewhat mousy first year student was walking down the hall when he was accosted by a trio of much older students, perhaps fifth or sixth years that haven’t yet graduated from the thrill of tormenting younger kids.

They’ve cornered him in a less traveled part of the castle, one holding a wand to the poor boy’s throat while the other two casually search through the pockets of his robe in the hopes of finding something interesting. As Harry watches, one of the older boys holds up a golden Galleon that winks in the light, and pockets the coin with a grin.

Harry’s just made up his mind to do something about it when someone else storms onto the scene. Of all the people to rescue this trembling first year, Harry can freely admit that he wasn’t expecting it to be Y/N L/N, yet here they are, rolling up their sleeves in irritation and pointing their wand at the offending boys.

They call out hexes without a second thought, and moments later, the older boys are clutching faces that have suddenly broken out in intense hives, or fingernails that won’t stop growing. The bullies take off in the opposite direction, practically tripping over themselves in their haste to get away.

Y/N stows their wand away once more, then pauses to retrieve the Galleon from where it had fallen to the ground in the kerfuffle.

“I think you’ll want this back,” they say calmly, and hold the coin out to the younger boy.

He blinks at them in surprise, then carefully tucks it back inside the pocket of his robe and murmurs a quiet thank you.

Y/N just smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Those boys are nothing but trouble, honestly. The good thing is that those spells won’t wear off for quite some time. I’d like to see them finish their homework with nails so long they can’t hold a quill, wouldn’t you?”

The younger boy laughs tremulously, but seems to be doing better, especially when Y/N offers to walk them back to their common room. Neither the younger boy nor Y/N seem to have noticed Harry from where he still stands, half hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, so he’s free to gawk as he pleases.

He remains there for a few minutes longer, stunned over what he’s just seen. Harry thought that Y/N was supposed to be totally heartless, but heartless people wouldn’t go to the trouble of protecting and then comforting first year students.

He shakes his head to clear his mind of the troublesome thoughts and continues on his way. It appears that Harry might have misjudged Y/N after all. This is especially true given the rumors circulating around them with such frequency. There’s no way Y/N hasn’t heard the gossip, but they couldn’t care less about what others think of them. In all honesty, Harry’s kind of envious of their unflappable demeanor.

Perhaps that’s why he’s thinking about the encounter hours and even days later. Harry starts to keep a more careful eye out, and soon he’s noticing even more things than before. Y/N talks happily with their friends as they go to class, they pay attention even when facing down a blathering Professor Binns, and they enjoy practicing on their broom even though they’re not on the Quidditch team.

Harry doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but he can’t escape the all-encompassing evidence that Y/N L/N is actually a really great person. It practically rocked his world, and he must not be doing as good a job of disguising his shock as he thinks, because barely a week after seeing Y/N in that hallway, Ron confronts him about it.

They’re sitting at the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, eating some breakfast before they start the day. Harry is sneaking the occasional glance at Y/N, who he can just make out farther down the table. His surreptitious surveillance is interrupted, however, by the sound of his own best friend calling him out.

“Listen, mate, are you actually going to hear a word I’m saying or just keep staring at Y/N?”

Harry blinks in surprise and dimly remembers that Ron had been talking about something, perhaps the Chudley Cannons setting a record by winning one game out of the last seven.

He does his best to sound present in the conversation. “Of course I’m hearing you. Chudley Cannons, right? I’m glad they’re doing well.”

Ron sighs. “We stopped talking about the Cannons ten minutes ago. You really are distracted by Y/N, aren’t you?”

Harry freezes. “No, I’m not. What are you talking about?”

Ron exchanges a significant glance with Hermione over the front page of her newspaper. “See,” she says matter-of-factly, “I told you.”

Harry frowns. “Told you what?”

Hermione arches a brow. “That you’re lost on Y/N, obviously.”

“I’m not lost on them,” Harry protests, although it sounds weak even to his own ears.

Ron and Hermione exchange yet another glance, which is starting to irritate him.

“Of course you’re not,” Ron says, although Harry gets the feeling the boy doesn’t actually mean it, “you’re just a little sidetracked. How about you talk to them or something instead of just staring? Seems like it would be a much healthier approach.”

Hermione bites back a laugh at Ron’s choice of words. “I think what we’re trying to say is that Y/N would definitely be open to talking to you if you just approached them. See, they’re leaving the table now. This is your chance.”

Harry stands up impulsively. “Yeah,” he says, “I think it is.”

Before he can stop himself, he hurries out of the Great Hall after Y/N. He catches up to them after a few seconds, and Y/N turns to greet him at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Harry asks, wondering why on earth he can’t seem to have a conversation past basic parlor conversation.

Y/N, however, seems or simply chooses not to notice. “I’m doing pretty well, actually. Same with that first year from the hall, by the way. I think I’ve had success with chasing off those boys.”

Harry nearly chokes on his own surprise. “What?” He asks, trying not to sound suspicious.

Y/N has the audacity to grin. “I know you were there last week, by the way. I did see you moving to stop them, sorry I got there first.”

Harry wonders if they think he’s weird for watching the whole encounter. “I’m glad the boy is doing well,” he offers, and they nod.

“I think he just didn’t know how to stand up to people. It turns out most everyone around here isn’t nearly as scary as they seem. All you have to do is talk to them.” They say.

Harry nods solemnly. “I’m starting to figure that out for myself.”

Y/N laughs, and Harry can’t help but smile along with them. “I’m glad to hear it.”

They’ve reached the base of one of the moving staircases right now, and Harry realizes with a panic that if he wants to say something, he’d better do it now.

He calls out to Y/N before he can stop himself. “Do you want to go out with me? You know, just to hang out sometime.”

They pause with their foot on the first step, then turn back with a grin. “I’d like that quite a bit,” they say, and Harry feels his entire chest lighten.

“Alright, then,” he says, “how about tomorrow night?”

Y/N’s eyes spark in the light from a nearby window. “Tomorrow night sounds wonderful.”

Harry waves goodbye, then heads back to the Great Hall with a smile on his face. As it turns out, he’s got a date.

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